Nodding Canaries, page 10
part #34 of Mrs Bradley Series
‘What about during term-time?’
‘The boy does not come home during term-time.’
‘Not even for the great Jewish feasts?’
‘No, not for any reason whatever. And if you are wondering whether either of those lads had anything to do with Waters’ death, you’re barking up the wrong tree, Dame Beatrice.’
‘I am not barking up trees; I am merely leaving no stone unturned. You are now the last of my suspects.’
‘Suspects?’ He smiled. ‘So you’ve “got a little list”?’
Dame Beatrice leered kindly at him and thanked him for his hospitality. When she left him she rang up Mrs Vindella.
‘Oh, I’m sure you can come along and see Terry again,’ said Mrs Vindella over the telephone. ‘He’ll be ever so pleased. He’s got a Schools Athletics Meeting tonight, but, if you’d like to call here at about nine, he’ll have had his dinner by then and you could have coffee together. Would that suit you?’
Dame Beatrice professed herself charmed by this arrangement and arrived at the house at the appointed time. As on her first visit, Vindella himself opened the door to her.
‘Well, well, well,’ he said. ‘To what do we owe the honour? Do come in, Dame Beatrice.’ He sounded slightly uneasy, she thought.
‘I am still trying to establish the reason for the death of Mr Breydon-Waters,’ she said. ‘Thank you, I will come in. Have you any secrets from your mother?’
‘Like that, is it? Well, there might be one or two, but, so far as poor old Bill is concerned, my conscience is as clear as a crystal sphere.’
‘I do not believe that I have ever seen a crystal sphere. Am I right in thinking that Mr Breydon-Waters offered to buy your half-share in the cabin cruiser you owned co-jointly with him?’
‘Well, what do you know!’
‘I do not know, but your idiom appears to confirm me in my opinion.’
‘I have no reason to fear my mother. Come right in. What,’ he added confidentially, as he closed the front door behind him, ‘has old Bill’s purchase to do with his death?’
‘Very little, most probably.’
Vindella showed her into the living-room of the small house.
‘Dame Beatrice Lestrange Bradley, ma,’ he said. Mrs Vindella, stately and composed, extended a welcome.
‘How very nice of you to call again, Dame Beatrice. Now I hope that my naughty boy is going to be of real help. I take great interest in our local murder and am not at all sorry that a friendship I never cared for has come to an end. Terry knows I never liked Oliver – Bill, as Terry called him.’
‘Now, ma, be quiet,’ said her son, ‘or I shall ask Dame Beatrice to conduct this interview in camera. If you want to gather the gen, stop reminiscing, and stop moaning.’
‘You’re a dreadful boy,’ said his mother fondly. ‘Please don’t let me interrupt you, Dame Beatrice.’
‘Then stop doing it,’ muttered her son.
‘I have received the answer I expected,’ said Dame Beatrice to Mrs Vindella. ‘Your son tells me that he sold out his share of the motor-cruiser Beri-Beri some weeks ago to Mr Breydon-Waters. I had already guessed that this must have been the case, but am glad to have it confirmed.’
‘Yes, Terry sold his half of the boat when there was the trouble over Priscilla Clarke,’ said Mrs Vindella.
‘Now, ma, mind your own business!’
‘But, Terry, dear, you bought me a coffee service out of the proceeds! And that reminds me…’
She beamed with the goodwill of a hostess and sailed in stately fashion from the room.
‘Good old ma!’ said Vindella, real appreciation in his tones. ‘Why I had to get all hot under the collar when poor old Prissie transferred her affections to poor old Bill I don’t know. Ma would talk the hind leg off a donkey and drop every brick in the Empire State Building – if it’s built of brick! – but she’s one of the best. What made you so sure I’d sold out my half-share in the Beri-Beri?’ he broke off to ask.
‘It was obvious that Mr Breydon-Waters had to hide during the fortnight that he was supposed to have spent in Palestine. Once I had heard that you and he had purchased a motor cruiser but had not used it since shortly after Easter, I put two and two together, particularly as I knew that he had drawn out just over two hundred pounds and closed his account at the bank.’
