The Colour of Murder

by Julian Symons

  Now she laughed, showing white teeth. “I am, rather. Just fixed up our summer holiday, daddy’s and mine. I was afraid he might not be well enough to travel, but the doctor says he can as long as the hotel’s got a lift.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Good old Doctor Brighton. I am looking forward to it, just booked up at the Langland, a room on the first floor facing the sea for daddy. I’m thrilled to death and I really think he’s pleased, poor old thing. Only snag is, we’re going at the end of May and beginning of June so it won’t be awfully hot. I love to sunbathe, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said, although I didn’t. I could see a vision of myself and Sheila lying together on Brighton beach. She lay on her stomach. I knelt above her with a bottle of oil, dropped some in my palm and began slowly to spread it over her back and shoulders. “Won’t you be lonely?”

  “I expect I shall find something to occupy the time.” She smiled. “One or two people waiting. See you at the club one of these days. Goodbye for now.”

  She left me. Was I wrong in thinking that I had received an almost open invitation to come down to Brighton at the time she took her holiday?

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was three days later that the internal telephone in my room rang. When I picked it up a voice said, “Lacey. Can you spare me five minutes, Wilkins?”

  “Now, Mr Lacey?”

  “If you please.”

  There sounded something infinitely menacing about that If you please. I looked in the glass and straightened my tie, then walked out of my office and up the twenty stairs to the floor above. This was a floor I hardly ever visited, for it was the home of the directors and their secretaries. I tapped on a door that said Mr J M R Lacey and opened it.

  Miss Stubbs, Lacey’s secretary, sat at a typewriter filing her nails. If I had been in Lacey’s position I should have had a pretty secretary, but Miss Stubbs was an almost completely shapeless woman who wore heavy horn-rimmed spectacles and used very little make-up. She nodded at me now, to show that I could go straight in. I opened another door, a heavy oak one, and advanced across thick carpet. I don’t know what I expected, but it was nothing good.

  Lacey was a tall handsome man with grey hair parted in the middle. He had a deep, rich voice, and I always thought of him as being like an actor.

  “Wilkins,” he said, looking at me without a smile. “Sit down.”

  I sat down in a chair on the other side of the desk. The chair did not seem very low, but it was somehow a good deal lower than the chair in which Lacey was sitting. The effect was that he looked down at me over his desk, or at least he would have looked down if he had been looking at me. In fact he was reading some papers, and although I knew this was an old trick that important people often use in the presence of subordinates, I felt myself beginning to fidget.

  I don’t suppose he kept me waiting more than a couple of minutes. Then he did look down at me, and spoke. “Wilkins, some time ago you prepared a scheme for the linking together of the Complaints Department and the Service Department.”

  I found a frog in my throat, coughed it out, and said, “That’s right.”

  “That was a piece of initiative on your part which I much appreciated. Your scheme contained some – ah – some interesting ideas. Not all of them were practicable, but they were interesting, yes, very. I thought I would let you know that.”

  “Thank you, Mr Lacey.”

  Rather hawk-like seen from below, Lacey’s face gazed down at me. “I did not put your scheme forward because it so happened that a scheme similar in some details, although of somewhat broader scope, had been in my own mind for some time. This scheme of mine was put forward recently, and I am happy to say the board has approved it.”

  “Does it allow, like my scheme, for a complete merger of the two departments’ work?”

  “Ah – yes.” Lacey frowned down at papers. “There are some differences, many differences, of detail. It is the details that are important in these things. I have been able to streamline many of your original ideas so that a considerable economy will be effected. The other members of the board are delighted.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, sir.”

  “Yes. Now, as regards your own position, Wilkins. I am right in thinking you have been assistant to Gimball for some time. And you know the work of the department thoroughly, I suppose.”

  “I hope so.”

  “How do you get on with Gimball?” I hesitated. A smile touched the corners of Lacey’s mouth. “That was hardly a fair question. He’s not an easy man to know, I can believe that, although he has given us years of fine loyal service. A great man for the firm. We shall be sorry to lose him.”

