Murder Adrift (20 page)

‘Have you ever owned a revolver? Please think carefully
before you answer. If you have possessed one and disposed of it, say so. Our frogmen will be searching the river and port tomorrow for the weapon which killed your son. . . .'

Hopkinson looked up apprehensively from the notes he was furiously making in his book. It was a shot in the dark.

‘If that gun is found, we will not rest until we find out the owner.'

Todd didn't give his mother a chance to answer. He turned angrily on Littlejohn.

‘What are you trying to do? Are you insinuating that my mother killed her own son? Why can't you look among the disreputable gang with whom my brother associated? What grounds have you for these questions?'

‘I'll try to explain. But first, will you tell me the truth about the telephone message you received from this house when you were in London on the night of the crime? Around the time of your brother's death you received the call and at once you sneaked away from the hotel and returned home? Why didn't you tell the night porter why you were leaving? It would have been the normal thing to do in an ordinary emergency. Instead, you just vanished without anyone seeing or hearing from you.'

‘You asked me that before. I told you that my mother had been taken ill and needed me.'

‘The call came immediately after your brother's death. He was shot in this house. You were called back here and the body was then carried to his boat and the boat set adrift. How did he meet his death?'

‘Is that why you've called here and browbeaten two women and myself in an effort to solve the crime? We are his family. How could we do such a thing? You must be mad. . . . '

Todd's outburst was suddenly cut short. Lucy tried to rise to her feet, failed, and then collapsed in a faint on the floor.

Todd swiftly crossed to where she was lying and angrily pushed Littlejohn aside. He knelt by the side of the limp woman and then, for the first time, Littlejohn saw that there was tenderness and affection in the make-up of this queer man. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to a couch by the fire. Hopkinson made a move to assist him.

‘Keep away, you. Don't touch her. The pair of you will answer for this. . . . '

Still muttering he opened a cupboard, took out brandy and a glass, and gave her a drink. Then he alternated between flinging abuse at Littlejohn and muttering endearments to Lucy. Finally, she came to and sat up on the couch.

‘Don't try to get up. When you feel ready, I'll go and wake Dorothy and she can take you to bed.'

‘I'm all right now, Ken. I'm sorry to cause all this commotion. I'd better tell the police what happened that night. It isn't right that this should go on and on, upsetting everyone and lying to the police. . . .'

Littlejohn interrupted her.

‘If you are going to make a statement, I have to warn you that anything you say will be taken down in writing and may be used in evidence. . . . '

‘She's not going to say anything, Chief Superintendent, without our lawyer being present. You, Kenneth, take her upstairs to her room, waken Dorothy on the way and stay with Lucy until Dorothy can take over.'

Old Mrs. Todd said it in her most domineering manner and, as Todd hesitated, she told him to do as he was bid. He led Lucy gently away.

‘And now,' said Mrs. Todd, ‘you and I, Mr. Littlejohn, have matters to settle between us. . . .'

She turned to Hopkinson.

‘You, young man! Take your little book into the other room and leave us together. You don't need to take down what I have to say to your boss. I'll see that you get a signed transcription of it. Be off with you.'

Hopkinson gave Littlejohn a bewildered look.

‘All right, Hopkinson, do as madam asks.'

‘Thank you,' said Mrs. Todd as he left them and closed the door after himself.

‘Now, Mr. Littlejohn. I killed my son. It was an accident, but his own fault. I suppose you think I'm callous because I'm not weeping and causing a commotion about the place, but I am not the weeping sort. I've been through enough in my life to teach me to control myself and keep my feelings from outsiders. . . .'

‘I must warn you, Mrs. Todd. . . . '

‘I know. We will take it as said and when I sign the statement I will embody in it the fact that I was warned that it might be used in evidence. You were very near the truth in your deductions. My son, Hector, had grown completely debauched at the time of his death. Not only was he drinking brandy liberally, but he was a heroin addict as well. He treated his wife shamefully and at the last school holidays we arranged for his boys to spend them elsewhere rather than see their father's condition. He came home when he wanted anything; he spent the rest of his time drinking on his boat or else gallivanting elsewhere with some woman or other. Lucy and Kenneth are in love with each other, but for the sake of the boys and the family good name Lucy would not consider a divorce. It is a wonder Kenneth did not kill him before this.'

