'That "involved in" is a bit rich. You'd think they'd have had the decency to distinguish between the victims, the criminals and the innocent bystanders.'
'Well, you weren't a bystander, either time. You were gettin' mixed up in the investigations.'
Gerry nodded, a wistful expression on her face. 'You know, in spite of all the horrible things that happened, it was fun, wasn't it - looking back?'
'I look back as infrequently as I can. Reckon those weekends put twenty years on my life.'
'There's even a photo of Chief Inspector Wilkins - see.'
'Oh yes. 'The Man Who Solved Both Cases." Looking as bewildered as ever. He came up trumps, though. Er, did you just get the one copy of this?'
'Two. Mummy's got the other.'
'Oh, you've shown her. How did she take it?'
'As you'd expect: phlegmatically.'
'Good. I was just thinkin', rubbish as it all is, might be a good idea to get a few more copies. I can think of quite a few people who'd like to see it - some of the others who were here, apart from anybody else.'
'OK, I'll get another half dozen.'
'Better make it a dozen. So, what you doin' here? Row with the boyfriend?'
'Of course not! And he's my fiancé, not just my boyfriend; remember?'
'Thought you youngsters preferred these new-fangled terms. Anyway, why are you home?'
'I explained in my telegram. He's had to go away on family business. You know there was a death in his family - which is why we had to postpone the wedding. Well, it's led to a lot of legal and financial complications and he's had to go and help sort it all out. It was going to be lonely until he got back and I wanted a break.'
'Why didn't you go with him?'
'I felt I'd be in the way.'
'Lor, you've got sensitive all of a sudden. Anyway, it's nice to have you home, sweetheart. Place seems pretty empty sometimes, without you.'
Gerry looked surprised and pleased. 'Why, thank you Daddy. Anyway, I'm going to have a shower.' She started towards the door, then stopped and turned round. 'Oh, while I remember, I saw Great Aunt Florrie last week. She sent her love to you both.'
'Oh, good. Your mother and I called to see her for a couple of hours back in the spring. How is she?'
'Perky as ever. Apart from my wedding, all she wanted me to talk about was the murders - much to Miss Mackenzie's disapproval. I filled her in on all the undercover stuff that never came out publicly. I think I'll send her a copy of Peepshow. I'm sure she'll enjoy making Mackenzie read it to her.'
'Suppose I ought to read it - just to make quite sure they have got their facts right.'
'Oh, absolutely,' Gerry said.
She went out. The Earl buried his head in Peepshow.
Chapter Four
'Then there's Gregory,' said Florrie. 'He's certain to come when he learns he's in the will. Don't suppose his wife will bother, though. She's never been here.'
'That's Alexandra, isn't it?'
'Yes. Don't think it's much of a marriage. She's very politically ambitious, and I imagine the fact Gregory's not exactly had a dazzling career has been a disappointment to her.'
'But he's very respected as an MP, isn't he?'
'I believe so. I can't trust him, though. Maybe just because he's a politician. I don't believe a word one of them says. Frankly, I'd never be surprised to learn . . .'
She tailed off.
'To learn what, dear?'
'Oh, nothing,' said Florrie.
* * *
'Greggy, darling, I saw an absolutely too divine dress in Bond Street today.'
Gregory Carstairs, MP, who was pouring himself a gin and tonic at the time, gave a grunt. His companion, a sinuous dark-haired girl with pouting, scarlet lips, who was lounging artistically back on the sofa, displaying very long and shapely legs, clad in black stockings of the purest silk, went on: 'It's chiffon, the palest shade of blue, with these delicious little pleats . . .' She prattled away, but Gregory wasn't listening. He gazed out of the window over the roofs of St. John's Wood to the famous Father Time weather vane of Lord's Cricket Ground, just a few hundred yards away. Useful, at least in the summer. If anybody should happen to see him in the neighbourhood, it provided the perfect excuse. Watching cricket was something nobody objected to a Member of Parliament doing; it was almost expected.
