from it. I assume I have your permission to go aboard?”
“I guess so. And what about us? Are we free to go?”
“What? After being found in possession of a body with its head bashed in?
You’re under arrest on suspicion of murder, for God’s sake! Rasha, you can come
with me to witness our search, then back to the cell. Royboy, I’ll see you in the morning.”
Lockhart accompanied Devoran to the car park. “Think they did it, Eric?”
“No, not really. They’re not the type. I’m thinking they need time to think
about things overnight, then maybe in the morning they’ll be ready to tell us every little
thing they know about what’s been going on at Duffy’s marina.”
“Oh.” It was disappointing. Was Devoran being overcautious? “A night in the
cells might loosen their tongues, I guess. I’ve known it happen. Not often.”
Foul Play at Duffy’s Marina – Michael Coney 16
“The pity of it is, the guy who probably knew more than anyone is dead now.
Ferris was a private eye.”
“Was he, by golly! What was he doing in Noss?”
“The story goes he was looking for a boat. But he seemed hellish indecisive
about the whole thing, as though the boat story was just a reason to poke around.”
“You’re saying he’d been hired by somebody?”
“Looks like. The question is, who? That’s what we’ve got to find out.”
Yes, Lockhart decided, Devoran had matters under control. A pity he couldn’t
be more positive about the shifty boat couple who might well be in the frame for both
murders. Nail them, and that would be a feather in the Detachment’s cap. Or, to be
honest, Devoran’s cap. Credit should go where credit was due. The years had passed,
and Lockhart wasn’t ambitious any more.
LATE MONDAY AFTERNOON: A RUMMAGE
When Bill arrived home from school he found his Gran waiting for him in her car. “Jump
in, young Wilberforce! The game is afoot!”
“Actually, Gran, I told Dad I’d get the supper ready.” It had been a rough day
at school. Maeve had been giving him a hard time about neglecting her. The teacher
had been asking questions about periods of absence. He didn’t feel up to pursuing investigations
at the behest of Gran. He’d lost a bit of confidence in the old girl.
“Your father is quite capable of getting his own supper. We have work to do!”
And such was the power of her personality that he found himself climbing into
the car. “Where are we going?”
“To Duffy’s Marina, of course.” She let in the clutch and the car bounded up
Waterside Road. “And on the way I will apprise you of the facts of the case.”
“But I know the facts, don’t I?”
“Did you know that your father has, rightly or wrongly, arrested the unwashed
boat people for the murder of the Fox?”
“The Fox is dead?”
“Unfortunately yes. And I do not take kindly to having my suspects eliminated
in this manner. It hinders the natural flow of the investigation.” She went on to describe
the events of the afternoon. “You missed all that, Wilberforce, because of your father’s
misguided fixation on school as a means of education. Be that as it may, the boat people
are in custody and your father is doubtless questioning them at this very moment.
And that tells us something.”
“What does it tell us, Gran?”
She swung into the marina car park and switched off. “It tells us that their cockleshell
craft is lying at the dock unguarded.”
“Does it need to be guarded?”
Foul Play at Duffy’s Marina – Michael Coney 16
“Great heavens, Wilberforce, have you forgotten your own theory, propounded
only two days ago? The box, Wilberforce. The sea chest!”
Levering herself energetically from the car she produced a magnetic card and
unlocked the marina gate.
“I thought only boat owners were entitled to keys.”
“I had the foresight to provide myself with this card when I was in the marina
office the other day. And I see the office is closed.” She craned her neck, peering
down the ramp. “I also see that the body of the Fox has now been removed to the mortuary
and the police presence is no longer evident, unless you count the young constable
asleep in the temporary lockup. That simplifies our task.”
“What task is that, exactly, Gran?”
“You are exceptionally slow-witted this evening, Wilberforce. I put it down to
your teachers filling your mind with useless dross. As I’ve already told you once, our
task is to safeguard the box!”
He followed her down the ramp. Serendipity lay at the dock, misshapen and
vaguely threatening. “Isn’t that the task of the police?”
“But as you see, they are not performing it. The box has been delivered into
our hands. Or actually your hands, Wilberforce, because you are going to recover it.”