She paused.

‘Give me some of that brandy. I'm not supposed to drink it, but this is an exception. . . .'

He passed her the bottle and a glass and she helped herself liberally and drank it slowly.

‘On the night of his death, Hector, knowing that my jewellery was here in the safe for one night, came after we'd gone to bed, let himself in with the key he always kept, and removed the jewellery from the safe. He must have had the key made at some time or other. I knew he had it, wherever he had obtained it, because he had opened the safe before and taken money from it. He was drunk and I heard him enter. I was reading in bed and often do, for I'm a poor sleeper. I got up and came down to investigate. I thought at first it was a burglar. There have been some robberies at several of the large houses in the district. . . .'

She took another drink of the brandy.

‘Excuse me. May I ask a personal question? How mobile are you, Mrs. Todd? Can you move around without your wheel-chair?'

‘No. I cannot place any weight on my legs. I can get in and out of bed or from the wheel-chair to another chair without help. That is all.'

‘Thank you. Please proceed.'

‘I misinformed you about the gun. I had one at the time of Hector's death. It was an old one, small, purchased by my husband at a pawnshop. It was never licensed because until recently we had forgotten we had it. However, there have been so many burglaries and acts of vandalism of late that I found and cleaned it and put it in the drawer of my dressing table, more for reassurance than anything else, for the occasions when Kenneth is away for the night and there are only three women here in the house.'

Her conversation was objective and matter-of-fact. She might have been discussing the tragedy of someone else.

‘I took the revolver with me when I went downstairs.'

‘In the lift?'

‘Yes. I cannot walk down. As I said, I found Hector there, with the safe open. He was preoccupied with the contents of my jewel-cases and I surprised him. He was drunk and very awkward. He told me plainly he was in trouble and was leaving the country for good. And, as he had no money to support him, he was taking some of my jewellery for that purpose. As a matter of fact, judging from his behaviour, he was taking the lot! I cannot tell you, word for word, what we said to each other. I was in a rage and I had reached the end, the point of no return. I told him I was going to send for the police if he insisted on taking what he had come for. He pushed me and the chair away from the phone. It was then that I pulled the revolver from my handbag and told him to stand aside. He was facing me, lunged at me to snatch the revolver, tripped, and staggered over the foot-boards of my chair . . . these.. .'

She pointed to the two metal pedals on which her feet were resting under a rug.

There was a pause.

‘And then. . . .?'

‘The shot awoke Lucy who hurried down. Dorothy, the maid, sleeps in the attic and slept through everything. The pair of us were alone with Hector and he had died at once.'

And then, as though all her controlled, pent-up feelings had been released, she put her hands to her face and wept bitterly. She quickly recovered, wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and grew composed again.

‘I'm sorry. I despise exhibitions of this kind. The threats
to ring up the police and brandishing the gun were parts of a charade whereby I hoped to persuade Hector to give up the idea of stealing my jewellery. I was in a rage. I must say the jewels were, to me, a sort of mysterious talisman and assurance that I would never again suffer the poverty we endured in my poor father's time, when with his miserable pittance as dean of the cathedral, we had to scratch and scrape to keep up with our so-called social equals in the cathedral close. I must hurry. Kenneth will be back any minute. He's been away quite a time. He and Lucy are very fond of each other.'

‘And then. . . .?'

‘. . . I made up my mind that Hector wasn't going to take away the stones. However, there we were . . . I decided that Kenneth must come home at once and ran the risk of telephoning his hotel and telling him to return immediately as I was feeling very ill. Which was true in the circumstances. The rest you know. The idea of taking Hector to his boat and turning the boat adrift was Kenneth's. A sort of Viking's funeral. Judging from results, not a very bright one. We knew Hector was mixed up in some underhand immigration affair. Lucy had overheard him telephoning once when he came here before to take away my diamond ring. Kenneth said that the police would think one of the gang had killed him. Kenneth, even as a boy, was no use at cloak-and-dagger games. Not enough imagination or ingenuity.'

