Читать книгу Death on the Riviera - Ernest Elmore - Страница 15
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ОглавлениеThe following morning, during breakfast on the sun-dappled terrace, Nesta announced:
“I’m having a young man along to dinner this evening. I want you all to be here. Such a nice boy. I met him at Larkhill during the War.” She jerked a glance at Miss Pilligrew who, indulging a little weakness of hers, was furtively nibbling a lump of sugar. “You must impress on cook to make a special effort. Understand, Pilly?”
“Yes, dear.”
“I suggest soupe au pistou followed by ratatouille.”
“Yes, dear.”
“Not that it matters to me, of course.” Nesta gave a hollow laugh. “I shall merely sit and watch other people enjoying the fruits of my hospitality. Mon Dieu! What a life. It is a life, isn’t it, Pilly?”
“Oh definitely, dear.”
“Then we might have, say... estocaficada. And for sweet—”
Miss Pilligrew suggested timorously:
“What about tourta de Blea, dear?”
“Don’t be stupid! You’re so unhelpful, Pilly. I had in mind robina fritters and—”
“Oh for crying aloud!” broke in Tony with a surly look. “Why all this fuss? Is it somebody we’re supposed to impress?”
“Don’t be hateful, Tony. Of course it isn’t. But he wrote such a charming letter and the least—”
“Do I know the fellow?”
“No, darling, I don’t think so. His name’s Mellon or Dillon or something of the kind.”
“Dillon!” exclaimed Kitty, suddenly flushing beneath her tan.
“Yes—Captain Bill Dillon.” Nesta sighed. “Such a handsome creature, with one of those nice bristly moustaches that—”
“Bill Dillon!” gasped Kitty. “But... but—”
“Don’t tell me you know him!” cried Nesta, a shadow of disappointment passing over her heavily handsome features.
“No, of course I don’t. But... but I once knew a Bill Dorman and it sort of struck a chord. You see how I mean, Mrs. Hedderwick? Dillon. Dorman. They’re something alike and... for the moment...” With a little titter, Kitty swung on Tony. “Got a cigarette, Tony? Oh, thanks. Well, if you’ll excuse me... I’ve got some letters to write. See you later, Tony.”
A brief silence followed Kitty’s hurried exit into the house. Nesta exchanged a meaning glance with everybody in turn and observed tartly:
“How very odd. She seemed quite upset. An unbalanced, neurotic type. She ought to see a psychiatrist. Don’t you agree, Tony?”
“No, I don’t!” said Tony shortly. “Kitty’s had a tough time, poor kid.” He gulped down the remainder of his coffee and got up abruptly. “Well, I’ll be seeing you... I’ve got a job to do on the Vedette. I’ll be out to lunch. Kitty and I are driving over to Monaco.”
And with a brisk nod he stalked off through the garden to the garage-yard.
