Hell bay, p.19
Hell Bay, page 19
I tucked the pistol in my waistband, against my right kidney. It made me feel at least marginally safer. Then I went downstairs and out the back door again. There was activity all around. Maids were scrubbing the back windows to the kitchen. Footmen were bringing buckets of water up from the beach to throw over the paths. Men were scrubbing with brooms and brushes. A man had been killed a quarter hour before and now people were making it appear as if it had never happened.
“You’re giving them all something to do,” I said to Barker.
“They seem to need it.”
“Have you found any evidence?”
“Blown up or blown away in the wind,” my employer said.
“Mr. Kerry had family, did he not?”
“He did. You had better find Cesar and tell him to pack Mr. Kerry’s belongings.”
“Are you giving me something to do?” I asked.
“You look like you need it, too. You should change and wash your face while you’re at it. You look like a bandicoot.”
That’s Barker for you. Cleanliness first. Everything reflects upon the agency, you see.
I washed and changed and went looking for Cesar. He was difficult to find. I thought perhaps he was dead as well until I found him in the chair by the window that had fallen on him. The hall was now deserted.
“Cesar?” I asked.
“I am unemployed,” he said. He looked crushed.
“I know.”
“It was a mistake to come here.”
“Perhaps.”
“He was a tyrant sometimes, but you know, I got used to it. He had his faults but he was a human being. In a way, I will miss him.”
“What will you do now?” I asked, sitting down in a nearby chair I had drawn closer.
“My first thought was that I would return to Brazil, but you know, Thomas, that is thousands of miles away. I don’t believe I shall ever leave this rock. I’m going to end up dead just like Mr. Kerry.”
“Don’t say that, Cesar. We’ll get you home.”
He held up a finger. “He is one man, senhor. One! Why can’t we catch him? We are over a dozen. We live in fear of him? Let us organize a search party and track him down.”
“We’ve done that half a dozen times now.”
“But we’re stuck here with little to do but wait. We should stay out, sleep rough, until we catch him.”
“And go native, as he has?”
“Si!”
“I’ll suggest it to Barker.”
“Forgive me, Thomas. Is your Mr. Barker all you claim he is? Would the Frenchman who died have caught the killer by now? Could anyone catch this fellow?”
“Let Mr. Barker do his work, Cesar. He’ll track down the killer in his own time. He doesn’t give up. He’ll go without food or sleep if necessary.”
“But will that be enough? Forgive me, but I do not want to die. I like this life. Oh, not this part of it, of course, but the rest of it. There are senhoritas in Rio, my friend, that would break my heart. I think I would let them.”
“You do that,” I told him.
My mind returned to the case. What questions would the Guv ask?
“Did Mr. Kerry go down for breakfast at his usual time?”
“No, his stomach was bothering him. He suffered from ulcers, you know.”
“Yes, that is an unfortunate effect of cocaine usage.”
Cesar’s face went blank. Somehow his pince-nez spectacles stayed perched on his nose.
“You knew, Thomas?”
“Mr. Barker knew.”
“He must be very intelligent.”
“He has his methods. So, Mr. Kerry took cocaine this morning and it affected his ulcers?”
“I’m not sure,” Cesar said. “He was nervous. I helped him put on his best suit. You see, he was going to ask Miss Burrell to marry him today.”
“What?” I asked, shocked.
“I know. Incredible, isn’t it? He said it was time. His family was pressuring him to marry her, as well. If he proposed and was accepted, he told me he would split a bottle of that fine champagne with me.”
“No champagne now,” I said.
“No, senhor. No champagne.”
I went downstairs and told Barker all that Cesar had related to me.
“So, Mr. Kerry was to propose tonight. Interesting.”
“This is so messy. Kerry, who happened to be a cocaine fiend, was going to propose to Olivia Burrell to please his parents. Lord Hargrave would have let them marry, in spite of the embarrassing incident several years ago, because he wanted to see his daughter settled, but he got his head blown off.”
“Life is complex,” Barker said. “It only makes our work here more difficult.”
“It does! You know, at home in Newington, Mac works all day to keep the house spotlessly clean. The gardeners work outside to bring the entire garden to near perfection. But it’s all an illusion. It’s artificial. All life is disorganized.”
“Our work, Thomas, is to bring order out of chaos, no less than Mac or the Hong family who tend our gardens. People try to cover things up. They are capricious. Everybody lies to some extent. Our work is to find that thin thread, that tiny steel wire of truth, and follow it to its inevitable solution.”
“Sometimes the solution doesn’t make sense or it’s too fantastic that someone should act in such a way.”
“Our duty is to discern the truth. To understand it, to discern it, to learn from it, that may come afterward. Of course, by then we have probably started another case, which has its own problems.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I supposed when this party was planned, the concept would have been that everyone would enjoy themselves and spend much of the time talking with one another. With the host and several guests murdered, however, activities such as charades and the Minister’s Cat seemed frivolous and the general spirits of the crowd were low. Catastrophes such as a death in the family might cause a normal party to break up prematurely, but we did not have that luxury. The guests played bridge or whist or billiards, or they read or sewed or talked in order to pass the time and to try not to think that they might be next to die.
