Murder Adrift (11 page)

They found themselves in a large room which seemed to run the length of the house. It was well furnished in keeping with the period of the building. At the far end a french window overlooked a large well-kept walled garden, the old trees of which darkened the interior. To the left a single-storeyed modern annexe had been built, through the window of which they could see patients sitting awaiting attention by the doctor.

Dr. Macmannus arrived almost at once. The same man who had handled Pollitt so well the night before. Smallish, wiry, elderly, probably nearing retirement, who seemed settled and relaxed in his job. In spite of the crowd of patients he wasn't in a hurry. He lit his pipe and settled himself in a chair facing his visitors.

‘Glad to see you again, Littlejohn. Have you called to inquire about the mayor? I saw him first thing this morning. He had spent a good night and should be out and about in a day or two. Mainly shock. I can't quite make out how it all occurred. Between ourselves, although he wasn't actually drunk after the yacht club dinner, I think he must have been unsteady on his feet, measured his length in the street, and came by his abrasions that way. Very undignified for the mayor of the town, who, by his general behaviour often comes in for a lot of mockery. So, feeling ashamed of his condition, he concocted a story about being assaulted. However, we'll play along with him in his little charade. His wife's in bed, too, in a state of collapse; her usual response to all the troubles of life. She'll recover as soon as Pollitt's off the sick-list.'

‘I'll call to see him, then, if that's all right, doctor?'

‘Yes. He'll be glad to see you. He likes being fussed.'

‘There's another matter, doctor. Are you the Todds' family doctor?'

‘Yes. Why? They were among my first patients when I put up my plate here. What about the Todds?'

‘Mrs. Hector. . . .'

‘Ah!'

He said it as though he had expected the inquiry.

‘I called at the Big House yesterday and saw old Mrs. Todd, but Mrs. Hector wasn't available. Mrs. Todd, senior, said she had taken the death of Hector very badly and was confined to her room with, what I gathered, was nervous collapse. She wasn't in a fit condition to see us or talk about the crime.'

The doctor rubbed his chin and frowned.

‘Not on my orders. I saw her after her husband's death. I thought she took it very well. Too well. It's better for some people to have a good weep and an explosion of grief and get it over. She's not that kind, though. I'm not breaking medical confidence when I say she's had a very raw deal in her marriage with Hector. The man was a compulsive philanderer and she ought to have broken with him years ago. She's a very proud woman and I guess would have been humiliated in admitting defeat. And, of course, there are the children. Two very nice boys, who take after her and not the Todds, thank God. You've already met the surviving Todds and you know what I mean.'

‘I do. Just before I came here, I'd an agitated telephone call from Mrs. Hector saying she must see me at once. She spoke in almost a whisper and then cut off, as though someone was coming in the room or else had interrupted her call.'

‘That's strange. What sense could there be in trying to
keep her from the police? She may have had something important to tell you. . . .'

He paused and his lips tightened.

‘If she was afraid of being overheard or if she was cut off it must have been the doing of the old lady. The servants certainly wouldn't have done it and there's nobody else there, as far as I know. Old Mrs. Todd is very proud of the family and their position in the town. I've no doubt she's tried to hush up as much of the details and background of this murder affair as possible. As she's done with previous family troubles, often the conduct of Hector himself. Lucy, that's Mrs. Hector, may have something important to tell you and the old lady's preventing her from doing it. I wonder if she's keeping Lucy under sedation. I gave Lucy some tablets yesterday. Harmless if taken as prescribed, but an overdose might keep her quiet for quite a long time.'

‘In view of the telephone call, I think I ought to call and see what's happening. Don't you?'

‘Yes. You'll have to get past old Mrs. Todd, though. She is rather a tough proposition when she turns that way. I could call on my rounds and see how Lucy's getting along after I've finished my surgery. Then I could get in touch with you and report how the land lies. Will that do?'

‘That's very kind of you. It might be embarrassing if I called now.'

