Murder on Skiathos Read online

  ‘Yes,’ said Rose, rather dully. ‘He danced all right. First with Miss Adler and then with … the duchess. He made quite a show of it. If I recall correctly, he even danced with Miss Hyacinth.’

  ‘Did he, indeed?’ said Cedric. ‘I should have liked to have seen that.’

  ‘I saw him later that evening, as well,’ said Rose. ‘Outside. He was making his way towards the cliff …’ She hesitated, remembering the precise circumstances in which she had seen him. She had been standing in the shadows with the duchess and Alec Dewhurst had come running past, hand in hand with Mabel Adler, making his jubilant way towards the cliff edge ... She looked up and was aware that the hotel proprietor was studying her keenly. The thought occurred to her then that what she said next might well determine someone’s fate, or at least cause them to be seen in a prejudiced light. Aloud, she said quickly: ‘I don’t think we should say any more. It would be most unwise. Besides, there is no use speculating as to what might have happened, or … whom might be responsible. It would be much better if we just waited for the police to arrive.’

  She caught her husband’s eye, and it seemed to her that he had detected the feeling of dread that had so suddenly overcome her, for quickly he nodded, though it was obvious, even to the most casual of observers, that her words had intrigued him. It was the hotel proprietor who spoke, somewhat hesitant in his manner, as if he feared a violent quarrel or rebuke.

  ‘I am afraid it will be quite a long wait. You see, they have yet to be informed of what has happened.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  This statement was met with a look of such incredulity by his listeners that Mr Kettering was himself almost inclined to follow Cedric’s example and pace the room, so keen was he not to meet their gaze. Instead, he swallowed hard and held his ground, tempted though he was to recoil a little under their penetrating stares.

  ‘If I might be permitted to explain?’

  ‘Please do,’ said Cedric, a trifle gruffly.

  Aware that his companions regarded him with a great deal of curiosity, the hotel proprietor removed his horn-rimmed spectacles and polished them rapidly with his handkerchief. He said:

  ‘The police here on the island have not been advised of what has happened, and what is more, it is not my intention to inform them.’ He held up his hand as Cedric made to protest. ‘If this were merely a matter of illegal gambling or theft, then, yes, I should summon the local Gendarmerie without delay. But it is not. It is a matter of great delicacy and must be handled as such. If you will permit me to speak candidly, your ladyship, the man we presume to be …’ he paused to give a little embarrassed cough before lowering his voice. ‘That’s to say, the man we assume to be a … um … a particular friend of the Duchess of Grismere has been found dead in the most suspicious of circumstances. The lady herself is here, and the reputations of both the duchess and my hotel are at considerable risk of being ruined.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I do not wish Hotel Hemera to become the subject of gossip mongers,’ said Mr Kettering firmly. ‘I do not want boat loads of macabre sightseers flocking to my hotel to see the exact spot where Mr Dewhurst was murdered. Hotel Hemera is a respectable establishment. I should like it to remain as such.’

  ‘What do you propose?’ asked Cedric.

  He had visons of the awful headlines that would appear in the penny press. It would be a ghastly scandal all right, but it did not seem to him that there was anything much that could be done about it. As it was, he could hardly bring himself to imagine how the Duke of Grismere would take the news. His wife’s disappearance had already had a shattering effect on the peer. He was not a young man to begin with and had become increasingly frail. Why, Cedric had witnessed it with his own eyes. To be informed of his wife’s antics was awful enough, but then to know that a lurid account of it appeared in every newspaper column as a subject to be dissected and commented upon, by everyone from the lowest scullery maid to his fellow peers, would surely be too much for any man to endure. It was in that moment that Cedric pitied the old duke as he had pitied few men before. It made him inclined to despise the duchess, or at least think very little of her. It was true that she was likely to be distraught at the news of her lover’s death. But he thought rather harshly that it would be no more than she deserved. She had brought the catastrophe upon herself, and now she must deal with the consequences.

  ‘I propose that I contact an acquaintance of mine who happens to hold a senior position in the civilian city police force in Athens.’