Bill’s heart sank. “Steal the box? Gran, I can’t do this thing.”
“What on earth are you talking about, Wilberforce? If it is merely scruples that
are afflicting you, may I remind you that we are not stealing the box, we are safeguarding
it. We are taking it into temporary custody. There could well be incriminating matter
in that box, and we are not the only people who will seek to take advantage of this
situation. Come the dawn, that box will be gone, mark my words.”
“Who’s going to take it?”
“The murderer, of course, seeking to recover the evidence.”
Bill glanced worriedly up the dock. The old girl could be right. The box could
contain evidence of blackmail, naming names, including the murderer himself. Or at
least naming initials. It was always initials in blackmail cases. In a small black leatherbound
notebook. Received $10,000 from D K And photographs of subjects in compromising
positions. That could be worth a look. But the Old Man had expressly forbidden
any unauthorized ransacking; and what was more, he’d couched it in language
that brooked no misunderstanding.
“Let’s just guard the boat, Gran. Until the police arrive, eh?”
“We have no guarantee that the police will arrive. On the contrary, the murderer
himself may arrive, armed and dangerous.”
Their position was uncomfortably exposed. “I don’t like this, Gran.”
“Neither do I, Wilberforce, which is why the ransacking must be carried out
forthwith, in the cause of justice. And I am too old and feeble to do it myself.”
Lying old battle-ax, thought Bill. She’s as strong as a horse. Aware that he was
branding himself as the ultimate wimp, he played his trump card but with no sense of
triumph. “Can’t be done, Gran. Dad expressly forbade it.”
Foul Play at Duffy’s Marina – Michael Coney 16
He heard a muttered curse from Gran and glanced at her fearfully, but her attention
was elsewhere. He felt the rocking of the dock that denoted the approach of heavy
feet. An enormous relief washed over him.
“Hi there, Dad. Hi, Rasha. Hi, Susi.”
“What’s all this, then?” Jeez, did the Old Man have to talk like a Brit stage
cop? It was embarrassing.
“Young Wilberforce and I were checking on the condition of this craft, Inspector,”
Gran explained, quick-witted as ever. “You may remember I was responsible for
preventing a tragedy earlier today. I felt it my duty as a possible witness to ensure that
no serious damage had occurred. Insurance, you understand?”
Rasha uttered a short laugh.
The Old Man wore his unconvinced look. “If you say so.” He swung a clumsy
leg over the coaming. “Whereabouts is the box, Rasha?”
“Wait! I’ll get it.” She pushed him aside and climbed nimbly into the cockpit.
“We kind of hid it away, for safety’s sake. You have to be careful, at marinas.” She
disappeared down into the cabin, reappearing a moment later staggering under the
weight of a brassbound chest. Unable to carry it up the companionway, she slid it onto
the cockpit floor.
Bill regarded it, impressed. It looked exactly the way it should: stoutly-built of
varnished oak, the brass corners polished, the lid domed. The manner in which dear
old Dad’s authority had finally brought it into the light of day was quite inspiring. One of
these days he’d rise to the heights of Staff Sergeant himself and carry out searches of his
own. He’d often envied the Old Man’s authority to question people, his ability to put
two and two together and make whatever he chose out of it, his right to switch theories
in midstream without criticism from above…. In short, his Power. And this was an
example of that power. The criminal had been obliged to produce the loot herself, and
no arguments. So much more dignified than the frantic and terrified rummaging Gran
had been urging.
“Is that your box?” the Old Man asked Susi.
She nodded. “Yeah.” She swung round to confront Rasha. “You bastard!”
“Safe keeping.”
“Like hell!”
They squared up to each other. Bill’s money was on Susi, the more solidly-built
of the contestants. Disappointingly, the Old Man stepped between them.
“That’s enough, you two. Bill, go and get a wheelbarrow, will you? We’ll take
the box back to the incident room.”
“Can’t I just take it to Miss Drost’s? It’s my box, Eric.”
“Sorry, Susi. It’s evidence. We’ll need to open it up, list the contents and you’ll
have the chance to identify what’s yours.”
Bill hurried away to the compound where the wheelbarrows were kept, elated.
