Dead Man’s Shoes (25 page)

“That very loud voice, by the way, was a masterpiece. Try disguising your voice, not just for a few sentences, but for the conversation of years. You cannot do it by assuming a different accent or dialect. It's a different tone that is wanted. This he achieved by
forcing
his voice into a braying shout. No one who met Larkin failed to notice it. No one ever thought his voice sounded like Lance's.

“Then languages. Lance had probably been learning Arabic for some time, may even have spoken it before he came to Tangier, but from the moment he created Larkin he dropped it altogether. ‘Not a word,' he said when I asked him if he spoke Arabic. But, as Larkin, he spoke it fairly well and made some acquaintances among the Moors. He used these to suggest an explanation for Larkin's continual long absences. When Larkin was supposed to be in Tangier, Lance had to dedicate a good deal of time to maintaining his double personality. He had found a house for Larkin in a narrow passage in the
medina
in which the doorway was not overlooked. As a ‘friend' of Larkin's he could come to the house, let himself in, assume the personality of Larkin, be seen in the market as Larkin, return to his home as himself—in fact keep the two characters going without any insuperable difficulty. But of course it was a nuisance and it took time, so that every now and again Larkin would be
absent from Tangier and Lance could lead his own life without visiting the house in the
medina
at all.

“Wherever Lance could emphasize the difference between them, he did so. His house was modern, Larkin was a collector of old Mohammedan pottery and glass. Lance liked a drink, Larkin was a strict teetotaller. And so on. He was so successful that the two of them became familiar figures in Tangier. Most of the Europeans knew Lance Willick, a nice quiet chap who entertained a little and had a wide acquaintance, and most knew by sight and reputation the loud-voiced unsociable Larkin, who lived in the
medina
and would have nothing to do with anyone except Lance Willick and a few Moors.

“But he went farther than that. He had to provide Larkin with means of some kind so that any investigation in the future would not reveal a discrepancy with fact. So on one of his visits to Barton Abbess he asked Gregory to increase his allowance. This was not unreasonable if, as one may conjecture, it had not been increased since it was first allotted, for even in Tangier prices were a good deal higher. Gregory must have agreed and Lance have suggested that in order to avoid all the rigmarole of obtaining Treasury permission, the money should be paid in an imaginary name to a bank in Gibraltar. So for Gregory ‘Wilbury Larkin', the imaginary recipient, became a joke which he shared with Lance. This we know from Gilbert Packinlay. Wilbury Larkin, the ‘old friend of the family', had been heard of, always with a smile from Gregory, by most people at Barton Place.

“All this had taken time, but Lance was not worried by that because he knew Gregory well enough to have confidence that he would play fair with him, and if any considerable change was to be made in his Will, Lance would be informed. Then, about a year back, he may have heard of a settlement which Gregory made on Mrs Sweeny, and this may have given him apprehensions. He still did not act
precipitately, for he had several things to do before the murder.

“In anticipation of the faked suicide which he planned for Larkin, he had to familiarize himself with a ship on which Larkin could travel to England when he was supposed to be going to vindicate himself. So as Lance Willick he booked a passage on the
Saragossa
and thoroughly studied her. He was not afraid of anyone on board recognizing him when he travelled as Larkin, but, even so, he felt it wise to let a few trips pass before the time for Larkin's ‘suicide' trip.

“When he had first asked Gregory to pay his extra allowance to Larkin in Gibraltar, either Gregory or he had suggested that the ‘old friend of the family' should be mentioned in Gregory's Will. Possibly Gregory's solicitor will be able to help us there. Lance's object was clear enough. He had to provide a motive for Larkin. But what could he say to Gregory? He may have suggested it as a way in which Gregory could safeguard himself by showing that he really believed in the existence of such a person as Wilbury Larkin.”

“I think I can explain that, as I've seen the Will,” put in Gilbert Packinlay. “It expressly stated Wilbury Larkin ‘of Gibraltar'. I think, as you say, that Gregory was making sure that he could have no trouble under currency regulations. He would be able to show that his nephew had told him of the existence in Gibraltar of this old family friend, and he was providing for him.”