  ‘Athens!’ exclaimed Cedric.

  ‘I have not sent for him yet, and of course there will be a considerable delay in his coming here. I do not doubt that it will take him a few days to arrive. He is very busy, what with the affairs of the capital and –’

  ‘My dear fellow!’ protested Cedric, clearly appalled by the suggestion.

  ‘I think, my lord, you will agree with me that it is for the best. I know Marangos to be the most discreet of fellows and as a policeman I hold him in the very highest of esteem. He will understand that this is a delicate matter, that it needs to be handled carefully and with a certain degree of discretion.’

  ‘And what is it that you propose we do in the meantime?’ asked Cedric, sounding exasperated. He took a deep breath and said: ‘Look here, Kettering, it really won’t do, you know. A matter like this cannot be withheld from the local police. It is our duty to inform them; surely you must understand that? And even if we were to go along with this ridiculous plan of yours, vital evidence will be lost. False alibis will be concocted, and the murderer will have the opportunity to flee or, at the very least, to hide his tracks.’

  ‘It is most unusual, I admit, my lord, but I would not call it ridiculous,’ said the hotel proprietor, sounding a little offended by Cedric’s tone. ‘I do not propose that we wait, as you suggest. I am of the opinion instead that we take the matter into our own hands, as it were.’

  There was a sharp intake of breath and both men turned at once to regard the woman who had given it, and who was sitting so quietly on her chair that both men had almost forgotten that she was there. Rose, who had all the while been listening to this interesting exchange with a degree of incredulity, rose to her feet and said:

  ‘You do not propose that we wait and do nothing, do you, Mr Kettering? You would like me to investigate this case on your behalf. That is it, is it not? You should like to be in a position to present the case to your friend as a fait accompli, as it were. The crime and the murderer all neatly bundled up and handed to him on a plate.’

  ‘That is it exactly!’ cried the hotel proprietor, clapping his hands together, such was his sense of relief that here, at least, was one person who followed his line of reasoning. In the ordinary course of events, he was not given to such dramatic demonstrations, which he considered decidedly foreign. Indeed, if anything he was the most composed and restrained of figures; reserved, he would have called it, if he had thought to give it a name. But here, faced with a series of objections from the earl and a very real possibility that his wishes would be disregarded, he was given to a more visual display of expression.

  ‘You understand my way of thinking very well, your ladyship, if I may say so,’ he said, bowing to her in a slightly obsequious fashion. ‘You have a reputation for being something of an amateur sleuth. A great reputation, I should say. My brother, your secretary, my lord,’ he added, pausing to give a look in Cedric’s direction, ‘speaks very highly of your abilities, your ladyship. Why, I believe even Scotland Yard have, on occasion, consulted you on a number of cases?’

  Rose was unable to suppress the smile that had leapt so readily to her lips at Mr Kettering’s flattering words. In spite of the troubling situation in which they found themselves, it was hard not to imagine the outraged expression on Detective Inspector Bramwell’s face should he have happened to overhear the hotel proprietor’s words regarding Scotland Yard’s supposed reliance on her detecting skills.

  Mistakin
g Rose’s smile to be one of acquiescence, Mr Kettering continued detailing his approach to dealing with the problem facing them with a growing sense of confidence.

  ‘I shall accompany your ladyship in your investigations,’ he said. ‘I shall be the sergeant to your inspector, as it were. We shall gather the guests together and I shall inform them what has happened. I shall announce that, while we are waiting for the police to arrive from the mainland, I, in my capacity as hotel proprietor, have engaged your ladyship to undertake a private investigation into Mr Dewhurst’s death. You will be acting on my behalf.’

  ‘It is quite possible,’ said Rose quietly, ‘that one or two of your guests shall refuse to answer any questions that I put to them. I have no authority, after all, to do such a thing. One could hardly blame them if they did. In fact, they would be acting quite properly.’

