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Authors: George Bellairs

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BOOK: Murder Adrift
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She received the detectives without any fuss and they expressed their condolences. In normal circumstances she would probably have been a lively, almost gay, companion. Now tragedy had struck her but she maintained her dignity and avoided any dramatics. She gave Littlejohn a tired smile.

‘I have read about you in the newspapers. The authorities evidently regard my son's death as a serious affair, as they have sent you to investigate it.'

Littlejohn returned the smile. There seemed to be no good reason for explaining the administrative causes of his appearance in Fordinghurst, the anti-climax of the illegal emigrants, the gelignite and the gastric disturbances of the two top officials.

‘We are sorry to call on you so soon in the present circumstances but you will understand that in cases such as this, matters are urgent. We will try to be brief.'

Hopkinson nodded his head solemnly, as though he quite agreed.

‘Please ask me any questions you like. Be seated. . . .'

Very different from the excited, almost frantic reception of her son.

‘Your family all lived here with you, Mrs. Todd?'

‘Yes. Kenneth never married and Hector and his family have a flat on the first floor. This is a large house and there seemed little sense in Hector going elsewhere when he married. His two sons are away at school. We have not sent for them. I thought it best to keep them away from this sordid affair.'

‘And Mrs. Hector? She is here?'

‘Yes. She is lying down. She has taken this tragedy very
badly. The doctor is attending her. I hope that until she is feeling better you will not disturb her.'

‘Not for the present.'

‘As you are no doubt aware, Hector and Lucy, his wife, were not very happy together. I may as well tell you that. Others will tell you, and more besides, if I don't.'

Exactly the attitude of Kenneth! Littlejohn wondered how much more the old lady would divulge as well. Certainly not in bitter and dangerous outpouring like Kenneth's.

‘As a matter of routine, Mrs. Todd, where were you and Mrs. Hector on the night of his death?'

‘We were here, indoors. Lucy is an active member of the parish church and the ladies held a meeting about the winter work. I am not a churchgoer, but I know all those present and was happy to entertain them. The last of them, Mrs. Jump, the vicar's wife, left about eleven. After that, Lucy and I went to bed.'

‘Mr. Hector was out all the evening?'

‘Yes. And Kenneth was in London. As you perhaps know, Hector had a new motor cruiser. I don't know his movements that night but he must have decided to take her out. He was always tinkering about with the engine and other things.'

‘Do you think he had arranged to meet anyone?'

‘He didn't, as a rule, tell any of us what he was doing or with whom.'

‘Do you know anyone who was likely to meet him or go aboard with him that night?'

‘No. Most of the men who sail hereabouts were interested in the
Mary Jane,
I'm sure. Also, Hector had plenty of friends in the port.'

From the corner of his eye, Littlejohn could see Hopkinson
making a memo in his little notebook. Soon, he would be tramping round the port asking about Heck's companions on the night of his death.

‘Mr. Hector and his wife still live together, then?'

It might have not have been an awkward question, for Mrs. Todd answered pat.

‘Yes. She is high church and doesn't believe in divorce. For the sake of the children they put up a front, although it was difficult sometimes. He had a bedroom here, but frequently slept on his boat. The last time I saw him was at breakfast on the day he died. I quite agreed with the arrangements, however. It was wrong for Hector always to have his own way. In fact, I went to the extent of telling him when I heard of his folly that I would strip him of all his interests in the firm and turn him out without any allowance if he didn't mend his ways. I know he had given his wife grounds for divorce, but, as far as I can judge, Hector had no wish to be free to marry any particular one of his lady friends. . . .'

‘You kept an eye on his behaviour?'

‘I have sources of information.'

‘Your company's representatives in the district?'

She nodded.

‘I see you know quite a lot already, Mr. Littlejohn.'

‘I visited Mr. Kenneth before I called here.'

‘I see. Kenneth told me he was prepared to tell the police all he knew. He never got on with Hector, but murder is another matter. He is as anxious as you are to find the culprit.'

