A Dead Man in Malta (16 page)

‘He hadn’t said anything,’ said Teresa. ‘But I knew.’

‘The question is: did anyone else know?’

‘We were careful that they shouldn’t, Benito.’

‘But might you have let something slip out? Without intending to?’

‘No, no, because I didn’t talk to anybody.’

‘Nobody at all, Teresa? Did you go out that day? Shopping? The baker, for instance.’

‘No, no, I wouldn’t give Umberto a meal. Not at that hour. A drink, perhaps—’

‘Beer?’

‘Yes. Yes, I certainly gave him that: he likes a glass after—’

‘Yes, well, we don’t need to go into that. But did you have beer in the house? Or did you have to go out for it?’

‘I went out for it. But—’

‘Where did you go?’

‘The corner shop. Vasco’s. Of course, he’s not there at the moment, he’s in hospital. Martin is looking after it for him. But I didn’t say anything to him about Umberto, I swear—’

‘Hello, Martin! How’s it going?’

‘Fine, Benito. Fine, really. I’ve just about got on top of it now. Although I’ll be glad when Vasco gets back.’

‘
If
he gets back,’ said Lucca.

‘It’s like that, is it?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘The family will have to think about it,’ said Martin.

‘Sure. Sure, they will. But that may be some time yet, so you’ll have to hang on. Now, look, Martin, there’s a thing I wanted to ask you …’

‘… Yes, I do remember that evening and her coming in,’ said Martin. ‘and I’ll tell you why I remember. She came in when I was putting an order together. It was a big order and there were bottles all over the floor. Someone had come in, you see, and said they wanted some beer for the band. It was a sort of celebration, he said, and they’d get through a lot of bottles. He told me what he wanted and I was just putting them together when she came in. He was waiting for the bottles and I was in such a state trying to put them together—I had just started, you see and it was new to me. And then Teresa came in. “Serve her first,” he said. “You don’t want much, do you, love?” “No,” she said. “Just half a dozen bottles.” “Enough to see him through the night, is that it?” he said, and laughed. And I laughed, and Teresa laughed. Did she mention Umberto? No, no. Everyone knows about her and Umberto, of course. But she didn’t mention him. Just asked for the bottles.’

Laura hauled Mario before him, not exactly grasping him by the ear but certainly with a very determined grip.

‘Mario has got something to say to you,’ she said.

‘It’s about that night,’ he said.

‘Go on,’ said Laura.

‘I know what they’re saying,’ he said, on the verge of tears. ‘They’re saying I let him in. That I wasn’t looking out when I should have been. But it’s not true! The only time I wasn’t there was when they called for me to go to the ward. But until then I was in my place. I’d brought a chair out and stood it in the doorway where I could keep an eye on the entrance hall. I was afraid that if I stayed in the porters’ room I might miss something. So I moved the chair into the doorway and sat there. The whole time.

‘And I didn’t go to sleep. I had my books with me. I had some homework to do. Maths. And then I was supposed to be getting on with my project. Well, I
was
getting on with my project,’ he said hastily, with his mother’s eye upon him. ‘I was making notes. But not all the time. Part of the time I was thinking. Mr Seixas says that that’s what you should do. Not just get your head down and write away, Because if you don’t think first, it’s just a waste of time. And I
was
thinking. So if it looked as if I wasn’t doing anything, that’s wrong. I was awake the whole time. And working.’

‘And keeping your eye on the entrance vestibule,’ said Seymour.

‘That’s right, sir,’ said Mario, fixing his eyes on him pleadingly. ‘I know what they’re saying, but it’s not true. I
was
there the whole time, and I was on duty all the time. Keeping an eye open. My mum says if you’re on duty, you’re on duty and mustn’t even blink.’

‘That’s right,’ said Laura.

‘Well, I didn’t blink. Not at all!’

‘It’s okay,’ said Seymour. ‘I think I’m prepared to take your word for it.’

‘No one came in. I swear it.’

‘They could have come in before you took over,’ said Seymour. ‘And then just hung around.’

