A Dead Man in Malta (15 page)

‘Mr Vasco’s brother paints the eyes on the
dghajsas
,’ said Sophia.

‘I think I’ve met Mr Vasco,’ said Chantale. ‘In the hospital.’

‘Yes, he’s very ill. But that doesn’t excuse him, my mother says.’

A
dghajsa
having its eyes repainted was standing on chocks in a corner and a man was working on it with sandpaper.

‘Hello, Mr Vasco,’ said Sophia. ‘I’ve got a message from your brother.’

The man wiped his hands on a cloth and took the envelope.

‘Thank you, Sophia,’ he said.

He read the letter and frowned.

‘He doesn’t know what he’s asking,’ he said. ‘Lying there, he thinks that everyone else has got all the time in the world.’

He read the note again.

‘Well, I don’t know what I’m going to do about this,’ he said.

He stood there uncertainly. ‘He says he wants me to get a message round to everybody. But that’s not easy to do when they’re working all over the place. I suppose I could wait until the next time the band meets. That will be Thursday—they’re playing at a christening. But he says it’s got to go round at once.’

‘Is there a rehearsal before, Mr Vasco?’ said Sophia.

‘No, we don’t need rehearsals when it’s a simple christening. But is there really the urgency that he says there is? Just lying there, you know, you think that the world revolves around you, that everything has to fit what you want. But does it?’

He looked at Sophia and laughed. ‘Well, that’s not something you can answer, is it? I’m the one who’s got to make up his mind. But thank your mother for sending on the message so quickly, and thank you, Sophia. How is your mother, by the way?’

‘She’s fine,’ said Sophia.

‘Well, give her my thanks, will you? You’ve no idea what it means to us to know that she sees him every day. We know that if there’s a sudden change in his condition, word will get back to us at once.’

‘I’ll tell her,’ said Sophia.

‘Thanks.’ He looked at her. ‘You don’t know how he is today, I suppose?’

‘I don’t,’ said Sophia, ‘but this lady might.’

He took in her presence for the first time. ‘I’m sorry, madam, I—’

‘This is Chantale,’ said Sophia. ‘She’s staying with us. She’s in the St John Ambulance.’

‘Oh, I know about her!’ said Mr Vasco’s brother.

He wiped his hands again and came over to Chantale and shook her hand warmly.

‘You’re the one who patched up Luigi,’ he said.

‘I’m beginning to wonder if that was a mistake,’ said Chantale. ‘He’s in trouble again.’

‘That stupid bugger’s always in trouble. This Benito business?’

‘Yes.’

‘He should stay out of it. He should
always
stay out of it. I’ve told him that. It’s the little ones who catch it, I said. The big ones never do. So keep out of it. But of course he won’t. Doesn’t have the sense to.’

He looked at Chantale. ‘Sophia says you saw my brother?’

‘Yes.’

‘How is he?’

‘Not well.’

‘As awkward as ever?’

‘Well …’

He laughed. ‘I know!’ he said. ‘As awkward as ever. I’d like to say that it’s what he’s got that’s making him awkward. But that’s not true. He always
was
awkward. Awkward, but not stupid. He’s like your Uncle Paolo, Sophia: awkward but not stupid. He was like that at school. It got that the teachers always had it in for him. Well, I can understand. He was a bit too clever for them, see? Like your Uncle Paolo. He could get under their skin. It did him no good in the end. He finished up in the shop. Still awkward. It’s not the thing to be in a shop either. He puts people off. But it wasn’t really his fault. It was the pain. It was getting worse all the time. It will kill him in the end. But meanwhile it drives him on. And makes him drive
us
on.’

He looked at the letter again. ‘And so, I suppose, I’ll get it round. Tonight. Although, really …’

‘Everyone in the hospital knew it was the pain,’ said Chantale. ‘So they didn’t really mind. They knew it was not him, but the pain.’

To her embarrassment, he began to cry.

‘Thank you for saying that,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

He pulled himself together.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Paolo said that you would understand. Because you were an Arab, he said. You would know.’