‘I imagine, from what he told me, Mr. Kenneth had good reasons for disapproving of his brother.'

‘Kenneth was always a prim and proper boy; the very reverse of Hector. He joined the firm when he left school,
worked hard and finally took over the business from me and succeeded in running it extremely well. Hector didn't take to the business at all. He never quite knew what he wanted. Journalist, lawyer, flying officer, member of Parliament . . . He grew hot and cold about them and finally did nothing at all. He drew his income from the company, spent it, borrowed and spent that, too. You have probably been told already that he was somewhat of a rake. He could never resist a pretty face. Do not judge him too harshly. His father died when he was a small boy and he missed a father's control and guidance. He always had most charming manners and a great capacity for wheedling his way through life. He was spoiled. . . . '

‘What about Mr. Kenneth? He, too, suffered from a similar environment as a boy. He doesn't give one the impression of being spoiled. Quite the contrary.'

‘They were born with different temperaments, as though sired by different fathers, although I assure you that such was not the case. Kenneth is like his father. No sense of humour, an earnest man, immersed in his work and proud of his integrity. Hector's behaviour shocked and outraged him.'

She gave Littlejohn an arch look.

‘Hector was a bit like me. Until circumstances forced me to settle down and run the business I was a harum-scarum and enjoyed the good things of life, although I didn't go so far as Hector in my love-life. But although my father was a figure in the church – Dean of Portwich and above reproach – my uncles were reputed to be rakes. My father prayed a lot for them and I was instructed never to find myself alone with Uncle Humphrey.'

‘Why did Mr. Kenneth never marry?'

‘I really ought to tell you to mind your own business in
such family matters, but, as I said before, someone else will enlighten you if I don't, and perhaps with less tact. The truth is that he was in love with Lucy. Both boys were. And she chose Hector. It wasn't that she chose the bad against the good man; it was simply Hector's technique which won the day.'

‘Did it never cause trouble in the family? All of you living under the same roof?'

‘Hector and Lucy had a flat overlooking the harbour for the first three years after they married. Then I became ill and was almost bedridden for 12 months, from an operation. Lucy was a trained nurse and suggested they move in here. It was as simple as that. Kenneth seemed to have got over his disappointment and raised no objections. In fact, it gave him a chance to take a greater brotherly interest in Lucy. Don't get me wrong. Kenneth is no rake; quite the contrary.'

‘Was there trouble between the two brothers through Hector's treatment of his wife?'

‘Quite a lot. They bickered and quarrelled and Kenneth played the heavy brother sometimes. Neither of them was a violent man. They shouted and swore at each other, but neither struck the other. That was the extent of it and I hope you are not regarding Kenneth as a suspect, because you would be quite wrong.'

She paused and frowned as though faced with a problem.

‘And yet. . . . With all his black marks, Hector remained the most charming of the pair, well-liked in the locality, popular wherever he went. Good old Heck! People were amused by his escapades and few condemned him. Although she has never confided in me for years, I know Lucy loved him to the end and her scruples about parting were
of the heart more than religious. Now, she is completely shattered with grief. And Kenneth is the humdrum member of the partnership, slightly disapproved of because he isn't a sport, can't swim or man a boat, almost feared by the workmen because he is strict and just, and labelled a bore because he is strait-laced and has no sense of humour. That's life!'

‘You must know from experience and from the information you receive, all about Hector's friends and associates. Can you think of anyone likely to kill him or wish him ill?'

‘You mean have his love affairs made enemies for him or his other escapades created ill-will . . .?'

‘Excuse me. You mention escapades. What did they consist of?'

Mrs. Todd thought for a moment.

‘You are asking me to reveal what might be called family secrets which shed a rather unhappy light on the life of one of us now dead. And, as far as I can see, it would serve no useful purpose in the present investigation to speak of them.'

‘I am sorry, Mrs. Todd, and I won't press the matter. It wasn't idle curiosity made me raise it. I wondered if any incidents in Mr. Hector's past life gave rise to, let us say, hatred which could be behind the crime. You might think it over and if anything strikes you please let me know.'

