‘It’s Latin for “a healthy mind in a healthy body”. It’s supposed to have been said first by a Roman writer called Juvenal. It’s much beloved as a motto by English public schools. But how did you come to be talking of that?’
When De Silva explained about the Almanach de Gotha, she laughed. ‘I’ve heard it called the Almanach de Gagas too. Gaga’s a rude word, it means old and not quite sane. People joke that the European aristocracy has intermarried far too often over the years and, as with animals, it breeds some unfortunate traits.’
She sipped her tea then put down the cup. ‘How was Archie coping with Angel?’
‘Not very well. For a small creature he’s quite a handful.’
‘Most small dogs tend to have an over-inflated idea of their size and importance.’
‘This one certainly does.’
‘I think he’s at the Residence to stay, though. Florence clearly dotes on him. Her main worry is keeping an eye on him. He sounds an adventurous little fellow and very good at getting out if he wants to go exploring. If he met a leopard, he wouldn’t stand much chance, no matter how loudly he barked.’
She lifted the lid off the teapot and peered inside. ‘Would you like another cup, dear? It looks a little strong but I can call for some more hot water.’
He pushed his cup towards her. ‘No need, the stronger the better.’
‘You still haven’t told me if you found out anything interesting about Count Ranescu in the Almanach de Gotha.’
‘I’m not sure it’s fit for your ears,’ he said with a grin.
‘Nonsense. You know perfectly well I’m not easy to shock. Anyway, you’ve got me interested now, so you have to tell.’
‘Clutterbuck and I strongly suspect that the lady who claims to be the countess is a fraud.’
‘Goodness! What makes you think that?’
‘According to the Almanach, and Clutterbuck says it’s a recent edition, she should be sixty years old. The lady who’s come to Nuala with him can’t be a day over thirty-five.’
‘Oh dear, if it’s true, how embarrassing for them both if that becomes known. Do you need to say anything about your suspicions?’
‘Quite the reverse. Archie Clutterbuck’s adamant we keep them to ourselves, and I know I can rely on you to do so as well. He and William Petrie had hoped the trip to Horton Plains would provide an opportunity for putting the British government in Ranescu’s good books. It seems he may be useful. Anyway, through no fault of her own, poor Mrs Wynne-Talbot threw a spanner in those works. It would be unwise to make matters worse by embarrassing the count.’
He stretched his arms above his head, laced his fingers and yawned. ‘After that delicious tea, I shall take a walk round the garden before it gets dark. Will you join me?’
‘That would be nice.’
She stood up and took his arm. As they set off across the lawn, he decided not to mention that Clutterbuck was checking on Major Aubrey. There would probably be nothing suspicious in his background in any case.
Chapter 9
Several days elapsed before he received another summons to the Residence from Archie Clutterbuck. This time Angel was not in evidence and Darcy looked vastly more contented than he had on de Silva’s previous visit.
The assistant government agent, however, was perturbed. ‘You’ve got a nose for a mystery, de Silva, and sometimes I think it would be better if you didn’t, but there it is. Colombo telegraphed. It’s been two years since Major Aubrey was stationed in Calcutta and there’s a gap in his record that no one seems able or willing to fill in for us.’
He frowned. ‘Not long afterwards, another telegram came warning me against making any more enquiries about him.’ Pausing, he took a cigarette from the box on his desk and lit it. ‘So there you have it,’ he said shaking out the match. ‘Our choice is to accept Aubrey and his testimony at face value or challenge him. In view of the messages from Colombo, the latter would be foolhardy.’
There might be all sorts of reasons why the army didn’t like to divulge what an officer had been up to, reflected de Silva. He’d noticed before that they liked to keep the stories of their black sheep quiet. It could be anything from gambling and drinking to misbehaving with a fellow officer’s wife. Aubrey had been drinking early in the day when de Silva interviewed him at Horton Plains and, even though the immediate circumstances provided an excuse, he’d admitted he didn’t sleep well in general. Did that indicate he had problems?