He was a heavily built man of about fifty with closely cropped grizzled hair, a florid complexion, the beginnings of a double chin and a neatly trimmed moustache, which he fondly believed gave him a military appearance. He always refused to talk about his war experiences, leading many people to assume he must have had a good record. In fact, he had been rejected because of flat feet, and had spent the whole of 1914 to 1918 in a Whitehall office.
He turned round and surveyed the chicly furnished, ultramodern sitting-room of the flat, with its sharp angles and chromium fittings. 'Strewth, but this place was costing him a fortune. How long would he be able to keep it up? Or Poppy, for that matter? He was going to have to do something about it. But what? Poppy was such a clinger. And she wouldn't forgive easily if he just dumped her. He had to keep her sweet. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for that damned letter he'd written her. What a fool he'd been! Tipsy at the time, of course, and in those days he'd been really smitten by her, but that was no excuse. He had to get out of this entanglement soon. But how?
'. . . and it was only ten pounds - well, guineas, actually. It would really suit me.'
Gregory dragged himself back. 'I'm sure you'd look absolutely breathtaking in it, my sweet. We must certainly think about getting it for you, er, sometime.'
'Sometime?' There was a suspicious edge to her voice.
'Yes, Christmas perhaps.'
'Christmas?' This time the voice was an octave higher. 'But that's months and months away. And this is a summer dress!'
'But you've got dozens of summer dresses. And look so perfectly ravishing in all of them.'
Poppy gazed at him, a disconcertingly acute and appraising expression in her large violet eyes. 'Greggy, you're not getting hard up, are you?'
'Good lord, no! Whatever gave you that idea?'
'You haven't bought me anything nice for weeks and weeks.'
'Well, I am a bit short of the ready just now. But it's just a temporary thing. Hold up in funds, lots of expenses, have to take the old woman to Monte later this month, as I explained.'
'You've never taken me to Monte Carlo.'
'I know, my sweet, and I'd like nothing better, believe me. But we did have that weekend in Brighton a month ago.'
'That was no fun, not with you peering over your shoulder all the time, in a blue funk in case someone recognised you.'
'Well, I do have to be careful, sweetheart. I mean if we were seen together, it would cause the most awful scandal in my constituency. I've explained what a provincial backwater it is, and how narrow-minded they are there. Any hint of what they'd call impropriety could cost me my seat. Do you know what my majority was last time?'
'Five hundred and sixty-eight,' Poppy said in a bored voice.
'Oh. Then you can see how easily I could be kicked out.'
'Would it really matter if you were? You seem totally fed up with it half the time, and there's all these late-night sittings and asking questions you know the answers to already and having to write letters to all those silly little constituents. And you're never going to get into the Government, are you? You're always going to be a back-bencher.'
'I say, that's a bit below the belt. Besides, it's not true. One of the Whips was only saying to me a month ago that the Prime Minister's always got me very much in mind.' He straightened his shoulders and unconsciously straightened his tie. 'Anyway, it's a matter of duty. Family's got a long history of public service. Men from my background have a responsibility to serve this country.' He took hold of the lapel of his jacket with one hand and gazed out over the rooftops. His voice took on a more resonant tone. 'I often think, when I gaze at a view such as this,
and look down at the people going peaceably, freely and unafraid about their business, how greatly blessed we are to live in a land like ours.'
He turned round and addressed her earnestly. 'Across a mere twenty-six miles of water, storm clouds are gathering and tyranny is raising its vile head. Yet how often we in Britain tend to take our blessings for granted. It has been wisely said that the price of liberty is eternal vigilance. Such vigilance is the duty of us all, but particularly of those happy few of us called to serve in the front line of liberty's defence, in the Mother of Parliaments. We—'
Poppy raised her hand to her mouth and ostentatiously stifled a yawn. Gregory gave a blink and came back to earth. 'Well, you do see, don't you?'
'But do you really enjoy it, Greggy - all this defending liberty? Wouldn't you rather be spending your time with me?' The tone was wheedling.
'Well, of course I would, precious. You know that.'
