Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 10: Last Ditch, Black As He’s Painted, Grave Mistake. Ngaio Marsh
said Chubb.
‘And you looked after the rest of the party.’
‘Sir.’
‘Yes. Well now, Chubb, we’ve kept you hanging about all this time in the hope that you can give us some help about what happened in the pavilion.’
‘Not much chance of that, sir. I never noticed anything, sir.’
‘That makes two of us, I’m afraid,’ Alleyn said, ‘It happened like a bolt from the blue, didn’t it? Were you actually in the pavilion? When the lights went out?’
Yes, it appeared. At the back. He had put his tray down on a trestle table, in preparation for the near blackout about which the servants had all been warned. He had remained there through the first item.
‘And were you still there when the singer, Karbo, appeared?’ Yes, he said. Still there. He had had an uninterrupted view of Karbo, standing in his spotlight with his shadow thrown up behind him on the white screen.
‘Did you notice where the guard with the spear was standing?’ Yes. At the rear. Behind the President’s chair.
‘On your left, would that be?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And your fellow-waiter?’
‘The nigger?’ said Chubb, and after a glance at Alleyn, ‘Beg pardon, sir. The native.’
‘The African, yes.’
‘He was somewhere there. At the rear, I never took no notice,’ said Chubb stonily.
‘You didn’t speak to either of them, at all?’
‘No, thanks. I wouldn’t think they knew how.’
‘You don’t like black people?’ Alleyn said lightly.
‘No, sir.’
‘Well. To come to the moment when the shot was fired. I’m getting as many accounts as possible from the people who were in the pavilion and I’d like yours too, if you will. You remember that the performer had given out one note, if that’s the way to put it. A long-drawn-out sound. And then – as you recall it – what?’
‘The shot, sir.’
‘Did you get an impression about where the sound came from?’
‘The house, sir.’
‘Yes. Well, now, Chubb. Could you just, as best as you are able, tell me your own impression of what followed the shot. In the pavilion, I mean.’
Nothing clear-cut emerged. People had stood up. A lady had screamed. A gentleman had shouted out not to panic. (George, Alleyn thought.)
‘Yes. But as to what you actually saw from where you were, at the back of the pavilion?’
Hard to say, exactly Chubb said in his wooden voice. People moving about a bit but not much. Alleyn said that they had appeared, hadn’t they? ‘Like black silhouettes against the spotlight screen.’ Chubb agreed.
‘The guard – the man with the spear? He was on your left. Quite close to you. Wasn’t he?’
‘At the start, sir, he was. Before the pavilion lights went out.’
‘And afterwards?’
There was a considerable pause: ‘I couldn’t say, exactly, sir. Not straightaway, like.’
‘How do you mean?’
Chubb suddenly erupted, ‘I was grabbed,’ he said. ‘He sprung on me. Me! From behind. Me!’
‘Grabbed? Do you mean by the spearsman?’
‘Not him. The other black bastard.’
‘The waiter?’
‘Yes. Sprung it on me. From behind. Me!’
‘What did he spring on you? A half-Nelson?’
‘Head-lock! I couldn’t speak. And he put in the knee.’
‘How did you know it was the waiter?’
‘I knew all right. I knew and no error.’
‘But how?’
‘Bare arm for one thing. And the smell: like salad oil or something. I knew.’
‘How long did this last?’
‘Long enough,’ said Chubb, fingering his neck. ‘Long enough for his mate to put in the spear, I reckon.’
‘Did he hold you until the lights went up?’
‘No, sir. Only while it was being done. So I couldn’t see it. The stabbing. I was doubled up. Me!’ Chubb reiterated with, if possible, an access of venom. ‘But I heard. The sound. You can’t miss it. And the fall.’
The sergeant cleared his throat.
Alleyn said: ‘This is enormously important, Chubb. I’m sure you realize that, don’t you? You’re saying that the Ng’ombwanan waiter attacked and restrained you while the guard speared the Ambassador.’
‘Sir.’
‘All right. Why, do you suppose? I mean, why you, in particular?’
‘I was nearest, sir, wasn’t I? I might of got in the way or done something quick, mightn’t I?’
‘Was the small, hard chair overturned during this attack?’
‘It might of been,’ Chubb said after a pause.
‘How old are you, Chubb?’
‘Me, sir? Fifty-two, sir.’
‘What did you do in World War II?’
‘Commando, sir.’
‘Ah!’ Alleyn said, quietly, ‘I see.’
‘They wouldn’t of sprung it across me in those days, sir.’
‘I’m sure they wouldn’t. One more thing. After the shot and before you were attacked and doubled up, you saw the Ambassador, did you, on his feet? Silhouetted against the screen?’
‘Sir.’
‘Did you recognize him?’
Chubb was silent.
‘Well – did you?’
‘I – can’t say I did. Not exactly.’
‘How do you mean – not exactly?’
‘It all happened so quick, didn’t it? I – I reckon I thought he was the other one. The President.’
‘Why?’
‘Well. Because. Well, because, you know, he was near where the President sat, like. He must of moved away from his own chair, sir, mustn’t he? And standing up like he was in command, as you might say. And the President had roared out something in their lingo, hadn’t he?’
‘So, you’d say, would you, Chubb, that the Ambassador was killed in mistake for the President?’
‘I couldn’t say that, sir, could I? Not for certain. But I’d say he might of been. He might easy of been.’
‘You didn’t see anybody attack the spearsman?’
‘Him! He couldn’t of been attacked, could he? I was the one that got clobbered, sir, wasn’t I? Not him: he did the big job, didn’t he?’
‘He maintains that he was given a chop and his spear was snatched out of his grasp by the man who attacked him. He says that he didn’t see who this man was. You may remember that when the lights came up and the Ambassador’s body was seen, the spearsman was crouched on the ground up near the back of the pavilion.’