  “To lose him, Mr Lacey?”

  “Gimball is retiring in August. I propose to recommend your name to the board as his successor. I should mention that the post will carry rather more, ah, weight than Gimball’s, as it will entail control of the combined Service and Complaints Departments. There will be an, um, commensurate increase in salary.” Lacey peered down benevolently. “I do not think there is any doubt that the board will accept my recommendation.”

  Silence. My mind was a whirl of thoughts, confused and confusing, a riot of thoughts about May and Sheila and my mother, as well as about my reorganisation ideas and the way they had been used.

  “Have you anything else to say, Wilkins? Anything you wish to ask me?”

  Silence. I found myself stammering slightly. “It’s a complete surprise to me, Mr Lacey. Thank you very much.”

  Lacey raised a hand, and I saw how smooth and beautiful was its pink palm. “No thanks, Wilkins. You wouldn’t have got the job unless I’d been sure you were the best man for it. That reorganisation scheme helped a lot.” He said these words emphatically, and gave me a stare that was almost grim. Then his manner lightened. “I have told Gimball the news, and I am sure you will find him most co-operative in every way. Between now and August he will introduce you to your new duties, although I expect you know them by heart already.”

  Silence again. Lacey rose. “No queries? Congratulations, then, and good luck in your new position. Although I’m quite sure you won’t need it.”

  When I went out Miss Stubbs was still filing her nails. She smiled at me as I passed her, a smile which said that she had known about the whole thing all the time.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Did you have a satisfactory interview with Mr Lacey?” Gimball twinkled at me frostily.

  “Yes. It came as a great shock to me, Mr Gimball, to know that you were retiring, I mean.”

  “The old ticker isn’t what it was. And then I’ve given the firm thirty years’ service, and that’s enough for any man. I shan’t be sorry to cultivate my garden, Wilkins. I dare say you may feel the same when you’ve been sitting in this chair for a few years.” I realised that he was treating me as an equal, for the first time. Now he said almost archly, “I’m sure you’ll do very well, as long as you don’t have any more of those blackouts.”

  I mumbled something.

  “I haven’t mentioned those to Mr Lacey. I thought it would be unwise. I did put forward your memorandum, however, with my warmest recommendations. Very happy to know that it’s being acted upon.”

  “I’m grateful, very grateful, Mr Gimball.”

  “Not at all, my boy. It’s a duty, and a pleasure, too, to give a helping hand to those who deserve it. Now I think this calls for a little celebration.” From a golden chain on his hip Mr Gimball selected a key. He walked over to a cupboard at one side of the room, unlocked it, and drew out a bottle of port, two small glasses and a duster. He wiped the glasses with the duster, poured wine into both and handed one to me. This was a ritual I had heard of but never seen, since it was normally performed only in the presence of customers whose complaints had been turned into compliments.

  As though he had been following my thoughts, Gimball spoke. “Fine old tawny port this, Wilkins, generally reserved for clients. And a word
of advice. Always pour up to the pretty, never beyond it. The bottle lasts a third as long again. A small point, but worth remembering.” I saw that my own glass was filled exactly up to the point where the decorative markings on it ended. “Here’s wishing you every success, my boy. And all the good luck you won’t need.”

  I drank. “Mr Lacey said he’d prepared a scheme of his own which was very similar to mine.”

  “Did he now?” Gimball looked down at his glass. “It is sometimes necessary to take such statements with, shall I say, a grain of salt.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Gimball gave a little superior smile. “Mr Lacey is of course in general control of this department. But, quite confidentially, he would not have the detailed knowledge necessary for the kind of scheme that you suggested.”

  I said I saw, although I was not at all sure that I did. “We have to take the rough with the smooth, you know.” Rather more emphatically than seemed necessary he added, “You’ve got a promotion out of it which was totally unexpected. Let it rest at that.”