‘Why, yes, they could,’ said Mario, relieved.

‘Now, tell me,’ said Seymour, ‘you didn’t see anyone before—before they called you to the ward. But did you see anyone
after
?’

‘No, no. It was all empty. And still. The way it usually is.’

‘And when they released you, you went straight back to the porters’ room? To your chair.’

‘Yes,’ said Mario. ‘That’s right. But I couldn’t—I found it hard to settle down. I tried to read but it wasn’t easy. I kept thinking—’

‘I am going to kill Umberto,’ said Laura.

‘It’s not really his fault,’ said Mario. ‘He didn’t know. And he’s very sorry. He apologizes every time he sees me.’

‘And so he should,’ said Laura grimly.

‘So you didn’t see anyone on your way back to the porters’ room, and you didn’t see anyone for the rest of the night?’

‘No. No one. Except—’ he thought—‘except for Dr Malia. And he doesn’t really count because you often see him around.’

‘At night?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Mario. ‘I’ve often seen him.’

‘And you saw him on this occasion?’

‘Yes.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Nothing. Just walking.’

‘Where?’

‘Along the corridor that leads off from the entrance. It goes out to the services. I’d seen him along there before. And so had Umberto. Not doing anything much but just sort of thinking. I think,’ confided Mario, ‘he might have been measuring.’

‘Measuring?’

‘He’s always doing it. Calculating space. He’s got a theory about it. He thinks there is going to be a war and they’d want much more hospital space. He’s always at it. I think he’s a bit cracked—’

‘And you just watch your words, young man!’ said Laura indignantly. ‘He may have some funny ways these days, but that’s because he’s old. He’s still a very good doctor. Everyone knows that. And let me tell you, my lad, you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him! That time you had pneumonia—he didn’t leave your bedside all night! Nor the next morning. Not until he thought you were out of danger. You don’t get them like that these days. And I won’t hear a word said against him!’

‘I’m not saying a word against him, Mum,’ Mario protested mildly. ‘I’m just saying I saw him.’

‘That night?’ said Seymour.

‘Yes. Just walking along the corridor like he often does. And thinking. You can tell he’s thinking because from time to time he stops and makes a note in his notebook. And sometimes he sort of drifts away. Mentally, I mean. He goes into a sort of dream and stands there for ages.’

‘He’s thinking,’ said Laura, ‘and if you did a bit of that occasionally, I’d feel a lot happier, with the examinations coming up, than I do!’

He tracked him down eventually. He was in one of the lower corridors, notebook in hand, standing there dreamily just as Mario had said. But he turned to Seymour politely as he came up.

‘Oh, good afternoon!’ he said. ‘Are you visiting the hospital? Can I help you? It’s a vast place,’ he smiled, ‘and it’s easy to get lost. But I think I know my way around still. Where were you making for?’

‘The boiler room,’ said Seymour.

‘Ah, yes. The new boiler rooms. At least, I call them new although I suppose they have been in for quite a while now. They are a big improvement over the old ones, I can tell you. Although they are not quite in the right place. At least, I don’t think they are. When you are locating services, you need to think ahead. Will it still be the right location if the hospital changes? If new wards are built, for example? Because they might well be. In fact—’ he passed his hand over his forehead—‘perhaps they have been? I don’t quite remember. I don’t remember things as well as I used to,’ he confided.

‘There is always change in a hospital,’ said Seymour. ‘But, you know, some needs stay the same. A boiler room needs to have access from the outside.’

‘Oh, yes,’ agreed Dr Malia. ‘For the deliveries.’

‘And there is another consideration these days: security.’

‘Or will be,’ said Dr Malia, ‘with the war coming.’

‘Quite so. And you can’t have people coming into the hospital, just as they please.’

‘I suppose not,’ said Dr Malia. ‘Although I don’t agree with keeping people out. It’s good for patients if they’re visited.’

‘I’m with you there,’ said Seymour. ‘I just worry that sometimes at night—’

‘Well, yes,’ said Dr Malia. ‘There has to be some sort of restriction. Otherwise thieves would strip the hospital!’

