4.Little Victim

by R. T. Raichev

  ‘Is he still here?’

  ‘Yes, sir –’

  The next moment they were interrupted. ‘Major Payne, I was looking for you.’ A local dignitary had come up to them. Antonia was aware of her husband wincing slightly. The man was stocky and running to fat. His skin was the colour of caramel and he sported a pointed beard and a waxed moustache. His white tunic was ablaze with decorations and he wore a Nehru-style hat. His name on the large and superior-looking name tag was long, unpronounceable and, one imagined, extremely distinguished. He bowed to Antonia. ‘Major Payne, I meant to discuss a certain matter with you, but then you disappeared. Go away,’ he told Manolo. ‘Don’t you see I am talking?’

  Payne leant towards Manolo. ‘Tell Camillo that I’d like a word –’

  ‘Major Payne, I saw a documentary about the First World War a month or two ago and I must admit I was really quite shocked.’

  ‘The First World War was a fairly shocking event,’ Payne said absently. ‘The end of the long Edwardian summer and all that.’

  ‘It was the way the British conducted themselves that shocked me. You might say it gave me the ghastliest of jolts.’ The dignitary’s manner was a blend of pomposity and earnestness. ‘We are talking about a time when the British Empire was still at its apogee and, yet, the British officer class were revealed as irresponsible, frivolous and decadent.’

  ‘You don’t say.’

  ‘I am sorry, Major Payne, I am perfectly aware that you are an officer and a gentleman, but Field Marshal Haig was shown directing the Battle of the Somme from the top of a helter-skelter – while the mounting casualties were being posted on a cricket scoreboard.’

  ‘My dear fellow, I do believe you are labouring under a –’

  ‘And that was not all. Marshal Haig and his adjutants and his soldiers, they all broke into a song and dance. They sang about it being a lovely war.’

  ‘Oh, oh, oh, what a lovely war?’

  ‘Exactly. This was not one of those tendentious German propaganda films either, I assure you. I happen to be something of a military historian –’ The dignitary broke off at the approach of a slender figure in a fez and baggy trousers. ‘What do you want? Can’t you see I am talking? Go away.’

  ‘Sir – you wanted to see me?’

  ‘I don’t want to see you. These house-boys! This is intolerable. No respect, no discipline. That’s why we are where we are and this country will never prosper!’ The dignitary shook his forefinger at the young man. ‘You see, Major Payne, don’t you? This is most definitely not on. I must have a word with Songhera. One thing I like about Songhera is the strict discipline he maintains among his staff –’

  ‘Ah, Camillo. Good man,’ Major Payne said. ‘Decent of you to seek us out. Let’s go somewhere where we won’t be disturbed . . . So sorry,’ Payne told the dignitary, ‘We’ll resume our interesting talk at some later hour, hope you won’t mind awfully? Got to dash now.’

  ‘The folly?’ Antonia suggested.

  The garden sparkled with firefly lights. Once more Antonia sat inside the folly, with Payne beside her. Camillo chose to remain standing. He was an extremely good-looking youth, Antonia thought, with impossibly regular features, skin as white as magnolia petals and wavy light-brown hair. His smile was sad, shy and sweet.

  ‘Charlotte – our friend – started telling us about your strange experience at Miss Leighton’s bungalow, but was interrupted,’ Payne began without preamble. ‘Would you mind telling us what happened?’

  The young man gazed back at Payne. ‘You – you know Ria?’

  ‘We don’t know her. We know a little about her.’

  Camillo swallowed. He looked from Payne to Antonia. ‘You are Roman Songhera’s English visitors, aren’t you?’

  ‘Visitors, yes, friends, no. In fact we strongly disapprove of him, so don’t you go imagining this is some sort of a trap. You are perfectly safe with us. We got entangled in this business entirely by accident.’ Payne rubbed his temples. ‘We don’t know yet what exactly is going on, but we are determined to find out.’

  ‘Are you detectives?’