Barker and I were passing through the drawing room when the Guv leaned over the sofa and spoke to Dr. Anstruther.
“Would you care for a game of billiards?” he asked.
“I’m afraid I’m not very good,” the doctor said.
“Then we shall be evenly matched.”
Anstruther followed us into the library, where the table stood. I set up the balls in the break box, aware that this was my employer’s way of questioning him. He placed the ball on the baise-covered table and shot it with the tip of his stick.
“Had you known Lord Hargrave long, Doctor?”
“A dozen years at least. My offices are in Land’s End. He came into my surgery to have a wart lanced and then he began seeing me for other things. As it turned out, we were both golfers. He put me up for his club and we have played together ever since.”
“Was the invitation an attempt to bring your families closer together?”
Here Barker aimed the ivory ball in line with a red one and missed.
“As you can see, Mr. Barker, I have two unmarried daughters and he had two eligible sons, but I know my place. I understood the eldest son had to marry well. If Percy should find himself in need of a bride, however, I hoped he might look no farther than Gwendolyn or Bella. He won’t find two better girls in Cornwall.”
“You have every reason to be proud, sir. Mrs. Ashleigh says they are beautiful and accomplished and she is a good judge. I regret that they are in such circumstances, and shall do my best to protect them.”
Anstruther tapped a ball into the pocket, and looked slightly astonished that he had done so.
“I thank you,” he said.
“Is there anything you can tell me about the wounds on the bodies that might help my investigation?”
“Richard’s death—Lord Hargrave, rather—was instantaneous, as was the death of the French bodyguard. He died from a stab wound under the breastbone. That is two very competent murders by the same person. This fellow is no piker.”
“I see.”
“I understand the killer came into the house, but the entrance has been locked. Yet someone was signaling outside, so we must assume there is an accomplice in the house. How would you suggest I keep my girls safe?”
“I would suggest all three of you move into whichever room is the largest and barricade the door at night. It is close quarters, but the safest course.”
“Thank you. Of course. It sounds logical, the way you describe it. I’ll do it tonight, whether the girls object to it or not.”
“I’ve been questioning everyone, looking for something they might have seen or heard of use to me. Information that might help me learn his plan before he springs it on us. Can you think of anything that appears out of the ordinary, or some fact that might be useful?”
“I don’t know if this is useful, but there is something unusual. I would not normally reveal this, but His Lordship is dead and you are the closest thing to an official on this island. You’ve scratched.”
“What?”
“You’ve scratched the cue ball. That’s a foul.”
“So I have. What do you have to tell me?”
“His Lordship was ill. I performed an operation on him several months ago, removing a tumor from the back of his mouth, the soft palate. I suspect it had spread to his throat. I don’t believe he had a year to live.”
“That would certainly give him the impetus to see his sons married,” Barker said.
“Indeed.”
“Did His Lordship ever discuss his work?”
“With me, sir? Not a word. I gathered all his work was secret, so I didn’t press him. He was very tight-lipped about what he did. Sometimes he had to break a reservation for a round of golf, but we never discussed what he did. I took it as a matter of course.”
“It sounds to me, Doctor, as if you were his closest friend.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. He and the colonel were very close, almost like father and son. I will admit that I owe a great deal to him. His patronage helped me to become a successful surgeon.”
He stopped for a second and picked up one of the balls. Now, I understand that was against the rules. However, I saw that he was trying to stop himself from becoming emotional. His Lordship had indeed been a friend to him and he would feel that loss for some time to come. His eyes a little moist, he sniffed and set the ball down in its place again.
“Um, we were saying?”
“Would you say that His Lordship was well liked in the area?”
“I should say so. He helped several local charities and in spite of his international work always had time to judge the local flower show. I don’t think you’ll find anyone who suffered at his hand.”
There is a look which professional men in London prefer and Dr. Anstruther seemed to personify it, even if he didn’t visit London from one season to the next. He was of medium height and trim, and seemed to go in for double-breasted suits. He had wavy light-colored hair and a very trim mustache. Like most doctors I had met he had no sense of humor. Either he was born without one and hence went into medicine, or else he had had it surgically removed. He had nothing frivolous to say and I was content to let Barker do all the talking.
“You had to inform His Lordship that his illness had returned?”
“Yes, I did. He took it stoically. Beyond remarking that he had hoped for his threescore and ten, and that it was unfair to not even reach sixty, he was more concerned about his wife and family.”
“Was he in pain?”
“Oh, yes, but he was a man with a strong drive to accomplish things. I suggested laudanum, but he claimed it made his head feel as if it were full of cotton, and he couldn’t make good decisions.”
