Death in the Andamans (38 page)

An hour later, packed into the same aged Ford that had taken them up to Mount Harriet on that fateful Christmas Eve picnic, they were speeding along the moon-drenched road to Corbyn's Cove.

Nick, who was driving, had Copper and Amabel and an assortment of biscuit tins beside him, while Valerie, George and Charles shared the back seat in company with the picnic-basket, a variety of bottles and several travelling rugs. And it was, as Valerie had predicted, a heavenly night.

Moonlight striped the road with lines of white satin between the ebony shadows of the tree trunks, the air was warm and still and heavy with the scent of flowers, and the lovely, curving bay of Corbyn's Cove was a silver arc fringed with tall palms that leaned out across the sands, cutting clear patterns against the moon-washed sky and barring the sands with shadows, ‘sable on argent'.

A gramophone provided undemanding music while a picnic supper was eaten on the dry sand in front of the palm-thatched bathing-huts, and though the records that had been borrowed at random from the Club proved to consist solely of dance-music, played by popular bands and sung by crooners, the slurred sweetness of the trite melodies that drifted out across the white beach and the glimmering bay were transmuted by the wizardry of the night into pure magic.

‘George, dear,' begged Valerie charmingly, at the conclusion of the meal, ‘would you be a darling and see if I brought a torch in the pocket of the car? It doesn't matter if it isn't there.'

George trotted off obediently, and having dispatched Amabel to the water's edge with a pile of dishes to be washed, the remaining four members of the party removed themselves hurriedly from the scene.

‘Phew!'
gasped Valerie, flinging herself down panting and breathless on a bank of sand at the far end of the beach. ‘I haven't run like that since the days when for my sins I played right wing in the school hockey team! I wonder what Amabel will do when she finds we've left her to it?'

‘You mean,' corrected Charles, ‘when she finds that we've left her to George. Well, if she has a spark of intelligence — which I doubt — she will fling herself into his arms and say, “George darling, if you will only forgive me, I'll never touch fruit cup again!” But judging from what I know of the young dim-wit, she'll give her famous imitation of an underdone doughnut instead. And the same, I fear, will apply to George.'

Copper, who had been lying on her back gazing up at the moon, sat up and brushed the sand out of her hair. ‘I will bet you ten rupees,' she said, ‘that by the time we get back they will be closely entwined and rapturously forgiving each other. Any takers?'

Charles looked up at the moon and down the long curve of the beach, and finally out at the silver sea and the tiny black shape that was Snake Island. Somewhere behind them a frangipani tree was spilling its sweetness on the warn night air, and the sea murmured drowsily among the rocks of the point. Charles sighed. ‘No,' he said. ‘No takers. I believe Nick was right, and that to resist a night like this is beyond the power of mortal man — or mortal woman either. It isn't merely romantic, it
is
Romance; and with a capital R. Val, my star, hold my hand. I am inspired.' He breathed deeply and wriggled down on to his spine.

‘Copper,' said Nick abruptly, ‘do you mind if I return to this murder business for a moment?'

‘Not particularly. Why?'

‘Something that's been puzzling me. What was it you thought of that scared you so badly when Val was reading through the notes in the Mess?'

Copper did not answer, and after a short interval of oddly embarrassing silence Nick repeated his question. ‘It was nothing important,' said Copper in a restrained voice.

‘I'll tell you what it was,' said Valerie surprisingly.

‘
Val!
But you don't
____
'

‘Yes, I do. She thought Dad might have done it,' said Valerie calmly. ‘Didn't you, Coppy?'

‘Good God!' said Charles. ‘Sir Lionel?
Why,
for Pete's sake?'

‘Well I – I remembered the sail. There was someone else sailing in the harbour, and when we got home they told us that Sir Lionel had been out. You see all the time we'd been saying that there could only be seven suspects, because only seven other people were out in the bay when Ferrers was killed. But there were eight; and Sir Lionel was the eighth.'

‘I see,' said Nick soberly. ‘Poor Coppy! A nasty thought to take to bed with you. Why wouldn't you tell me?'

