On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service

by Rhys Bowen

  Mummy waylaid me in the upper hallway. “You go ahead, Max,” she said. Then she whispered, “Did you get a chance to go into his room?”

  “I did, but I had to escape in a hurry. I can tell you that the photographs are not hidden in any easy place. I haven’t looked under the mattress. The bed is pretty disgusting. Soaked in blood.”

  Mummy crept down the hall and tried the door of Rudi’s room. “Damn. Now it’s locked again. And that awful little man threatened to take me away and lock me up.”

  “He won’t do that, I’m sure,” I said. “He was just trying to scare you into confessing or else to see if anyone else was rattled.”

  “Who do you think did it?” Mummy whispered. “You’re quite good at this sort of thing usually.”

  “I really don’t know,” I said. “Klinker was seen wandering around. Nobody else was, apparently.”

  “Why on earth would Klinker want to shoot Rudi? Had he been blackmailing him too, do you think?”

  “It’s possible,” I said. “It’s too bad Klinker speaks no English. I’d be willing to have a chat with him and see if I could get anything out of him.”

  “It’s a pity it can’t be Mrs. Simpson,” Mummy said. “I’d love to see her locked away. So would the king and queen and half the country.”

  “I don’t think it can be her,” I said. “The Prince of Wales is a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he’s true-blue when it comes to honesty. He’d say if she left their room after they went to bed.”

  “Perhaps he fell asleep and she tiptoed out,” Mummy said, quite enjoying this now.

  “Mummy, you’re terrible.” I had to laugh. Then I grew serious again. “Mummy, you don’t believe it was Max, do you?”

  “Max? What possible motive could he have?” She sounded shocked.

  I didn’t mention the Hitler’s spy connection. “Maybe he found out Rudi was blackmailing you and decided to take care of him.”

  She frowned, then shook her head. “But his alibi is as solid as mine. We really were talking together until midnight.” She glanced up the hallway. “We should go and change, I suppose. There’s Camilla’s grim-faced maid. Is she looking after you as well?”

  I saw then that Gerda had emerged from Camilla’s suite and was standing at the head of the hallway, watching us.

  “Yes, with frightening efficiency,” I said. “Did you bring your maid with you?”

  “Didn’t bother, darling. I never do if it’s only for a few days now. Max has become remarkably adept at doing up buttons and things, and of course he adores undressing me.” She gave a cat-with-the-cream sort of smile. “But Camilla’s German girl did clean my shoes when we first arrived.” She sighed. “I’d never have come if I’d had an inkling anything unpleasant like this would happen. Frankly I wish we could just slip away and borrow a motorboat. In half an hour we’d be in Switzerland where they couldn’t touch us.”

  “But then you could never come back to Italy again.”

  “Wouldn’t bother me. The food and clothes are better in France,” she said. “Although I have to admit the shoes are nice. And the handbags.”

  “But presumably Max might want to do business in Italy in the future. And you’d have this hanging over you, which wouldn’t be pleasant.”

  She sighed. “I suppose so.”

  I put a tentative hand around her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mummy. I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of it soon. As a matter of fact, Darcy is nearby and working on it for us.”

  Her face brightened at this. “The dear boy is here? That is good news. Ah well, now I can go and change in peace.”

  I suppose I should have been annoyed that she thought more of Darcy’s detective skills than of mine, but I too was vastly comforted knowing he was within reach and working on the case. I went into my room, where Gerda had already laid out the black evening dress.

  “All is ready, my lady,” she said. “Oh, and I cleaned those shoes you got so muddy again. Really, may I suggest you borrow Wellington boots if you have to go outside in the mud.”

  How did she find them? I managed a smile. “You are amazing, Gerda,” I said. “The contessa is so lucky to have you.”

  “No, I am so lucky to be employed by her,” Gerda said. “I just do my duty, but she is a good employer. And after this year’s tragedy, I am lucky to find another job so quickly.”