He laughed, and Seymour laughed with him.

‘Have you seen much of that in your time?’ he asked.

‘Not much,’ said Dr Malia, ‘but enough. It’s more the vandalism of the equipment that worries me. Some of it is very delicate, you know. You don’t want just anybody handling it!’

‘You’re right,’ said Seymour, ‘and what worries me is that it is a little too easy to get into the hospital.’

‘Laura keeps a pretty good eye on things,’ said Dr Malia. ‘I’m sure; but when she’s not on duty?’

‘The others are not quite as good,’ Dr Malia conceded.

‘And the hospital is a big place,’ said Seymour. ‘You can’t expect someone sitting at the front desk to keep an eye on everything. People could get in through the boiler room, for example.’

‘Well, yes, they could.’

‘Down the coal chute, for instance.’

‘Not easy,’ said Dr Malia. ‘And very dirty.’

‘But I know for a fact that some people have done it.’

‘Yes,’ said Dr Malia, ‘it’s not uncommon.’

‘You’re around the hospital a lot,’ said Seymour, ‘even at night. I expect you’ve seen it.’

‘Well, I have.’

‘I have, too. Only the other night a sailor was creeping out through the boiler room.’

‘And you know what he had been doing!’ said Dr Malia. ‘I think you were there. You probably saw him yourself?’

‘I did. I had been down there thinking about the boilers. And I must have dropped off. I do, you know, from time to time. Take a little nap. Well, I think he saw me, and hung back. But—perhaps I did take a little nap, because the next thing I remember was him creeping past. I didn’t say anything, of course. I didn’t want to embarrass him. And there was no real harm done, was there?’

‘Not by him, no. But perhaps by others. Because there may have been another that night. In fact, I think there probably was.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Dr Malia. ‘I saw them.’

‘Them?’

‘Yes. There were two of them. I was very surprised when they came out of the boiler room. Because they weren’t the boiler men, you know.’ Dr Malia laughed. ‘Of course, they were surprised too. One of them ran back into the boiler room. But the other one—I thought he was going to hit me, but, of course, he wasn’t. He looked at me for a moment and then laughed. “Back to sleep, Dr Malia. Back to sleep!” he said, and then went back into the boiler room.’

‘And then?’

Dr Malia passed his hand over his forehead again.

‘I don’t remember,’ he said. ‘I get these lapses—perhaps I
did
go back to sleep.’

‘Did you know the men?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘I wonder if I know them, too?’

‘I expect so,’ Dr Malia beamed.

‘You know, I’ve forgotten their names!’

‘I’m like that, too, sometimes,’ said Dr Malia cordially.

‘Can you help me with them?’

Dr Malia thought, and then his face clouded over.

‘It’s gone from me,’ he said. After a moment: ‘Perhaps it will come later.’

‘If it does, I’d be glad if you would mention it to me. I would like to know.’

‘Perhaps it will come to you,’ said Dr Malia sympathetically.

Chapter Twelve

Carmen, the nurse on the ward where Turner had died, and where the seamen claimed they had seen someone bending over him, was new to the ward. She had only recently qualified and this was her first appointment. So she had not been absolutely certain at first.

She had bent over him and tried to see if he was breathing. What had attracted her attention in the first place was that the breathing seemed so slight. But even when she had looked and listened carefully she had not been sure. Then she had taken his pulse and she had not been sure about that, either. She had thought she could feel something but it had been so weak that perhaps it had not been there at all. Then she had tried his heart.

And then she had run to Melinda in the next ward, and Melinda had come at once and done more or less the same tests. But she had known at once what to do. They had tried resuscitation and Melinda had sent for one of the doctors, who had come immediately. Carmen thought now that Melinda had realized at once that Mr Turner was dead, but they had continued their attempts at resuscitation for—oh, Carmen could not be sure, it had seemed like ages—But she, herself, had been stupefied, dazed. This was her first death.

Melinda had taken her into the nurses’ room and given her some coffee and made her sit down. She had suddenly begun to shake and Melinda had put her arms around her. And then, when she had stopped shaking, Melinda had made her stand up and walk back round the ward. She had gone with her and they had looked at every patient.