‘I – I suppose I was afraid you'd — do something. And he was Val's father and
____
Oh, I don't know. I was scared silly. I worked it all out how he could have done it, and I thought perhaps that explained why Ronnie, who obviously knew something, wouldn't tell; because he wouldn't be believed. Then when I found the letter, I nearly went crazy. Val, I do apologize: I must have been crackers!'

‘Nonsense, darling. It was very intelligent of you. You notice that the fat-head by my side never spotted the significance of that other sail? I did though, and it gave me a few nasty moments. But then it was different for me, because of course I
knew
he couldn't possibly have done it. Charles, darling, may I use your arm as a pillow?'

‘Certainly, my sweet. All that I have is yours — even after that last dirty crack at my expense. Nick, chuck me over a cigarette. Thanks.'

They settled themselves comfortably in a row with their backs to a tide-driven bank of sand, looking out across the shining sea in a silence deep with content, while the soft murmur of the waves and the monotonous trilling of the cicadas among the trees on the hillside behind them sang a song more sweet than that of any night club crooner.

‘Does anyone remember,' said Nick, breaking a long and peaceful silence, ‘what Copper said this afternoon about only a lot of time, or a lot of happiness, laying the ghost of the late unpleasantness on Ross?'

‘Umm,'
said three voices, in drowsy affirmative. ‘Why?'

‘I have been brooding,' said Nick, ‘upon the latter half of that remark.'

He relapsed into silence.

‘Well?'
inquired Valerie curiously.

‘Well, what?'

‘Well, go on.'

‘Oh — only that the second proviso appears to me to be more attractive than the first. I don't think I particularly want to wait until I'm middle-aged before I stop waking up with nightmares and dreaming I'm back among the murderers.'

Valerie laughed softly. ‘In that case, why not try the second method?'

Nick twisted round to face her. ‘Then I take it that you agree with Copper as to its reliability? I wouldn't like to go in for it, only to find myself still haunted by grim spectres.'

‘Speaking for myself,' said Valerie, ‘the remedy has my fullest approval. And in partnership with this slumbering object on my right, I propose to put it to the test in the near future. Signed: Valerie Anne Masson.'

‘What about you, Charles? Do you endorse this damsel's view?'

‘I'll endorse anything tonight,' said Charles. ‘You only have to show me the dotted line.'

Nick said: ‘Oh well — in that case
____
' He lay back against the sandbank and clasped his hands behind his head.

‘“He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small”—'
quoted Valerie wickedly.

‘What's that? Oh, of course; Jamie Graham.
“That puts it not unto the touch, To win or lose it all.”
I wonder. Copper?'

‘Yes?'

‘Will you marry me?'

‘What!'

Three figures out of the four were no longer prone, but sitting bolt upright. Nick continued to lie on his back and gaze at the moon.

‘
What
did you say?' demanded Copper.

‘You 'erd!' said Charles.

‘I asked you if you'd marry me,' repeated Nick obligingly.

‘Oh!' said Copper.

‘Charles,' said Valerie firmly, ‘I think this is where you and I fade rapidly away behind a palm tree.'

‘Not on your life, my sweet! I am intensely interested. Besides, we men must stick together. How do I know that Nick won't shortly be needing my shoulder to sob on or my services as Best Man? Go on, Coppy; a fair answer to a fair question. We hang upon your words.'

‘Don't be absurd!' flashed Valerie, jumping to her feet. ‘Nick, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!'

‘Don't go,' said Copper surprisingly. ‘I think I may need a bit of support too.'

‘Of course she does,' approved Charles. ‘Sit down, Val, my treasure. Go on, Coppy. I demand on behalf of my client that he shall be put out of his misery. A plain straightforward Yes or No, Miss Randal.'

‘I think,' said Copper thoughtfully, ‘that there are one or two questions I'd like to ask first.'

‘Oh, that's all right,' said Charles, ‘the man's stiff with money, if you're wondering if he can keep you in Chocky-Bix. In fact, his yearly income, quite apart from the salary donated to him by a benign Government, is of such proportions as to make my own not-too-miserable pittance look like a trouser button in the collection plate. My advice to you is grab him quickly before he regains his senses, because
____
'

He subsided abruptly with his mouth full of sand.

‘That'll hold him for a bit,' said Valerie serenely. ‘Go on, Coppy. What is it you want to know?'