But even if he did, where did that get you? Telling Archie Clutterbuck that he, de Silva, had a vague feeling that something about Aubrey felt wrong didn’t amount to a convincing argument for further investigations into Helen Wynne-Talbot’s death.
‘De Silva?’
‘Sorry, sir. I was just thinking the situation through.’
‘And your conclusion?’
De Silva took a deep breath. He was loath to give up, but for the moment it seemed the only sensible course of action. ‘We accept the major’s testimony,’ he said reluctantly.
Clutterbuck gave him a penetrating look then nodded. ‘Good, I’m glad we agree.’ He flicked ash from his cigarette into an ashtray decorated with a picture of a leaping salmon. ‘I suppose your search for the body still isn’t getting anywhere?’
‘I’m afraid not, sir.’
‘How many shikaris did you send out with them?’
‘Four, sir.’
Clutterbuck chewed his lower lip. ‘Maybe send a few more to help.’
‘Very good, sir.’
He didn’t like to tell Clutterbuck that yesterday, Prasanna and Nadar had returned dejected with no news and he had given them a short respite from their arduous search. He’d have to curtail that.
‘Damned difficult, I know,’ the assistant government agent went on. ‘But it’s been a week. I have to admit, I’m beginning to wonder if it might be best if she wasn’t found now. Unlikely to be a pretty sight.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Well, unless there’s something else you wish to discuss, I won’t detain you. I’m sure you’re busy and I have another meeting shortly.’
De Silva remembered his promise to Prasanna; it really was time he raised the matter. It wasn’t fair to his sergeant to keep putting it off.
‘There is one thing, sir.’
‘Yes?’ There was a touch of impatience in Clutterbuck’s tone.
‘My sergeant tells me he’s had a complaint about the behaviour of one of the village headmen.’
‘And?’
‘The complaint is that the man’s profiting from his position. Overcharging for government licences among other things.’
Clutterbuck looked at his watch. ‘I’m sorry, de Silva, I haven’t got time to go into it with you now. Telephone my secretary tomorrow. He keeps my diary and will arrange a time for us to discuss it.’
De Silva felt irritated at being put off but there was no point arguing so he nodded. Regrettably, Prasanna would have to be patient a little longer.
Clutterbuck went to his desk and took something out of a drawer. ‘I almost forgot. This is a picture that was taken of our party before we went up to Horton Plains. I’ve no use for it and I don’t suppose anyone else wants to be reminded, but it’s a decent photo of Mrs Wynne-Talbot. It might be a help in your search.’
‘Good idea, sir. I’ll take it with me.’
Chapter 10
Jane was far more of a cinema fan than he was, avidly devouring all the film magazines she could lay her hands on. However, he enjoyed the visit to the cinema to see the Busby Berkley film. The choreography, with its kaleidoscopes of perfectly synchronised, tirelessly smiling bathing belles, seemed to him to have something in common with the cases he had solved over the years – a multitude of elements that eventually resolved themselves into a pattern that made sense. At least that was what you hoped would happen.
‘What a delightful film,’ she remarked as they drove away from the Casino cinema that evening.
‘Not as much storylin
e as 42nd Street, though.’
‘Ah, but it’s the singing and dancing one goes for.’
‘I’ll give you that.’
She squeezed his arm. ‘Thank you for coming. They’re showing The Thin Man next month. That will be more up your street.’
But his attention hadn’t just strayed because of the film. His thoughts had distracted him too. Although he had agreed with Clutterbuck about Major Aubrey, the uncertainty he’d felt about the officer had come back to haunt him. It was hard to put the reason into words. He simply had the feeling that the dismissal of Mrs Wynne-Talbot’s death as suicide was too convenient.
Then there was Ralph Wynne-Talbot. Why had he taken a provincial doctor like Hebden, whom he’d never met before, into his confidence about his wife? In a short time, they would have been in England, and able to afford the best medical help money could buy in London’s famous Harley Street.
‘You’re very preoccupied,’ said Jane as the Morris sped along the quiet roads towards Sunnybank. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Not wrong exactly, but I’m concerned I’ve missed something.’
‘You mean about Mrs Wynne-Talbot?’