And then, another nurse had come and taken her place, and Melinda had taken her back to her own ward and made her walk round that, too, talking about all the patients as they came to them.

Then Sister Chisholm had come in and given her things to do and she had been quite busy. And then Melinda had taken her out to lunch.

Carmen was plainly in awe of Melinda. It wasn’t just that she was the senior nurse. It was that she was always so calm and confident. She always seemed to know what to do. And although sometimes she seemed a bit brusque, really she was very nice. Just not soft. Carmen thought that perhaps you got like that when you had had more experience. She knew that she herself had not reached that stage yet.

No, she told Seymour, she had not left the ward during her spell of duty. She had not taken a break in the nurses’ room. She would have gone there later but there were some things she had wanted to do. There were measurements she had wanted to check. She was still not able to trust herself so she had taken some again.

‘Did that entail going round the ward?’ asked Seymour. In some cases, yes. She had been up and about in the ward almost the whole time. So she was sure nobody could have got in. She knew what people were saying.

Did she know what the sailors had been saying? About having seen someone bending over Turner with a pillow? Yes. She knew that, too. And she just couldn’t see how they could have done that. Unless …

Unless?

‘Unless they saw me,’ said Carmen. ‘I had been going round the ward, and I probably did straighten a few pillows and move things. I don’t remember going to that bed but I could have done.’

Thinking it over, said Carmen—and she had done a lot of thinking it over—she thought that maybe that was what they had seen.

* * *

‘As a matter of fact,’ said Melinda, ‘I did look in. I don’t think she saw me, but I did. I wanted to be sure that things were all right. She’s new and inexperienced. So I was keeping my eye on her. She’s fine, or she will be fine. But she’s a bit unsure of herself still. Naturally. Especially about the measuring. Actually, she’s not great shakes at sums. But she’s very conscientious, so she does them again to make sure. And again. And again. And she was doing that when I looked in, so I didn’t disturb her.’

‘Would she have been concentrating so much that she wouldn’t have seen—?’

‘Someone come in and stifle Turner? Of course not!’ said Melinda.

‘Then—? She says she didn’t leave the ward.’

‘She wouldn’t have done.’

Melinda thought. ‘Unless—’ She stopped.

‘I think I can see how it might have happened,’ she said. ‘When Mrs Ferreira comes round with the dispensing trolley she sometimes gets stuck along the corridor—there’s a door that has to be held open. Usually the nurse in that ward goes along to help her. If Carmen had done that, she wouldn’t have thought she was leaving the ward!’

‘But it wouldn’t have taken a moment, would it? Not long enough to allow someone to—’ Melinda thought again.

‘Barely long enough,’ she conceded. ‘But usually there’s a bit of chat. And there would have been in Carmen’s case, because Mrs Ferreira knows her mother, and had probably been asked to keep an eye on Carmen for her.’

‘Still—’ said Seymour. ‘Would this have been a regular occurrence?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Melinda. ‘Every day. Bang on the dot! Mrs Ferreira would be there with her trolley.’

‘You wouldn’t have had very long,’ said Seymour. ‘And you would have to know the hospital routines very well.’

‘Yes,’ said Melinda. ‘You would.’

* * *

Felix had developed the art of never listening to his mother. This morning, though, as she was talking to his father over the breakfast table, he suddenly heard something which shot him alert.

‘Yes, on Saturday,’ she said. ‘That will give me the whole of Sunday to get Felix’s things together so that he’ll be ready on Monday.’

‘Ready?’ said Felix. ‘What for?’

‘School,’ said his father. ‘Remember it?’

‘Monday? Next Monday?’

‘As ever is,’ said his father.

‘But I thought that was the week after! I thought I had another week!’

‘Felix,’ said his mother. ‘You are so vague!’

‘But—but I shall still be here. In Malta!’

‘Not unless you’ve made arrangements to stay on your own,’ said his father.

‘We are leaving on Saturday morning,’ said his mother. ‘Early. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times!’

