More Dead Than Alive (David Mallin Detective series Book 15)

by Roger Ormerod

  “They’ve what!” burst out Sundry. He, too, had been silent. Now he moved towards David with ruffled anger. “You can’t hand over that stuff to the police. It’s the property of the Magic Circle. Konrad would never…”

  “Konrad doesn’t have much say in it.”

  “Then, on his behalf, I protest.”

  “Neither do you,” said David flatly. “This is a police matter. There’s been a fatal accident.”

  Fisher bounced in again. “Not an accident. No!” Then for a few moments there was pandemonium, though Anthony, at least, was quietly amused. He glanced down at Amaryllis, and his face became stiff. Suddenly, he was on his feet.

  “Be quiet!” he shouted. “What the hell’s this supposed to be – a fish market?”

  There was silence, and I thought Sundry looked embarrassed. I moved to David’s elbow and he looked at me for one moment. I was shocked at what I saw. “David!” I whispered.

  “It’s all right, love.”

  And Fisher intruded into what had been a purely personal remark.

  “It’s not bloody well all right.”

  Then I realized that George had moved past me. I had an impression of tight, controlled anger. He took Fisher by both elbows and lifted him bodily, until their faces were close, and spoke quite politely, considering.

  “Be silent, little man. And… sit… there.”

  He tossed him accurately into an empty chair, and for some reason, Amaryllis rushed over to comfort him.

  George shook himself, freeing his shoulders from the slight burden. He had gained the attention, and perhaps this had been his intention. He scowled around the room, thrust his hands into his trousers pockets – not trusting them, I suppose – and spoke with an angry growl.

  “But it’s not all right. Dave’s too soddin’ polite, it seems to me. He ain’t getting round to it. But me, I don’t mind saying it. So you’re all just going to listen to me for a few minutes. And that goes for you too, Dave.”

  “Just as you wish,” said David, and he reached for his pipe.

  “Right. So now we’re all nice and quiet. Let’s look at what we’ve got. Here’s Dave come up with a nice little theory, which goes along neatly with the double-indemnity part of the insurance. No, damn you…” He turned on Anthony, who’d only made a protesting gesture, and he was positively snarling. “Keep out of it. Let me say it and get it over with. Because this was what the great Konrad Klimax was always boasting, that he was worth more dead than alive. Which happens to be absolutely true. He was fading. Nobody wanted him. And his newest illusion turned out to be… what? A load of old-fashioned rubbish he could never use. And why was it like that? Because he intended to use it for only one very special illusion – his last. The whole bloody thing was meant to lead right to where we are now. You can’t tell me he genuinely expected to use that blasted cabinet in front of the public. Don’t make me laugh. This was his illusion, that he died by accident, shoved out of the window by his cabinet. Out of a window that was conveniently open on a cold and windy night! Codswallop!”

  “Now really…” Sundry was looking worriedly at Clarice, who indeed seemed as though she was about to faint. I didn’t know how I looked. I felt sick at the implications.

  David drew on his pipe, put back his head, and blew smoke at the ceiling. I locked my hand in his arm.

  But George was going well now. His voice was rising in anger. “And all he needed was a bright investigator to produce it out of a hat. That’d be so much better than making it too obvious. Maybe he didn’t bank on two – one of ’em not so simple as the other…” David grinned, glancing down at me to see whether I shared the joke. And frowned.

  “And maybe…” George’s voice fell to a growl. “Maybe it all seemed much more natural if the investigator could be brought into it by way of his wife, so that it’d be a friendly gesture, not too official. By God, I don’t like the smell of that. If Elsa’s been—”

  Clarice gave a choking cry. Her fingers fluttered and her eyes reached for me. I’d have gone to her, but David reached over his free hand and trapped mine, and I was glad of it, because my knees felt weak.

  “Stop him, David.” Because there had to be more.

  “No, love.”

