Put On By Cunning

by Ruth Rendell

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  ;iety (tickets 1 pound 20 pence licensed bar opens sevenIthirty) while his tone poem April Fire and his jjjallet music for the Flowers of Evil were Iforgotten.

  Parents can of course (as Wexford knew ijpersonalry) enjoy success vicariously. Philip '~ >ry might be scarcely remembered outside |Mllage-hall audiences, but his son Blaise Gory ffVas a celebrity as only a television personality be. His twice-weekly show of soul-searching iterviews, drumming up support for charities, id professing aid for almost anyone out of a )b, a home or a marriage, vied for pride of place tith Runway in the popularity ratings. The ic was as much a household word as Frost or &rkinson; the bland, handsome, rather largerm-life face instantly familiar. 'But he doesn't live here, does he?' said jhirden whose bete noire Blaise Gory was. 'Not as far as I know.' Wexford tapped the iver on the shoulder. 'Those are the gates up lead, I think. On the left.' It had been necessary to keep an eye out for loidore Lodge which was in deep country, was ree miles from the nearest villge and, Gory told Wexford on the phone, was invisible >m the road. The pillars that supported the ites and on which sat a pair of stone wolves or )ssibly alsatians�they very much resembled fancy�were, however, unmistakable. The car led in and, as the drive descended, entered

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  an avenue of plane trees. And very strange and sinister they looked at this season, their trunks and limbs half covered in olive-green bark, half stripped to flesh colour, so that they appeared, or would have appeared to the fanciful, like shivering forms whose nakedness was revealed through rags. At the end of this double row of trees Moidore Lodge, three floors tall, narrow, and painted a curious shade of pale pea-green, glared formidably at visitors.

  To ring the front-door bell it was necessary to climb half a dozen steps, though at the top of them there was no covered porch, nothing but a thin railing on each side. The wind blew sharply off the downs. Wexford, accustomed of late, as he remarked to Burden, to moving amongst those in the habit of being waited on, expected to be let in by a man or a maid or at least a cleaning woman, and was surprised when the door was opened by Gory himself.

  He was no bigger than the impression of him Wexford had gained from that glimpse outside St Peter's, a little thin old man with copious white hair as silky as floss. Rather than appearing disappointed, he had a face that was both cheerful and peevish. He wore jeans and the kind of heavy navy-blue sweater that is called a guernsey, which gave him a look of youth, or the look perhaps of a youth who suffers from some terrible prematurely ageing disease. Before speaking, he looked them up

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  land down closely. Indeed, they had passed Ithrough the over-heated, dusty, amazingly luntidy and untended hall and were in the over fbeated, dusty rubbish heap of a living room rfore he spoke.

  'Do you know,' he said, 'you are the first )licemen I've ever actually had in my house. In liny house I've ever lived in. Not the first I've |ever spoken to, of course. I've spoken to them to psk the way and so forth. No doubt, I've lived a icltered life.' Having done his best to make icm feel like lepers or untouchables, Gory icked his face into a nervous smile. 'The idea is distinctly strange to me. I've had to take 70 tranquillizers. As a matter of fact, my son is )ming. I expect you've heard of my son.' Burden's face was a mask of blankness. fexford said, Who hadn't? and proceeded to lighten Gory as to the purpose of their visit, ic result of this was that the old man had to ce another Valium. It took a further full ten lutes to convince him there was a serious Joubt about Natalie Arno's identity. I 'Oh dear,' said Gory, 'oh dear, oh dear, how readful. Little Natalie. And she was so kind id considerate to me at poor Manuel's lemorial service. Who could possibly have igined she wasn't Natalie at all?' 'Well, she may be,' said Wexford. 'We're *ping you can establish that one way or the ier.'

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  Looking at the distracted little man on whom tranquillizers seemed to have no effect, Wexford couldn't help doubting if the truth could be established through his agency. 'You want me to come with you and ask her a lot of questions? How horribly embarrassing that will be.' Gory actually ran his fingers through his fluffy hair. Then he froze, listening like, and looking for all the world like, an alerted rabbit. 'A car!' he cried. 'That will be Blaise. And none too soon. I must say, really, he knew what he was about when he insisted on being here to support me.'