  As she spoke she helped me out of my day clothes, making small disapproving noises at the dried mud on my skirt. Then she styled my hair, attached my rubies and brushed rouge onto my cheeks. “All finished, my lady,” she said. “Go down and have a good dinner. Do not let the distressing events in this house put you off your food. This is not your worry. And ring for me when you come to bed. I will bring you another herbal tea to help you sleep.”

  She gave a small, bobbing curtsy and left me staring after her. Because something had just struck me. She had brought me an herbal tea last night and I had slept so soundly that I had to be woken at nine o’clock. So soundly that I had not heard Darcy tapping on my window. So soundly that I had not heard a shot in the next room. For the first time I realized it was highly possible that I had been drugged.

  Chapter 28

  TUESDAY, APRIL 23

  AT VILLA FIORI

  I stood in my room, staring at my reflection in the mirror on the wardrobe door, digesting this fact. Darcy had pricked up his ears as soon as I mentioned Gerda. I realized that Stratiacelli had questioned all of us, but perhaps he had overlooked the servants. Now that I examined it, the timing of Gerda coming to this job was fortuitous: Camilla’s maid unfortunately stepping in front of a bus at the same time as Gerda’s former mistress had commited suicide in a bathtub. Had the murder of Rudolf been planned for some time?

  It occurred to me that Mummy had called her “that German girl.” Was it because she didn’t realize she was Austrian or had Max spoken to her and detected her accent was not from Austria? And Mummy had said that Gerda had cleaned her shoes. A perfect chance to snoop and find the little pistol. I shook my head. Maybe I was reading too much into this. Perhaps it was because she was so horribly efficient. She might well turn out to be exactly who she said she was—a first-class lady’s maid. And someone else might have had an opportunity to slip something into a drink that Gerda had innocently prepared for me.

  I hoped that Darcy’s telegrams to London might reveal something. Otherwise I wondered how we would ever come to the truth.

  I could see the strain showing on other people’s faces as we sipped aperitifs before dinner. Stratiacelli had announced that he was going home for the night, but his men would remain, one guarding the telephone in the front foyer, and others stationed at the outside of the house so that nobody was allowed to leave. Conversation was monosyllabic. I think we were all conscious of that policeman standing a few feet away. I was alert and listening for any noise that might indicate Darcy had returned from Stresa and had come to join us. But there was no sign of him as the gong summoned us in to dinner. This time I found myself sitting beside the silent Klinker. I thought about why he was here, about his disappearance and reappearance earlier today. Had he really fallen into a swollen mountain stream? If not, where had he gone? And why? I decided to take a little chance.

  “Would you pass me the salt, Herr Klinker?” I said.

  “Gern,” he said and handed it to me.

  I gave him a secret little smile. “Ah, so you do understand English. I thought you did.”

  “Understand, ja. Not speaking,” he said. “I remain silent so I do not make error in speech.”

  “It sounds pretty good to me,” I said. “Better than my German.”

  “If you are to visit Berlin, it is soon getting better, I think,” he said, struggling to find each of these words and pronouncing “visit” as “wisit.” “I hope you wisit Berlin one day. I show you our city.”

  “Tha
t would be nice,” I said. Another encouraging smile.

  “Gut,” he said and went back to attacking his roast beef.

  I decided to press on a little further. “You are quite recovered from your shock today?”

  “Shock?”

  “You fell into the river.”

  He gave an embarrassed grin. “Ach. Was not so bad. Just a little slip and I got wet.”

  “You’re very brave.” I wondered if I was overdoing it. “You must have been glad to be away when we discovered the count’s body. It was very distressing.”

  “Yes. I am sure. Most distressing.”

  “Did you know him, before this?”

  He shook his head. “I am only soldier. Not part of Berlin society. This here for me, very grand.”

  “It is quite grand, isn’t it?” I said. “My family lives in a castle, but it is quite simple inside.”

  “Simple I like.” He nodded and returned my smile.

  We were getting along famously. I just wished I knew how to lead the conversation from here. “More wine, Lieutenant Klinker?” I asked, reaching for the carafe.

  “Bitte.”