‘Yes, he paid me two hundred and ten. It was nothing like enough, but I was as sick as mud over the Priscilla business, so I let him get away with it.’
‘I should have thought you would have denied him anything you could, if you were so angry with him.’
‘It wasn’t him, it was her, the little twerp. My vanity was wounded, I suppose, to think she could prefer that wart to me. Anyway, I was sick of the boat and glad enough to be quit of it on any reasonable terms.’
‘Yes, I see. Did Mr Breydon-Waters give any reason for wishing to buy you out?’
‘Oh, he smirked a bit and said it seemed a pity to leave the boat to rot and nobody to use it and suggested that one of us should buy the other out. I told him I had no money to spare, which he knew was true because I’d dropped a packet at the races earlier on and was trying to cover up a bit, so he offered me a hundred and eighty for my half-share. I told him to go and fry himself, so he said, “It’s all very well, but I can’t go much higher, and it would put you straight and with a bit to spare.” I stuck out for two hundred and forty and we came to an agreement for two hundred and ten. I’m bound to say that he paid up on the nail and I gave him a receipt for the money, and that was that.’
‘But are you not paid by cheque? – for your teaching, I mean.’
‘In Nodding, no. They give us a sort of chit thing and we go and cash it at the bank chosen by the Education Committee, which happens to be Wylie’s. We don’t come under the County scheme, so far as the lolly is concerned.’
‘Oh, I see.’
At this point Mrs Vindella came in with the coffee and three miniature bottles of Tia Maria.
‘Coffee, Dame Beatrice? Then a tiny sip of this. I do hope you like Tia Maria. It goes with coffee, I always think, and if we have our own individual bottles we can please ourselves, can’t we?’
Dame Beatrice agreed that they could and poured herself out a liberal tot from the bottle assigned to her.
‘Your son is being extremely helpful,’ she said. ‘The only thing now is for me to obtain permission from Mrs Breydon-Waters to inspect the Beri-Beri, and for Mr Vindella, if he will be so kind, to arrange to conduct me to the moorings and show me over the cruiser.’
‘A pleasure,’ said Vindella, ‘any evening after school or on a Saturday afternoon or Sunday. If after school, let me know in advance, because of cricket and athletics and things.’
Mrs Breydon-Waters, appealed to over the telephone the following day, raised no objection to the proposed visit to the boat.
‘Mr Streatley has offered to buy it from me,’ she said. ‘He is being very, very good. But nothing can be settled until the survey has been done. As he says, quite rightly, he may be a wealthy man, but he likes to know what he’s buying. All the same, I know he’s really doing it to help me out, now that I haven’t Oliver’s money to rely on.’
So a date was arranged for the following Saturday morning, as Vindella had explained that there was no school match on that day and that ‘old Sippy’ had agreed to supervise the athletics practice. Dame Beatrice and Laura picked him up in the Jaguar at ten o’clock in the morning and George drove them to Wroxham, where the Beri-Beri was moored.
‘What about a drink?’ asked Vindella, as the car crossed Wroxham Bridge.
‘King’s Head, George,’ said Laura. The car drew up in a parking space. ‘Drinks are on me.’ She led the way into the saloon bar. ‘Right! Dame B., what will you have?’
Dame Beatrice chose sherry, Vindella beer. Laura herself drank Scotch. The bar was well patronised and after a minute or two a man in a white sweater, navy-blue shorts and a yachting cap came over to their table, tankard in hand.
‘Well, well,’ he said heartily, addressing Vindella, ‘look who’s here! Haven’t seen you in months, old fellow. What’s been eating you? – Oh, oh, of course. Very sorry. Poor old Half-pint. Keep forgetting. Of course, you owned the Beri-Beri together, didn’t you? Terribly sorry to hear about this – er – his end. Police getting anywhere yet?’
Vindella introduced him to Dame Beatrice and then to Laura, who, against her will, asked him to sit with them. Dame Beatrice enquired of him the name of his boat and asked where he moored. He waved a hand.
‘Oh, this side the bridge, you know. Quieter. Waiting for my party to turn up, as a matter of fact. Going to Ludham. Fair ladies want to see the church there, goodness knows why.’