  I looked at my empty glass. Gimball rose, put the bottle back in the cupboard, and relocked it. The celebration was over.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I was a little annoyed because May didn’t show more surprise at the news. The annoyance was illogical, I know, because I had prepared her for it by my stories about seeing Lacey at his club. She was bewildered also by my anger at the trick which, on thinking it over, I could see had been played on me.

  “I don’t see what you’re complaining about,” she said that night. “And I don’t see why you expect me to be so surprised. After all, you knew that Mr Lacey was impressed by your scheme, he’d told you that.”

  “I know, but–”

  “He wouldn’t have spoken to you as he did at his club the other night unless it was more or less settled. Did he say what it would mean in extra money?”

  “No. He said a lot more work and a commensurate increase in salary. I suppose it must be another two hundred and fifty pounds. But the thing is, don’t you see, I’ve been tricked. I don’t believe Gimball recommended me, in the first place. Only a few days ago–” I stopped, because I didn’t want to tell May about the kind of blackout I must have had when I forgot those letters.

  “Yes, what happened then?”

  “He picked on me over something. He’s always picking on me.”

  “But he did recommend you. He said so.”

  “I don’t believe it. He told me that afterwards. The thing is that Lacey has simply pinched my idea and put it forward as his own. My name won’t even be mentioned. I’m being bought off by getting Gimball’s job, that’s all.”

  May looked down her long nose. “You don’t know that’s true. It’s just what you think. Mr Lacey didn’t say your name wouldn’t be mentioned.”

  “It’s obvious as soon as you begin to think about it. Saying he’d streamlined my original ideas, all that sort of thing, and then telling me that his scheme had been put forward and approved. And then the way Gimball talked – there’s just no doubt about it.”

  “Even if it’s true,” May said almost timidly, “does it matter? I know it’s wrong you shouldn’t get the credit, but it does mean that you get Gimball’s job. Isn’t that the most important thing?”

  It was, but somehow I couldn’t admit it to May. “You don’t understand.”

  “You certainly don’t seem very pleased.”

  The irritation I felt was as violently physical as if it had been caused by a rash on my body. “It was my idea and it’s been stolen so that my name won’t appear.” I found myself actually shouting. “Does that mean anything to you? You simply want to know how much extra money I get, that’s all. Money, money, it’s all you think about.”

  “John.” May backed away from me across the room. “There will be enough to pay the deposit on a nice little car so that we’re as good as the Joneses. Isn’t that lovely? Nobody will ever guess then that I was Barney Colter’s daughter and brought up in a Battersea slum.” I picked up a small china horse and threw it at the fireplace. The horse knocked aside the paper frill, struck the fireplace and broke into several pieces.

  May burst into tears. “How could you? I bought that for our last wedding anniversary.”

  “I’m sorry.” May was fond of china ornaments of that kind and they meant a lot to her. I could see that I had been behaving badly and that breaking the little horse was an awful thing to do. “I’m truly sorry, May.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  I crossed the room and put my arm round her thin shoulders. Beneath my hand I could feel the fragile bones. I led her over to the sofa. She sat down on it, but kept her face turned away from me. I kept repeating that I was sorry and stroked her shoulder. She said nothing.

  “We’ll order a car. As soon as I know how much the rise is we’ll order one on the h.p. You can get eighteen months to pay.”

  “No.”

  “What would you like? A little Ford Popular would just about do us, or one of those Morris Minors. I want it as much as you do, really.”

  “You don’t. You’d always be saying that I got it because of my family. You don’t love me any more, you want a divorce.”

  “Is that it?” I pushed her back on the sofa, began to kiss her neck. There was something exciting about the fact that she was crying. She very rarely cried, and her tears gave me an ardent feeling towards her that I hadn’t experienced for a long time. I put my hand on her knee.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, while the tears rolled down her cheeks. “Don’t, please. Not in here. Not with the light on.”

  “Let’s go to bed then.”

  “Oh no, please. It’s too early in the evening.”

  “Come on.” I half-carried and half-dragged her across to the bedroom. There, with the light out, we coupled together. May didn’t resist me at all, but she sobbed all the time. When I put my fingers on her face afterwards I found it wet with tears.

