The Twenty-Third Man (15 page)

‘I expect you are,’ said Laura. ‘Can you come to see me off?’

‘I don’t see why not.’

He did, in due course, see her off, and she and the baby arrived at the Mole of Reales less than a fortnight after Dame Beatrice had left it. Laura regretted that the voyage had to end, for she loved the sea and would never travel by air if she could help it, but she was keenly anxious to meet the guests at the hotel and to see how far her estimate of them coincided with that of her employer. Allowing for the considerable difference in their ages, Laura and Dame Beatrice thought alike about people, and Laura already had the feeling that she knew Mrs Angel, Peterhouse, Caroline, Telham, and Clun, and of the Drashleighs and their adopted son she had received
such
a vivid impression of a cranky couple with the power to experiment on a defenceless child that she looked forward eagerly to entering the lists against them and giving battle. Laura was, theoretically, at least, on the side of little boys and against their adult persecutors.

‘And now,’ she confided to her own small son as the taxi took them to the Hotel Sombrero de Miguel Cervantes, ‘we have to keep an eye on things for a bit, so do your stuff.’

The baby chumbled his fist and smiled at her.

It proved easy enough to keep an eye on Dame Beatrice’s fellow-guests at the Hotel Sombrero. The sociable Mr Peterhouse and the (possibly) anti-social Mrs Angel appeared to regard the baby as an introduction to Laura. She welcomed their interest as soon as she knew who they were, and, Luisa Ruiz proving to have a way with, as well as a devotion to, Gavin junior, he was often given into her charge. Laura, thus freed, was soon acquainted with Caroline and Telham also, for she went swimming with them and astonished both by her remarkable speed and efficiency in the water.

She had been wondering how to introduce the subject of Emden’s death without betraying the fact that she knew Dame Beatrice, and had still found no safe way of doing this when Telham set the ball rolling by mentioning the matter himself. He, his sister and Laura one day were lounging on the raft which was anchored out in the bay. He suddenly said:

‘You haven’t been to the cave of dead men yet, have you?’

‘No. I’ve heard about it, of course. I’m curious about it, naturally. Is it horrid?’

‘Caroline and I think it is, but it’s definitely one of the sights and you ought not to miss it. I wonder old Peterhouse hasn’t made up a party to include you. He regards the cave as his own property, I believe. He certainly shows it off as though it is. Still, even with him you need a native guide.’

‘Why? Doesn’t he know the way to it?’

‘Oh, yes, but there are the bandits, you know.’

‘Bandits? How jolly that sounds! What sort of bandits?’

‘I don’t really know. If you feel charitable you’d better ask Peterhouse. The old bore claims to have been captured by them twice. He’ll like to tell you all about it. He swears the cave’s haunted now.’

‘I should think it most likely, with all those dead men in it!’

‘Oh, it’s not those. It’s a chap who used to live here. Somebody did for him and put his body in the cave with the others, and fixed him up in the robes and death-mask of one of the kings, but nobody knows who did it. We had Dame Beatrice Lestrange Bradley staying here at the time, and she began looking into the thing, but it seems she got discouraged. The fellow must be pretty brilliant to have got the better of
her
. I understand she’s acquired a reputation as a sleuth. However, she left at the end of a month, so, apparently, she realized the job was hopeless.’

‘Why was the murder done? Does anybody know?’

‘Only the killer, I imagine. My personal opinion is that it was a revenge job, and, with those sort of deeds, unless you’ve got a low-down on the dead man’s past, you’re stymied.’

‘Let’s swim back to the beach,’ said his sister. ‘I’m starving.’

‘The man I’ve got
my
eye on,’ continued Telham, sitting up, ‘is a certain Clun. A nasty bit of work, if ever there was one. Besides, he’s slung his hook, always a pointer to guilt.’

‘Has he gone far?’ Laura asked this disingenuous question in what she hoped was a manner unlikely to arouse suspicion.

‘He’s at Puerto del Sol, a little place further round the coast. Of course, if you’re going in for killing, this island is the ideal place. The police here don’t seem to trouble themselves about anything except agitating for more pay.
Clun’s
done time already for killing somebody in England, so I suppose he dared not tackle his man there.’

‘Wasn’t it rather short-sighted of the victim to come to live in a place where he could so easily be murdered?’

