by Anne Morice
However, this did not have so gratifying an effect as I had hoped and as I wait along I was saddened to notice that his expression changed from mild astonishment, through incredulity to fear and anger. I had never before seen him at a loss for words, but when I reached the climax, which was Melanie’s secret hoard having passed the one thousand mark, his reaction reached such a pitch that I thought he would choke.
‘Did you say a thousand, Tessa?’ he asked when he had calmed down a bit.
‘That’s right. Weird, isn’t it?’
‘Not so much weird as impossible. I simply don’t believe it.’
‘Well, that’s what Robin said and I’ve already told you where he got it from.’
‘No, no,’ he muttered, as though talking to himself. ‘Five . . . six hundred possibly, but not more. How could it be more . . . unless . . .’
‘Why is it that you find the actual amount so incredible?’ I asked him. ‘Surely, if you accept the premise that she was blackmailing someone, what difference does it make whether she screwed five hundred out of them or a thousand?’
‘Blackmail?’ he repeated, looking at me as though he’d forgotten who I was. ‘Who said anything about blackmail?’
‘How else could she have got hold of a sum like that? And always in cash, don’t forget.’
‘No, no,’ he said, getting up and beginning to walk about on the terrace. ‘A double-crosser, perhaps, but not a blackmailer. At least, not in the sense you mean.’
He sat down again, staring in disbelief at his right hand. He had still been clutching his embroidery needle during his peregrination and had somehow contrived to scratch himself. There was a long, thin, pink line near the base of his thumb, red blobs of blood now oozing out of it like tiny blisters. A very minor flesh wound, by the look of it, but he seemed quite shaken and I offered to fetch some disinfectant.
He replied that this might be best, which I interpreted as snatching the chance to compose himself, so that when I returned the mask would be up again and we should hear no more talk of blackmail or double-crossers.
I was wrong, however, because while I was dabbing away at the silly little scratch, he said:
‘I think I ought to explain, Tessa.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Because something tells me that I could be in a little trouble, if I don’t watch out. Tell me, dearest, you who know so much about the seamy side of life: now that the police have caught on to this bank account, am I right in presuming that they will plug away, hell for leather, until they find out where the money came from?’
‘I am sure they will try to do so.’
‘And would it be equally safe to assume that, if and when they do find out, they will regard themselves as half way towards nabbing the murderer?’
‘A little more than half way, I should imagine.’
He sighed: ‘I was afraid of that. They’ll be wrong, of course, but I see breakers ahead.’
‘Why’s that, Jamie? Do you know, or can you guess where she got the money from, by any chance?’
‘Certainly I know, since it was I who gave it to her.’
‘For God’s sake! You gave Melanie over a thousand pounds? Whatever for?’
‘No, not nearly so much; that is what I find so disturbing. I gave her five hundred and, even if you add the fifty she cheated Elfrieda out of, she must still have been very lucky with her investments to have doubled the capital in a few weeks.’
‘But why did you give her five hundred pounds?’
‘For the most practical of all reasons, to buy her off. Please remember that I’m telling you this in strictest confidence and much against my will. I had hoped it would never come out, but since the chances of that now seem rather frail, I need advice and, so far as I can see, you are the only one who can give it to me.’
‘Very well, I’ll do my best to remember all that, and I begin to see the light. You gave her the money as a bribe not to gum up your play by appearing in it?’
‘Correct! The full stalemate had been reached. Elfrieda was as obstinate as a mule and so, when it’s something I care about, am I. It had got to the point where we were barely on speaking terms, which made things very unhappy for both of us, but I could tell that she didn’t mean to budge. Then . . . oh, I forget really how it happened, but we were talking here one evening, Viola and I, and it suddenly came to me how stupid and blind we were all being to go on hoping for the impossible, in other words, for Elfrieda to climb down, when all the time it was Melanie we should have been working on.’
I could guess how and from whom this neat suggestion had arrived, but did not interrupt and he went on:
‘So I simply offered her five hundred pounds to give herself a little holiday, with the proviso of course that it should be a secret between the two of us, and there we were! All our troubles over. At least, it seemed so at the time.’
‘And she took it just like that?’
‘As well she might! It was far above equity rates for beginners.’
‘I mean, she didn’t show surprise or resentment that it should be worth so much to you not to have her in the play?’
‘Oh, I believe there was some mild pretence of that kind. How disappointing to have to throw up the part and so forth, but she was willing to make the big sacrifice because she was saving up to get married.’
‘Was she really? That’s odd!’
‘You think so? Personally, I found it rather neat. It enabled us to part on amicable terms, both feeling we’d done the decent thing. She had a certain style, that girl.’
‘Was the money all in one lump, or did you dole it out in instalments?’
‘No, of course not. Why should I do that when my sole object was to persuade her to shake off the dust of Dearehaven as fast as possible? I handed it over and fervently hoped never to set eyes on her again.’
‘Cash or cheque?’
‘Open cheque, made out to bearer. That’s what worries me so much. That, plus the fact that she seems to have had so much more than I gave her. You don’t think she could have altered the amount and forged my initials, by any chance?’
‘No, for one thing, your balance would be so much less than it ought to be.’