‘But I
don’t
know,’ said Chantale. ‘I don’t know what he was talking about. They keep claiming me for one of their own, but I’m not. I’m not even Arab, not completely. And why do they keep picking on that? Arab? I see plenty of Arab influence around here but not many Arabs. Paolo? But he’s like me, half and half. And why do they want to claim me, anyway? They don’t want to claim you, do they?’

‘No,’ said Seymour. ‘I’m English.’

‘So?’

‘They see you as oppressed, like them. And me as the English oppressor.’

Chantale shrugged. ‘Well, if they do, they’re making a lot of it. Too much of it.’

She thought. ‘At least, Mr Vasco makes too much of it. There was this incident while I was there. He wanted to send a message to his brother, and it had to be by someone Maltese. And, now I come to think of it, even that was not good enough. The sister offered him Bettina but he turned her down. He said he wanted Melinda.’

‘The Maltese was nothing to do with it, then.’

‘Oh, it was. At first. It was just that there was an added complication. Bettina’s family didn’t get on with his, apparently.’

‘He’s obviously very choosy.’

‘He was insistent on it. I think it really mattered to him.’

‘What was he sending messages about?’

‘I don’t know. But it’s a regular thing, apparently. In the hospital they seemed to take it for granted. And so did his brother, while I was there.’

‘Lots of messages?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘I think it may be about the band. His brother talked of getting a message round to the band.’

‘But a lot of messages?’

‘Maybe he runs the band. Or used to run it. It’s the Birgu band and he’s a Birgu man.’

‘And still running it? From his bed?’

‘At least he would have time for it.’

‘And, of course, the bands are fiercely, if locally, patriotic. That would tie in with all the Maltese business.’

‘But what about Paolo? And Luigi, for that matter. They’re not Maltese. Or not completely Maltese. They’re part Arab.’

‘But they’re Birgu. Maybe, so far as the band is concerned, that overrides.’

‘Especially if you’re a good player,’ said Chantale, laughing. ‘And, apparently, Paolo is.’

‘I want us to put our heads together this morning,’ said Mrs Wynne-Gurr, ‘and review what we have learned.’

‘I don’t think I have learned much,’ said one of the ladies bravely. ‘Not
learned
. Oh, it’s been very interesting and I have had a lovely time and everyone has been so kind and helpful. And, of course, the history has been fascinating. That bit about the ladies in the prison! So brave! As you say, a lesson to us all. But as to learning—I mean, what the St John Ambulance does here is pretty much what it does in Godalming. Except for the stabbings, of course. Which I missed because I was on the other side of the racetrack.’

‘That is precisely why we should go over what we have learned,’ said Mrs Wynne-Gurr. ‘To pool our experience. We have had a stroke of luck in having Miss de Lissac with us with her expert knowledge—’

‘Not so expert,’ said Chantale hastily.

‘Certainly wider than ours. And certainly something we could benefit from.’

‘Yes,’ said the lady who had previously objected. ‘I do see that might well be useful. I was talking to Sergeant White the other day and he said things were getting rougher all the time at the Godalming Arms. He said—he actually
said
—that he wouldn’t be surprised if it was knives next!’

‘Well, there you are!’ said Mrs Wynne-Gurr. ‘And when the time comes, we shall be ready. Meanwhile, we may be in a position to help our friends the police here with some problems that
they
face. Thanks not least to your endeavours, ladies!’

‘Really?’ said the ladies, a little surprised but also impressed.

‘I believe so. Your reports on your observations in the hospital wards have been very fruitful.
Very
fruitful! When combined with analysis—
my
analysis,’ said Mrs Wynne-Gurr firmly, ‘I believe that they will help us to point the police in the direction of the person who has committed these dreadful murders. Now, I shall need just a little time this morning to marshal my arguments—
our
arguments—before we
show our hand
. So I would be grateful, Mrs Wagstaffe, if you could chair this morning. If we could split up into small groups first and then come together in a planning session just before lunch, when I hope to be able to rejoin you—’

‘A word with you, Mr Seymour, if I may.’

‘Of course!’

‘I have been reflecting on these dreadful murders, and particularly in the light of the day we spent observing in the hospital.’