It seemed the Old Man was accepting him as part of the team, if only as a gopher. Although
in fairness it was the least Dad could do, considering that it was his, Bill’s, theory
of the chest’s whereabouts that had been proven correct.
Foul Play at Duffy’s Marina – Michael Coney 16
MONDAY EVENING: OPENING THE BOX
As they wheeled the box up the ramp, Devoran, far from echoing his son’s elation, was
plagued with guilt.
He should have left a man with specific instructions to guard Serendipity. Tom
Farquarson was up in the yard, he could have handled it. As it was, they’d been lucky
to find the box still there. Anyone could have taken it: the murderer (if there was indeed
a murderer), an opportunist, a yard man or (perish the tho ught!) his demon mother-inlaw.
He ran his mind back over the events at the marina that morning. They’d hauled
the body onto the dock. He’d cautioned Royboy and Rasha. His mother-in-law had
arrived. Charlie Hood had arrived. Belatedly, Dr. Bottomley and the team from Headquarters
had arrived. Bottomley had waxed lyrical over the wound under Ferris’s hair,
which had resulted in screams of protest from Rasha, and an attempt by Royboy to
break free of the officer’s restraining grip. It had been all bustle on the dock. The team
had taken the body away and he’d taken Royboy and Rasha away, leaving his motherin-
law, Red Duffy and Charlie Hood behind. Why hadn’t he detailed Farquarson specifically
to guard the Serendipity?
Three reasons. One, because he didn’t know at the time that the boat was of
any significance, once they’d taken the rope away for forensic examination. Two, because
Farquarson was in the yard guarding the Ocean Dream and he’d vaguely felt that
covered everything. But shamefully Three, because of the air of authority exuded by his
mother-in-law. Had he assumed she’d take care of things? Dear God, it was as though
he was tied to her apron-strings!
It wouldn’t happen again. “Wait here,” he told the group, as they reached the
marina yard. He approached the lockup and found Farquarson hunched disconsolately
on a stool surrounded by shelves of muddy equipment, reading a paperback. An electric
heater glowed feebly from the floor.
He looked up eagerly. “That’s it for the day, is it, Sarge? They’ve locked up
the incident room for the night. Everyone’s gone home.”
“They’ve locked up? Jesus; they should have cleared it with me first. I’ll have
to deal with this box at home, now.”
Farquarson stood, stretching and yawning. “See you in the morning, then.”
But Devoran had learned his lesson. “Sorry, Tom. I’m not leaving the marina
unguarded tonight.”
“But the boat’s all been emptied out,” he gestured at the shelves, “and we can
lock this shed up.”
“All the same, I’ve called Peterville and they’re sending a relief out. You’ll have
to hold on here until he arrives. And when you leave, I want you to take Rasha back
with you. She’s under arrest, right? They know all about it at the Station.”
Devoran left Rasha with him. The rest of the group continued up the lane, Bill
pushing the barrow, secretly proud of the responsibility.
Foul Play at Duffy’s Marina – Michael Coney 16
After a moment, Devoran dropped back to join Mrs. Rooke-Challenger, who
had lost ground up the hill. “Do you mind telling me just what you and my son were doing
on the dock, Mother-in-law?”
She met his gaze defiantly. “Certainly, Devoran. We were deploring the fact
that the boat had been left unguarded. We suspected there was valuable evidence
aboard which might have been lost. Had you not appeared when you did, it is possible
the boat would have been ransacked.”
“No doubt you have some suspicion as to who might have, uh, ransacked it.”
“I would have ransacked it. Or rather, your son would have ransacked it under
my direction.”
“For God’s sake, Mother-in-law, I will not have you leading my son into criminal
activities!”
“There are times when it is necessary to bend the letter of the law in order to
uphold its spirit. You need have no fears on that score, Devoran. Young Wilberforce
has a clearer idea of the distinction between right and wrong than most people I have
met.”
Devoran would have liked to pursue the matter. For once it appeared that his
dragon-in-law’s position was indefensible, but the opportunity was lost as they followed
Bill and Susi into the house. It was not the time for a full-scale argument.
Muddy tracks led across the kitchen floor to where the wheelbarrow stood.
