A Royal Affair

by Allison Montclair

  Sparks walked briskly out the door and looked around. She spotted the young man vanishing down a hallway and followed him. One advantage of Millie’s shoes was that they allowed her to pad softly on the marble floors, compared with the clicking of her normal heels. And even if he was to look, who would think anything of a maid walking down a hotel corridor?

  He stopped in front of a door, knocked twice, then went in. Sparks crept up and put her ear to it for a moment. Across the hall, another door opened.

  “Miss Sparks, isn’t it?” said Torgos, a small automatic in his hand. “Please. Come in.”

  CHAPTER 13

  “Did you ring for maid service, sir?” asked Sparks.

  Torgos gestured with the gun for her to approach. Behind her, the other door opened and the young man emerged, shoving her ahead of him.

  “Gently, Tadeo,” Torgos admonished him. “It is not yet time to use force.”

  “No, it isn’t,” said Sparks. “So put the gun away.”

  “I said not time to use force,” said Torgos. “For threatening, however? Yes, it is time.”

  “Your clock works differently than mine,” said Sparks, following him inside.

  They were in a small, unused private dining room. There were cloths covering all the chairs and the large table, giving a ghostly aspect to it all.

  “You thought I would not remember you,” said Torgos.

  “I hoped you wouldn’t,” said Sparks.

  “Perhaps you expected me to believe that Iris Sparks is now working as a lady’s maid.”

  “Times are hard. One takes the jobs that one can. What gave me away?”

  “I always make a point of observing who your Miss Kitsiou speaks to, Miss Sparks. When that person is one whose path crossed mine during the war, I take note. When that person shows up again the very next evening, I take action.”

  “Good,” said Sparks. “This actually saves me a great deal of time. I was hoping for some clever seductive banter while we tangoed, but it wouldn’t have worked in these shoes.”

  “Why are you pursuing me, Miss Sparks?” asked Torgos.

  “I’m not pursuing you specifically,” said Sparks. “I was pursuing something with a Greek aspect to it. And then I realised that I had the opportunity do something beneficial.”

  “Which is?”

  “I came to save Tadeo’s life.”

  “What?” exclaimed Tadeo.

  “You were supposed to bring a particular person here to meet your boss,” said Sparks, turning to him. “He threatened to kill you if you didn’t.”

  The two men stared at her, then at each other.

  “He threatens to kill me every day,” said Tadeo, starting to laugh.

  “I do,” Torgos chuckled. “It is out of love.”

  “The truly terrifying one is my mother,” said Tadeo. “Why you married that woman, I will never know.”

  “You should have seen her in her prime,” said Torgos, shaking his head sadly.

  “He’s your son,” said Sparks, looking back and forth at the two of them. “And there I was, worried for him.”

  “So, you eavesdropped on our conversation, and elected to come to his rescue through this elaborate disguise,” said Torgos. “That does not explain why you came to services yesterday.”

  “How do you feel about direct questions?” asked Sparks.

  “A novel approach. Why should I agree?”

  “Because I have information that you want, and you have information that I want.”

  “Perhaps. But are we on the same side?”

  “I think the situation may be polygonal, but even if we aren’t on the same side, we aren’t necessarily on opposing sides.”

  “Are you sure that you are not Greek?” asked Torgos.

  “You want to find a man named Magoulias.”

  “Yes.”

  “Here is the first exchange: you tell me who he is and what side he’s on, and I will tell you where to find him.”

  “How will I know that you are telling me the truth?”

  “You won’t. Nor will I. We talk, we go our separate ways and decide how to act on what we know.”

  “What do you think?” Torgos asked his son.

  “I would like to know why she no longer works for the Brigadier,” said Tadeo. “And who she is working for now.”

  “Good boy,” said Torgos. “Will you answer those questions first?”

  “As to the first—I lost many friends and was betrayed by others,” said Sparks. “I was tired of it all. The current battle doesn’t interest me.”

  “And the second?”