‘Very well. I'll visit her before lunch and contact you right away. Meanwhile, I suggest you call on Pollitt. I haven't pressed him to tell me exactly what happened last night. You have your ways of extracting information. Ask him outright if he had had too much to drink and imagined that a tumble was an attack.'

And the doctor showed them out and returned to his patients.

Littlejohn and Hopkinson crossed the road and rang the bell of the mayor's house. A fat woman with slant eyes, whom Littlejohn hadn't seen before, opened the door and almost before he had asked for the mayor announced that she was the daily help and the mayor wasn't seeing anyone.

‘Who is it?'

The mayor's piping voice came from the room on the right, where they had laid him out on the previous night.

‘Now you've disturbed him, and him not well,' said the woman, who looked ready to defend His Worship to the last.

‘Chief Superitendent Littlejohn,' said Hopkinson, and the fat woman reeled back, but still blocked the way completely with her huge form.

‘Police?'

‘Send him in,' fluted the mayor.

The woman turned sideways and let them pass.

The mayor was swathed in a heavy camel-hair dressing-gown, huddled before the fire. He couldn't wait for them to greet him or ask how he was.

‘First it's Heck Todd; then me. When is this nightmare going to end?'

‘Don't worry, sir. We have matters well in hand.'

The wad of cotton wool plastered on his forehead was still in place but a little askew, which, in spite of his downcast looks, gave him a slightly rakish appearance. Littlejohn had wondered why the pitch of Pollitt's thin voice had altered; now he found that his lips were puffy and he couldn't open his mouth to the full. Also he had a black eye and his nose was slightly swollen.

‘We called to ask how you are, Mr. Mayor.'

‘Not good at all. Not good at all. The doctor said I'd be all right in a day or two and that I was mainly suffering from shock. I can't seem to convince you all that I was beaten-up last night. If somebody hadn't turned up when he did I'd have been murdered like Heck Todd. And why? . . . why? Look at me. Skull nearly fractured, nose nearly broken, and my false teeth smashed and nearly swallowed.'

He sank back with a groan and huddled down in his gown.

‘Are you sure, sir, that it was an attack?'

The mayor showed the first signs of animation. He leapt from his chair and then, remembering he was an invalid, moaned and sat down again slowly.

‘Are you calling me a liar?'

‘No, sir. But quite a number of us drank a lot and were unsteady on our feet and a bit fuddled in our heads when your splendid party ended. Are you sure you didn't have a fall and damage yourself that way?'

Pollitt looked ready to weep.

‘Will nothing I say convince you and the doctor that I suffered a savage attack? I wasn't drunk. I was walking home as steady as could be. Are you all trying to spoil my good name or are you trying to sweep the matter of an attempt on my life under the carpet because you've been slow in capturing the murderer who's running wild about the place?'

He stopped and put his hand over his mouth as though it pained him to speak.

‘You must excuse my disturbing you in your present condition, but I'm as anxious to get to the bottom of this affair as much as you are, sir. Quite candidly, your injuries are not in keeping with a brutal attack. They are simply superficial abrasions. The doctor agrees with me. I think you
must have either had a fall or walked into the wall at the corner there and suffered concussion which has made you uncertain as to what happened. . . .'

For a moment the mayor looked terribly afraid. More afraid than he had seemed when he talked of attempted murder. Then he pulled himself together.

‘Please go now. I've had enough of this. You insult me instead of sympathising. As for the doctor . . . I thought he was a friend of mine. Instead of which he calls me a liar. I shall report this to the proper quarter as soon as I'm able . . . Mrs. Roper! Mrs. Roper!!'

The fat woman arrived, breathing heavily.

‘Show these gentlemen out, Mrs. Roper. If I was myself I'd chuck them out personally. . . .'

They bade him good-bye. He didn't answer but stared agitatedly in the fire.

‘What do you think of that, sir?' asked Hopkinson as they closed the gate.

‘The mayor's lying. I think the injuries were self-inflicted for some reason. He's either trying to give himself an alibi of sorts, or else attempting to distract us from the case. Although how Pollitt's involved in it is a mystery to me. Let's call in the bank and see if we can get any help there.'