  Her thoughts had drifted, as she spoke, to the Duchess of Grismere. The woman’s haughty manner still riled her, and she was reminded also of the strange feeling of animosity that had sprung up between them on such a short acquaintance. She blushed at the recollection, for she had neglected to mention last night’s encounter with the duchess to her husband, feeling, as she did, rather ashamed of herself, that in some way she had ill-judged the situation and played her hand badly. She knew that, had Cedric been an observer, he would have been rather disappointed in the way she had managed the confrontation. There was a part of her also that wished it had been he, not she, who had come across the duchess in the shadows, for she felt certain that he would have handled the matter in a far more competent fashion.

  ‘In that case, I would tell them that it would be extremely unwise for them to do such a thing,’ Mr Kettering was saying. ‘That it would be far better for them to be interviewed by you than by the local Gendarmerie.’

  ‘Unless, of course, they happened to be the murderer,’ said Cedric, a touch of mischief in his voice.

  ‘Ah … yes, indeed,’ agreed the hotel proprietor, unsure how to respond to what he felt was an inappropriate show of frivolity given the situation. Rose, comprehending her husband’s character, knew full well that Cedric’s attempt to sound flippant was merely a way of trying to dispel the horror and gloom that hung about the room in equal measure.

  ‘I do not think they will demur,’ continued Mr Kettering, keen to get back to the matter in hand. ‘If you don’t mind my saying, your ladyship, they will be as familiar with your reputation as an amateur sleuth, as I am myself. They will welcome your interest in this dreadful matter for, if I may be so bold as to suggest it, they will regard you in the same way as they would regard a friend. One might say, you would be doing them a great kindness; a familiar face among the horror.’

  The poetic eloquence of the hotel proprietor’s words brought a smile to Rose’s lips, which she took pains to conceal. She caught Cedric’s eye and saw that he too was attempting to stifle a grin.

  ‘It would be highly irregular,’ she said, feeling herself waver. She did not really feel herself torn for she knew with an awful certainty that she would comply with his wishes. The detecting instinct in her was too strong to resist such an opportunity. Even without the hotel proprietor’s blessing, she knew she would feel compelled to investigate. It is possible that Mr Kettering saw it too, for his face instantly relaxed. The worried frown that had creased and puckered his forehead became less pronounced. Indeed, a fleeting smile crossed his face.

  ‘It would be a little irregular,’ he admitted. ‘Certainly it would be informal. But if I gave you my word that I would take full responsibility for the … the decision, would that do? I will say, if questioned, that it was all my fault; that I had refused to summon the local Gendarmerie. You could say that you did not know what else to do but aid me in my investigations.’

  Still, Rose hesitated. She felt the room swim before her, as if she was being offered something exquisitely tantalising, yet a little beyond her capabilities. Never before had she been required, or asked, to lead a murder investigation. At best she had been an auxiliary helper, somewhat grudgingly tolerated by the police. This would be different. She would be taking on her shoulders a great deal of responsibility. It would be up to her to determine the best way to proceed, which avenues of inquiry should be pursued, and which should be discarded. It was quite possible that vital evidence might be lost on her watch.

  ‘I am confident,’ continued Mr Kettering, in his most persuasive voice, ‘that it won’t come to that. My having to defend my decision, I mean. Besides, it is not as if I have refused to inform the police, merely that I have chosen to notify the civilian city police force, who really are more suited to this type of inquiry than their island compatriots.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Rose, taking a deep breath, her eyes looking at Cedric and receiving a grin, accompanied by a nod of approval. ‘I shall do what I can. The first thing to be done is to take certain measures to gather and preserve the evidence.’

  They made their way towards the cliff path, a little procession of four. Mr Kettering led the way, with Rose quick on his heels. Cedric followed her with Dr Costas bringing up the rear. He was a slightly built man, of very few words, dressed in a rather shabby black suit that had obviously seen better days, and which helped to give a funereal air to the proceedings. This impression was further accentuated by the doctor’s sombre expression, and the fact that no one felt inclined to speak.