  I poured, trying not to grin at the thought of myself getting a man drunk and then wringing a confession from him. Then my thoughts quickly sobered again. If he had shot Rudolf himself or been part of a conspiracy to shoot him, then he was a dangerous and ruthless man. Tread carefully, Georgie. I wanted to bring up his nocturnal wandering looking for hot milk last night, but I couldn’t think of a way to phrase it without making it sound like an accusation.

  I think the food was good, but in reality I didn’t taste any of it. I just wanted Darcy to arrive and this whole sorry business to be over. Frankly if Klinker had shot Rudi, if Gerda had aided him, I didn’t see how it could ever be proven. In the end we might all leave Stresa not knowing what had really happened. Dinner ended with fruit and cheese. Camilla rose from her seat and we women followed suit, going through to the long gallery where coffee was being served around the fire while the men enjoyed their cigars and brandy.

  “What an awful day.” Camilla sighed as she sank into an armchair. “I feel as if it’s been going on forever.”

  “You feel like that?” Mummy said. “Think how I feel. That man has practically accused me of shooting Rudolf.”

  “It was your gun, honey,” Mrs. Simpson said dryly. “He was only jumping to the easiest conclusion.”

  Mummy turned a withering gaze onto her hated rival. “Can you see me standing two feet from a man’s head and blasting his brains out? I mean, really. You must know I faint at the sight of blood. If I were going to kill anyone I would poison his drink so that he died in a nongory fashion.”

  We all laughed at this, breaking the tension just a little. There was a tap on the front door. My heart did a little flutter. Darcy had come. All would be well. I waited, holding my breath, until one of the policemen came into sight. He bowed to Camilla. “Contessa,” he said then rattled off a string of Italian.

  Camilla nodded and took a letter from him. “For you, Georgie,” she said. “A note from your friend you couldn’t visit today.”

  She handed me an envelope. It did indeed say, From Lady Georgiana’s friend at the clinic. But it wasn’t Belinda’s handwriting. I opened it, intrigued, and inside I recognized Darcy’s bold script. Still waiting to hear details from London, he had written. May not get to the villa until the morning. But one thing to pass along. No Gerda Stretzl registered with the Austrian Embassy in London. And—home secretary reported his wife’s death as suspicious. Be very careful tonight. Lock your door. Place a chair behind it.

  “Good news?” Camilla asked.

  “What?” I looked up. “Oh, just that my friend was really disappointed I couldn’t come to visit her today. She hopes I’ll be able to get away tomorrow.” I stuffed the note back into the envelope and put it into my evening bag. I’d have to make sure that Gerda didn’t get a chance to see that!

  We finished our coffee. The men came through to join us, Uncle Cosimo suggesting we play cards again. This was met with little response.

  “Oh, come on, buck up,” the Prince of Wales said. “We must do something. We mustn’t let these chaps see that they are getting us down. How about a party game? Charades?”

  “You are too bloody cheerful, David,” Wallis Simpson said. “Of course nobody feels like charades. I suggest we all go to bed early. And lock our doors!”

  “Really, Wallis,” the prince said. “You don’t think we’re in any danger, do you?”

  “Until we know who killed Count Rudolf and why, I can’t rule out that we might be in danger too,” she said. “It could be a deranged servant, bumping off the aristocracy one by one.”

  “Hardly that,” Paolo said. “Our servants here have been with the family for years.”

  “What I want to know is how one of us managed to get into his room,” Mrs. Simpson went on. “They say his door was locked and the maid had to get a key to open it. We wouldn’t know where to find a spare key, would we?”

  “Our housekeeper has them in a ring on her belt,” Camilla said. “Guards them like a dragon at all times. Sleeps with them under her pillow, so we’re told. So no, I don’t think any of us could have found a key.”

  “Sometimes it is possible to turn a key from the outside with pliers,” the general suggested. “Might that have happened? Or one can push out the key onto a sheet of paper and pull the paper through under the door. So there are ways.”

  “In which case how could one put the key back on the inside and lock it again?” Paolo said. “Not so easy.”

  “True,” the German general agreed. “That is indeed a puzzle.”