  “No more. We have to agree before I continue.”

  “The problem, Miss Sparks, is that not knowing the answer to that question means I cannot trust anything you say. If you still worked for the Brigadier, I would be able to weigh your responses accordingly. But now that you’ve gone rogue—”

  “I most certainly have not.”

  “And given that you are a superb liar—”

  “Now you’re making me blush.”

  “I cannot assess the value of what you provide,” he concluded.

  “May I propose a solution?”

  “Certainly.”

  “As you are quite capable of evaluating someone who has not had our professional training, I suggest that you ask Mrs. Bainbridge to join us. She will answer your questions adequately, and she is a civilian and an amateur. I will remain in here as a token of good faith until you have retrieved her.”

  “Who is Mrs. Bainbridge?”

  “My partner at The Right Sort Marriage Bureau, as well as in this investigation. She’s at the reception as we speak.”

  “Do you know this woman?” Torgos asked his son.

  “I have never heard of her,” said Tadeo.

  “Neither have I,” said Torgos. “Which speaks well for her not being of our community. Very well. Describe her to me.”

  “Tall, blond, wearing a blue frock and a matching bolero,” said Sparks.

  “I will go find her,” said Torgos to his son. “You stay with Miss Sparks.”

  “Yes, Father,” said Tadeo.

  “And if I am not back in ten minutes, strangle her.”

  “Yes, Father,” said Tadeo, producing an automatic of his own.

  Torgos made a slight bow to Sparks, then left the room. Sparks sat on the edge of the table and glanced at Tadeo.

  “Tell me,” she said. “Are you single?”

  * * *

  “Well, we barely survived that one,” gasped Mrs. Bainbridge as they headed back to their table. “They should give a warning for the quickstep. Sound an air raid siren or something.”

  “You were splendid,” said Palfrey.

  “I was hanging on to you for dear life, Captain.”

  “I enjoyed that part of the experience the most.”

  “The next time I hear the introduction to ‘Anything Goes,’ I will run for the nearest bomb shelter. Oh, hello!”

  An older Greek gentleman was standing in front of her, holding out his hand.

  “Madam,” he said. “May I have the pleasure?”

  “Of course,” she said, allowing him to lead her back to the dance floor. “Let’s see, what are they playing? Oh, ‘La Cumparsita’! A tango. Yes, I think I could manage that.”

  “A tango,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Of course it would be a tango.”

  He slid his arm behind her back and pulled her to him.

  “Mrs. Gwendolyn Bainbridge, by the way,” she said.

  “Constantine Torgos, Ministry of Defense, at your service.”

  She stiffened for a moment, remembering his name from somewhere.

  He swept her around his hip, swiveling her back and forth before moving her towards the corner as she tried to pin it down.

  The funeral. He had been at Talbot’s funeral.

  The other dancers filled the floor and Captain Palfrey disappeared from her view. Torgos bent her back into a corte, and smiled.
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  “Miss Sparks described you by your gown,” he said. “She simply should have told me to find the most beautiful woman in the room.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Torgos,” said Mrs. Bainbridge. “Who did you say told you that?”

  “Miss Sparks. Your maid.”

  “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, sir. I have no maid by that name.”

  “A pity,” he said, bringing her back up to him. “Because if you deny her now, we will have to kill her. Will you come with me, Mrs. Bainbridge?”

  She hesitated.

  “There is little time to waste,” he said. “Don’t let your caution mean her death.”

  “Very well,” she said. “Where is she?”

  “This way,” he said, leading her past the band and slipping behind a curtain to a side door.

  She found herself accompanying him down a deserted hallway. He stopped at a doorway halfway down and opened it, then beckoned to her.

  They entered to see Sparks sitting on the front edge of the table, a gun in her hand. She pointed it at Torgos.

  “You took your sweet time getting here,” she complained. “Did I not describe her adequately?”

  “Where is Tadeo?” he asked wearily.

  “He’s fine,” she said. “Well, unconscious, but he should be fine eventually.”