  ‘Not really, but we are good at – um – how shall I put it without appearing odd or conceited? Ferreting out secrets? Unravelling mysteries?’

  ‘So you are detectives.’

  Poor boy, Antonia thought. He looks totally out of his depth.

  ‘Only in a manner of speaking. We don’t get fees or expensive presents or anything of that sort. Sometimes I think we are too observant for our own good. Afraid I can’t offer you any explanation that’s more rational than that. Incidentally, I am Hugh Payne, and this is my wife Antonia. Look here, we haven’t got much time. D’you mind telling us what you saw when you went into Ria’s bungalow this morning?’

  Camillo passed his hand across his face. ‘Very well. I rang the bell. There was no answer. I tried the handle and the door opened. I went in. I heard music. Some Italian song. Then I heard a noise – it came from the bedroom. Someone laughing. A woman’s voice. At first I thought it was Ria. I didn’t know what to do. Then I heard the laugh again. It sounded mad. Gloating. I knew it couldn’t be Ria. Ria has a lovely voice. I walked up to the bedroom door and pushed it open. I – I couldn’t believe what I saw. It was terrible.’

  ‘What did you see?’

  Camillo swallowed. ‘ For a wild moment I imagined it was Ria. I thought that something had gone dreadfully wrong with her.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Antonia asked.

  ‘Her hair – the woman’s hair was exactly like Ria’s – golden-brown – long and shiny. But the rest of her was all wrong. Bloated – misshapen! It wasn’t Ria. Of course it wasn’t. The woman was dancing about Ria’s bedroom with her hands in the air. She was laughing, smacking her lips, muttering to herself. Her face was covered in paint – the most frightful collage of shadows around her eyes – eyelashes like bat-wings, dripping with mascara –’

  He doesn’t talk like an ordinary house-boy, Antonia reflected.

  ‘– blue shadows around the eyes. And she was wearing a black bustier, fishnet stockings and snakeskin high heels – also Ria’s necklace. I knew it was Ria’s necklace – I’d seen it before. It is very distinctive – large rubies. Her – the woman’s – flesh was spilling out of the bustier – the bustier was too tight for her –’

  ‘What did she do when she saw you?’ Payne asked.

  ‘She stopped dancing – gasped – covered her mouth in exaggerated surprise – peeped at me through her fingers. She then put her head to one side coquettishly, stared at me – she gave a suggestive smile – she beckoned at me. She held out her hands, palms upwards, and twiddled her fingers. She kept nodding and cooing and then – then she sat on the bed and patted the space beside her – with her other hand she touched her breasts. She flung her head back, shut her eyes and made a moaning sort of sound. It was awful – grotesque. I turned round – fled.’

  Payne cleared his throat. ‘You dropped the petits fours. Did you step on them as well?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I am not sure.’

  ‘You have no idea who the woman is?’

  ‘No idea at all. But this is not all.’ Camillo ran his tongue across his lips. ‘The really awful thing was that Ria was in the bedroom too.’

  Payne and Antonia stared at him.

  ‘What? ’

  ‘Ria was under the bed,’ Camillo said firmly. He looked from one to the other. ‘I know this sounds completely mad, but I don’t think I imagined it. Ria was hiding under the bed. I – I suddenly saw her – her hair showing from under the other side of the bed. Her lovely golden-brown hair. I didn’t see her face but I am sure it was Ria.I saw her hand too. It happened in a flash, you see – just as I was turning to go – on my way out.’

  ‘What do you think Ria was doing under the bed?’ Payne asked in a matter-of-fact voice.

  There was a pause. ‘She wanted to see how I’d react. She intended to give me a nasty shock,’ Camillo said slowly. ‘Sh
e knew I’d go to the bungalow, even though she’d told me not to. I’ve had time to work things out. She knew I was terribly keen on her, so she expected me to turn up. I phoned her in the morning, you see, and told her I wanted to give her a Valentine present. I think the woman was some friend of hers. I believe Ria put her up to it – asked her to dress up as her, put on a wig.’

  ‘You believe Ria decided to play a trick on you?’