‘It is always so much less than it ought to be,’ he admitted sadly. ‘Or rather, the overdraft is always so much more.’
That’s very true,’ I agreed, ‘but, in any case, she could never have got away with a trick like that. At the very least, the bank would have telephoned you before they cashed it.’
‘Well, that’s some comfort, I suppose. So what do you suggest I do? Sit tight and hope for the best?’
‘No, I think that might be fatal. I don’t know what becomes of cancelled cheques, but even if they’re destroyed immediately, the hunt is on now and, sooner or later, the police are bound to turn up a cashier who remembers all about it. In my opinion, your best bet would be to confess all, before they drag it out of you. The whole truth and nothing but.’
‘And will they believe it? Won’t they instantly accuse me of having enticed her up here, loaded her with whisky and then pushed her over the cliff?’
‘Even if the thought did flit through their heads, there are plenty of people to back up your story. In fact, most of them would frankly admit that, if they’d had five hundred pounds to give away, that’s who they’d have given it to, and for exactly the same purpose.’
‘Very well, I asked for your advice and I shall follow it. I’m a great believer in that. And so now kindly forget every word I’ve said, will you?’
‘Okay, but before we close the subject for ever, there’s just one question I must ask.’
‘What’s that?’ he asked, frowning impatiently.
‘It’s about that famous occasion when you saw Melanie walking along the top of the cliff, when everyone thought she’d gone for good. Didn’t it worry you?’
‘Just a little,’ he replied, as smoothly as though he had rehearsed the answer. ‘Not so badly as you might suppose. You’ll remember tha
t I was not absolutely certain that it was her and it was easy to tell myself that I was getting obsessive, seeing Melanie popping up from behind every gorse bush. It wasn’t until you arrived from London and told us she’d been on the local train that I became really anxious. After all, I only had her word for it that she would go away and leave us in peace. I had absolutely no way of holding her to it. Fortunately, that gloomy mood didn’t last long.’
‘Oh, why was that?’
‘Don’t you remember, darling? It was only twenty-four hours later that poor Elfrieda was gathered. Broken up as I was, as we all were, I could not fail to realise that none of us any longer had anything to fear from Melanie. She had become as powerless as if she had dropped dead from a heart attack herself.’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ I admitted. ‘And looking back on it now, quite dispassionately, do you believe it was her you saw?’
‘Probably, but I really can’t see that it matters any more.’
‘What about the young man, though? That could be important. Have you had second thoughts about him, or are you still sure he was a total stranger?’
‘Absolutely dead positive,’ he replied.
So perhaps, after all, he had been right to disclaim any great acting talent. He had answered without hesitation and the tone perfectly matched the words, but he had been unable to conceal the fleeting, guarded expression in his eyes and I felt absolutely dead positive that he was lying.
EIGHTEEN
The invitation card was large, heavily engraved and carried some rather strange wording. It stated that on 10th June, Mrs Denis Atterbury would be at home at the Royal Metropolitan Hotel, so she must have been a woman in a million. However, the information was at least technically correct because the hotel address was also given for the R.S.V.P. Two other curious features were the handwritten words, ‘Mr and Mrs Crichton’ in the top left hand corner and a pair of be-ribboned wedding bells in the opposite one.
‘I can’t go,’ Viola said, having presented me with this document on her return from the theatre. ‘The 10th is next Saturday and I’ve got a matinée, as well as the evening show.’
‘It looks as though you’ll be missing one to knock spots off them both. Who is this woman? She can’t be anyone I know?’
‘No, but you’ve met her daughter. She’s the one called Marcia and she’s going to marry Charlie Henshaw.’
‘Oh, I see! Hence the wedding bells! You mean this is an invitation to the reception?’
‘Not exactly. The final knot won’t be tied for another three weeks. It’s what you might call a pre-wedding reception. I’ve had it all laboriously explained to me by Roger Padmore and you’re not expected to send a present or anything.’
‘What’s the idea then? Just making doubly sure the bridegroom doesn’t cut and run?’
Viola looked rather startled: ‘You certainly do have a penetrating eye, don’t you, Tessa? If you ever give up the stage, I think you should try your hand as a gossip columnist.’
‘Thank you. And what would my column be about today?’
‘Oh, nothing sensational: only old Padmore did drop a few heavy hints that things have been a bit on-again-off-again with that young couple. However, the reason for the party is much more mundane, you’ll be disappointed to hear. These Atterburys live miles away in the industrial north and that’s where the wedding will be. Obviously, lots of Charlie’s local friends won’t be able to get up there for it, so, money being no object, the Atterburys have installed themselves at the hotel for a week, to lay on a party specially for them.’
‘Couldn’t the Henshaws have done that? They have bags of room at the wee cottage.’
‘Perhaps they would have, if Douglas’s inheritance hadn’t turned out to be so flimsy.’
‘You think he might be a bit pushed?’
‘Oh, Lord no, not by our standards. Although there did seem to be something phoney in all that ostentation. One had the feeling that it was slightly unreal.’
‘Yes, one did.’
‘Well, don’t quote me, for God’s sake,’ Viola said. ‘It’s no concern of ours. Will you go to the party?’
