Freeman Crofts – Inspector French: Sir John Magill’s Last Journey (страница 11)

Presently the conversation swung round to Victor’s cruise, and French, speaking for the first time, began to press for information. It was not likely to be needed, but there was no harm in knowing where Victor had been at the time of the tragedy.

‘That’s a matter, Mr Magill,’ he said, ‘in which I happen to be a good deal interested. A friend of mine has a motor launch and he wants me and a couple of other men to join him in just such a trip. It fell through this summer, but we hope to do it next spring. Would you mind dropping business for a moment and telling me something of your itinerary?’

Victor Magill looked at French with a slight surprise. His manner conveyed delicately that he had expected a more serious consideration for his family tragedy from a representative of Scotland Yard. But he replied politely enough.

‘Certainly. The trip was suggested by a friend of mine named Mallace, who is keen on that sort of thing and has done a lot of it. Mallace has business relations with Barrow and knows the town intimately. He knew of a motor launch there for hire, a fifty-foot boat with good cabin accommodation and he asked me and two other men to join him on a cruise up the west coast as far as Skye.’

‘My friend’s boat is not so large,’ French interjected.

‘Fifty foot is a convenient enough size,’ Victor went on. ‘You want to keep your boat as small as possible for ease of handling as well as economy. On the other hand she must be big enough to stand a fair sea. Among those islands it sometimes blows up so quickly that you can’t run for shelter. This boat suited us well. Normally one person could handle her and she was dry in a sea—full decked and plenty of freeboard. But she was slow. Old and rather clumsy and slow.’

‘Petrol fuel?’

‘No, she had a petrol paraffin set. She was economical in oil, but a bit smelly. That’s the worst of paraffin.’

‘It creeps, doesn’t it? Ends by getting in the beer and the butter.’

Before answering Victor gave a derogatory little cough and his manner made it clear that he intensely disapproved of the line the conversation was taking. But French did not seem to mind, continuing in his pleasantest way to extract information as to the other’s movements.

He and his friend Mallace, Victor explained, had travelled up from London to Barrow on the day express on the Wednesday, three days after he had seen Sir John in the park. They had reached Barrow about eight and had left almost at once for Portpatrick. There next day they had picked up the other two members of their quartet. One of these had been motoring in Scotland and had driven to Stranraer, garaging his car there till the end of the cruise. The other had unexpectedly been detained in London and had been unable to travel to Barrow. He had therefore travelled to Stranraer by the night train on Wednesday, going to Portpatrick on the Thursday.

‘Then,’ said French, ‘he must have travelled in the same train as Sir John.’

Victor stared at him.

‘I suppose he must,’ he agreed. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. In fact, I don’t know till this morning how my uncle had travelled. That’s certainly a coincidence. Well, Joss, that’s my friend’s name, can’t have seen him or known he was there, or he would have said something about it. Though on second thoughts, I don’t believe they knew each other.’

‘Then you really didn’t make up your party till you reached Portpatrick?’

‘No. Mallace and I weren’t in more than a few minutes when the others joined us. Mallace had business in Stranraer, so we lay in port all day and that night left for Campbeltown. From Campbeltown we went to Port Ellen in Islay, then to Jura by Oronsay and Colonsay and through the Firth of Lorne to Oban. We were to go on, and the others have gone on, through the Sound of Mull to Skye, round Skye and home by the Sound of Sleat, Staffa and Iona and down the Sound of Jura. Quite a decent round.’

‘By Jove, yes! A jolly trip,’ French declared. ‘I’m afraid we’ll not manage anything so elaborate, but it’s been very interesting to hear what you did.’

There was a pause, then Victor turned to Rainey.

‘Well, Superintendent, I thought of staying over here for a day or two. I don’t suppose you’ll want me, but if there is anything I can do you’ll find me with Major Magill. I’m going down to Larne now. I take it you’re pushing the investigation all you can.’

‘You may rely on us, Mr Magill. Directly we get news we’ll pass it on.’