  Camillo swallowed again. ‘Yes. She must have called her friend and asked her to dress up like her, so that she could have a good laugh at my expense. She wanted to see the expression on my face. I think she wanted to make me look a fool, to humiliate me, to put me off her for good.’ Camillo hung his head miserably.

  ‘Makes perfect sense. Miss Leighton does appear to be the kind of girl who leads people to commit extraordinary lunacies. Did you by any chance notice whether she moved at all?’ Major Payne asked casually. ‘Her head wasn’t bobbing up and down with silent mirth or anything of that sort?’

  ‘No. I didn’t see her move. I didn’t stop to look. I ran out of the room. It gave me such a shock – seeing her under the bed – a very nasty feeling. I was terribly upset – shaken up by the whole thing.’

  ‘You didn’t get angry with her? You didn’t work yourself up into a state? It never occurred to you to go back later and have it out with her?’

  Antonia bit her lower lip. Could Camillo have killed Ria? Hugh was watching the boy keenly. Camillo’s hair was short and wavy and light brown. That long black hair on Ria’s pillow wasn’t his – whose was it? Had Ria had many lovers?

  ‘No. I didn’t get angry with her.’ Camillo shook his head firmly. ‘Or if I did, it didn’t last long. I was more upset than angry. I then managed to think the matter over. Since Ria clearly didn’t want to have anything to do with me, there was no real point in me going back and making a scene.’

  ‘I see. Most commendable. You accepted defeat in the manliest, not to say the most gentlemanly fashion. How interesting. Charlotte told us you were on the brink of self-destruction. She suggested you wanted to kill yourself.’

  Camillo frowned. ‘Kill myself? Is that what she said? I never said I wanted to kill myself. It was she who told me not to go and do anything stupid.’ He sounded a little annoyed.

  ‘Is that so? I bet she patted your hand?’ Payne’s left eyebrow went up.

  ‘Well, she did. She seemed extremely concerned about my state of mind. She said I reminded her of her favourite grandson. I believe she was under the impression I was much more upset than I really was.’

  ‘Her favourite grandson?’ Payne grinned. ‘She can’t stand her grandson.’

  ‘I feel such an ass –’ Camillo broke off. ‘What did you mean when you asked if I’d seen Ria move? You don’t think she might have been dead, do you? Oh, my God. That she’d been killed and shoved under the bed? You don’t think it was that woman who killed her?’

  ‘Well –’

  ‘That’s what you meant when you asked whether I’d noticed her move, didn’t you?’

  ‘Tell me, was there a carpet on the bedroom floor?’

  ‘A carpet?’

  ‘Yes. White, with a deep pile?’

  Camillo frowned. ‘Yes, there was. I am sure there was a carpet. White, yes. That woman kept stumbling over it while she danced. I don’t think she was terribly comfortable on her high heels. They must have been Ria’s shoes.’

  ‘Well, the carpet wasn’t there when we went to the bungalow. That was about two hours ago. It is our belief that Ria’s body was taken out of the bungalow in the carpet. What time was it when you went?’

  ‘Midday. The church bell was chiming twelve,’ Camillo said promptly. ‘Do you think it was that woman – that big, bloated, truly awful-looking woman – who killed Ria?’

  ‘It might have been her, though at the moment we suspect somebody else. The bloated baggage. Isn’t that what one of the Macbeth witches says?’ Payne turned towards Antonia.

  ‘The way she laughed. She sounded gleeful – pleased with herself – triumphant. It all feels like a bad dream now – some terrible nightmare.’

  ‘We know exactly how you feel. It’s been like that for us for the past three hours. Gosh, is that all? Only three hours since Knight spoke to you?’ Once more Payne addressed Antonia. ‘It feels like ages.’

  ‘I should have been braver. I should have confronted that woman,’ Camillo said. ‘Asked for an explanation. I should have asked who she was and what she was doing in Ria’s bedroom. I should have gone back and looked under the bed – instead of running as if all the devils in hell were after me!’