‘Ye-e-s?’

‘I have to own that my first thoughts on the subject were premature and impulsive.’

‘What!’ said Seymour, stopped in his tracks.

‘I attributed too much significance to a similarity I had noticed between these deaths and some deaths I had recently learned about in my own local hospital—the Godalming, you know.’

‘Cot deaths, if I remember …’

‘And the Admiral—I think he was an Admiral—properly reproved me. There
were
similarities. Similarities can be deceptive, however, and I now think I was deceived. Or deceived myself. They were clearly not cot deaths.’

‘I am glad you now think that, Mrs Wynne-Gurr.’

‘However—’ However?

‘—I was right in one particular: my focus on nursing practice.’

‘Well, I am not sure—’

‘Or nursing routine. You may not be aware of the importance of routines in a nurse’s life, Mr Seymour.’

He looked around desperately. Over by the reception desk Chantale was talking to a group of St John ladies. He willed her to come over. She saw him; but merely waved a friendly hand and stayed put.

‘A nurse’s life is built of routines. When she takes over, she usually goes round the ward. At a certain point takes temperatures, gives medicine. Records. Goes for her break. And the routines are pretty regular. She takes temperatures at the same time, distributes medicines at the same time. Goes for her break at the same time.

‘Now, of course, as you will recognize—perhaps have recognized—this is important. For, you see, one of the things that puzzled me—puzzled you, no doubt—was that, on at least two of the occasions when the crime was committed, a nurse was present. Present, or nearby. Or should have been. But if the nurse was present, how could she have let such a thing occur?

‘The obvious deduction was that at the crucial time in each case she was
not
present. How could that be? The obvious answer was that the attack was made during her break. But for that to happen, the attacker must have known when the breaks would occur. He must have been in a position to predict it. Now, something very important follows from that, which I shall return to.

‘But, first, there is the question to be answered of whether the breaks
were
taken at regular times? Because if

they weren’t, it would be impossible to know with confidence when they would occur.

‘Now, Mr Seymour, as the result of the many observations made by my ladies while they were in the wards, I am in a position to say that they
were
. There was some variation, of course, but it was within quite severely restricted limits. So,’ said Mrs Wynne-Gurr, pausing, and with a certain degree of triumph, ‘here we have the explanation of how the attacks could take place without being observed: they were made during the nurse’s break for refreshments.’

‘Well, yes, but—’

‘There is, of course, a further point, the additional one I referred to earlier: the attacker knew in advance when the break would occur. And that could come only from a very detailed knowledge of that particular nurse’s routine. And
that
will come only from someone within the hospital. Which means that either the attacker himself came from inside the hospital or else he had an accomplice within the hospital. To anyone familiar with hospital routine, Mr Seymour, such as myself, that points to another nurse.’

‘Of course, it could be—’

‘Yes, I know, Mr Seymour. It could equally be someone else on the hospital staff. So far as the provision of information is concerned, yes, I agree with you, although I think that the detail of the knowledge makes it much more likely that we are talking about a nurse. And something has come up in my analysis of the date that lends support to that conclusion. I wish to check my workings just once again, Mr Seymour, before sharing them with you, since the implications are so serious. But it appears from my analysis that in each case—
including that of the German aviator
—a particular nurse was in close proximity. As I say, I shall need to check my data just once again, but it looks to me, Mr Seymour, that the St John Ambulance will soon be in a position to say, once again, that they have done it.’

Chapter Eleven

When Felix arrived at the Ferreiras’ house the next morning he found Sophia still sitting at breakfast with Chantale but with a face like a thundercloud.

‘They’ve turned down my project,’ she informed him.

‘I thought you hadn’t finished it yet?’

‘Actually, I haven’t started it. We had to hand in the final form of the title yesterday. And they rejected it!’

‘They didn’t like the Victoria Lines?’

‘
I
didn’t like the Victoria Lines. So I decided to change it.’

‘What did you change it to?’

‘“Malta and the Decline of the British Empire”.’

‘That
is
quite a lot different.’

‘It’s more in line with the direction of my thinking,’ said Sophia.

‘Why did they object to it?’