Devoran got his fingers under the bottom of the chest, nodded to Bill, and together they
lifted it onto the table. For a moment there was an undignified scramble as they all tried
to get hold of it at once. “It’s police evidence,” Devoran shouted, swatting various
hands away. “Stay away from it!”
Conversation became disjointed.
“Evidence you would have lost, were it not for your son’s theory.”
“Empty by now, I bet.”
“Open the box! Open the box!”
“Fingerprints!” shouted the old lady suddenly. “Take your hands off it,
Devoran!”
He said, “We already know all we need to know about the box. It was taken
from Slade’s boat by Royboy. He’s admitted it. Fingerprints are irrelevant. What’s
important is: has the lock been forced or not?” He pushed at the lid with his thumbs.
“No. It’s still locked. That helps Royboy and Rasha more than somewhat. Let me
have your key, Susi.”
He inserted the key. It wouldn’t turn. Closer examination revealed damage to
the brass work near the lock. “Someone’s been trying to force it.”
“Quite obviously the unsavory boat people have been trying to force it,” said
Mother-in-law. “But that’s beside the point. Bring me a screwdriver, Wilberforce!”
But Devoran had been jiggling and twisting the key, and suddenly they heard a
click. He flipped the lid back. “Good grief!”
The box was full to the brim with bundles of bills secured by elastic bands. He
picked up a bundle and riffled through it.
Foul Play at Duffy’s Marina – Michael Coney 16
They were all hundreds.
“There’s a king’s ransom here,” murmured Bill in awe. He glanced at the others.
“And only we four know about it.”
“Bill, for God’s sake!”
“Just testing the waters.”
Susi had been oddly silent ever since the box appeared. At last she spoke.
“That bastard!” she said dully. “There must be hundreds of thousands more than he told
me. And he had the nerve to make me pay for part of the boat repairs. Do you know
what? I reckon he meant to sneak off out to sea without me, all along.”
Devoran was stacking the bundles on the table. “There’s two passports here.
A small purse. Credit cards. And a couple of diskettes at the bottom.”
“Is there a small black leather-bound notebook?” asked Bill eagerly. “Photographs?”
“No, there isn’t.” Devoran regarded the money unhappily. Susi thought her
problems were over. And to some extent they would be, if this money had been acquired
honestly. She was looking from the pile of notes to him expectantly. “I’m sorry.
I’ll have to hold onto all this,” he told her. “It’ll have to be checked out. I expect most
of it belongs to Slade’s clients.”
“At least we can try out the disks,” said Bill eagerly. “We can do it now.”
“We’ll wait for Constable Dobbin,” said Devoran firmly. “She’ll be here soon.
I’m not taking any chances with those disks. You can take your dirty hands off them,
Bill.”
“And what do I do with no money?” asked Susi.
“Get a job, gal!” snapped Mrs. Rooke-Challenger.
THE SAME MONDAY EVENING: THE DISKS DECODED
“Listen, Eric, at least a thousand of that money belongs to me. There’s an IOU
in that little purse.”
He was in a quandary. “You’ve got to understand, Susi. This may all belong to
other people. Slade seems to have been involved in shady deals. People have been
looking for him. I simply can’t go on your word alone that you haven’t been repaid that
IOU.”
“You calling me a liar?”
He regarded her miserably. “I’m just saying I have to abide by the rules.”
“And you won’t bend them a little, for me?”
“I can’t do that, Susi.”
“Well, to hell with you, then!” So saying, she swung around and stormed out.
At least, she would have stormed out had not the doorway been filled with the arriving
figure of DC Dobbin, fresh from her trip to Vancouver. They bounced off each other
like pool balls, dodged from side to side and finally coordinated. Susi disappeared into
the night.
Dobbin raised her eyebrows at Devoran.
Foul Play at Duffy’s Marina – Michael Coney 16
“Am I glad to see you,” he muttered.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Come on in.” He led the way into the living room and spent the next few minutes
describing recent events in some detail.
When he’d finished, Dobbin said, “So Ferris was a detective, was he? Killed
by a blow to the head. Not drowned. What are you going to do about Royboy and
Rasha now?”