‘We should be interested to accompany you, if we may. I should rather say, to follow you, I expect. Mr Vindella and Mrs Gavin, between them, can easily handle the Beri-Beri as far as Ludham, I am sure,’ said Dame Beatrice, becoming expansive.
Laura had to exercise care not to look dismayed. It was not that she doubted her capacity to handle a motor cruiser but that she had taken an instant dislike to the yachting cap and its owner. She knew Dame Beatrice well enough to realise, however, that there was always method in the apparent madness, so she re-arranged her countenance and joined in the responses. She finished her drink, refused the invitation of their new acquaintance to partake of another round, and, promising to meet him later in the day, she and her party went off to the moorings to find the Beri-Beri.
The cruiser was moored in a small dyke with three other motor cruisers. She suffered little by comparison with them, for it was evident that she had not been neglected, although she lacked the final spit and polish of the other boats.
‘Not as young as she was,’ said Vindella, ‘but I wrote to them to fill her up, so we should be all right for a cruise as far as Ludham. We’ll have lunch on board, if you like. There’s nowhere to stop unless you’d like to go ashore at Horning. We could eat at the Swan, or there’s a country club where I’m a member. That might be best.’
‘Dame Beatrice will decide,’ said Laura firmly, ‘but I think I know the place you mean. It stands up fairly high on the far side of the road after you’ve passed the village. Many a good lunch and dinner have I consumed there.’
‘We might have brought Hamish,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘He would have enjoyed this.’
‘He’ll be doing fine with Alice. She’s taking him to Blakeney. He’ll have the time of his life there, and a jolly good lunch at the hotel.’
They went aboard the Beri-Beri to look round. She was a bigger boat than Laura had imagined.
‘Three-berth?’ she said to Vindella. He nodded.
‘Wish I could afford to buy her back,’ he said, with real regret in his tone. Laura nodded.
‘I know how you feel,’ she said.
‘How long do you suppose we shall wait for your friend?’ Dame Beatrice asked Vindella.
‘Barney? Depends upon how thirsty he is.’
‘Then, if you will be good enough to remain on deck and look out for his boat, Laura and I will explore this one.’
‘Right. May I ask what you expect to find?’
‘I do not expect to find anything of importance, unless Mr Breydon-Waters left a diary here.’
‘A diary? I don’t know about that, but he was always writing up the log.’
‘Excellent. We shall turn our attention to that. What does it look like?’
‘Oh, a stiff-covered record book pinched from school. Black, and about a quarter of an inch thick. Probably find it in the locker under the forepeak.’
‘Thank you. What is the name of your friend’s boat?’
‘The Black-eyed Sailor.’
‘You will let us know when she passes?’
‘There’s no hurry. By the time old Barney has finished his drinks, he’ll have his work cut out to negotiate Wroxham bridge. Only hope he remembers to hoot. You come into it blind from that side, unless you keep very well over.’
The Beri-Beri, whatever her age and outward appearance, had been taken care of, and everything below deck was as neat and ship-shape as could be. She was a typical Broads cruiser with an entrance down four steps amidships. Her fore-cabin contained a narrow settee-berth on the port side with a small wardrobe at its head, and opposite this were a gas-cooker with oven, the sink, and some shelves and cup-boards. A small bulkhead, which stretched half-way across the cabin, screened off a wash-basin and W.C.
The cabin doors opened on to the well of the boat where, opposite the companion-way, was a seat with lockers under it. The steering was by wheel from the well. There were three small cylinders of calor gas stacked close by.
The after-cabin, used as a saloon, contained a wider bunk on the starboard side and another narrow one on the port side and between the two was a folding table. Drawers were fitted underneath the broad bunk and there was a small, squarish sideboard at its head. Altogether, said Laura approvingly, it was as snug and roomy and comfortable a little job as could be desired.
They set to work to ransack the drawers in search of the log, and found it in one of the lockers under the seat in the well. Laura climbed on to the foredeck to join Vindella, who was keeping a look-out for the Black-eyed Sailor, and they sat with their legs dangling over the side and shared Laura’s chocolate, while Dame Beatrice, seated on the lockers, perused the last entries in the log. The sun shone, the moored boats cast their reflections on the rippled waters, yachts and cruisers moved in constant procession down the Bure on their way to Wroxham Broad, Salhouse Broad and Horning, or further to Ranworth Broad and the confluence of the Bure and the Ant, or further still to South Walsham Broad along the Fleet Dyke or past St Benet’s Abbey ruins to Thurne Mouth. From there the waters flowed to Acle Bridge and Great Yarmouth.