  If the father was no larger than Wexford had anticipated, the son was much smaller. The screen is a great deceiver when it comes to height. Blaise Gory was a small, wide man with a big face and eyes that twinkled as merrily as those of Santa Claus or a friendly elf. He came expansively into the room, holding out both hands to Wexford.

  'And how is Sheila? Away on her honeymoon? Isn't that marvellous?' Forewarned, astute, one who had to make it his business to know who was who, he had done his homework. 'You know, she's awfully like you. I almost think I should have known if I hadn't known, if you see what I mean.'

  'They want me to go and look at poor Manuels girl and tell them if she's really her,' said Gory dolefully.

  His son put up his eyebrows, made a

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  jundless whistle. 'You don't mean it? Is that P?hat it's about?'

  He seemed less surprised than his father or fMrs Mountnessing had been. But perhaps that ||vas only because he daily encountered more Surprising things than they did.

  'Do you also know her, Mr Gory?' Wexford Jasked.

  'Know her? We took our first violin lessons j$ogether. Well, that's an exaggeration. Let me ly we, as tots, went to the same master.' 'You didn't keep it up, Blaise,' said Gory Snior. 'You were never a concentrating boy. low little Natalie was very good. I remember ttle Natalie playing so beautifully to me when was fifteen or sixteen, it was Bach's Chaconne |om the D minor Partita and she...' Blaise interrupted him. 'My dear father, it is jifelve-thirty, and though I seem to remember wnising to take you out to lunch, a drink juldn't come amiss. With the possible inception of Macbeth, you must be the world's �st host.' He chuckled irrepressibly at his joke. 'Now surely you have something icked away in one of these glory holes?' |Once more Gory put his hands through his He began to trot about the room, opening )board doors and peering along cluttered ilves as if he were as much a stranger to the jjuse as they were. 'It's because I've no one to after me,' he said distractedly. 'I asked 119

  Natalie�or whoever she is, you know�I asked her if she didn't want those Hickses and if she didn't, would they come and work for me? She was rather non-committal, said she'd ask them, but I haven't heard another word. How do you manage?'

  Wexford was saved from replying by a triumphant shout from Blaise Gory who had found a bottle of whisky and one of dry sherry. It was now impossible to refuse a drink especially as Blaise Gory, with ferocious twinkles, declared that he knew for a fact policemen did drink on duty. The glasses were dusty and fingermarked, not to be too closely scrutinized. Nothing now remained but to fix a time with Philip Gory for visiting Natalie, and Wexford felt it would be wise, in spite of Burden's prejudice, to invite Blaise too.

  'Ah, but I've already seen her. And frankly I wouldn't have the foggiest whether she was the late lamented Sir Manuel's daughter or not, I hadn't set eyes on her since we were teenagers. She said she was Natalie and that was good enough for me.'

  'You were also at the memorial service?' 'Oh, no, no, no. Those morbid affairs give me the shivers. I'm a life person, Mr Wexford. No, I gave Natalie lunch. Oh, it must have been a good five or six weeks ago.'

  'May I ask why you did that, Mr Gory?' 'Does one have to have a reason for taking

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  ractive ladies out to lunch apart from the ibvious one? No, I'm teasing you. It was ictually Natalie who phoned me, recalled our )rmer acquaintance and asked me if I could get friend of hers a job, a man, she didn't say his ic. I'm afraid it was all rather due to my jrogramme. I don't know if a busy man like you rer has a moment to watch it? A poor thing, jut mine own. I do make rather bold claims on

  -not, however, without foundati
on and suits�to aid people in finding�well, niches >r themselves. This chap was apparently some of musician. Fancied himself on the box, I resay. Anyway, I couldn't hold out much Ipe but I asked her to have lunch with me. |bw I come to think of it, it was January 17th. I icmber because that was the dear old dad's iday.'

  fl was seventy-four,' said Gory senior in the le of one intending to astonish nobody, as Jeedhe had.