“Very likely. Anyway, as it came near the zero hour, Lance realized that this bequest, small though it was, would cause embarrassment. The executors might seek too insistently for Larkin's relatives. They might even discover that Larkin was a man of straw. He had, of course, bound Gregory to secrecy about Larkin, but after Gregory's death and the faked suicide of Larkin there might be an investigation. So either on a visit, or else by letter (for he knew of
Gregory's invariable habit of destroying private correspondence), he stopped Gregory's payments to Larkin in Gibraltar and got him to cut Larkin out of his Will. Then he was absolutely ready to act.

“He timed Larkin's homicidal visit to England in accordance with the sailings of the
Saragossa.
The ship was due to leave Tangier for London on July 29. He therefore timed the murder for July 20. This, he reckoned, would give the police enough time to
want
Larkin without enough to have gone through the lengthy business of obtaining an extradition order. So on July 15, as Larkin, he flew to England. On the following day, as Lance Willick, he returned by air to Tangier. On July 17, as Lance Willick (with Larkin supposedly staying in London), he gave his birthday party…”

“I really must interrupt you here.” It was Maltby speaking in a rather apologetic voice. “Surely you are forgetting the all-important matter of passports?”

Carolus smiled.

“I should have explained that. It is very simple. In Tangier passports of any nationality are not two a penny, but they cost between ten and twenty pounds each. Larkin had one indistinguishable from a genuine one, and Lance, I think, had two, so that certain entries could be made in the spare one.”

Mr Gorringer frowned.

“A very grave matter, surely, Deene. I understood that the organization Interpol could deal with that sort of thing?”

“Impossible. That is what makes all this excessive passport carrying so absurd. Here in London I undertake to obtain a passport for you in forty-eight hours without going near the passport office, and it will be one which will get you to any country in the world.”

Maltby seemed to accept this, for he nodded, and Carolus continued:

“On July 18, saying that he was going to stay with a Mrs Gibbons in Cadiz, Lance crossed to Algeciras on his own passport and flew on to London on his second one. On Friday 19, as Larkin, he hired a self-drive car and went down to the Barton Bridge Hotel. On Saturday 20 he murdered Gregory, and on the same night, still as Larkin, left by plane for Tangier. On Sunday, as Larkin, he was back in Tangier. Whether he was thorough enough then to fly to Gibraltar as Lance and return on his own passport next morning we shall not know until, if ever, we examine both his passports.

“You now perceive, I hope, the reason for Larkin's extraordinary behaviour in Barton Abbess. There had to be no doubt at all that he committed the murder. He had been created five years previously for this very purpose. Well, he left no doubt at all. But here, I think, for the first time, Lance overdid it. His staying at the hotel under a false name would have been sufficient without all that nonsense with his passport and the addressed envelope in the waste-paper basket. He was so afraid of the murderer
not
being identified as Larkin that he went too far.

“And here again there was the problem of boots. He could not leave the prints of his specially designed boots, for they would be recognizable. But to buy locally boots which made such very easily identified prints was excessive. Moreover he could not be seen wearing them, for they not only lowered his height, but changed his walk, so he had to leave the hotel with them in a packet. Packinlay fortunately remembered to mention this to me. ‘He was carrying a brown-paper parcel,' he said. He must have changed, left his prints, and after he had shot Gregory changed back into his own boots to return to the hotel. As I had realized what the repeated absence of boots from Larkin's effects meant, it was not difficult for me to guess, when Socker told me he had found something near the scene of the crime, that it was the hob-nailed boots.

“At this point Lance must have been pretty pleased with himself. He had created Larkin, and Larkin had fulfilled his purpose by murdering Gregory and leaving a trail so clear that the police already ‘wanted to interview' him. It was time to put the second part of his plan into operation and arrange the suicide of Larkin.

“I have wondered about one thing. He must have been gambling on being able to obtain a passage home for Larkin on the
Saragossa.
He could not book it in advance …”

Appleyard interrupted.

