FULL FATHOM FIVE

New Zealand Listener, Volume 31, Issue 779, 25 June 1954, Page 24

FULL FATHOM FIVE

by

A. R. D.

Fairburn

half-past nine, Inspector Lionel Catmint and his staff were already hard at work sorting over the previous day’s catch. The Inspector glanced through the list while he re re at his beaker of cocoa. Two murderers, an opitim-smuggler, half 4 dozen inebriates, atid a footpath cyclist. Not bad! He smirked with satisfaction and dunked a rusk. The telephone exploded suddenly, like a torpedo finding its mark. Inspector Catmint winced, and took off the reA bast it Was not yet.

ceiver: "A body? In the Municipal Swimming Bath? Don’t move it. Hold evetything. And leave the bath alone. Don’t tovwch a dtop of it"? He spun round in-his swivel chair. "Carpark!" From the dank inner room, réeking with smells of cheese and_hair-oil, eameé the voice of Constable Carpark: "Sir?" "Rody in the Municipal Bath. Get cracking. Bring the theodolyte. And the water-wings." Constable Carpark hastily bundled his breadshives and his hunk of cheddar back in the red spotted handkerchief he used as a_ luncheonbasket. Thirty seconds later the long, black Model T was roaring through the city traffic, weaving its way like a panther. Behind it trailed a dense

cloud of acrid blue smoke. "Throw away that chefoot," ordered the Inspector» Carpatk obeyed. The two then strode into the entrance of the Baths. An attendant in a white coat was leahing agairist the grill of the ticket-office. "Bath Supetintendent?" asked Catmint briskly. The mati in the white coat nodded. ‘"Inspector Catmitit. Where’s the deceased?" The Supérintendent led the way through swing-doors and round the side of the bath, The body lay floating face down, near the shallow end. Its arms were extended in front of it, as if in supplication to the unknown goddess of the pool. "Who is it?" "Was it," cottected the Bath Superintendent. "It appédfs to be the body ‘of otir late switmitig instructor, Professor Mermati." Inspector Catiiint looked at the floating corpse for a few foments, and then at the walls and floors. "Very poor job," he commented. "A real bungle. Not a drop of blood anywhere. Spillane wouldn’t be satisfied with this, not for one moment." "May I suggest, sir . . .?" Constable Catpatk faltered. Carpark was young and méfitally agile. An®Oxford man, he had féad Detection for his Greats. He flattered himself he had read everything, past atid present. His special field was the classics. He had studied them interisively, and had a profound reverence for them. Secretly he despised his superior, whose reading sometimes appeared to have gone no further back than Christie. "May I venture to point out, sif, that Holmes, on a celebrated

occasion, wéht to the trouble of deSrmng: si "Holes?" spluttered Inspector Catmint. "Holmes fiddlesticks:" He swung round savagely on the Bath Siiperintendent. "What do you know about Merman’s ptivate life?" he rapped. "Been up to any monkeyshine?" "All that I know is this," replied the Superintendent, uncrossing his legs, -that his wife recently said ‘she was leaving him, atid then broke her promise."

"Ah! A lead there," muttered the Inspector, wagging his head. It was brachycephalous. Not that that made any difference, or helped the situation in the least. "But why, sir,’ asked Constable Carpark, "why should a swimming insttictor drown himself? Gasworks employees are not as a rule found dead by their own hand in gasometers. Grocers do not poison themselves by eating their owh dates." "How do you know he suicided?" asked the Iiispector quietly, showing his teeth between twisted lips. "He was keen and conscientious," interposed the Bath Superintendent. "He uséd literally to throw, himself into his work, Perhaps . . ." Inspector Catmint ‘igtioted the inter‘ruption. "I repeat, how do you know he suicided? What grounds have you for erecting such an hypothesis?" He glared at Carpark. "By the way, the bath level has dropped about three inches, which may not be without its significance,’ said the Superintendent. "Merman was a heavy drinker." "IT don’t believe you’ve read a damned thing sitice Trerit’s Last Case,’ said the Inspector in measured tones, scowlifig at Carpark. Thp constable bit his lip. "The Professor is wearing his natty hippies with the willow-pattern," res marked the Bath Supefinténdent. "Which would appéar to indicate that at the time of his demise he was either swimming, Having swum, or abowt to swim," he added helpfully. The two men took no notice. A battle of wits was in progress. This was more that the clash of two personalities. It was the iNife-and-(continued on next page)

(continued from previous page) death struggle of two schools of thought, two rival philosophies of death, Carpark gathered his courage. "It seems most improbable, sir, that a swimming instructor would drown, except in the event of suicide. Do you suggest-" Constable Carpark took a deep breath"do you suggest, sir, that the deceased was stung to death by a swarm of bees?" Inspector Catmint snorted. His hackles were rising. "If you would put yourself to the fatigue of glancing into Marsh or Cheyney," he said witheringly, "you would perhaps begin to appreciate, my dear Constable, that in this business of crime and detection all things are pos--sible, For all we know at this stage of the affair, that man over there may have died of thirst in the Libyan. desert." "Pardon me, sir," said Constable Car- | park with deliberate impudence, "but what are we talking about?" The Inspector’s brows beetled. "Talk- | ing about?" he said menacingly. "Care--ful, Carpark! There’s a little thing called | insubordination. Gad, sir, when I was_ a ranker .. ." The words died in his throat. The floating corpse of the swimming instruc-_ tor, in its natty hippies, had reared itself up. Professor Merman was standing waist-deep in the water, and breathing hard. He was cocking his eye at the side of the bath. "Fully thirty feet,’ he puffed, with satisfaction. "That fellow in California claims to have plunged over forty-five feet, but I say he’s a liar. Is there a | reporter in the bath-house?" The two policemen strode out into a cheerless world. Snow was beginning to fall. It beat down heavily on their faces. They pulled their gvercoats up over their ears and thrust their hands deep in the pockets, and made their way towards the long, sleek shape of the waiting Model T. "Unfair," said the Inspector. "Definitely unfair. A breach of Rule Four- | teen." He snorted, and blew out a

to Sayers," he said grimly. "As President she will have some very strong comments to make about this business." Constable Carpark whinnied softly. It was the Old Man’s show really, of coure. But he couldn’t help feeling a pang of pity, and of sympathetic indignation. "Not the clean potato at all, sir,’ he said. "Definitely not the clean potato. I call to mind a remark made by Poe, mouthful of snow. "I shall report this sir, on the question of degrees of proba- | bility . But Inspector Catmint was deep in his own thoughts.