‘They said it was too big a subject for a School Certificate project. And that it was too general. (
I
don’t think it’s general at all. It’s very specific.) And that it was tendentious. I’m not sure what “tendentious” means but I’m pretty sure my project’s not it.’

‘I know what “tendentious” means,’ said Grandfather.

‘Oh?’

‘Writing that has a particular tendency.’

‘Well, all writing that’s trying to say something has a particular tendency.’

‘“Calculated to advance a cause”, it says here.’

‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘Maybe they think it’s not objective,’ said Mrs Ferreira.

‘That’s just what they think. I think it
is
objective.’

‘What
is
your cause?’ asked Chantale.

‘The freeing of Malta. From the British.’

‘Yes, well, look—’ said her grandfather.

‘It
is
rather general,’ said Mrs Ferreira, ‘for a Certificate project.’

‘It’s censorship, that’s what it is!’ said Sophia. ‘And I am going to fight it!’

‘Could you fight it
after
you’ve passed the Certificate?’ asked Mrs Ferreira.

Seymour went in to see how Lucca was this morning. He found him filling in forms: ‘German forms’, he called them. ‘Just give me a minute!’ he said.

Along the corridor Seymour could hear Luigi’s petulant voice.

‘My clothes!’ he was saying. ‘I’ve got to have my clothes!’

‘I’ll bring you a change in,’ he heard Suzie say soothingly.

‘I don’t want just one change,’ Luigi said, almost tearfully. ‘I want
all
my clothes!’

‘Well, darling, I don’t think they’ll let you have them
all
. You’ve got quite a lot of clothes, you know. And there isn’t room for them here.’

‘I’ll ask Benito!’

‘I don’t think even Benito will let you. Because, look, there just isn’t room for them here. Where would you put them? There isn’t a wardrobe. And if you put them on hangers, you’d have to hang them all over the place. And where would you hang them from? There simply aren’t places. If you hung them all from the window, all together, they’d get crumpled, wouldn’t they? And you know you wouldn’t like that.’

‘This one is all crumpled already. And I’ve nothing to change into!’

Lucca looked up and sighed. ‘What’s he worried about? My uniform’s all crumpled, too, and Marta says she’s not pressing it until Saturday. Saturday is the day she does the ironing, she says. “Put your other one on if you’re that bothered.” “I can’t,” I say. “It’s too small for me these days.” “It’s not that it’s too small; it’s that you’ve got too big. You’ve put on weight, Benito. I keep telling you you’ve got to get it off!”’

‘I’ve told you I’ll bring you in another one,’ said Suzie, placatorily.

‘Bring it in this afternoon!’ said Luigi.

‘I can’t, dear. You know I’m busy.’

‘Nobody cares about me any more!’ said Luigi tearfully. ‘Not even Paolo. He’s not been in once.’

‘I expect he’s busy, too,’ said Suzie. ‘You know he’s got a berth on the
Ascania
? It’s putting in next week, and they need stewards. So then he’ll be away for a few weeks. So he’s got to get his things together.’

‘He ought to have looked in on me,’ whined Luigi. ‘After what I did for him. I’m his mate.’

‘So you are, Luigi, and I’m sure he’ll look in. It’s just that he’s so busy. But I’ll remind him.’

‘And where are the others? No one’s been in to see me since I’ve been put in here!’

‘I’ll remind them all. Little Luigi is languishing away, I’ll say.’

‘I’m
not
little! I’m right for people of my build. It’s just that other people are fat.’

‘Christ!’ said Lucca. ‘Even Luigi’s on to me now!’

‘But I’m wiry and I can do things that they can’t. Even Paolo says that. “You can go places that other people can’t,” he said. But I don’t want to get my clothes dirty. “I’ll pay for you to get them cleaned,” he said. But he hasn’t. That’s not right, is it?’

‘I’ll mention that to him, too,’ said Suzie.

‘It’s that sailor again, isn’t it?’ said Bettina.

‘Yes, it is.’

‘It won’t go away, will it?’

‘No.’

‘He died on my watch.’

Seymour smiled. ‘You’re another Navy nurse, aren’t you? Like Macfarlane.’