‘Oh, do come along,’ pleaded Caroline, before her brother could answer. She balanced herself on the edge of the raft, waited for a wave to lift it the way she desired, and dived in. The other two followed, and the three swam ashore.

That evening, before dinner, which, as was the island custom, did not appear until between nine and ten at night, Laura broached the subject of the cave to Peterhouse, and was greatly intrigued by his flat refusal to go anywhere near it.

‘I used to enjoy making up parties and taking them along,’ he said, ‘but, since poor Emden’s body was found there, I seem to have lost interest.’

‘I’ve heard something of the murder – I suppose there’s no doubt it
was
murder? – from Mr Telham. What a dreadful thing to happen on a lovely island like this!’

‘Indeed it was. Emden, of course, was a mystery man. Dressed like the peasants and annoyed the local girls, to put the thing in a nutshell, so some disgruntled islander bumped him off.’

‘So you think the murderer was a native of Hombres Muertos?’

‘Between you and me, I wouldn’t put it past the landlord here, old Ruiz. He’s a full-blooded Spaniard and as proud as the devil. If Emden had molested Luisa, the fat would have been in the fire. A Spaniard doesn’t stop to think, you know.’

‘I heard that the corpse had a knife in its back. That doesn’t sound like the work of a proud Spaniard, does it?’

‘He may not have done the job himself. He probably hired Tio Caballo, or one of his gang.’

‘His gang? Not the bandits?’

‘Who else? When I inform you that they have captured
me
twice, you will understand what manner of persons they are.’

‘Very daring,’ said Laura, tongue in cheek but not betraying the fact.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say
that
! Safety in numbers, you know. But if you wish to visit the cave, dear lady, it is a simple matter to arrange a party and a guide. I’m sure Ruiz will be only too pleased to accommodate you, and there are several new people in the hotel who would join in. I will ask Ruiz myself, if you like.’

‘Thank you. I should certainly like to go, but I can’t leave my child all day with Luisa, so I think, after all, I had better postpone my visit. Isn’t there, any thing else of interest? – a steamer trip, perhaps? I love being on the sea.’

‘You could go to Puerto del Sol. It’s a beautiful little place, and you don’t need to wait for a liner. You can go by coast road, and, of course, the local steamers call there.’

‘Are they clean and well-run? I don’t want my child to pick up germs or fleas!’

‘The steamers are run by a Dutch company and are spotless. You would enjoy the trip, I feel sure. And when you get to Puerto del Sol you may run into a man named Clun. He stayed in this hotel until Dame Beatrice Bradley went back to England.’

‘Oh, the psychiatrist! I’ve heard of her, of course. Do you mean there was a connexion between her leaving the island and this Mr Clun going to Puerto del Sol?’

‘I don’t know what the connexion was, but I rather think there was one. Still, it may have been coincidence. The only thing is that they certainly seemed very thick while she was here. I heard Clun had been in prison in. England for manslaughter, but I don’t know that that had any bearing on the matter.’

‘Surely he didn’t tell you so himself?’

‘No. I had it from somebody or other – I can’t remember who told me. Do you think it a very long step from manslaughter to murder? Dame Beatrice, I gather,
interests
herself in questions of sudden death, and, after all, manslaughter and murder are allied under that heading, are they not?’

‘I’ve never thought about it. It would depend upon what kind of manslaughter, wouldn’t it? I mean, if you killed somebody by driving your car carelessly, or under the influence, or something of that sort, it wouldn’t be the same thing, in my opinion, as hitting somebody in a fit of temper and killing him.’

‘But it seems that’s what Clun did. He told Dame Beatrice – I overheard it at the lunch-table, I remember – that he hit a bit too hard.’

‘And you think that a man who did that once by accident – well, anyhow, unintentionally – might do it again, meaning to kill? I don’t know what I think about that. Well, how do I recognize this dangerous gentleman?’

‘He’s a dark-haired, saturnine fellow, quite young – thirty, perhaps – with a devil-may-care look on his face. If you stay a day or two at the Hotel Flores you’ll be sure to spot him.’

‘That is as far as it will get, I expect. I don’t see myself tapping strangers on the shoulder and asking them whether they’re Mr Clun.’

She arranged a passage for herself and the baby without difficulty, and the local steamer was all that Peterhouse had claimed for it. The trip round the coast took four hours and landed the passengers at Puerto del Sol at two in the afternoon, so that they were in time for the three o’clock lunch at the Hotel Flores.