‘You bet; but I must try and find somebody to tag along with. I don’t want to be all on my own, out in the cold, among the jeunesse dorée of Dearehaven.’
The so-called Mr Crichton being unable or unwilling to spare the time to attend this gala, I next tried Len, knowing that he had been invited, but he was almost as uncooperative. He informed me in harassed, yet sanctimonious tones, that with the last full week of rehearsals approaching, he had a lot on his plate just now and, in any case, considered cocktail parties a complete waste of time. He would try to look in for a few minutes at some point during the evening, but I was not to count on him.
Jamie was a wash-out too. He made no secret of having accepted the invitation, but did not suggest that we should make our entrance together, so I concluded that he had bigger fish to fry. Since every card holder at the Rotunda was in a similar situation to Viola’s, and either tied up with performances or else going home for the weekend, I was faced with the choice of staying away or going on my own, and it was the work of a second to decide which.
By seven o’clock on Saturday evening there must have been at least a hundred people congregated in the ballroom of the Royal Metropolitan, but since it could easily have accommodated twice that number without any strain at all, the atmosphere was muted, rather than festive.
A middle-aged couple, obviously Marcia’s parents, were standing just inside the entrance with Kitty Henshaw, who looked cross and bored, which was her natural expression, but Douglas was not in evidence. I assumed that either his ankle had not mended sufficiently for him to undertake reception duty, or else that he was busily getting the circulation back into it by chasing round after all the prettiest girls in the room.
I apologised to Kitty for Robin’s absence, but, as she once again showed no sign of having the least idea of who I was talking about, this did not get us very far. After a moment’s awkward silence, she rallied slightly and said that, since I was on my own, she would introduce me to the best man, who would see that I had a good time.
‘He’s somewhere about,’ she said vaguely. ‘Oh yes, over there! Just come here a moment, would you, Simon? Someone I want you to meet.’
The young man she had addressed in this peremptory fashion glanced round warily, then broke into beaming smiles and came over at the gallop. His name was indeed Simon, which broke Kitty’s previous track record, but the most extraordinary part of all was that we were not only related in a remote and roundabout way, but our first meeting had also resulted from his being best man at a wedding. This was when his elder brother married Toby’s only and beloved daughter, Ellen. I had seen very little of Simon during the intervening two or three years because nowadays he lived mainly in Switzerland, only returning to his native land for a few weeks in the summer. He proudly proclaimed himself to be a tax exile, but to the best of my knowledge had never earned a penny in his life and lived on a handsome allowance from his father; and Ellen had told me that the sad truth was that, having only about half a lung left to function on, he was obliged to spend the greater part of his life breathing up an air so bracing that it did most of the work for him.
He had changed very little since our last meeting, still small, pale and compact looking, with red gold hair puffed up like a halo, and life among the foreigners had not affected his special brand of conversation. When we had both exclaimed over the amazing coincidence of it all, he told me how delighted he was to see me, adding:
‘I still love you from afar, you know. Moon about most of the day composing poems in which you are compared rather favourably to the edelweiss and what not; but you know all about that.’
‘Always nice to hear it again, but do tell me, Simon, how do you come to be a friend of Charlie Henshaw?’
‘We were at school together.’
‘There now!’
‘Well yes, I recognise that scep
tical tone and I can hear you telling yourself that the same thing would apply to approximately nine hundred and fifty men of my age, but the special bond which has kept Charlie and me together all these years is that we were both expelled during the same week.’
‘Honestly?’
‘Well no, not entirely,’ he admitted sadly, ‘I am afraid I was boasting a bit there. Getting expelled was the done thing in our day, but I have to confess that with me it was a case of influenza or something. It wouldn’t seem to go away and eventually it was decided that I might be better off in some establishment where the water didn’t actually freeze overnight in the tooth mugs.’
‘And Charlie?’
‘Oh, his was a real, bona fide expulsion. Nothing bogus about that.’
‘What did he do? Or shouldn’t one ask?’
‘Certainly, one should. We were all very proud of him and still are. He was caught in flagrante delicto with the housemaster’s niece, who had come there to recuperate from a vicious attack of chicken pox. Quite romantic, really.’
‘And how about Marcia? Do you love her from afar, too?’
‘I may grow to. I’m working on it.’
‘What’s the trouble? Don’t you find her attractive?’
‘Yes, madly. I’m terribly susceptible to goggle eyes and big teeth. She makes me feel like Little Red Riding Hood. The snag is that I prefer the object of my unrequited passion to be unobtainable. It’s the key factor.’
‘So what are you worrying about? There can be few less attainable girls than one who is within three weeks of marrying someone else.’
‘Oh, I agree and when the three weeks are up and we all stand side by side at the altar, I shall throw myself into it with might and main, never fear! What makes me hold back is the fear that even at this stage she might return the ring and start asking the real Mr Right to stand up. That could be a worry.’
‘Why should she do that? Have there been indications that she is about to transfer her affections?’
‘No, it’s not as bad as that, but shall I let you into a little secret, Tessa? Yes, I think I will. I know how you love them and perhaps you will be able to laugh away my fears.’