“I don’t believe Slade gave them the box for safe keeping, for a start. I’m sure
they stole it. But where’s the proof? With Slade dead, it’s just Susi’s word against
theirs.”
“If you’re relying on Susi’s word, you have a big problem,” said Dobbin acidly.
“But you can hold them for Ferris’s murder.”
He sighed. “I suppose so. Lockhart wants to nail them to the wall, but there’s a
ring of truth to their story, don’t you think? I can just see those two idiots panicking
when they found the body, and screwing up their attempt to tow it away. It’s in character.
Murder isn’t. They had no motive except maybe the box, and I don’t think they’d
commit murder for that when they didn’t even know what was in it.”
“Let them sweat in the cells till morning, anyway.”
“Right. It’s too late to do anything now. So how did it go in Vancouver?”
“Depends on how you look at it. I got the impression I was talking to innocent
parties. The Sturgess’s are nice people. They’re very fond of their daughter, I can’t
think why, and they want the best for her. Sturgess was all pissed off because Susi suspected
he’d taken the box. Once he’d got that off his chest, we had quite a nice time. I
can’t see him murdering Lionel Slade to get him away from Susi. He’s the gentle giant
type.”
“How about Slade’s cousin in Burnaby?”
“Nice enough guy, but not forthcoming. He hadn’t had any contact with Slade
for years. Apparently our man was the black sheep of the family. Both parents died
when he was in his teens. As a kid he’d been in trouble a few times, learned his lesson
and stayed just on the right side of the law ever since. The cousin was surprised he’d
met a violent death, but not brokenhearted. He didn’t know anything about his recent
movements.”
“Pretty much a wasted trip, then.”
She sighed. “I seem to have missed all the excitement.”
“The disks, Dad! The disks!”
“All right, Bill. You can use our computer in the next room, Marsha.”
“I’ll go with her, Dad. Two heads are better than one, and I understand
the peculiarities of our computer.”
“We’ve only had that computer three months,” Devoran protested. “And it was
supposed to be used for your homework. There had better not be any peculiarities.”
Dear God, what had the boy been doing with the thing? Idling his time away playing
games with it? Browsing the porn sites? The world of computers was a mystery to
Devoran.
Foul Play at Duffy’s Marina – Michael Coney 16
“Just passwords and such.”
“Why do you need passwords when you’re the only one who uses it?”
“Security, Dad. Come on, Marsha.”
They took the disks into the next room, leaving Devoran alone with his motherin-
law, who had been unusually silent for the past half hour.
“Coffee, Mother-in-law?”
“At this hour?”
“I don’t have anything stronger,” he said unhappily, recalling that Susi had finished
off the last of his scotch. “Would you like me to run you home?”
“Good grief, Devoran, what are you implying? I assure you I can survive for
many hours without a drink.” Scowling, she hunched forward on her chair, regarding
the contents of the box. “Count it, Devoran! I will witness your count.”
“I’d rather wait until Constable Dobbin gets back, thanks.”
“You place too much reliance on that young woman.”
An awkward silence fell, which fortunately did not last more than a few minutes.
The door burst open and Bill charged in, followed more sedately by Dobbin.
“We’ve decoded the discs, Dad!” said Bill triumphantly. “Or at least, we’ve
read the data. Actually it was quite simple. It all used the same spreadsheet software
we’ve already got. Lotus 1-2-3.”
“What did you find?” Devoran was aware his voice sounded strained. This
could be the most crucial point in the investigation.
“A list of clients linked to a whole slew of transactions. Stock market stuff; I
recognized some of the investments. Like people said, Slade was some kind of financial
man. A freelance investment broker. Probably conning little old ladies out of their fortunes.
So now we have a list of his dupes, we can interrogate them!” He handed his
father a printout.
“Get this straight, Bill. You too, Mother-in-law. If there’s any interviewing to
be done, I’ll do it. I’m serious.” He laid the printout on the table and ran his finger rapidly
down the list under his mother-in-law’s watchful eye. None of them meant anything
to him. “I absolutely forbid either you or Bill to talk to any of the people on this list.” He
relented somewhat, “And anyway, if these people were Slade’s, uh, dupes, they’d have
reported him and his name would be on record. But it’s not. We’ve checked.”