‘But … but … I can’t!’ said Felix.

‘Well, of course, if you’ve made private arrangements—’ said his father.

‘I’ve got my project to do!’

‘There’ll be time for you to finish it,’ said his mother. ‘We’ve still got four days.’

‘But I haven’t started it!’

‘You’ve been talking about it for days. If not weeks.’

‘But I haven’t actually started writing!’

‘Then, Felix,’ said his father, ‘I suggest you start writing pretty soon!’

Much perturbed, Felix went to see Sophia.

He found her still at breakfast with a very long face.

‘But, Sophia,’ her mother was saying patiently, ‘it’s written on the calendar. Up on the wall.’

Sophia turned to Felix.

‘School starts on Monday,’ she said, ‘and I haven’t done my project. It’s supposed to be handed in the first morning.’

‘Same here,’ said Felix. ‘We’re going back on Saturday. Now I haven’t even started!’

‘I will clear the table,’ said Mrs Ferreira, ‘and then you can both sit down and get writing.’

‘I’m still not sure what it’s going to be about!’

‘Then, Felix, I suggest you decide in the next thirty seconds. And you, too, Sophia, instead of blaming the British, the Government, and your grandfather.’

‘What’s all this about?’ said Grandfather.

‘Sophia’s project. It’s got to be handed in on Monday and she hasn’t even started. She hasn’t even made her mind up about the title.’

‘I thought … the Victoria Lines, wasn’t it?’

‘It’s going to have to be,’ said Sophia glumly.

‘And you, Felix?’ said Mrs Ferreira, turning to Felix.

‘Well, I had thought about doing the Armouries—’

‘Yes, but you said they were closed?’

‘You could do it on what you would have seen if they had been open,’ suggested Sophia.

‘I think you should follow Dr Malia’s advice and do it on the Infermeria,’ said Mrs Ferreira firmly.

‘You’d better ask Umberto,’ said Berto uneasily.

‘I want to ask
you
.’

‘Look, I don’t know anything about it. What Umberto does is his own business, I don’t ask him and he doesn’t ask me. But what I say is, you’ve got to give a bloke a bit of leeway. All right, maybe not as much as Umberto took, but he thought it was all right. He’d made arrangements—’

‘Mario?’

‘I’m not saying that was right, the way it turned out. But it’s happened before and it’s been all right. The hospital has not suffered. And it wouldn’t have suffered, normally, because Mario is a good kid and has got his head screwed on the right way and he knows what to do as well as Umberto or me. Normally, I mean. It was just that this time was different. Now, I don’t live too far away and he could have come and got me or sent someone, and I would have come running, I really would. Mario’s a good kid and he’s not to blame, that’s what I am saying. And nor is Umberto. We all make mistakes, and he’s made one, and he knows it. He’s not been the same man. Look, I’ll admit it, if that’s what you want. We messed it up between us really bad and—’

‘That was not what I wanted to see you about.’

‘It wasn’t?’ said Berto, taken aback. ‘Then—?’

‘I wanted to ask you about something that happened on a different day. The day of the balloons. Now, unlike Umberto, you were inside the hospital the whole time, weren’t you?’

‘Yes, I was.’

‘Well, I want you to tell me about that.’

‘About the balloons?’

‘About what happened here. When the German arrived.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Berto, relieved. ‘Well, it was a right to-do. Pandemonium. Absolute pandemonium! Never known anything like it. One minute it was as quiet as the grave. I’d been sitting peacefully here. Nothing was happening, so I wandered out to the front to take a look at the balloons. Then I saw one of them coming down, and Laura said: “You’d better get ready, Berto!”

‘Well, the next minute there were bloody hundreds in here, all pushing and shoving. “Get them out!” shouts Laura. Easier said than done but I did what I could. Even the bloody band was here! “What the hell are you lot doing here?” I said. But they just pushed past me. Laura came out from behind her desk and grabbed some of them by the scruff of the neck and tried to push them out of the door and I was doing my best, but they were all over the place. ‘And then Umberto appears. “Christ, what’s this?” he says, seeing the band. “Are you having a party, Berto?” “No, I’m bloody not!” I say. “Where the hell have you been?” “Putting that little German bastard to bed!” he says. “And it’s not been easy.” “Well, it’s not been exactly easy here,” I said. “Help me get them out!”