‘None of that very illuminating’ said Rainey, when Magill had taken his departure. ‘If we find this thing out, we’re going to have to do it for ourselves. Now, Inspector, we’ve talked enough about it. Let’s decide on what we’re going to do and get on with it. Any proposals?’

With the change in the superintendent’s manner French also became more official.

‘If you ask me, sir, I think we should concentrate on finding the body.’

Rainey jerked himself round in his seat.

‘There’s not much doubt about that,’ he agreed. ‘Certainly we should find the body. There’s nothing we’d all like so much as to find the body. But how do you suggest we should do it?’

French also moved uneasily.

‘Well, sir, of course that’s the trouble. I’ve been trying putting myself in the murderer’s place. There he was with the body; fatal evidence which he’d got to get rid of. Now it seems to me that one of two things must have been done. Either the body must have been put into the sea or it must have been buried. And on the face of it the latter is the more likely.’

Rainey looked up sharply.

‘Why do you say that?’ he asked.

‘Only from my general experience,’ French answered. ‘I’ve had a number of cases in which bodies were got rid of in the sea and I’ve never known one successful. The bodies were always washed ashore or seen from a ship or hooked by a fisherman or got hold of in some other way. Of course I know this is not conclusive.’

‘No, it’s not conclusive,’ Rainey agreed, ‘but it’s my own opinion also and I’ve already gone into it. As it happens it’s supported by a further consideration, not conclusive either, but still carrying a certain weight It is this. There are only two places where such a scheme might be attempted. There is the sea on the Belfast Lough side of Islandmagee, that is here’—he pointed to the map—‘and there is the sea along the Coast Road beyond Larne. These two places are on the open sea, for I think we may dismiss Lough Larne from our consideration—no one would be mad enough to try to hide a body in that shallow, land-locked area. Now take these others in turn. With regard to the coast near Whitehead there is nowhere, except in Whitehead town itself, where you could get a car, especially a Rolls-Royce, anywhere near the actual shore. To get the body down would involve carrying it a long way. Further, most of the paths lead past houses and nearly all these houses have watchdogs. Now we have made inquiries, and no dogs were heard to bark that night. So the chances are against Whitehead.’

French nodded without speaking.

‘Now with regard to the Coast Road shore,’ Rainey went on. ‘Here the actual difficulties would be less—the road runs beside the beach and is lonely and deserted. But here with a flowing tide a strong current sets along the coast which would tend to wash the body into the path of shipping approaching Belfast. If Malcolm knew that, and he can scarcely have failed to do so, he would think twice before running such a risk. So that, quite tentatively, your second theory, burial, looks the more likely.’

‘That’s just the way I should put it, sir,’ said French. ‘Well then, it seems to me a matter of eliminating unlikely places and searching the remainder for signs of digging.’

Rainey smiled ruefully.

‘Some job, Inspector,’ he protested.

‘I don’t think it would be such a very big job,’ French returned. ‘From what the sergeant here tells me, I should say that the areas that need be considered are very small indeed. There are no old mines or disused quarries or uncultivated lands in the neighbourhood. In fact, sir, I was going to suggest that somewhere about the major’s own estate would be the most likely. The sergeant said it was sheltered by a wood. Where else could he guarantee the necessary privacy?’

Rainey paused.

‘It’s an idea and you may be right,’ he said dubiously. ‘M’Clung, you have been out at the place. What do you think of the inspector’s idea?’

M’Clung moved uneasily.

‘It might be right enough, sir,’ he answered without enthusiasm. ‘There’s certainly a planting between the Coast Road and the avenue that wouldn’t likely be disturbed. You couldn’t tell what might have been done there.’

‘We’ll have a look at it,’ Rainey decided. ‘Now, Inspector, that’s your theory, and very good it seems as far as it goes. But it does not go far enough. Sir John’s coming to Ireland, his going first to Sandy Row, then to the Cave Hill and then to Whitehead, all seem to me to require some agent besides Malcolm. In short, I don’t see how Malcolm could have arranged these.’

French admitted that no more could he.

‘Very well,’ Rainey went on, ‘that brings us back to my original theory—that the full solution is to be found in London.’