The first entry in the log to engage the attention of Dame Beatrice was the reference to the sale of Vindella’s half-share.
‘April 8th. T.V. cheesed off about P.C. so this boat too hot to hold both of us, and have offered to buy him out.
‘May 10th. T. agreed to sell, but price stiff for me, although not excessive really. Must beat him down.
‘May 20th. Decided to buy at £210. Will clean me out, but cannot see anything else for it. Must have a base from which to work. Leave of absence granted, so stiffest fence crossed, but have not decided exactly how to proceed. Taking three days off to provision ship, then Whit Week, so no questions asked when I go back.
‘June 12th. In the clear. Have written to G. refusing air travel. Should like to go to Gerazin, but Minos was a priest-king and in his sign I shall make my name known for ever. Cash all right so far. Paid for May, and have cashed voucher.’
There followed daily entries. Many miles of water lay between Wroxham and Beccles, and it seemed that Breydon-Waters had made a fairly leisurely cruise. According to these entries he was in strange waters ‘where nobody is likely to know me’ as soon as he had left Great Yarmouth and passed through the navigable channel of Breydon Water. From this he was on his way to St Olave’s. Here he re-provisioned. There was a long list of stores.
The last entry but one in the log was dated June 22nd, three days, according to the computations of the police, before Breydon-Waters’ death.
‘June 22nd. All going well, except have uneasy feeling that am being followed and spied on. Nerves, most likely. P.L. not the most comfortable place on one’s own, but must not let things get me down. Work not hard, but have to make myself carry on after about the first couple of hours. Light evenings a great help, as can still cycle back to boat before dusk. Dread going aboard after dark, although this quite irrational. Beccles charming old place, but do not venture ashore much for fear of being recognised, although should be safe enough down here at this time of year. Weather remains wonderfully fine. Wouldn’t mind living here instead of Nodding. So peaceful and such nice old houses, but Mother would miss her friends and the shops she knows.’
The log ended:
‘July 25th. It must be done tonight and all put shipshape. Shall look forward to seeing their faces, especially R.D.’s, W.S.’s and T.V.’s.’
Dame Beatrice had made notes as she read. She had barely replaced the log in the locker when Vindella sang out,
‘Black-eyed Sailor, ahoy!’
He scrambled into the well and started the engine, and in a moment or two was backing the Beri-Beri from the dyke on to the River Bure. Dame Beatrice remained seated on the lockers and Laura on the starboard side of the tiny foredeck so that she did not block the helmsman’s view. The Black-eyed Sailor spotted them, returned Vindella’s hail, exchanged waves of the hand and the two craft chugged downstream for the great bend at Horning and passed out of history.
‘Why on earth did you co-opt that crashing cad and his party?’ Laura demanded when, at Horning, after lunch, they had detached themselves from the others and were waiting for George, to whom Laura had telephoned, to pick them up in the car and return them to Nodding. ‘And I thought you wanted to visit Ludham church.’
‘It has an interesting font,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘As for the rest, it had been my intention to pump our new friend about Mr Breydon-Waters’ doings at Wroxham during that fateful fortnight which he was to have spent in Palestine. Happily, the log-book I studied answered all the questions I might have asked, so that we have been able to enjoy a pleasure cruise instead of a business trip. That is all, dear child, except for one pertinent and interesting entry which may repay investigation.’
‘Well, we’ve had a decent lunch, anyway,’ said Laura. ‘And there are worse places than these grounds in which to sit and wait for the car. Hope Vindella – I don’t at all dislike him, by the way, and I don’t believe he’s the villain of the piece – gets the Beri-Beri back to Wroxham all right, as it seems to be one of Mrs Breydon-Waters’ assets.’
‘He will,’ said Dame Beatrice, with well-placed confidence, ‘and I must speak to him about the boat when opportunity offers.’
* * *