  ‘I’d have reacted in pretty much the same way if I’d been in your shoes,’ Payne said reassuringly. He stroked his jaw with his forefinger. ‘Who was the mad creature, I wonder? You have no idea?’

  ‘No,’ Camillo shook his head. ‘I think she was Indian.’

  ‘The first Mrs Songhera?’ Antonia said. ‘I mean Roman’s wife. Her name is Sarla. Charlotte said Sarla was fat, ugly and completely bonkers. On the plane – don’t you remember?’

  ‘Of course!’ Payne slapped his forehead. ‘So it was her! Must have been.’

  ‘Roman’s wife? I’ve never seen her but I’ve heard about her,’ Camillo said. ‘She lives somewhere local. I don’t know exactly where. I haven’t been here long. Some of the other boys were saying she’d been banned from going anywhere near Ria. They too said she was quite mad. Yes. Why didn’t I think of her?’

  ‘You have had a bizarre experience of the ghastliest kind,’ said Payne, ‘but if you want my honest opinion, it’s all for the best. It’s put you off Ria for good and that’s the healthy way to live. Am I right in thinking that you went to school in England? No, don’t tell me which one. Say, “the most frightful collage of shadows” once more, slowly.’

  Hugh’s doing a Professor Higgins now, Antonia thought, trying not to roll her eyes.

  ‘The most frightful collage of shadows.’

  ‘Winchester? No – Marlborough.’

  ‘Marlborough is right.’ Camillo looked impressed. ‘Though I did a year at Winchester first. That was before my father lost all his money.’

  ‘So that rigmarole Charlotte told us about the conquistador blood and you being of the noblesse was not a rigmarole after all?’

  Camillo gave a faint smile. ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘I did think you were the real thing, but I convinced myself you looked too innocent to have been to an English public school.’

  ‘So when you went to Ria’s bungalow, she wasn’t there . . . She wasn’t – under the bed . . . Neither was the carpet,’ Camillo whispered.

  ‘We have an idea where the body might be. We may be completely wrong, but we intend to go and check. It might be a dangerous enterprise. Somebody’s already been killed because of what they knew.’ Payne waved his hand. ‘It’s an impossibly convoluted story. We’ll tell you the details some other time.’

  ‘Did Roman kill her – because of me?’

  ‘We do suspect it was Roman Songhera who killed her, but not necessarily because of you. Ria was a very bad girl. She drove her father round the bend. She actually caused him to die of a massive heart attack, or so we believe. You are well out of it, old boy. Actually, I don’t believe Songhera knows about your involvement with her. If he knew,’ Major Payne reasoned, ‘I don’t suppose you’d be standing here, chatting to us. Still, if I were you, I’d make myself scarce at once – to be on the safe side. As I believe I made it clear, we don’t think much of your boss. Things may become worse in the next couple of hours. Songhera may go berserk and have us all thrown to the crocs. I am serious. This is not a terribly nice place. It deserves the fire of heaven. No, that’s not fair. Rather – Coconut Grove is one of those places where every prospect pleases –’

  ‘– and only man is vile.’ Camillo frowned. ‘Is that Heber?’ ‘Heber it is. Now then, we don’t want you to come to any harm. Have you got anywhere safe to go? I mean go at once
, post-haste? How about England? If you haven’t got the money, we could lend you some.’

  ‘That’s awfully kind of you, sir. I’ve got enough money – and a British passport too.’

  ‘Couldn’t be better. You won’t have any problems then. What the hell have you been doing here? However did you decide to join Songhera’s troupe of Turks?’

  ‘It was an adventure – a caper.’

  Payne peered at him. ‘You look terribly white. I’m sure you were darker this afternoon. You had a tan at the party, didn’t you? Same as your fellow waiters. Golden toast-like. Where’s that gone?’

  Camillo grinned. ‘It came out of a bottle. I haven’t been here long, so I needed to blend in. It washes off –’

  ‘Out of a bottle? You mean a bronzer? Oh!’ Antonia exclaimed.