'Then why don't you chuck it in? After all, you've done nearly twenty years of public service. You could get your divorce and never have to worry about who saw us. And it's not as though the salary is up to much. You told me once it only made up a teeny bit of what you earned.'
'Yes, but you don't understand. I'm on the Board of six companies, five of whom only want me because it looks good to have an MP on their letter heads. I'm an adviser to two business associations, simply because the idiots believe I can influence Government policy, or at least know what it's going to be. Then there's the odd bit of journalism. I'd lose all that if I gave up my seat. Besides, what would I do outside politics?'
Poppy gave a pout. 'So I suppose that means you'll be going off to your dreary old constituency more and more, does it?'
' 'Fraid so: make a few speeches, shake a few hands, kiss a few babies. And don't worry - I mean the sort that guzzle milk, not the kind that quaff champers.' Gregory gave a forced chuckle.
'Will she be going with you?'
'Alex? Yes. She's dam' good at that sort of thing, I will say that. Worth a good few hundred votes.'
'I could do all that sort of thing.'
Gregory tried unsuccessfully to imagine Poppy earnestly discussing child welfare or old age pensions with the wife of his constituency party Chairman. But he wasn't forced to make a response, because she changed the subject.
'So, when you going next?'
'Tomorrow, actually.'
'How long for?'
'Rest of the week.'
'Oh, Greggy!'
'Frightfully sorry. But it can't be helped.'
Poppy gave a sigh. 'What about next week?'
'Not sure. Monday and Tuesday I've got speaking engagements. I'll phone you sometime Tuesday. Perhaps we can arrange something for Wednesday or later in the week.'
'I won't budge an inch from the phone, darling,' said Poppy.
Chapter Five
'Timothy will come, I'm sure,' Florrie said. 'I think he'd want to, but he'd come even if he didn't. Always does the right thing, does Timothy.'
'Such a distinguished-looking man, I always think. And a very clever barrister, I believe.'
'Oh, Timothy's all right. Terrible stick, though. How he came to have such a flibbertigibbet daughter as Penny I'll never know. She's a pretty little baggage, with no thought in her head apart from finding a husband.'
'So sad her mother dying as young as she did.'
'Yes. Can't have been easy for Timothy, bringing up a girl on his own. Still, he always seems completely in control of every situation.'
'Thank you, Mr Jackson,' said Timothy Saunders. 'I have no further questions. I'm sure his lordship and the jury will now know just how much weight to attach to your evidence.'
He sat down, as Jackson, looking decidedly shaken, hurriedly left the witness box. A cross-examination by one of the sharpest forensic minds of the English bar left few people unscathed.
Timothy's face showed no expression. It hardly ever did. He felt no pleasure at having demolished one of the opposition's most important witnesses: just the quiet satisfaction of a professional at a job well done. He gathered his papers together as the judge announced the end of the day's proceedings. His junior counsel gave him a sideways glance. It had been a ruthless performance, one that made him feel slightly uncomfortable. But undeniably effective. 'Nearly over, do you think?' he asked quietly.
Timothy nodded shortly. 'We can expect an offer in the morning.'
He was a slim man of no more than average height, with small, regular features, a neatly trimmed toothbrush moustache, a pale complexion and thinning light brown hair, concealed now under his barrister's wig. A man who would never be noticed in a crowd, whom most people would have difficulty in describing, even after spending half an hour in his company. He recognised that it was probably the constant experience of being unnoticed and ignored when young that had driven him relentlessly on in his determination to make an impact of some kind on the world.
He strode rapidly back to his chambers. It was only four thirty. Time for a full three hours' work on the opinion he was preparing for Hargraves & Hargraves. Not that there was any urgency. He could go home now. But the house would be empty, apart from the servants, tucked away in their quarters. Penelope would certainly be out. What would he do? Read a law book? He sometimes envied those men who had some all-consuming interest or hobby - gardening or golf or, like his distant relative, Lord Burford, gun-collecting. But he had never left time for things like that. And now he was surely not far away from achieving his life-long ambition: elevation to the Bench, leading, in all probability one day, to the position of Lord Chief Justice, and the opportunity not merely to practise law but actually to influence it, to change it. He knew that that was what his fellow lawyers expected. Even if none of them liked him very much, they all held him in the highest respect. And what was more important than respect?