  “Every damn thing you look at leads to it,” George claimed. “The failures he kept having. That’d give him the background for throwing the dummy out as a habit, and for stumbling in his anger… oh, Christ, the pictures so clear. His greatest illusion – how to defraud the insurance company of 200,000 quid.”

  “Oh, yes, yes,” cried Fisher, clasping his hands in delight, only now realizing exactly what it meant to him.

  “No!” Clarice was choking. Auden took her arm, but she shook him off.

  “And of course,” George grumbled, not liking this at all, “it would have to be done with the connivance of his wife.”

  This was too much. I tore myself free of David and rushed at George. I suppose I was going to hammer uselessly at his great chest, but he caught my arms, so gently that I felt only the restraint, and through my tears I could see only that round, flabby face of his with the eyes so kind and so soft…

  “Elsa, please,” he whispered. “It’s not all.”

  “It’s enough, George,” said David softly, taking me easily. Then he turned and raised his voice. “Somebody’d better call the police.”

  Because it was getting out of hand? Because there was going to be violence?

  “I’ve done that,” said Anthony easily. When we stared at him: “I did it when the shouting started.”

  “So now, perhaps, we wait,” David suggested. “We’ve all got things to think about.”

  “I don’t have to think,” said Fisher, nodding, his eyes bright.

  Clarice, who was now sitting with her face in her hands, lifted her eyes for one moment with a glance indicating that any friendship there had been between herself and Fisher was buried, deep. Anthony, seeing this, turned on Fisher savagely, but I missed the rest because David put his arms round me and led me to a seat at the other end of the room, and he was so tender that I became completely incapable of anything for a few minutes.

  When I lifted my head, David and George were in conference. In dispute, rather. David waved a finger beneath George’s nose, only to have it thrust aside. Angrily, David turned and walked away, back to me.

  “He’s hopeless.”

  I knew, then, that there was worse to come.

  George stood isolated. Apart from Fisher, who was severely suppressing it, there was not one person in sympathy with him. Well, one. I couldn’t forget his eyes. My heart went out to him.

  “David says wait,” he said in a flat voice. “But what’s the point? Have it out, that’s what I always say. You’ve just got to take the idea a step further. There’s this Konrad, going to make his widow rich, with the best illusion he ever thought up. D’you think he’d leave it all behind? Not on your life. He’d want a share in it. He’d want to share it with her. So… you can’t imagine he’d actually go out of that window. Not a clever chap like him. There’d be another illusion involved, somewhere. And that’s the illusion – that he died at all.”

  “By God, but you’re crazy,” said Anthony, his voice slurred with contempt. “How the hell could he have got out of there, except through the window? Don’t say he climbed…”

  “I’m not saying that. I’m saying she would have to have worked it with him, simply because she was the one who’d pick up the money. Don’t ask me how it was worked – this has all been sprung on us and there hasn’t been time to think. But if you want a suggestion… well, have you noticed the height of that room? It was night. Those lamps hang from open joists, a good four feet from the ceiling. He could’ve been up there, hiding above the light, perched on one of the joists. Of course, he couldn’t have stayed up there long. He’d need to have the room empty soon after you got in. And who made sure it was? Who collapsed and had to be taken to her room? Then he could slip out quietly, leaving
the illusion intact – and probably head straight for South America… just a suggestion, you understand, but it fits, it fits.”

  I heard the car in the drive. Time had slipped away. There was none left for retrieval, and George’s suggestion hung heavy in the room.

  Then the doorbell rang.

  Anthony looked surprised, and hurried out.

  There was silence. George lifted his shoulders and waited.

  “Clarice,” said Anthony, re-entering, “here’s Inspector Clerihew again.”

  I think I realized, then, that this visit was not in response to the phone-call. It was this uniformed officer who had first visited the castle when Konrad disappeared.

  “Mrs Klein…”

  He looked round. Inspector Clerihew was probably the most softly-spoken policeman I had ever met. Apart from David, of course, who had been one. Now Clerihew was puzzled, obviously sensing the atmosphere.