‘Yes. Do you remember what I told you about the count and countess?’
Jane nodded.
‘It appears they’re not the only people who have something to hide.’
‘Really? I imagine you don’t mean Archie or the Petries so that leaves Major Aubrey.’
‘Precisely. I asked Clutterbuck if he would make enquiries about him. He wasn’t willing at first but then he agreed to get in touch with Colombo and ask for their assistance. Clutterbuck called me up to the Residence today. Aubrey lied about being stationed in Calcutta. He hasn’t been there for two years. That was strange enough but then another telegram came with instructions that there were to be no further enquiries.’
‘That is odd.’
‘Quite.’
‘And there was no explanation?’
‘None at all.’
‘Does that make you suspicious of Major Aubrey? I mean as far as Mrs Wynne-Talbot’s death is concerned. But then why would he want to do her harm?’
‘That’s what I don’t know.’ He paused. ‘There’s something not quite right about Aubrey, quite apart from what we’ve heard from Colombo. When I questioned him, he seemed a troubled soul.’
‘He had just witnessed a terrible death, dear.’
‘Of course, but I had the feeling it was more than that.’
‘How did he come to be with the hunting party?’
‘Apparently, he invited himself. Archie Clutterbuck told me he let Aubrey come along because he seemed agreeable and likely to be a good shot. He talked a lot about the shooting he’d done in India and, as we know, old Archie loves a sportsman.’
Jane raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure he does. Florence often regales us on sewing afternoons with stories of the elephant and tiger hunts he took part in when they were in Bengal. I don’t think I’m the only one who finds it distasteful.’
He changed down a gear as the Morris slid into the final bend before the driveway to Sunnybank. ‘I’ll show you something when we get home,’ he said. ‘I’d be interested in your opinion.’
Settled on the floral-patterned sofa in their comfortable drawing room, de Silva dropped the photograph Clutterbuck had given him into Jane’s lap. ‘Here you are. Take a look and tell me what you think. Aubrey’s the one on the far left.’
‘So this is the rogues’ gallery.’ She studied the photograph in silence for a while. ‘I must say, if anyone looks like a villain, it’s Count Ranescu. What a belligerent-looking man! One would hesitate to argue with him.’
She tilted the photograph so that the light from the lamp on the side table fell on it more brightly. ‘You know, the countess, if that’s who she is, looks very familiar.’
She peered more closely at the photograph then looked up with a triumphant smile. ‘I think I know who this is. When I worked in London as a governess, I had a friend who liked the theatre and sometimes we’d go to matinées together on our days off. We saw all sorts of plays – Terence Rattigan, Noel Coward, Oscar Wilde. This lady looks just like an actress who used to be in the West End. She usually played the juvenile leads, but then she ran off with a wealthy businessman and gave up the stage. The gossip columns were full of it at the time.’
De Silva rubbed his chin. ‘That’s most interesting. How sure are you?’
Jane looked at the photograph again. ‘Pretty sure. She was a very beautiful young woman. It’s hard to credit there would be anyone else who looked like her. Let me see, she would have been about twenty then. A few years younger than I was and it was fifteen years ago.’ She put down the photograph. ‘As you say, she looks about thirty-five, so, that would be right. Now what was her name? Laetitia…’ She paused and her brow puckered. ‘Laetitia Lane! That was it.’
De Silva chuckled. ‘If she is an imposter, being an actress would explain how she gives such a convincing performance. I doubt even a genuine countess would possess more aristocratic poise.’
‘I think you’re rather struck with the lady.’ Her smile admonished him.
‘I only have eyes for you, my love.’
‘I should hope so.’
She kissed his cheek. ‘Seriously, if I am right, it probably makes no difference to your case. But let’s just suppose that it wasn’t suicide—’
‘Who might be the murderer? You must have read enough detective novels to think of all the possibilities.’
She pondered a few moments. ‘What if there’s something going on between Miss Lane and the major? Maybe it wasn’t an accident that they were on the same expedition. Helen Wynne-Talbot might have overhead them talking or even discovered them together, and the major decided she must be silenced.’