Arriving back at his chambers, he sent his clerk home, poured himself a small glass of very dry sherry and sat down at his desk. He took out the case containing his pince-nez, thoroughly polished them with a clean linen handkerchief and put them on. He refolded the handkerchief and replaced it in his pocket, then opened his brief case, took out the papers - and saw It. His stomach gave a lurch. For a while he had managed to forget about It - this thing that clouded all his horizons, that threatened to shatter all his hopes for the future.
The Photograph.
Against his better judgement, he had to obey the impulse to look at it again. It was like the urge constantly to exert pressure on a painful tooth, just to see if it still hurt. His eyes gave the slightest flicker and his lips tightened momentarily - the closest he would ever come to wincing - and he hurriedly put it back in his case. He could not leave it in the office safe, as his clerk knew the combination, while Penelope knew that of the one at home. So he had been carrying it round with him. He ought really to deposit it at his bank. But then he would not be able to indulge the lacerating, but to him very necessary, urge constantly to stare at it, searching for some minute indication as to where or who . . . He knew when, but there was no clue, obviously, as to why. Was it a prelude to blackmail? If so, why was the demand delayed? Or was some enemy, someone he had destroyed in court, just playing with him, waiting to release it to the gutter press the moment his advancement was announced? The first he could put up with. And he would pay, unquestionably - provided he could think of some method to be sure he got the negative and all prints back; easier said than done, but it ought not to be beyond his wit. He just wished the demand would come tomorrow, so he knew where he was. But it was entirely out of his hands. And thinking about it at this time would serve absolutely no purpose.
With the strength of will and concentration that made him such a formidable lawyer, he thrust all thought of it from his mind, got out the Hargraves papers and commenced writing in a quick, neat hand. Every few seconds his eyelid twitched irritatingly, but Timothy ignored it.
Chapter Six
'Now the one who I thinks really going to miss me is Stella,
' Florrie said.
'Oh, I'm sure she will. I do like Stella. And she's so smart and sophisticated.'
'I suppose working as a fashion journalist in New York for ten years does that for you.'
'I do enjoy her stories.'
'Yes, she's a wonderfully entertaining girl. I love her sense of humour. I'm sorry her magazine went broke, of course, but I am glad it brought her home.'
'But she seems to be doing just as well with this London magazine.'
'Don't suppose she earns as much, though. She's a very ambitious girl, and I wouldn't be surprised if she moved on fairly soon. Ah well, we'll see. Or at least you will.'
'She's the granddaughter of Margaret, your husband's younger sister, is that right?'
'I sometimes think you know my family better than I do. Yes. Margaret was pretty cool at first, but she came round in the end. We became quite good friends. And it's nice that her grandson keeps in touch, as well as her granddaughter.'
'Stella and Tommy are first cousins, aren't they?'
'Yes. I'm fond of Tommy - even though he's not the brainiest lad you could hope to find.'
'He's so charming, though. And funny. He really makes me smile with all those tales of his pranks.'
'Bit too funny and charming sometimes, perhaps, but his heart's in the right place.'
'He's such a good listener, too. He always seems really eager to hear the little stories I am able to tell him about communications with the Other Side.'
Florrie strongly suspected that Jean's little stories were secretly a source of great amusement to Tommy. But she said nothing.
* * *
The richly carpeted and gracefully appointed car showroom had the hush of a great cathedral. Here and there among the multicoloured and glistening graven images, elegant and expensively attired young men, the priests of this secular religion, conversed in low and earnest tones with equally well-dressed but clearly timid acolytes. Occasionally a single word or phrase wafted, like a mantra, above the low hum: 'torque,' 'compression,' 'power-to-weight ratio.'
3 The Affair of the Thirty-Nine Cufflinks Page 2