  Rose, perhaps shrinking a little from the obligation to inform the duchess of her lover’s death, had deferred this task, reasoning quite properly that, given the hour, the majority of the hotel’s guests would still be asleep. She was also keen to be better informed about what had occurred and, therefore, deemed that her first courses of action must be to inspect the crime scene and interrogate the island doctor on his findings, following his cursory examination of the corpse.

  ‘I found the body over there,’ said the hotel proprietor, peering over the edge of the cliff and pointing to an area on the beach marked by a yard of stiff black fabric, which had been weighed down securely at each end by a number of rocks. ‘Before I arranged for the body to be removed to the hotel, I thought it prudent to mark the place where I had found it with my towel,’ he explained. ‘Of course, when Dr Costas informed me that it was, in all probability, a case of murder, I took more robust steps to mark the spot.’

  ‘That was very good of you,’ said Rose. ‘Would it be possible for you to arrange also for some photographs to be taken? From this spot here, I think, as well as from down on the beach itself?’

  ‘But, of course,’ said Mr Kettering. ‘I happen to be something of an amateur photographer. I will take them myself.’ He gave a small, diffident cough. ‘I have also made a rough sketch of the body. That’s to say, how I remember finding it lying on the beach, which I have given to Dr Costas.’

  ‘It is consistent with Mr Dewhurst’s injuries,’ the doctor informed them in a strong accent. ‘The body, I do not think it was moved after death.’

  Both Rose and Cedric looked at the doctor in surprise. It had not occurred to either that he might speak English.

  ‘You are surprised, I think,’ he said, giving a chuckle, ‘that I speak a little English? It would surprise you too, I think, to know that I have studied a little in England?’

  ‘I say,’ said Cedric, good-humouredly, ‘you do put us to shame. Do you think Mr Dewhurst was standing on the edge of the cliff when he was struck?’

  ‘It is quite possible,’ agreed the doctor. ‘The wound, it was at the back of the head. Here.’ He touched a place on the back of the hotel proprietor’s head to demonstrate. Mr Kettering, who happened to be looking out to sea at the time, started. ‘It was a heavy blow,’ continued the doctor, apparently oblivious to the hotel proprietor’s discomfort. ‘Done with a blunt object, yes?’

  ‘A heavy blow, you say?’ said Cedric, looking interested. ‘You don’t think that it could have been done by a woman then?’

  ‘But of course!’ exclaimed the doctor. ‘I did n
ot say it could, or could not, be a woman. Mr Dewhurst, if he was going down the path at the time … Mr Kettering, if you please, I will show you. Mr Kettering, you are the unfortunate Mr Dewhurst. You are going down to the beach. You take a few steps down the path. Yes, you may stop now. There is no need to tremble. I will not really hit you, I just pretend, yes? I am the woman. I am not very tall, so I can be the woman. You have your back to me. I, I raise my arm like this. It gives me the swing, the necessary force … Bang. I have hit you on the head. You fall to the beach, or I give you a little push like this. Mr Kettering, stand still. I will not really push you. I just pretend to do so.’ The doctor turned to face Cedric and Rose, his hand positioned as if he were still holding the imaginary blunt instrument. Mr Kettering, meanwhile, had scrambled back up the path to the relative safety of the cliff edge.

  ‘So our murderer might have been either a man or a woman,’ said Cedric. ‘It would not have been a very difficult task for our murderer, not if Mr Dewhurst was just descending the path to the beach at the time, as you suggest. It would have been easy enough for our murderer to have crept up behind him and delivered the blow.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Rose. ‘Mr Dewhurst’s attention at the time would, in all probability, have been focused on walking down the path. It would have been quite a feat to accomplish in the dark even with the aid of the handrail. He would have been afraid of slipping.’

  As she spoke, she took a few steps down the path, attempting to put herself in the place of Alec Dewhurst, negotiating the dust and the small stones that made up the path while an unknown assailant crept up behind him brandishing a weapon … She shuddered, hoping fervently that Alec Dewhurst had been unaware of the peril he was in, that he had been struck before he was conscious of his murderer’s presence, and had fallen unknowingly to the ground below.