The hotel was small compared with the Sombrero and looked like a typical Spanish house. Its windows were shuttered in green and it had the traditional balcony overlooking the street. In charge of the hotel was a relative of Ruiz, a certain Señora Galjos, moustached, magisterial, and kindly, who impounded Gavin junior at sight, sighed and crooned over him, told Laura the story of her own confinements and, in effect, took charge of mother and child in a manner which brooked of no argument.

There were so few guests at the Flores that Laura had no difficulty in recognizing Clun from the descriptions she had been given by Dame Beatrice and by Peterhouse.

‘One person I can knock off the list of suspects, I hope,’ she thought. ‘Not that Dame B. suspects him, if I’m any judge of her reactions.’

The bathing facilities at Puerto del Sol were even better than those at Reales, and Laura was almost an amphibian. Her swimming excited interest and admiration, and at the end of the second day she found herself Clun’s guest at the hotel cocktail bar.

‘I suppose you know, queen of naiads,’ he said, at the third drink, ‘that you’re consorting with an ex-gaolbird?’

‘Really?’ Laura squinted into her glass. ‘That’s interesting. I’ve met a few in my time and heard about, a great many more. My husband’s in the C.I.D., you know.’

‘Is he? Pity he wasn’t here a month ago. At least, not so much here as in Reales.’

‘Reales? Oh, you mean the murder.’

‘You’ve heard about it?’

‘I came here from the Hotel Sombrero. Mr Peterhouse was eloquent upon the subject.’

‘Old Peterhouse? Oh, yes, he would be. Did he advance any theories?’

‘Two; one definite, one under correction. That is to say, he committed himself to saying, that he would not put murder past the landlord, Ruiz.’

‘It is also to say that he told you a little about my own past history and permitted himself to wonder whether breaking a man’s neck by accident might not lead to sticking a knife in a man’s back by design. That’s about the size of it, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Laura, who saw no reason for disagreeing. ‘That was about the size of it.’

‘It wasn’t Ruiz,’ stated Clun, swigging the liquid in his glass round and round and watching it. ‘My bet, for what it’s worth, is that it was our very dark and nervous horse Telham. Did you meet him?’

‘And his sister. I swam with them, in fact.’

‘As you have with me. Are you, in other words, a copper’s nark, handsome Mrs Gavin?’

‘No, I’m not, but I
am
holding a watching brief. You’re not unintelligent, Mr Clun. Can it be that prison has sharpened your wits, or have I given my game away?’

‘So Dame Beatrice has
not
left the field of battle! I had a feeling she wasn’t the type to desert a good cause. Tell me more. Have another drink if it will help.’

‘No more, thanks. You have one on me. As you’ve almost penetrated my
incognito
, I’d better help you to the rest.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Clun. ‘Don’t say anything you’re likely to regret. You’re like me, Mrs Gavin. Say or do first, and think afterwards. Steady, now.’

‘It’s all right,’ said Laura. ‘Nice of you, but I’ve got to trust somebody, and, as I don’t know whom Dame Beatrice really suspects, I might as well trust you as anybody else. I’m Dame Beatrice’s secretary and general dogsbody, and I’m here to hold the fort while she looks for some evidence in England. There you are. Now you know all about it, and I shall be grateful for any constructive suggestions. Oh, and, if you don’t mind, please don’t tell anybody else who I am.’

‘Have you been to the cave of dead men?’

‘No. I can’t take my son there. I don’t know why. It’s just one of those things.’

‘I understand that. But couldn’t you go there now? Señora Galjos seems to have adopted your kid.’

‘Can one go there from here? – easily, I mean? I’ve got to keep young Gavin fed, you see.’

‘You can go to Polje by car in a quarter of an hour. From there you’ll have to hire a mule, but, even then, half an hour’s climb will do it. Allow a quarter of an hour to inspect the cave, and there you are!’

‘Oh, well, that seems all right. How do I collect the mule? The car is easy enough.’

‘There are always mules at Polje. Fix up with La Galjos to look after the infant and let’s go.’

With the mental reservation that she would keep an open mind upon the subject of Clun’s
bona fides
and an open eye upon his antics, Laura agreed, and the excursion was fixed for the following morning. They set out with three other visitors and a guide at half past six in order to avoid the hottest part of the day, and the time for the journey was much as Clun had indicated. They got to the cave before half past seven and Laura had her first sight of the dead men.