  “A word… alone…”

  Clarice lifted her head. “No.” She repeated it, suddenly bitter. “No. These people know all my affairs. Better even than I do.”

  “Very well. I have to tell you, then, that your husband’s body has been recovered, washed up twenty miles from here, at…”

  Then she was screaming, her face livid, and the sound tore into my nerves until I had to press my hands over my ears, and allow myself to sink down and down…

  Seven

  “What’re you doing?” David asked.

  I didn’t turn. “Packing.” I paused. “Of course.”

  Then I felt his arm round my waist and his chin in the curve of my neck. “But why?” he whispered.

  The trouble was that I couldn’t be sure. I was completely emotionally confused. My embarrassment was partly for George – and for myself in that I had brought him to the castle – because of his forthright condemnation of Clarice. I could excuse him, because his anger had been on my behalf, but I was not certain how much of his theory could now be accepted. If there was any at all, I felt I simply could not face Clarice. So, feeling out David’s own reaction, I simply said:

  “That must be obvious.”

  “She’s very upset. I understand she’s gone to her room, and Sundry says he can hear her weeping.”

  “Then he should go in and comfort her.”

  “I’m sure he would, but she won’t let him in.”

  I turned into his arms and his hand ran up through my hair. Suddenly, I was weeping myself.

  “David, how could she! My friend…”

  “It’s what friends are for,” he murmured. “To call on, in case of need.”

  “If she’d only confided in me.”

  “Oh, come on now, Elsa. Can you imagine her saying it… Elsa, I want you to help me defraud the insurance company, and if you’ll phone that big, handsome husband of yours…”

  So there was no doubt what David thought. “She never called you handsome to my face!”

  He was laughing gently. I withdrew my head a few inches to stare at him. “It’s not funny, David.”

  “Of course not, love. But she needs you now, more even than she did then.”

  “But she deceived me! Her friend! I could tear her hair out.”

  I shrugged away from him. Sometimes, he doesn’t understand a thing. To tell the truth, I could not understand my own sudden anger.

  “No, you couldn’t, you’d simply like to punish her a little. Which you’d do by going to her now and helping her.”

  “Oh… really…”

  “She’ll be ashamed, desperately afraid of facing you… and you’d punish her by comforting her.”

  “It’d be hypocritical.”

  “Yes, but better than running away. It’s always like this, Elsa. There comes a time when things are being revealed that you’d rather not know, and you want to turn and run. That’s when you have to go on.”

  I considered him carefully from behind my hair, never having realized that his cases could affect him. He himself seemed hurt, and his eyes were unhappy. “If you want me to, David.”

  “Of course I do.”

  I tried to smile. “Then I will.”

  He laughed, turning away, no doubt to return to the fray. “Good girl.” He paused. “Besides, how else will we know how she’s taking it?”

  I called out angrily after him, but he had closed the door. Then I had a few moments to realize that he was teasing me, a few minutes to tidy myself, then I went along to see Clarice, wondering how she was taking it.

  The castle was quiet. I hung over the hand-carved rail of the Gallery, and was unable to decide whether the police were still there. David had told them what he believed had happened, but George had remained silent, his part of the theory now in serious doubt. I believed that David had taken the inspector to the laboratory, to demonstrate, but that seemed to be hours before. Now there was silence.

  I turned, and realized that Auden Sundry had been watching me with anxious misery. He was standing outside Clarice’s door.

  “She will not open the door to me,” he said numbly. Poor man. I said he should give her time. I told him he ought to go down and get himself a drink; he looked as though he needed something.

  “I’ll see if she’ll open up for me,” I told him. “I wouldn’t let her see you.”

  Quietly, he withdrew. I waited until he was halfway down the Grand Staircase, then knocked.

  A pause. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Elsa.”

  A longer pause. I was about to speak again when I heard the latch click, and the door opened. “Come in.” And she headed back to the bed.