The Fordinghurst branch of Packers Bank was in the High Street and the manager, Mr. Stonechat, received Littlejohn and partner apprehensively, because he didn't wish to get mixed up in the murder case which he knew from local gossip they were investigating. Such sordid matters were not good for business and Mr. Stonechat was a young, thrusting man who wished to go a long way in the bank. He was sitting in his room when they arrived, composing a sharp but polite letter to a customer who was
influential locally but penniless and overdrawn. He invited the two detectives in his office, which was only just large enough to accommodate the three of them and was shortly to be enlarged under a lavish building programme.

‘Glad to meet you both,' said Mr. Stonechat, whose looks belied his greeting, and waited for the worst.

He was a burly man who had played rugby for his school and he had difficulty in squeezing himself into his official armchair. He waved Littlejohn and Hopkinson to smaller armless chairs which those two large men completely hid from view. It made them appear to be sitting in thin air.

‘Do Todd Brothers and Fish bank with you, Mr. Stonechat?'

Littlejohn knew they did, for he had seen cheques awaiting signatures on Mr. Kenneth's desk during his visit to the wine merchants.

‘Yes. They've been our customers since their foundation.'

‘And the rest of the family?'

‘Yes. All of them.'

‘Including Mr. Hector?'

Mr. Stonechat blinked.

‘Yes, in a way.'

‘You seem a little doubtful about that, sir?'

‘I'm sorry, Chief Superintendent, but you do appreciate that all our customers' business is strictly confidential and I. . . . '

‘Anything you tell us will be treated with the utmost discretion. If we can deal informally with it it will save me either obtaining a court order or calling at your head office to ask for their help. I assure you that my questions will not embarrass you.'

Mr. Stonechat made a quick decision.

‘Very well. You may question me and I will answer reasonable queries.'

‘Mr. Hector. . . . Was he a difficult customer?'

‘He had an account with us. It is dormant and overdrawn for a small sum. There have been no transactions on it for over a year. He had got into the habit of taking considerable overdrafts without our permission. It got very embarrassing and I had to remonstrate with him about it. He took umbrage, which was very awkward, for the Todd connection is very good here and we could not risk losing it. Mr. Hector must have spoken to Mr. Kenneth about it. Mr. Kenneth paid off the overdraft with one of his own cheques and instructed me to honour no more irregular cheques on Mr. Hector's account, and if any were issued to return them unpaid. No more cheques were drawn and we were left with a small amount owing for charges.'

‘I can't reasonably ask you to show me Mr. Hector's account, but did any of the cheques he drew when the account was operative strike you as being strange. I mean, were the cheques issued to questionable payees or persons whose names surprised you or put you on your guard?'

‘I would even go so far as to show you the account, but it would convey little to you. You do not know the payees of the cheques. . .?'

‘But you would, yourself. Suppose you run through the account, say over the last year of its use, and refresh your memory and say if any of the payments call for our attention?'

‘I could do that. . . .'

Mr. Stonechat rang for a clerk and asked for the account sheets. When they arrived he ran his finger down the columns and chattered names to himself as he perused them. He jotted down several items on the pad at his
elbow. Then he told Littlejohn the ones which impressed him. There were cheques to expensive London and Portwich shops, some of them jewellers and ladies' shops. . . .

‘Those, I assume, were for presents to his lady friends.' ‘. . . bookmakers, moneylenders, wine merchants. . . .'

‘The payments to purveyors of extravagances such as he thought were due to a man of his tastes. Gambling debts . . . And then cheques to his wife, presumably for her expenses. For ready money, he would cash a cheque at whichever pub or hotel he was frequenting. Of recent years he seemed ashamed to call here and obtain cash over our counter. He probably thought we might refuse it. As for his home expenditure, rates, light, etc., he must have lived on his mother. Such bills were never paid through us. His wife, of course, had her own income and was wise enough to stick to it and leave her husband to settle his own accounts.'

‘Was his account active at the time he bought his new cabin cruiser?'