The Murder of Busy Lizzie

I regard it as a matter of more than passing interest that Mrs Chayleigh doesn’t seem to have been seen alive since she toddled over here with, or without, the viands. To my mind, the pig clinches matters. She was killed by that knock on the head, the pig’s blood was poured over her blood, and the pig left as a material witness while her body was flung into the sea. Be interesting to find out where, and I want to take a look- see.’

‘Very well, then: it shall be as you wish. By the way…’ Dame Beatrice fixed her sharp black eyes on Laura. ‘… I rely on you to see that your proposed boat-trip does not deprive me of my secretary and amanuensis. The Memoirs would suffer sadly without the assistance of your memory and imagination.’

‘Oh, I’ll be all right, and the chap won’t risk getting his boat bashed in, that’s for certain. We shall keep well off-shore and I shall rely on my binoculars to pick up any items of interest.’

‘That may, or may not, help the enquiry. What I should like to find out is what inducement was offered to Mrs Chayleigh which brought her to this house on the flimsy pretext of delivering a basket or parcel of food.’

‘Miss Crimp may have suggested that it was on her way to the boat, so if the maid was right, and Eliza agreed to come here, Miss Crimp can’t be concerned in the murder,’ said Laura, ‘because she remained at the hotel.’

‘We are in no position to name the murderer, in any case, but Mrs Chayleigh could have been followed here, you know. There was an interval while two people drank tea.’

‘Do you think it was Eliza and her murderer who drank the tea?’

‘Eliza and one of her murderers, you mean. What interests me is the flimsy reason for the errand which seems to have been given. One would have supposed that so trivial a commission could have been given to one of the hotel servants. Mrs Chayleigh must have expected to meet somebody here, but the probability is that we shall never find out who it was.’

chapter ten

Boat and Scramble

‘Your stormy chiding stay;

Let zephyr only breathe,

And with her tresses play,

Kissing sometimes these purple ports of death.’

William Drummond

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Dame Beatrice, who had boundless faith in Laura’s ability to take care of herself and who, in any case, was convinced that the young (among whom she still included her secretary) should be given a free hand so long as it was not one which dealt trouble to other people, made no objection and offered no opposition to the proposed expedition.

Laura laid her plans carefully. She was anxious (and kind-hearted and tactful enough) not to allow the brother and sister to know that she proposed to follow a course against which she had persuaded them. She had also decided to make the sea-trip before she looked for clues on the cliff-top.

Sebastian and Margaret, ignoring their father’s advice, had gone off to see Ransome as soon as they left Puffins. Laura, having seen them on their way, climbed the knoll at the back of the house and kept them in view long enough to note that they had by-passed the hotel and were taking the road to the farm. Upon this, she took the cliff road down to the landing stage. Two or three fishing-boats were drawn up on the disconsolate shore and a little further up the coast the surf was thundering on to the unpromising-looking beach. The main-land away to the south was clearly defined in the late afternoon sunshine, and on the cliff to her left stood the modern lighthouse which guarded the channel.

Among the fishing boats was the malodorous little launch which ferried passengers to and from the mainland steamer, and near it, but anchored off-shore, was a bigger and better boat, a sea-going cruiser, the craft, in fact, which belonged to that Saint Christopher of churchgoers, J. Dimbleton. Having brooded upon its possibilities, Laura climbed the cliff and, keeping an eye open for Sebastian and his sister, she, too, followed the road.

J. Dimbleton’s cottage was near the church and stood alone in an overgrown garden containing an empty pig-sty, otherwise the only concession to tidiness and utility was in the form of a small vegetable patch near the dwelling. Laura pushed open a remarkably well-oiled gate and walked up to the cottage, trusting that at that hour Dimbleton would be at home and having his tea. She hammered on the front door with her fist and, like Goldilocks at the home of the three bears, lifted the latch and walked in.

Three persons were seated at a scrubbed wooden table and were indeed at tea. Father Bear she took to be Dimbleton himself, a big, sun-and-wind-tanned man wearing a blue jersey and a spotted neckerchief. Baby Bear was a slim young fellow in a reefer jacket and Mother Bear was Miss Crimp. They stared at Laura, but not malevolently, and Dimbleton stood up and came round the table to where she was standing.

‘Business?’ he asked. ‘Or would ee like a cup o’ tea. Made it for Miss Crimp, never touch the poison myself.’

‘Business,’ Laura replied. ‘Tomorrow at dawn, if you will be so good.’

‘You want to cross over first thing in the morning?’

‘No. I want to make a circular tour of the island.’

‘Oh, ay? Anybody going with you?’

‘No. My employer, on whose behalf I shall be making this survey, is not enthusiastic about rough sea-trips. She has read that this island used to be the haunt of smugglers, but she claims that landing cargo on these shores would have been too hazardous an undertaking to be feasible, and she wishes to prove her point in an article to a geographical magazine to which, from time to time, she contributes. I am to ask what you charge for the hire of your boat for such a trip.’

‘Oh, well, let me see now. You see, for the round trip I usually reckon on half-a-dozen passengers, and that come cheaper for each one of ’em, like.’

‘My employer does not wish me to be distracted. I shall be making notes, you see, and must remain undisturbed, so I am to make the trip on my own. She will meet any reasonable demand for a fee.’

‘Well, I dunno. What would you say to two pound fifty? I’ll be going with you to handle the boat, of course.’

‘Make it two pounds. There won’t be nearly as much wear and tear on your boat as there would be with six passengers, some of them, perhaps, sea-sick.’

‘You wouldn’t be sea-sick?’

‘No. Besides, I could crew for you if necessary.’

‘Two pound, then. Let’s wet it with a drop o’ Scotch.’

‘Right. And a small rake-off for me if I do crew for you.’

Dimbleton laughed and the young man at the table said, ‘You’ve caught a right one there, Jake.’

Miss Crimp said, ‘Well, if that’s all right about the fish, then, Mr Dimbleton, perhaps Mrs Gavin and I might walk back together, as our ways lie in the same direction.’

‘It was the fishiest set-up you ever saw,’ said Laura to Dame Beatrice when she had left Miss Crimp at the hotel and had returned to Puffins. ‘She mentioned fish, incidentally, but I bet those particular fish were never taken out of either fresh or salt water.’

‘Your figure of speech eludes me.’

‘Fish,’ explained Laura, ‘is one of the Americanisms for money. If you ask me, smuggling is still a gainful occupation on this island. The young chap at the table wore gold rings in his ears and was a Cornishman. He was absolutely cut out for the part and so is Dimbleton, who can’t possibly make a living merely by hiring out his boat at odd times. He must have another source of income. I had a squint at his boat before I went to his cottage, and it’s a three-thousand pound job, put it at the lowest, and could have cost three times that much, if he bought it new. You could cross to America in it, I shouldn’t wonder, and I bet it’s fast, too. However, I’ll be able to assess it better when I go aboard. It begins to look as though there is method