‘We’re all Navy nurses here,’ said Bettina.

‘And every shift is a watch?’

‘And if something happens on your watch, then you’re responsible.’

‘I don’t think that’s entirely fair. Being a nurse is not quite like being on the bridge. If someone dies when you’re on duty, there may be nothing you could have done about it.’

‘Or there may have been: I keep asking myself if there
was
something I could have done but didn’t do. Maybe when I was doing the rounds I didn’t look closely enough.’

‘But you did look, didn’t you?’

‘Oh, yes. I did look. But maybe I didn’t see.’

‘Of course, you were looking at the patients. But can I ask you about something else you may have seen?’

‘Ye-e-s?’

‘There’s a cupboard at the end of the ward.’

‘Ye-e-s?’

‘What is it used for?’

‘Nothing much. Sometimes the cleaners put their mops in there. But lately they’ve taken to keeping them at the other end of the ward, where there is a little kitchen. Then they can pick up the water at the same time.’

‘So no one goes in much?’

‘Not much, no.’

‘Do they ever go in?’

‘Well …’

‘Let me put it another way: have you seen or do you know of anyone making use of it for their own private purpose?’

There was a long pause.

‘Maybe,’ said Bettina.

‘Not a nurse.’

‘No.’

There was another pause.

‘You know?’ said Bettina.

‘Tell me,’ said Seymour.

‘I suspected it. And once I caught them. I turfed them out and told—told her, that she must never do it again. And then I kept my eye on the cupboard, and thought she’d stopped. But—but now you’re saying that she didn’t?’

‘She was in there that night. The night the man died.’

‘Oh, my God!’ said Bettina.

‘And so was he.’

‘That’s awful!’

‘But perhaps not so unusual. He says he left before—before anything happened.’

‘But how could he have left? I was there all the time.’

‘That, actually, is the point.’

‘I don’t see how he could have left! I would have seen him!’

‘He says he crawled out on hands and knees. You were there but you didn’t see him.’

‘Oh, my God!’ said Bettina bitterly. ‘What a fool I am!’

‘Well, maybe. But it’s hardly the sort of thing you would be looking out for, is it?’

‘Still …’ said Bettina.

‘Still!’ said Seymour. ‘However, it’s easily done. But it would not be so easy to miss the other thing that happened that night. Someone else came into the ward. Either from the cupboard or from outside.’

Bettina shook her head.

‘She wouldn’t,’ she said. ‘She’s not that kind of person.’

‘We never think they are.’

She still shook her head.

‘Too small,’ she said. ‘Wilson was a strong man. Not big, but strong.’

‘Someone else, then.’

Bettina looked puzzled.

‘But I still don’t see—’ she began. ‘How could they have done it? I would surely have seen them. That, I could not have missed!’

‘If you had been there,’ said Seymour.

Bettina flushed.

‘I can assure you I was there!’ she said.

‘The whole time?’

‘The whole time.’

‘You didn’t take a break?’

‘Only the usual one … I see,’ said Bettina.

‘Do you take it at a fixed time?’

‘It’s not fixed, but I suppose we take it most nights at much the same time.’

‘And do you remember—?’

‘Actually, I do,’ said Bettina. ‘I hadn’t been feeling too good that night. It was that period of the month. Melinda knew, and she came in and offered to take over for a bit while I went to the rest room and lay down.’

‘Ah!’

‘But I said no. I said I would hang on to the regular time. And that’s that I did.’

‘On watch as usual!’ said Seymour.

‘I’m always on watch,’ said Laura. ‘And always on guard.’

‘Not from me, I hope!’

‘From marauding males!’

Seymour laughed. ‘I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour.’

‘So what did you want to see me about?’ said Laura.

‘Cover at night,’ said Seymour. ‘For you.’

‘I’m on till nine,’ said Laura, ‘and then the porters take over. We don’t really need a receptionist at night. This isn’t like an ordinary hospital. Oh, yes, we do have admissions at night, but there are not many of them. And the porters and medical staff handle them between themselves.’

‘So if a person comes in with an injury—?’