  “Could someone have climbed up to his balcony? Or across from Georgiana’s balcony?” Max suggested.

  “Have you seen the wall?” Camilla replied. “It’s smooth marble. Even a good rock climber would not make it up to that balcony.”

  “And there is too big a gap to my balcony,” I said.

  “Such a puzzle,” General Spitz-Blitzen repeated. “Let us hope that our little policeman requests help from detectives in Milan so that we may come rapidly to the truth. This waiting is not good for the nerves, or the digestion.” And he gave a loud belch.

  I watched him take a big gulp of brandy. He seemed completely at ease. And he was suggesting that detectives be brought in from Milan. Not the words of a guilty party, surely?

  “We have to do something,” my cousin insisted. “We simply can’t go to bed this early. No dancing, I suppose?”

  “I don’t think we feel like dancing, sir,” Mummy said. “But I wouldn’t mind playing a hand or two of whist. Take our minds off things.”

  “Splendid,” Paolo said. “Let’s get tables set up. Claire and Your Royal Highness against Camilla and Uncle Cosimo. Mix things up, eh? That leaves myself and Max and Mrs. Simpson and Georgiana?”

  “Oh, not me,” I said. “I’m hopeless at card games.”

  “I should enjoy to play,” said the general. “I will take the young lady’s place.”

  “Jolly good,” Paolo said, beaming as if he had pulled off a coup. “Two tables, then. My mother will have gone to bed. Father Francisco despises card games. That leaves just you and Klinker, Georgie.” He looked around, frowning. “Strange. I thought we had enough for three tables.”

  “That was when Rudolf was alive,” Camilla pointed out.

  “Oh yes. Right.” A somber mood fell upon us. We shifted uneasily on our seats, all thinking, presumably, how easy it was to forget that a death had occurred in the house.

  “Get out the cards then, Paolo,” Camilla urged, ushering people to card tables. I hesitated, rather wishing I had agreed to play. I had no wish to be alone at the moment, and certainly no wish to go up to bed before the others. As the games started I wandered through to the lake view room and stood
looking out across the lake. A full moon had appeared beyond the distant mountains and was painting the water with silver streaks. Lights twinkled on the far shore. It all looked very peaceful and romantic. I sighed, wishing I was far away from this house, somewhere safe, with Darcy.

  “It is beautiful, is it not?” said a voice behind me. I hadn’t heard anyone come into the room and turned to see Klinker, looking rather handsome in his dress uniform. His blond hair glistened in the moonlight.

  “Very beautiful,” I said.

  “Like you,” he said. “You are very beautiful. Fine Aryan girl. Like the girls at home.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “My ancestors are German.”

  “Ja?” he said. “What part of Germany?”

  “Saxe-Coburg, I believe, and what was Queen Mary? She was Princess Mary of Teck before she married, wasn’t she? I’ve no idea where Teck is.”

  “Queen Mary? You are of the royal family?”

  “Yes, my father and the king were first cousins.”

  “Mein Gott. I had . . . no . . .” He searched for the word. “Ahnung?”

  “Idea?” I filled in for him. “Yes, I suppose I don’t look very royal.”

  “Oh, but ja. Fine royal girl.” He had moved quite close to me. “May I ask . . . I would like very much, permission to give you . . . kiss?”

  On any other occasion I would have told him I was engaged and he was being fresh. “You want to kiss me?” I asked.

  “Please? This I would like.”

  The concept of vamping flashed through my head again. We were, after all, only a few steps away from the rest of the party. Quite safe.

  I pretended to be shy. “All right,” I said.

  He took me in his arms. I felt his buttons and medals and braid dig into me. His lips were cold and unappealing and he pressed them against mine. I was reminded of being kissed by Prince Siegfried of Romania, whom Belinda and I had nicknamed Fishface. Luckily he didn’t open his mouth or try to force mine open. He just kept his lips locked onto mine and breathed hard. His hand stroked my hair, then caressed my back. Then, to my surprise, I felt one hand grab my left breast. I pulled away.