“But Dad, don’t you see—”
“Enough, Bill!”
The old lady gave a snort of anger. “You’re interfering with my rights as a private
citizen, Devoran!”
“That’s as may be.” It was satisfying to use one of her own pet phrases against
her. “But if you interfere any further with the course of this police investigation I’ll throw
the book at you. Take this list, Constable Dobbin. Talk to these people tomorrow.
They’re all in Victoria, thank God.” He tried to bend a terrible stare on Mother-in-law,
but it was not his day for terrible stares. “You and Bill, on the other hand, will stay
around Noss Cove. Bill will go to school for a change.”
“For Pete’s sake, Dad!”
Foul Play at Duffy’s Marina – Michael Coney 16
“Well, really!” exclaimed Mrs. Rooke-Challenger.
But was that a crafty gleam in her sharp old eyes?
TUESDAY MORNING: ON THE TRAIL
Devoran had awakened consumed with remorse. Why had he spoken to Mother-inlaw
like that? It was quite pointless, and merely invited a fearsome vengeance. He was
pondering this and other matters as he strolled up Waterside Road the following morning
with a vague idea of dropping in on the old girl and apologizing. It was a fine, sunny
day. Perhaps the weather had already put her in a receptive mood.
“Eric!” It was a shout from Farquarson, back on the morning shift and diligently
guarding the Ocean Dream. “Come here. There’s something you should see.”
Moments later they were climbing into the wrecked hull of the Ocean Dream.
It had been moved to a quiet corner of the yard behind the office, not being a item that
helped the marina image.
Devoran shuddered suddenly. The wreckage seemed to hold the stench of
death. The mast had been removed, together with any salvageable fittings; all that was
left was the bare, blackened hull. It was a sad end for a boat. He stepped carefully
among squelching, unidentifiable ashes on the cabin floor.
“You’ve been through all this muck?” he asked.
“Of course. Nothing interesting there. But take a look at this.” There was a
barely-suppressed triumph in Farquarson’s voice. He’d found something the rest of the
team had missed. He indicated the port side of the bulkhead separating the cabin from
the cockpit; a flat expanse of charred fiberglass about four feet square. Once there had
been some kind of shelving here. Loose strips of wood hung from screws and on the
berth below lay the remains of nautical books. Fused into the blackened fiberglass and
barely visible was what appeared to be a length of two-stranded wire, such as might be
used for a small lamp. The end lay on the berth. Farquarson picked it up between finger
and thumb.
“What is it?”
“At first we assumed it was a connection for a reading light, using shore power
from an outlet on the dock. It doesn’t come from the batteries, see? It runs from outside
the cabin, beside the sliding hatch.”
Devoran followed the wires up. They led to the corner of the cabin roof where
the ends had been melted by the heat of the explosion. Puzzled, he followed the wires
down into the cabin again. They terminated in a blackened two-pronged plug. The
prongs were bent so that they were almost touching at the ends.
“But it it’s not for a reading light, that’s what you’re saying?”
Farquarson hesitated. “Listen, I may be wrong, but this isn’t what you’d expect
from an explosion. It’s the way the prongs are bent, see? You’d expect the plug to be
blackened, maybe the plastic to be melted on the surface, but to bend brass prongs together
like this needs a pair of pliers.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
Foul Play at Duffy’s Marina – Michael Coney 17
“I reckon what we have here, is a crude sparking device. The wires have been
burned short by the heat of the explosion. But they could have stretched fifty yards or
more, originally. You just touch the other ends to battery terminals, and these prongs
are close enough together to get a spark this end. And poof! up goes the propane.
Somebody hiding in another boat with a battery could blow up the Ocean Dream any
time they felt like it, once she was full of gas.”
“But wouldn’t Slade have smelled the propane once he got down in there?”
“The level needn’t have been that high. Once the killer saw Slade go inside,
he’d have had plenty of time to detonate before he got out. Tell you one thing, though.
The killer would have expected to pull the wires away right after the explosion. He
wouldn’t expect them to melt into the bulkhead like that, see? Just for a moment, the
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