‘The nurse on duty sees them and makes arrangements.’

‘And what if they don’t have an injury?’

‘Suddenly taken ill? The same. The nurse sees them.’

‘And someone not ill?’

Laura raised her eyebrows. ‘They don’t come in. It’s outside visiting hours.’

‘Drunks?’

‘The porters see to them.’

‘That might be difficult if there’s only one porter on duty.’

‘We’ve not had any problems.’

‘Or not any porter on duty.’

Laura looked at him. ‘That time—? Mario, you mean? It happened once. It won’t happen again.’

‘It’s that once that interests me.’

Umberto was carrying a lamp. He put it down when he saw Seymour waiting for him.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘I know I shouldn’t have done it. He’s only a young lad, and he was helping me out. But, listen, I’m the one to blame. Not him.’

‘I’m not blaming him. I’m not even blaming you. But there’s something I want to know. Who else knew about it?’

‘About—?’

‘About him being left to cover for you while you were sniffing around your girlfriend.’

Umberto winced.

‘You don’t need to put it like that,’ he said. ‘She was on her own and needed comforting.’

‘And you were just the man to do that when you should have been on duty at the hospital?’

‘Nine times out of ten it would have been all right, I’d checked beforehand. Honestly, I’d checked! I went round all the nurses, the ones on night duty that week. And they all said that no one was going to be in trouble. “So you’ll be able to kip all night,” Bettina said. Of course she didn’t know that it wasn’t kipping that I had in mind.’

‘So you thought it was all right to leave young Mario in charge?’

‘Well, Christ, I didn’t know that he’d have to deal with something like this! No one did. And I can tell you, no one was as surprised as me. You get a feel for these things, you know, when you’ve worked here as long as I have. You can sort of sense if someone is likely to go. But not this time. I couldn’t believe it when I heard. But then, afterwards, when I heard the rumours I felt sick. Someone must have got in. Taken advantage of me not being there.’

‘Someone knew that you were not going to be there,’ said Seymour. ‘Who?’

Umberto shook his head.

‘No one knew,’ he said. ‘I took good care.’

‘People knew about you and her,’ said Seymour. ‘They told me. But that was in general. What I want to know about was that particular night. Did you mention it to anyone?’

‘No—’

‘Berto? He must have known about it.’

‘No, he didn’t. He knew in general, of course. But I never told him when—There are things it’s best not to know.’

‘Anyone else? A hint, maybe, that someone could have guessed from?’

Umberto shook his head.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I was careful.’

‘Your girlfriend? Did she know you were coming that night?’

‘Well, she might have been expecting it. But, look, she wouldn’t have said anything. We’d talked it over and agreed. That we’d never let anything get out.’

He hesitated. ‘We were thinking of Bella,’ he said.

‘Bella is your wife?’

Umberto nodded.

‘Someone knew,’ said Seymour.

Umberto’s face tightened.

‘I’ll need to talk to your girlfriend,’ said Seymour.

‘No—’ said Umberto.

‘I’ve got to,’ said Seymour.

He decided to enlist Lucca’s aid; not just because he thought he would never find the place in the twisting, narrow, unnamed streets around Birgu, but because he felt that Lucca would be better at eliciting information from the sort of people who lived round there than he would be.

Lucca, of course, knew exactly where to find her.

‘Now, Teresa, I need some help from you.’

‘Sure, Benito. If I can.’

‘Umberto is in trouble.’

She stared at him. ‘Umberto?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Is it about us?’ she said.

‘In a way, yes.’

‘Benito, I wouldn’t want any trouble to come to him because of me.’

‘I know you wouldn’t, Teresa. And that’s why you’re going to help me.’

‘I’ll try, Benito. I’ll really try!’

‘You’re going to have to think.’

‘I’ll do my best, Benito. I promise.’

‘I don’t know if you know about this, Teresa, but one night when he was with you, a man died in the hospital.’

‘Yes, I know,’ she said. ‘He told me about it afterwards. He felt bad about it. He’d left young Mario on his own—’

‘That’s right, and that’s the day I want you to do your best to remember. You knew that Umberto would be coming that night?’