Barker glanced my way and I knew what he was thinking: had Lord Hargrave taken laudanum when he asked us to take this case? But then I was sure he had no idea that the man in the woods would be coming to Godolphin Island.
“Did he speak to you of any personal concerns?”
“He joked about putting his affairs in order, and said he would have liked to walk Olivia down the aisle. I believe he was most concerned about Lady Celia, that she would not have someone to lean upon or to help her make decisions.”
The Guv lined up another shot at the foot of the table and then stopped. “Did he imply that she was emotionally or mentally weak?”
“Both, I think. He said that when she made decisions they were often the wrong ones, so he had been making them for her for years. He loved her, but she was not a strong woman.”
“I see,” my employer said, and made the shot. He missed again.
Anstruther came around the table and aimed at the next ball. He sunk it in the side pocket.
“Is there anything you can say about all the murders? Was there any verisimilitude which comes to mind?”
“There was a professionalism about them all. From what I can tell, the shot to Lord Hargrave’s head was dead center. The knife wound to his son was instantly fatal. The explosion that killed Algernon Kerry was at sufficient volume to kill him.”
“And yet the dose of poisonous mushrooms was not sufficient to kill anyone.”
“I assume that there were not enough available, or that they were not of sufficient strength to kill anyone. Difficult to gauge.”
“Precisely.”
“I understand there is a secret entrance that not only approaches the house, but goes all the way through it,” I said. “Either the killer has been here before or he’s being helped by someone.”
“The person sending messages from the window,” Barker stated.
“Person?” I asked. “I assume you are referring to a man.”
“It doesn’t take a man to send a message or to let someone into the house.”
“Could he have seduced a housemaid or something?”
“Do you suppose housemaids to be of lesser virtue than other women?”
“Here now,” Anstruther said. “I resent the implication. I have been watching over my daughters carefully since the first night. If they had stepped from the rooms, I would have known about it.”
“I am glad to hear it, sir, but there are over a dozen women on this island, and there are all types of relationships. The killer could be someone’s brother, someone’s father or son. We don’t know his purpose here.”
“I see your problem, Mr. Barker. Your work is similar to my own. I know something is wrong with the patient, but it could have a number of causes, and I must choose the right one or it will be ineffective. It might even endanger the patient.”
“Thank you, sir. You have captured my dilemma perfectly.”
The doctor sunk two more balls. He was clearing the table. Cyrus Barker was obviously no billiards player. I suppose no man is expected to be good at everything. He could care less if someone thought he had no ability with the cue stick, but I found it rather embarrassing. The doctor, an admittedly mediocre player, was sweeping the table.
“Doctor, are you also Lady Hargrave’s physician?”
“I am.”
Two more balls went into the pocket.
“Is her health good?”
“She is well enough.”
“I understand she has been sedated. Did you bring that with you, or has she used laudanum of her own?”
“That is private information, Mr. Barker. I cannot discuss it with you.”
“I see. Forgive me, Doctor. Patient privacy and all that.”
“Yes, sir.”
Anstruther sunk the final ball. He had a preoccupied look on his face. Turning, he put his stick back in the rack.
“I need to check on my daughters,” he said. “Thank you for the game.”
“Well played, sir.”
The doctor left. Barker picked up a piece of chalk and began chalking the tip of his stick, as if deep in thought.
Barker reached into the pocket and pulled out a red ball. He tossed it onto the table and lined up a cue ball, about halfway between two pockets. He shot. The white ball struck the red one, which hit the felt bumper at one end and jumped up into the air a few inches. It went over Barker’s arm and the cue he held, then made an arc across the long table until finally it went into the right-hand pocket. The Guv grunted, put the stick in the stand on the wall, and left the room.
“Did you mean to do that?” I called after him.
He didn’t answer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Another day of exile had begun. Mrs. Ashleigh had been brought her breakfast, but we were expected to eat in the dining room, as always, being mere men. We were not inclined to do so early, and since we were not strictly employed, Barker and I were having a very rare morning off.
Mrs. Ashleigh was playing a hand of cards. Solitaire. It was not strictly ladylike, I supposed, but we were trapped there, and if this did not end soon, there would be further breaches of etiquette.
Seated beside her, Barker did not say a word, but pointed to where a ten could be placed alongside a knave of hearts. She moved there, and patted the stack as if it were a live thing.
“How is Lady Hargrave?” I asked.
“Difficult,” she said, laying the next card. “Pass me my tea there, would you?”
He nodded and set it down near her. “How so?”
“Losing her husband and son and being trapped here. She wishes we would all go away so she can grieve for the rest of her life.”
“We are here, and we cannot go anywhere until she is more forthcoming.”
Philippa waved a card at him. “It is all black-and-white with you. There is no gray.”
“Sometimes people expect a gray answer,” he countered, “when a black-and-white one will serve.”
“She is grieving!”
“While people are dying.”
She played her hand and went through the stack beside her. Finding nothing to put down, she gathered up the cards.
“True,” she said.
“You got nothing from her, then?”