‘So he started shoving, and I kept pushing, and Laura was shouting her head off, but it was a sort of deadlock. No one could get anywhere. “What the hell do you lot want, anyway?” shouts Umberto. “We want to see the German,” someone shouts. “Is he all right?” “He’s having a kip,” said Umberto. “The doctors say he’s got to rest.” “Have they given him a sedative?” asks someone. “I expect so,” said Umberto, “and I wish they’d give me one, too.” ‘“Can we see him?” asked someone. “No, you bloody can’t!” said Umberto. “Melinda has got him locked away in the nurses’ room and no one is allowed in.” “Is he asleep?” asks someone. “Yes,” says Umberto, “and I wish I was, too.”

‘Well, in the end we got rid of them. But it took nearly an hour because by this time they’d got all over the place and we were having to chase after them. But in the end we did it.’

He found Mrs Ferreira making ready her trolley.

‘Hello!’ she said. ‘I’m glad I’ve caught you. We’re having a
fenkata
to send off our St John Ambulance friends from England. You will come, won’t you?’

‘I would be delighted to.’

‘Chantale has got the details.’

‘I look forward to it.’ He smiled. ‘I expect that, deep in your heart, you will not be sorry to see them go.’

‘Oh, no, no!’ protested Mrs Ferreira, laughing.

‘You have been very kind and very patient, but I suspect that sometimes it has not been easy.’

‘She means well,’ said Mrs Ferreira laughing; and Seymour knew she was not talking about Chantale.

‘She was in here the other day,’ she said, ‘showing me her charts. She wanted to talk them over with me to make sure that she had got them right. Of course, I was glad to, although I was really rather busy at the time. Paolo had just brought his clothes in for me to check over. His sea-going clothes, I mean—he’s off back to sea shortly. I insist on him bringing them to me. Like a fussy mother, I suppose. Well, I
am
a fussy mother, and I try to be one for him. Since Debra can’t. Anyway, he had just brought them in when Mrs Wynne-Gurr arrived with an armful of charts she had drawn up.’

‘So it wasn’t a good moment?’

‘No. Not that it mattered, because I had plenty of time to do Paolo’s things. But I had set aside the morning for that.’

‘Did he mind?’

‘Oh, he didn’t have to be there. All he had to do was bring the things in. He might have stayed and chatted for a bit but when he saw her, he pulled a face and said: “The English!” and hurried off when she got started and he heard what it was all about.’

‘I don’t blame him,’ said Seymour. ‘She explained them all to me, too!’

Mrs Ferreira laughed.

‘What did you think of them?’ asked Seymour. ‘Her ideas, I mean?’

‘Well, she seemed to have worked everything out. But …’

‘But?’

She was silent for a moment.

‘Things are not like that. Not here in the hospital. She makes it all seem too neat. And …’

‘And?’

She was silent again, this time for quite some minutes. At last she said: ‘And I didn’t like the way they seemed to be pointing.’

‘What way were they pointing?’

‘I think I’d better leave that to her to tell you,’ she said. ‘Because I simply don’t believe it.’

As he was getting into the
dghajsa
he met Lucca. He was preoccupied and seemed not a little distressed.

‘He’s going crazy! Backhaus!’

‘Backhaus?’

‘Yes. He wants me to take the technicians into custody. I’ll need some evidence before I can do that, I told him. “I
have
evidence!” he said. “Written evidence!” “Written evidence?” I said. “Yes,” he said, and waved a letter under my nose. “Let me take a look at it,” I said. “No,” he said, “it is evidence.” “No, it’s not, if I can’t look at it,” I said. Well, he thought a bit and then said: “How can I trust you?” “Look,” I said. “I’m a policeman!” “Yes,” he said, “but that means you’re in the pay of the British.”