The Blighted Cliffs (18 page)

'Something
we both might profit from.'

'Yes,
sir. If he was pinning his hopes on me, I thought, he must truly be
desperate.

'You
will investigate this business ashore, while I chase my tail out
here. Make such enquiries as you see fit, but I suggest you first
travel to Deal to ask Webb's successor for any intelligence he may
have. The man can't have vanished completely for six months, and he
certainly wasn't underwater that long. I shall send word to the inn
if I require you aboard again.'

'Thank
you, sir.'

I
guessed Crawley had few regrets about sending me away from his
command. For all the evidence I had given to the contrary, he had
never quite dismissed his suspicion that I was sent to undermine him.
But the chance to pursue my enquiries, fruitless though they had been
thus far, was a lifeline, particularly with four days of my fortnight
already spent to such little gain.

The
journey to the harbour was as sullen as I had predicted, and although
the breeze carried the stink of the body away behind us, it gave the
men a devil of a job to row against it. With obvious revulsion, their
glances returned again and again to the bundle on the boat, and had
it not been for Ducker's calming influence I think I would have
feared for their discipline. As it was, I was glad to be away from
them when at last we nosed up against the jetty and I had clambered
out. I left a good five minutes before they followed so as to
disguise the connection between us. I could imagine the sort of looks
their long parcel would attract as they paraded it through the
streets, and did not delay in returning to the inn.

It
was far too late to set out for Deal; in fact, I wondered whether
Ducker would have time to make the trip back to
Orestes
,
for already darkness was falling. I would go the following morning.
In the interim, I thought, I would recover some of the sleep I had
lost the night before. I lay down on my bed, pulled the rough blanket
over me and closed my eyes.

Immediately
I saw that this would not do. Tired I might have been, but the moment
my eyes closed all I could see was the gaping, empty face of Webb,
staring up at me from the bottom of the boat. I shuddered, and
reached instinctively for the half-started bottle of wine on the
floor. That was no good either, for I remembered its provenance half
a second before it touched my tongue. Mine may not be the most
discerning of palates, but the
Crown
and Anchor's
wine had a bouquet all its own, which was hard to forget if once
tasted sober.

I
had many lines of thought to consider, from the resurgence of the
smugglers to the hundred new questions raised by Webb's body, but the
taste of that bile reminded me of my encounter the previous morning.
If I could not sleep easy, I resolved, I might as well make good my
time by returning to that forsaken tavern and enquiring after the men
who had been drinking there. It was not without its risks, of course:
how would it seem to Sir Lawrence Cunningham, who doubtless would get
wind of it? And could I afford, either financially or physically, to
buy the landlord's co-operation again?

But
the closeness of the bedroom and the prospect of a long evening in
the ghoulish company of Webb's apparition convinced me that it would
be best.

Though
it was dark outside it was not yet supper time, and the tavern was
uncommonly quiet when I entered. A quartet of villainous-looking
regulars were clustered in an adjoining room, but a single glance on
my entry clearly sufficed them, for they returned almost immediately
to their mutterings. Otherwise, it seemed empty.

The
landlord greeted me with a genial grin. 'Well, if it ain't the navy
lieutenant what's so generous with 'is brass. Back for more wine, is
you, sir?'

I
ignored the pleasantries. 'You pegged me to the magistrate,' I said
boldly, trying to sound more menacing than plaintive. 'And after all
my custom.'

He
affected a wounded look. 'Peg you, sir? Never. Asides, what's an
'onest man to do when 'e's asked to co-operate with unravellin' a
murder? 'Specially by a man like that Constable Stubb. Awful
fearsome, 'e is.'

He
had my sympathy there, but I remained adamant. 'What did you tell
Constable Stubb, landlord, that made him come knocking on my door the
next morning?'

The
landlord looked deeply shocked. 'Knockin' on your door? Why sir, I
never said nothin' that could make 'im think that a gentleman like
you could be doin' no 'arm.'

'What
was it that you did tell him?'

'Only
that you'd been in 'ere a few nights back, an' I seen you chattin'
with that Isobel Dawson.'

'But
you didn't.'

'Beggin'
yer pardon, sir, but I '

I
threw him a guinea. 'You did not. Put that towards my next bottle of
wine.'

'Well,
it were dark, sir, an' very busy. You knows 'ow busy it gets in 'ere.
Might be that I mistook meself, it bein' so dark. An' busy.'

He
thought hard. 'An' I might - I say might, mind - might've been a
little too sure tellin' Constable Stubb what I thought I seen.'

'If
he asks again you will doubtless be more circumspect.'

"Spect
I will,' he agreed, pleasingly docile.