‘But how did you get the body from here to the boat?'

‘In my wheel-chair. There was nobody to help us. We couldn't risk it. At first we thought of making a clean breast of it to the police, but we were afraid of local scandal. We've had enough in our family mainly due to Hector,
without that final horror. It was a terrible risk. There is a paved path behind the property opposite this house. It was made up by Sam Pollitt when he started his unsuccessful building venture on the seafront. Now it is neglected and out of sight of most of the houses. It ends quite near the harbour where Hector's boat was tied up. Lucy and Kenneth wrapped the body in a rug and wheeled it to the boat. It must have been a nightmare, but they did it unobserved. Then Kenneth tumbled poor Hector in the dinghy, rowed to the large boat, and put him in the cabin. That was all. I must ask you to be merciful about Kenneth and Lucy. They did it for me and we were all so panic-stricken. . . . '

‘What happened to the revolver?'

‘I gave it to Lucy. She threw it in the river.'

‘I see. I'm sorry, Mrs. Todd. I'll need your full statement. . . .'

The door opened and Kenneth Todd stood there, dishevelled, as though returning once again from his nightmare journey with his brother's body.

‘Lucy collapsed again when we got to her room. Dorothy's with her now and she'll be all right, I think.'

Hopkinson appeared, anxiously looking from one to another, wondering what had happened in his absence.

‘What have you been telling the police, mother?'

Kenneth seemed to sense that the climax had been passed, a solution had been reached, and was uneasy about it all.

‘I have told the Chief Superintendent that it was I who shot Hector accidentally and I've also told him how the body got on board the boat. . . . '

‘You've what!!'

‘Now don't be silly, Kenneth. Don't go and say that you
did it, because you've got an alibi. You were in the hotel when it all happened and can prove it. I've promised Mr. Littlejohn that I'll sign a statement.'

Hurrying steps came down the stairs, Dorothy shouted from the landing, and Lucy appeared in the doorway and pushed past Kenneth.

‘What are you doing here, Lucy?'

Kenneth sounded annoyed as though Lucy was playing truant. And then, in a disappointed petulant tone :

‘Mother's confessed to killing Heck.'

Lucy obviously didn't share his depressed mood. She seemed quite recovered from her previous timidity and ready to take a hand in the queer confessions which were flying about.

‘That's ridiculous. She knows I shot Hector and even if she is old and willing to sacrifice herself for our happiness, I'm not going to let her take on that load of guilt. I don't know what she's told you, Mr. Littlejohn, but it's all quite simple. When mother and I were alone Hector came to burgle her jewellery which he knew was here, and his one chance was to get it before it went back to the bank. I don't know what wakened me; perhaps it was the lift moving. I got out my revolver and went quietly downstairs thinking it was burglars. I found Hector there with the safe open and the jewel-cases in his hands. His mother was there and he was drunk and brandishing a gun at her. I called to him to drop it and he turned it on me. So I let him have it. How was I to know that his gun was empty? Did she tell you how Kenneth and I took Hector to his boat in her wheelchair?'

‘Yes, she told me that.'

Littlejohn felt that the direction of the case had been taken from his hands altogether and the family were going
to quarrel and scrap with one another for the honour of committing the crime.

‘The gun was yours, Mrs. Todd?'

‘Of course,' said Lucy. ‘I must admit it wasn't licensed. My father taught me to shoot and gave me the revolver. I'd forgotten I had it until all these robberies occurred. I thought it might be useful to scare any intruder, especially when Kenneth was away for the night.'

‘And Mr. Hector had a gun, as well? Quite an unlicensed armory. Did you throw Mr. Hector's gun in the river along with the murder weapon?'

‘I threw Hector's gun away, yes. I kept my own. Here it is. . . .'

She opened her bag and produced the weapon.