“That's easily explained. I remember our agent in Tangier told me that a passage on this trip had been booked weeks before in the name of Helply. It was cancelled about half an hour before Larkin arrived to book his own passage.”

“Obviously Lance had shown his usual foresight then. As Larkin he went on board the
Saragossa,
and as Larkin set about making himself as unpleasant as possible to the other passengers and officers. He meant to make sure that no one should forget the unhappy, aggressive, lonely, insulting man who was so extremely unlike his cheerful, modest, sociable and courteous self.

“For the purposes of subsequent enquiry, he decided to confide in one person on board the fact of his guilt and intention to commit suicide. He cleverly chose Mr Kutz, who would certainly not speak about it until after the event and who, in fact, would not have spoken of it at all if I had not pressed him with questions.

“Then there was a rather human little episode. Lance liked a drink, but in the character of Larkin was a strict teetotaller. Foreseeing the difficulties of this, he had brought a couple of bottles of whisky on board, and one night got drunk. Feeling the need to talk to someone, and being by now anathema to both officers and passengers, he invited young Bryce to have a drink. It would not have mattered to
him had it not led me to an important discovery, which was in fact a key to much that was puzzling, as you shall hear in a moment.

“He waited till the night before the ship would dock, then, before she entered the Thames estuary, at about one a.m., began to put his plan into operation. Behind the door of his cabin, which he kept invariably locked, he assumed the character of Lance Willick. He then typed out his little suicide note. He decided against signing it. He had created a signature for Larkin which he used for his cheques in Gibraltar, but he was never quite sure whether handwriting experts could distinguish this as his own. He had never, as Larkin, committed to paper anything but a signature. So he left the thing unsigned.

“He then made his Larkin effigy from a suit stuffed with other clothes, the specially made boots, the padding, the glasses, the jewellery, the special denture and anything else which might show the artificiality of Larkin. He weighted this heavily. He left some of his clothes in the cabin, of course. Finally he spent the remainder of the hour obliterating with consummate care every possible finger-print in the cabin, not forgetting the typewriter keys. He had trained himself to do this without a possibility of omission. He knew that one of his own finger-prints here might hang him.

“Now came his moment of greatest risk. He had only about six yards to go from his cabin to the rail of the ship, but for that distance he would be in deadly danger of discovery. Once his effigy was in the water he could be found, and still have a chance by saying that he had stowed away in Tangier in order to watch Larkin, or some such story. It would be thin and might not come off, but it would be possible. If he was caught now, with the effigy in his arms, he would be hanged.

“He looked out of his door, saw no one, hurled ‘Larkin' over the rail and shouted ‘Man overboard!' For this he
could use neither his own natural voice nor Larkin's; the result was that unpleasant screeching shout which so impressed those who heard it.

“He then hurried back to his cabin, but he was not quite quick enough in leaving the deck, for Mrs Roper caught a glimpse of someone, she couldn't tell who, disappearing. He returned to his cabin and, acting according to plan, lifted the bunk and concealed himself in the locker under it. It was this hiding-place which was revealed to me when I heard about Dickie Bryce's drinking with Larkin. Whether or not he used it …”

“I didn't, as a matter of fact. I cleared out.”

“I saw that it was exactly what Lance needed. It would not have been large enough for him in the character and with the size of Larkin, but for his natural self it was just sufficient. I will admit that before I had realized the truth I had played with the idea of Larkin having concealed himself there, but had dismissed it as impossible. It was only just large enough for Lance's natural self.

“He stayed there until the cabin was locked, and returned to it next day, until the ship docked, the police came on board and they and the Press had gone. Then he went quietly to the saloon and asked for Captain Bidlake, as if he had just come on board. Once again all had gone splendidly, according to plan. ‘Larkin' was at the bottom of the sea, and, as Lance, he could now go down to Barton Abbess and take over his inheritance with a peaceful mind, if not a clear conscience. Very soon he heard that the police accepted the version he had prepared for them, so there was nothing more to worry about.”