  *And when you met her that day you had no ibt she was the Natalie Camargue you had it known?' iNow wait a minute. When it came to it, I

  I't meet her that day. She cancelled on |ount of some medical thing she had to have, a

  sy, I think she said. We made a fresh date

  the following Tuesday. She kept that and I 1st say we had a delightful time, she was

  )lutely charming, full of fun. I was only

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  sorry to have to say I hadn't anything cooking for this bloke of hers. But, you know, I couldn't actually tell you if she was our Natalie. I mean, it obviously never occurred to me.' He let his eyes light on Burden as being closer to his own age than the others. 'Would you recognize a lady you hadn't seen since you were nineteen?'

  Burden responded with a cold smile which had no disconcerting effect on Blaise Gory.

  'It's all rather thrilling, isn't it? Quite a tonic it must be for the dear old dad.'

  'No, it isn't,' said the composer 'It's very upsetting indeed. I think I'll come back to London with you, Blaise, since I've got to be up there tomorrow. And I think I may stay awhile. I suppose you can put up with me for a couple of weeks?'

  Blaise Gory put an arm round his father's shoulders and answered with merry affirmatives. Perhaps it was Wexford's imagination that the twinkle showed signs of strain.

  The kind of coincidence that leads to one's coming across a hitherto unknown word three times in the same day or receiving a letter from an acquaintance one has dreamed of the night before was no doubt responsible for the poster in the window of the Kingsbrook Precinct travel agents. Come to sunny California, land of perpetual spring.... A picture of what might be Big Sur and next to it one of what might be

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  rst Castle. Wexford paused and looked at it wondered what the chief constable would if he suggested being sent to the Golden st in quest of Natalie Arno's antecedents. He

  just imagine Colonel Griswold's face. ifPresently he turned away and went back to police station. He had come from Symonds, Jrien and Ames. Their handwriting expert examined the writing of the eighteen-yearNatalie Camargue and that of the thirty fen-year-old Natalie Arno and expressed his don that, allowing for normal changes over a iod of nearly two decades, the two samples in all probability been made by the same son. Wexford had suggested the samples also pexamined by an expert of police choosing, lout making any positive objection, Ames lured that it would be unwise to spoil the with too many cooks. Oxford thought he saw a better way.

  ce,' he said, putting his head round the $r of Burden's office, 'where can we get hold violin?'

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  CHAPTER TEN

  Burden's wife was something of a paragon. She was a history teacher, she was well-read in English literature, she was an excellent cook and dressmaker and now it appeared she was musical too.

  'You never told me Jenny played the violin,' said Wexford.

  'As a matter of fact,' said Burden rather shyly, 'she used to be with the Pilgrim String Quartet.' This was a local ensemble that enjoyed a little more than local fame. 'I expect we could borrow her Hills if we were very careful with it.'

  'Her what?'

  'Her Hills. It's a well-known make of violin.'

  'If you say so, Stradivarius.'

  Burden brought the violin along in the morning. They were going to call for Philip Gory at his son's home and drive him to De Beauvoir Place. It was a bright sunny day, the first since the snow had gone.

  Blaise Gory lived on Campden Hill, not far from Mrs Mountnessing, and work seemed to have claimed him, for his father was alone in the big penthouse flat. Although he popped a Valium pill into his mouth as soon as he saw them, a night in London had evidently done him good. He was sprightly, his cheeks pink,

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  he had dressed himself in a dark suit with a red stripe, a pink shirt and a burgundy silk more as if he were going to a smart luncheon than taking part in a criminal Investigation. ||n the car he was inclined to be talkative.

  *I think I shall write to those Hickses sonally. I've no reason to believe they're not 1-disposed towards me. I understand they

  ce the country and the thing about Moidore Ige is, it's in the real country. Charming as >r Manuel's place is, I always used to think

  sre was something Metroland-ish about it.

  le might as well be living in Hampstead rden Suburb. Do you know, I thought it

  mid be quite an ordeal facing little Natalie iy, but actually I feel rather excited at the

  >spect. London is such a stimulus, don't you I? It seems to tone up one's whole system.

  |d if she isn't Natalie, there's nothing to be e ibarrassed about.'