  She nodded down to the floor under the table, where the younger Torgos lay in a crumpled heap, something blue wrapped around his head.

  “Is that my cape?” exclaimed Mrs. Bainbridge indignantly.

  “Sorry, darling,” said Sparks. “It came time to use force. Oh, Constantine, be a dear and toss me your gun, would you?”

  He looked at his son in chagrin, then pulled his gun out and threw it to her. She caught it with her free hand, then motioned him to the corner of the room.

  “The good news is that in spite of all this, my original offer still stands,” she said. “We can trade information. As far as it goes, anyway. We don’t know everything, but we know a lot. More than you, I suspect. Shall we parley?”

  “Do I have a choice?” he asked.

  “We can all walk away from each other,” she said. “But your curiosity must be aroused by now.”

  “Very well,” he said. “What is your question?”

  “Who is Magoulias, and why are you so keen on finding him?”

  “He worked for me,” said Torgos. “He had heard a rumour of letters for sale, letters that could have an impact on the Royalist cause. He telephoned to say that he had a lead on obtaining them. Then he vanished.”

  “Did he tell you the source of the rumour?”

  “No. There are always rumours, always sources. This was one amongst many.”

  “What kind of an impact?”

  “One that would embarrass our royal family and yours, if the letters were brought to light. The plebiscite is a little more than a month away. If we wish to restore the king, we cannot afford even the slightest hint of a scandal. Now it is my turn.”

  “One moment,” said Sparks, turning to Mrs. Bainbridge, who had been studying Torgos carefully. “The arrangement is that he will ask the questions of you.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “Because you’re not as good at hiding lies as I am.”

  “That’s certainly true,” said Mrs. Bainbridge. “This will be a different kind of dance, won’t it?”

  “Not as pleasurable,” said Torgos. “Do you know where Magoulias is?”

  “On a slab in the city mortuary,” said Mrs. Bainbridge.

  “Is he?” breathed Torgos. “When? And how is it that you know this when we do not?”

  “He was murdered sometime on Saturday afternoon,” said Mrs. Bainbridge. “We know it because we found his body. The police are keeping his identity secret.”

  “Where was he killed?”

  “In a bombed-out warehouse at Blackwell Yard. He had been stabbed.”

  “Why were you there?”

  “We were also after the letters.”

  “Who killed him?”

  “We have a theory,” said Mrs. Bainbridge.

  “And we have a plan,” added Sparks.

  “A plan? To do what?”

  “Catch the man who did it,” replied Sparks.

  “What if it was someone sympathetic to our cause?”

  “He’s still a murderer,” said Mrs. Bainbridge firmly. “There is no cause worth that.”

  Torgos gave her a sad smile. “I wish you were right about that,” he said. “Unfortunately, I have had to disagree with that principle on more than one occasion. You understand, don’t you, Miss Sparks?”

  “Back to our questions,” said Sparks, ignoring him. “You knew Gerald Talbot.”

  “I did.”

  “You went to his funeral.”

  “I go to many funerals,” said Torgos. “They amuse me.”

  “What did Talbot have to do with Greek politics lately that so many of you attended? He’s been out of the game since twenty-two.”

  “He never left the ‘game,’ as you call it. He played it on a higher level. One involving banks and railroad construction and arms. To many of us, he was the greatest friend we had here in England.”

  “Do you know if he ever had those letters you mentioned?”

  “He never said anything to me about them.”

  “Would he have told you if he did have them?”

  “I would like to think so,” said Torgos. “Gerald and I knew each other from the Great War. We wanted the same thing—for Greece to stay out of it. And we were successful on that account. It was an alliance that continued until his death.”

  “Were you friends?” asked Mrs. Bainbridge.

  “As much as two men in our professions could be, Mrs. Bainbridge.”

  “Say he did have these letters,” said Sparks. “He would have made some provision for either their disposal or their preservation upon his death. To whom would he have entrusted them?”