‘That would be a most dramatic twist, but you are making him out to be an incorrigible villain and very precipitant.’
‘People can do terrible things when surprised in guilty acts, at least they do in novels.’
‘Any other ideas?’
‘Could Aubrey and Mrs Wynne-Talbot have rigged the whole thing? As you haven’t found her body yet, how can you be sure that she’s really dead? Perhaps she and the major are the ones in love and they plan to run away together.’
De Silva rubbed his chin. It was a possibility that had crossed his mind but he had dismissed it on the grounds that it would have been hard for Helen Wynne-Talbot to leave Horton Plains without attracting attention. Also, as far as he knew, Aubrey was still in Nuala. Unless he had misjudged Helen Wynne-Talbot, she didn’t have the resourcefulness to go into hiding on her own until Aubrey could join her.
But then there was the missing shikari, who still wasn’t accounted for. Should his absence tell them something? Might he have witnessed the incident and been bribed or threatened by Aubrey into keeping quiet? If he knew the truth of what had happened at World’s End, he needed to be found, but how? His fellow shikaris were obviously not going to co-operate, either because they genuinely knew nothing about him or they too had been warned off.
His head throbbed. It was too late in the evening to sift the wheat from the… the expression refused to surface in his tired mind.
‘These are interesting ideas, my love,’ he said wearily. ‘Unfortunately, we’ll need more than inspired guesses to get to the bottom of this.’ He yawned. ‘I’m off to bed. Are you coming up?’
‘In a moment.’
‘Let me know if you think of anything else.’
‘I will.’
Later, unable to sleep despite his weariness, a condition that occasionally bedevilled him, de Silva mulled over their conversation. Jane had a very good memory for names and faces and she might well be right about the countess being this Laetitia Lane woman. In that case, what were the lady’s intentions? If she was the count’s mistress, she wouldn’t be the first woman, or the last, to snare a rich man who could give her the lifestyle she craved without being unduly
concerned that he was married. It didn’t inevitably mean she was a murderer.
He rolled over, glanced at the clock and groaned inwardly; it was ten past midnight. He was tempted to wake Jane and share his speculations with her but she seemed to be sound asleep and he refrained. His thoughts dwelt on Laetitia Lane. It would be interesting to know more about what she was up to. Just suppose it was more than coincidental that she and Major Aubrey were both on the Horton Plains expedition. He had to admit, his curiosity was piqued and part of him was also attracted by the possibility of scoring a point. He still couldn’t shake off a lingering resentment that he had been steamrollered into abandoning any further investigation. If there was more to this business than at first met the eye, it would give him great satisfaction to show the British they were not as clever as they liked to think.
Clutterbuck had mentioned that the count and countess were staying in the guest bungalow in the Residence grounds. The guest suites in the Residence itself were given over to the Petries and Ralph Wynne-Talbot. That was very fortunate. It would be impossible to search any of the rooms in the Residence without being apprehended; there were always servants about. But if the Ranescus were out, once the servants had cleaned and tidied the rooms in the guest bungalow, it was probably left unattended for the day. Searching the bungalow was a risk, of course, Archie Clutterbuck would explode if things went wrong, but the risk was one worth taking if a search revealed anything interesting about the countess.
The bed creaked as Jane stirred beside him. ‘You’re awake. Are you still thinking about your case? Have you come to any conclusions?’
He put his arms around her and kissed her. ‘Sadly not. Go back to sleep, my love.’
Chapter 11
‘Has Florence mentioned how much longer the Ranescus plan to stay in Nuala?’ he asked at breakfast.
‘For another week or so, I believe. She was complaining about what hard work it is entertaining them. She’s quite taken to the countess whom she describes as absolutely charming, but apparently, the count is very difficult to please.’ She giggled. ‘In fact, the other day, Florence let her hair down in a most indiscreet way. She went so far as to call him a dreadful little man! Still, today she’s arranged an early morning elephant ride and a picnic by the river before the day gets too hot. She hopes that will be a success.’
Dark Clouds Over Nuala (The Inspector de Silva Mysteries Book 2) Page 7