  She had been sitting up against the pillows in her slip, her hair disordered and her eyes swollen. She had a tight ball of wet handkerchief in her left hand. I went and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Oh, that terrible man,” she moaned, her voice very weak.

  For a moment, I couldn’t think who she meant; there was quite a choice. “You mean George?”

  “Saying such horrible things! I shall have to ask him to leave. I suppose he could have gone already…”

  “I don’t think so. You mustn’t blame him too much. He was angry for me – for what he suspected.”

  “Why should he be? David wasn’t.”

  “David knows you’re my friend, Clarice.”

  She thought about that. I was remembering that David’s anger had been just as real, but quieter and more contained. At last, she nodded.

  “Of course. He would never believe such nonsense.”

  “But George is his friend, and if George goes, David will.”

  “Oh, men are so ridiculous!”

  “And I should feel so lonely without him.”

  “You’d stay with me, Elsa?”

  “Of course. As long as you like.”

  Then she was in tears again, sobbing and snuffling, and throwing herself about with grief. I felt helpless. I could only keep saying, “There, there,” and patting her hand. I wondered why Amaryllis had not come to her. After all these years, they must surely have been closer than Clarice and me. She seemed to read my thoughts.

  “I’ve been so lonely here, Elsa,” she muttered, a little more recovered now.

  “But surely…”

  “Konrad was such a severe man. Devoted, you understand, but not to me. He lived for his illusions. Sometimes it seemed I didn’t exist, and of course she was always with him at those times.”

  “A professional relationship,” I said comfortingly.

  “Professional my eye! That little bitch flaunted him in front of me. I could have…” And she crumpled again.

  I tried, really I did. “Could have killed her?” I suggested, making light of it, and wondering whether she’d been about to say: killed him.

  “Thrown her out on her neck,” said Clarice. “She came at first as a house-guest, but she stayed and stayed, and then Konrad said he needed her here, to turn to… how could he! But now…”

  She stared at me past the knuckles pressed hard against her cheeks,
and her eyes brightened, then became hard.

  “But now I can throw her out.”

  “Do you think you should?” I asked tentatively. “Anthony might object.”

  “Anthony? Anthony might? Whatever are you talking about, Elsa? But you’re right, of course. A decent interval, then it’s out. On her neck.”

  I glanced at my watch. The time! But she now seemed much more reasonable. “You really must get yourself tidied up, Clarice. You’ll want to come down to dinner…”

  Then she was distraught again. She couldn’t face such an ordeal, and would I arrange for a tray, and please, please, not let Amaryllis bring it up!

  Dinner, naturally, was miserable that evening. Sundry could think of nothing to say but that he’d leave there and then, but he wasn’t leaving until he had the documents for his archives. Nobody listened, and David avoided my eyes. Fisher attempted to draw George into conversation, his friendship a carry-over from what had seemed to be George’s support.

  But George wasn’t supporting anybody at that time. He was heavily morose, and when he caught my eye, it was in mute appeal. I tried to smile him out of it, but caught Amaryllis eyeing us with speculation, and returned my eyes to my plate, suddenly desperately uneasy.

  After dinner, Anthony left without a word, and when I went out into the hall I could hear his music going. La Boutique Fantasque. Amaryllis swept past me, her lips tight and her eyes blazing. I watched her to the door of the Pink Lounge, heard it slam violently after her, then the scream of the tone arm being swept from the record.

  David said: “You coming up, love?”

  “To bed? It’s early.”

  “Our friend Fisher wants to make a demonstration in the Tower.”

  Fisher would have had to do something for his company. I’d hoped never to enter that room again, but failing that – and I had to have company – it would have to be Clarice.

  “If you think it matters,” I said without enthusiasm.

  “From what he hinted I’m sure it does.”

  “I’ll have to get something warm for my shoulders, then.”

  He nodded. George said: “I’ll wait for her, Dave.” David looked at him silently for a moment, then nodded. Then we moved in opposite directions, David and Fisher towards the Tower doorway, George and I to my room.