'And
what else did you tell Constable Stubb? About the dead man?'

His
eyes widened. 'That man they found under the cliff? Terrible that
were.'

'I
know. I found him.'

'Bless
you - did you, sir?' He nodded energetically. 'So the constable
might've got the wrong e, nd o' the bottle.'

'He
said you'd seen the dead man
drinking
here that night.'

'Did
I?'

Yes.'

'So
I did, then.' He was looking at me anxiously, trying to decipher my
intentions. 'That's right, I did. Sittin' over there, 'e was, deep in
the corner. I wouldn't o' recognized 'im when the coroner showed me
if 'e'd not come up to get 'is drinks.'

'Did
he drink much?' It seemed unlikely that this would resolve itself as
the simple case of a drunkard who staggered over a cliff, but I meant
to be thorough.

'Not
so much, no. Few glasses o' brandy.'

'And
did he drink alone?'

'No,
sir.' The landlord leaned over the bar, setting his face un
comfortably close to my own. 'There was two others with 'im.'

Now
this might be useful. 'Did you recognize any of them?'

'No,
sir.'

'What
did they look like?'

'Couldn't
say, sir.' My frustration must have been evident. 'It were dark in
'ere, sir, an' awful busy.'

'So
it was. Did you ever meet a revenue officer called Webb?'

'Webb,
sir?' He scratched his ear. 'No, sir. There's Mr Nealy down at the
customs 'ouse.'

'Mr
Webb worked in Deal, until some six months ago.' I did not reveal
where Mr Webb was now. My guinea had bought the man's co-operation,
not his silence, and I did not want Stubb linking me with yet another
mysterious death.

'That'd
explain it. Don't never go to Deal much.'

'So
you know nothing about any of those men, other than that they had a
few glasses of brandy?' I suppose I ought to have been getting used
to such disappointments from my enquiries.

But
the landlord was shaking his head. 'Not at all, sir, not at all. I
knows they was foreign.'

'What?'
I stared at him in disbelief. 'You saw nothing of them, and never
knew them, yet you know they were foreign?'

'Well,
two of 'em was.' He sounded wounded at my scepticism.

'And
how do you know that?'

"Card
it from Mrs Pring. They was lodgin' at 'er boardin' 'ouse.'

'Mr
Vitos, one of them was called; the other... Laminak, I think he
said.'

Mrs
Pring stood before me in her apron, her arms folded across her prim
bosom. Her house looked respectable enough too, although the fact
that it was down the alley by the gaol would have deterred me from
staying there. I doubt I'd have slept well knowing Gibble lay behind
the cherry-striped wallpaper.

'And
how long were they here?'

She
looked at me cautiously, but my dress uniform, into which I'd had the
foresight to change after leaving the
Crown
and Anchor
,
obviously reassured her, as it had when I'd knocked on her door.

'They
were here just the one night. Arrived very late on Saturday, left the
next morning.'

'And
can you describe them to me?'

'Mr
Vitos, he was quite large, to put it plain, sir. Mr Laminak was
taller, and thinner too, with a great black beard. They both had dark
hair, of course, being they were foreign.'

'Of
course. And they'd never stayed here before, or since?'

'Never.
But then, the constable said they found Mr Vitos dead the next day.'
A thought crossed her tight face. 'Could you not get this from Mr
Stubb? He was very thorough when he came.'

No
doubt.

'We
like to make our own enquiries in the navy, ma'am,' I said bluffly.
'Saves us getting our signals awry.'

Her
eyes narrowed. 'He asked about a navy officer too, the constable did.
Asked if a Mr Jerrold had come to see the foreign gentlemen.' She
considered this a moment. 'What did you say your name was again?'

'Crawley.
Captain aboard his Majesty's cutter
Orestes
.
Tell me, Mrs Pring, did you chance to overhear any of their
conversation?'

'Of
course not.' She looked most indignant. 'My guests have their
privacy, you know. I don't go eave, dropping all about them.'

'I
never meant the least injury. But I should be deeply in your debt for
anything you may remember. Particularly in light of Mr Vitos's sad
fate.'

She
pressed her thin lips together. 'Well, I didn't see much of them, you
know, what with them arriving so late. But I did hear them say they
were leaving to go to the bank in the morning.'

'To
the bank? On a Sunday?'

My
hopes of getting any sense from the woman sank, but the disbelief in
my tone had clearly affronted her for she drew herself taller and
declared: 'Certainly on a Sunday. That was why it stayed stuck with
me. Foreigners, I thought to myself, blaspheming the Sabbath with
their greedy ways. I was glad to see the back of them.'