Copper turned to look down upon Mr Tarrent's recumbent figure: ‘Nick
____
'

‘Darling?'

‘Did you mean to ask me that question tonight?'

‘No,' said Nick unhesitatingly. ‘To be frank, I had every intention of leaving without asking it.'

‘I thought so,' nodded Copper. ‘Then why didn't you?'

‘Because I found that I had no alternative between that and living out a ghost-haunted existence.'

‘Don't!'
said Copper sharply. ‘I wasn't being funny. I want the real reason.'

‘Neither was I. And that is the real reason. I wasn't referring to Leonard's victims, sweet. The ghost would have been yours, and I should have been persistently haunted by the fact that I'd once seen the Real Thing, and failed to grab it.'

‘Love-fifteen to my client,' said Charles, spitting out sand.

‘Shut up, Charles!' said Valerie.

Copper said gravely: ‘Why were you so angry that afternoon in the Mess?'

Nick did not answer for a few minutes, and in the clear moonlight Copper saw the shadow of a frown etch itself between his eyebrows. Presently he said: ‘I wasn't only angry. I was blind furious, if you want to know. You had thought up so many things against me that I believed you really thought I might have done it. And it hit me pretty hard to realize that I ranked so low in your estimation that you could even suspect me of murdering one of my own friends. I was so damned angry I could cheerfully have strangled you!'

Copper said: ‘I was only trying to warn you.'

‘I know. Though I have my suspicions of that
“only”.
I believe you intended it as a slap in the eye as well. Didn't you?'

Copper flushed, but she was too honest to beg the question. ‘Yes.'

Nick laughed shortly. ‘Well, you succeeded all right. I've seldom had a worse one. Any more questions?'

‘Two more. When did you meet Ferrers Shilto before, and why did you keep quiet about it?'

Charles sat up again with some violence. ‘Do you mean to tell me,' he demanded, ‘that you've been concealing a skeleton in your closet all this time? Good God! — if I'd known you were holding out on us I'd have arrested you without a qualm!'

‘I'm sure you would,' said Nick dryly. ‘Perhaps that was what I was afraid of. How did you know, Coppy?'

‘I told you. I saw the labels on Ferrers's luggage, and you told me yourself where you'd been staying. The times fitted. But it was just a shot in the dark — that you might have met him. And when I saw that it had gone home, and you wouldn't explain, I was frightened.'

‘May I ask you something before I answer this? Why do you want to know?'

Copper considered the question for a moment.

‘Partly curiosity, I suppose. But mostly because it's the only missing piece of the story. I know everything else except that, and once it's explained, the story is complete.'

‘The same,' said Charles, ‘goes for me — with the accent heavily on the curiosity. Produce your skeleton.'

Nick pulled out another cigarette and lit it with some deliberation before replying. Then he lay back again, and looking up at the black patterns of the palm fronds against the moonlit sky, spoke in a voice that was entirely without expression — slowly, as though he were choosing his words: ‘I met Ferrers Shilto while I was in Calcutta. We were both stopping at the same hotel. I — there was a friend of mine in Calcutta; a woman. She was attractive and popular and — married …

‘To cut out a lot of unnecessary narrative, she was seen leaving my room at four o'clock one morning by the late unlamented Ferrers. He happened, unfortunately, to be occupying the room opposite mine, and recognized the lady. She and her husband were very well known. Next morning he went round to her house and tried his hand at a little light blackmail. He may have been finding it difficult to get cash down for the pearls — I don't know. Anyway he had no success, for the lady, doubtless remembering the masterly tactics of the late Duke of Wellington under similar circumstances, replied that he could publish and be damned, since it would be a case of her word against his.

‘If he'd had the sense to leave it there, he might have got off scot-free. But he came to me and suggested that I might find it advisable to pay up. Disregarding the old school tie, and elderly as he was, I tore him into small shreds and threw the remains into the street. I also told the Manager that he had been attempting to blackmail me, and as he hadn't paid his bill, he was requested not to return. And — that's about all. I had no idea where he came from or where he had gone to, and it gave me no ordinary jolt to find him on the lawn at Mount Harriet. My only consolation is that it must have given him a much worse one!'