‘I had no idea when I used the word “escapades” that you would place great importance on it. I was thinking more of his pranks and mischief when he was young. . . . '

‘Mr. Kenneth, when I interviewed him, talked of his brother's love affairs, some of which he said were unfortunate. One of them almost ruined the family, coming, as it did, at a time when business wasn't too good. He said you
had saved the situation only by selling your jewellery. He also mentioned the case of forged cheques. . . . '

At first, Mrs. Todd showed signs of panic. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped. Then she recovered herself and spoke harshly.

‘It was cruel of Kenneth to speak of such things at a time like this, Mr. Littlejohn.'

‘I did not ask him to do so. He volunteered the information. He seemed eager to tell me all he knew.'

‘You cannot say that I have not been anxious to do the same. I did not, as the incidents you mention passed through my mind just now, imagine they could in any way be of use to the police in this investigation. However, I see that I was wrong.'

Littlejohn was surprised at the stamina and the attitude of the old lady in discussing the crime. She remained in full possession of herself with no show of grief or self-pity.

‘Could you tell me, Mrs. Todd, where Mr. Hector obtained the money to purchase the expensive new boat in which he met his death?'

‘I do not know. Perhaps he borrowed it from a friend or even acquired it on hire purchase. He never discussed his business with me, except when he wished to borrow money from me. I certainly did not provide the means of his buying such an expensive plaything.'

Hopkinson's eyes were fixed on Littlejohn. He was so surprised at what seemed to him a battle of wits between his Chief and Mrs. Todd that he forgot to put pencil to paper and continue the notes he had been making.

‘We will not take any more of your time, Mrs. Todd. I am sorry we have had to bother you at all so near the tragedy.'

‘Please do not mention it. I am anxious to help the
police and trust you will forgive me if I withheld useful information. Also, I hope you will not think me inhospitable not offering you coffee. I am upset and confused and I confess I forgot my duties.'

She seemed fully recovered and herself again. She preceded them to the door, waving aside, with a smile, Hopkinson's gesture to help with her wheel-chair, which she propelled quickly with little jerky thrusts.

‘Please call again if, at any time, you think I can help. . . . '

It was noon and the local yacht races were about to begin. In the midst of
Nearer My God to Thee,
through which the carillon was staggering, a maroon was fired, and apparently to warn all and sundry that the show was due to commence. People on the road started to run and there was a commotion on the seashore as the crowds, sunning themselves, leapt to their feet and gathered their belongings ready to be in at the start. It turned out to be a false alarm. A fishing boat had got into difficulties in the bay and made distress signals. The explosion was from the lifeboat house and the spectators had an additional spectacle in the muster and launching of the inshore rescue ship. The yacht race was delayed half an hour.

Littlejohn and Hopkinson joined the procession of holidaymakers rushing excitedly to the quayside. There were cheers for the lifeboatmen as they put out to sea from the harbour and derisive shouts for the mayor, who, heading a small convoy and wearing his chain of office, robes and cocked hat, suddenly appeared from nowhere intent on starting the yachts, and found himself foiled. There was rollicking laughter to greet him from the spectators lining the waterfront.

The
Trident,
in view of the mild sunny day and the proceedings
in the open air, had spread a number of small tables along its frontage and drinks and light lunches were being served. In the prevailing confusion around them the detectives had not got down to business and now Littlejohn indicated one of the empty tables.

‘Let's sit down and have a drink and talk matters over.'

The staff of the hotel had crowded to the door to watch the goings-on and the manager himself served Littlejohn and Hopkinson with beer.

He was annoyed at the attitude of the waiters, but feared that if he exerted his authority, they would all come out on strike. He had been drinking himself to hide his chagrin and staggered as he carried the tray.

‘Excuse me, gentlemen. I'm upset. Staff troubles. Always staff troubles.' And he looked across the water as though wondering whether or not to take a header in it and end it all.

BOOK: Murder Adrift
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