  “You hate me,” she said after it. “You hate me.”

  I have wondered since then if she was right. At the time, however, I wasn’t conscious of anything more than a relaxed tenderness. “Don’t be silly. Shall I tell you something else? We’re going to have a holiday this year too. With this rise we can afford it. What would you say to going back to where we had our honeymoon?” She sobbed more loudly. I felt my irritation returning a little. “Don’t you think that’s a good idea?”

  “John, you don’t really hate me, do you?”

  I laughed. “Haven’t I just shown I don’t?”

  “I don’t know,” she cried. “Oh, John, wasn’t it a lovely honeymoon we had. I did think it was wonderful. It was all I’d ever dreamed of.”

  How different can people be, I wondered? To me that honeymoon had been just about the biggest disillusionment of my life, to May it had been a wonderful experience. “Then let’s repeat it,” I said.

  The sobs stopped. “I don’t believe you really want to. You’ve been so strange lately.”

  “I’m sorry. A lot on my mind. A few things that went wrong, nothing important, but Gimball had me on the carpet.”

  “You should have told me.”

  “Perhaps I should, but it doesn’t matter now. Wouldn’t you like to go back, I don’t mean to the same hotel, but, you know, go back and sort of have another honeymoon.”

  “As good as the last – oh, it couldn’t be that.”

  “Perhaps better in some ways.” I put my hand on her naked thigh and pressed it. She didn’t move away, but I could feel the same little shiver of distaste run through her that I remembered from long ago. I took my hand away.

  “I do love Brighton,” she said. I realised then – this will hardly seem possible, but I swear that it’s true – I realised then that I was suggesting we should spend our holiday in the place where Sheila was spending hers. Mention of the word Brighton brought it home to me. You can say of course that the intention to go to Brighton had been in my
mind all the time, and I can’t say whether or not that is true. I only know that with the actual mention of the town something clicked into place in my mind. Brighton, I thought, then Sheila, then the first two weeks in June.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Brighton’s awfully crowded in the summer.”

  “You mean we should go somewhere else?”

  “‘It’s finer, remember, in June and September,’” I quoted, from the railway advertisement. “Why not go in June?”

  “But it’s nearly June now.” May always hated things to be sprung on her in a hurry.

  “I think we should go in June. The weather experts say the early part of June is going to be the finest for ten years.”

  “But what would they say at the office? You’ve only just got your promotion, and you’re going on holiday.”

  “Very good thing too. Gimball leaves in August and I shan’t be able to take my holiday just before, or after, he goes. I’m pretty certain they’ll be glad for me to take it as soon as possible. I don’t see what you’ve got to do except put a few things in a suitcase.”

  “It’s rather soon. The Edwards are going away in August to a guest-house in Devon. It sounded awfully nice. I wondered if we –”

  Edwards owned a local garage and both he and his wife were keen bridge players. I gathered up the sheet and squeezed it hard. It helped to keep my voice even. “In the first place I don’t want to go away with the Edwards. You may like to listen to them talking about cars all day and then play bridge every evening, but I don’t. In the second place, I told you I can’t possibly go away in August. In the third place, I want to go to Brighton, and I thought you did too.”

  “I do, you know that.”

  “Then I’ll ask about it at the office tomorrow. All right?”

  Her “Yes” was pitched in a tone so low I could hardly hear it.

  That night, while May breathed regularly and quietly by my side, I thought of the holiday at Brighton. I saw myself playing tennis with Sheila, diving into the sea with her and racing out to a raft, putting pennies in the slot machines on the pier, and at night clasping her tightly to me on the beach, murmuring words that were lost in the waves’ soft suck and roar. Didn’t I know all this was fantastic, something that could never come true? I did, but then again in a way I didn’t. After all, most of us indulge in fantasies at some time or another, day-dreams we call them. This was no more than another day-dream, although at times I managed to make it seem profoundly real. Certainly, in spite of the questions I had asked Uncle Dan, I had no intention of doing harm to anybody.