  IpPexford had no intention of going into the jkshop. The door to the upstairs flat was at side of the building, a panelled door with a ie of glass in it, set under a porch with a steep roof. As they walked up the path, Wexford ing and Burden bringing up the rear with violin, the door opened, a woman came out it immediately closed again. The woman

  * elderly and so tiny as to be almost a midget. wore a black coat and a brightly coloured

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  knitted hat and gloves. Gory said:

  'Good gracious me! It's Mrs Woodhouse, isn't it?'

  'That's right, sir, and you're Mr Gory.' She spoke with a Sussex burr. 'How have you been keeping? Mustn't grumble, that's what I always say. I see Mr Blaise on the telly last night, he's a real scream, just the same as ever. You living in London now, are you?'

  'Oh dear, no,' said Gory. 'Down in the same old place.' His eyes widened suddenly as if with inspiration. 'I haven't anyone to look after me. I don't suppose....'

  'I'm retired, sir, and never had so much to do. I don't have a moment for myself let alone other folks, so I'll say bye-bye now and nice to see you after all this time.'

  She scuttled off in the direction of De Beauvoir Square, looking at her watch like the White Rabbit as she went.

  'Who was that?' said Burden.

  'She used to work for poor Manuel and Kathleen when they lived at Shaddough's Hall Farm. I can't think what she's doing up here.'

  The door, though closed, had been left on the latch. Wexford pushed it open and they went up the steep staircase. Natalie had come out on to the landing and was waiting for them at the top. Wexford had thought about her so much, had indeed become so obsessive about her, that since last seeing her he had created an image of her in

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  mind that was seductive, sinister, Mata i-like, corrupt, guileful and serpentine. lore the reality this chimera showed itself iy for the absurd delusion it was and then )lved. For here, standing before them, was a ig and pretty woman to whom none of pejorative expressions could possibly >ly. Her black hair hung loose to her ?ulders, held back by a velvet Alice band. She re the skirt Jane Zoffany had been altering with it a simple white shirt and dark blue igan. It was very near a school uniform and was something of the schoolgirl about her l$he brought her face down to Cory's and led him, saying with the slightest edge of )roach:

  It's good to see you, Uncle Philip. I only wish Circumstances were different.' >ry drew his face away. He said in a kind of

  chirp, 'One must do one's duty as a

  �

  � �

  le laughed at that and patted his shoulder, all went into a small and unpretentious ig room from which a kitchen opened. It was ksl far cry from Sterries. The furnishings ced as if they had come down to the Zoffanys defunct relatives who hadn't paid much for when they were new. Nothing seemed to been added by Natalie except a small shelf iperbacks which could only be designat
ed as -Zoffany because none of them was science

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  fiction.

  There was an aroma of coffee and from the kitchen the sound, suggestive of some large hibernating creature snoring, that a percolator makes.

  'Do sit down,' said Natalie, 'Make yourselves at home. Excuse me while I see to the coffee.' She seemed totally carefree and gave no sign of having noticed what Burden had brought into the flat. There's no art, thought Wexford, to find the mind's construction in the face.

  The coffee, when it came, was good. 'The secret', said Natalie gaily, 'is to put enough in.' Uttering this cliche, she laughed. Tm afraid the British don't do that.'

  She surely couldn't be enjoying herself like this if she was not Natalie, if there was any chance of her failing the test ahead of her. He glanced at Burden whose eyes were on her, who seemed to be studying her appearance and was recalling perhaps newspaper photographs or actual glimpses of Camargue. Having taken a sip of his coffee into which he ladled three spoonfuls of sugar, Gory started at once on his questioning. He would have made a good quizmaster. Perhaps it was from him that Blaise had inherited his talents.

  'You and your parents went to live at Shaddough's Hall Farm when you were five. Can you remember what I gave you for your sixth birthday?'

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  iShe didn't hesitate. 'A kitten. It was a grey

  j, a British Blue.' f'Your cat had been run over and I gave you it one to replace it.' *We called it Panther.'