  “It would have depended on the nature of the letters,” said Torgos. “He sympathised with the Royalist cause, but he was a pragmatic man. He would have done whatever was best for England. If he felt that our king in exile could rally Greek forces from afar to help defeat the Axis, then he would have seen that any threat to him would be destroyed.”

  “The Axis has been defeated, Talbot is dead,” said Sparks. “Yet the letters remain, if rumours are to be believed.”

  “Do you know who has them?”

  “Another part of the plan,” said Sparks. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

  “We’re inviting him now?” asked Mrs. Bainbridge.

  “I think he needs to be satisfied as to the truth,” said Sparks, pulling a small notebook from her apron and tossing it to him. “Give me your number. There’s another party you need to attend. Not fancy dress this time.”

  He looked back and forth between the two women, then took a fountain pen from inside his jacket and jotted down a number.

  “Right,” said Sparks, taking the notebook back from him. “These are yours.” She handed him the automatics. He held them, a speculative look in his eyes.

  “Put them away,” said Sparks. “The time for force has passed.”

  “And when it came, you were the one who used it,” commented Torgos as he concealed the guns inside his jacket.

  “Tadeo was getting antsy,” said Sparks. “I don’t like being strangled. We should go back to the reception.”

  “Fetch my cape, would you?” asked Mrs. Bainbridge.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Sparks.

  She lifted Tadeo’s head from the floor and unwrapped the cape carefully. She placed him gently down, then stood and snapped the cape open by her hip.

  “Olé!” she said.

  “It’s wrinkled now,” sniffed Mrs. Bainbridge. “And is that blood? How horrid!”

  “Just a speck,” said Sparks, examining it critically. “Nothing a real maid couldn’t get out.”

  “That’s my favourite cape,” said Mrs. Bainbridge de
solately. “I’ll never be able to look at it again without thinking about this.”

  “You have more than one cape?” asked Torgos curiously.

  “Of course. This one goes with this outfit.”

  The door opened. They turned to see Captain Palfrey poking his head inside.

  “Ah, there you are,” he said to Mrs. Bainbridge. “I’ve been looking everywhere. I say, is that chap all right?”

  “He overdid the drinking,” said Mrs. Bainbridge. “Millie found him sleeping it off in here, and came to fetch this gentleman to help.”

  “Very decent of you,” said Palfrey. “Need a hand with him?”

  “Thank you, I will be fine,” said Torgos. “I will see that he gets home to his mother.”

  “Excellent. So, Mrs. Bainbridge, to the reason for my seeking you out. The king wishes to dance with you.”

  “Oh,” said Mrs. Bainbridge. “Then let us return at once. Good evening, Mr. Torgos. Thank you for the dance. You tango well, I must say.”

  “It was a pleasure, Mrs. Bainbridge,” responded Torgos, bowing.

  He watched as the door closed behind them, then looked down at his son, who was beginning to return to consciousness.

  “Idiot,” Torgos said, and sighed.

  * * *

  Sparks glanced over her shoulder as Palfrey escorted Mrs. Bainbridge back to the ballroom, but no one followed them. They reentered through the main door, and she watched as Palfrey brought Mrs. Bainbridge over to the king’s table. His Majesty stood and bowed, then took Mrs. Bainbridge by the hand and led her onto the dance floor. The orchestra struck up “You and the Night and the Music,” and the guests applauded as the couple began to spin around the room.

  A waltz. Good luck, Gwen, thought Sparks.

  She needed a drink. Badly. She walked over to the bar.

  “Whisky,” she said. “Make it a double, if you don’t mind.”

  “And who do you think you are, missy?” sneered the bartender.

  She stared at him blankly, then remembered what she was wearing.

  “A maid,” she said. “I’m a maid, of course. I’ll just go stand over there with the others.”

  * * *

  King George II smiled at Mrs. Bainbridge.

  “There were many women I have had to dance with tonight,” he said as they whirled around the room. “There is only one I wanted to dance with.”