Читать книгу Death on the Riviera - Ernest Elmore - Страница 19

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It was not until they’d moved out on to the moonlit terrace after dinner that Bill succeeded in detaching Kitty from the rest of the party. Tony had been called away to answer the telephone and the others were still seated at the coffee table. Seizing his chance Bill grabbed Kitty by the arm and more or less manhandled her behind a wisteria-covered pillar. He said urgently:

“I’ve got to see you alone sometime. We’ve got to have a proper talk about everything. We just can’t go on like this.”

Snatching away her arm she demanded furiously:

“Why did you have to come here? How did you find out that I was in Menton? Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“You know well enough why I can’t. Because I’m still in love with you, Kit. I’ve been nearly crazy with loneliness ever since you walked out on me. Don’t you see—”

“For heaven’s sake, keep your voice down!”

“When can we have a talk? It’s no good drifting like this. We’ve got to have things out, once and for all. You see that, Kit?”

She said desperately:

“Oh, all right. If we must. When you leave, park the car at the foot of the hill. I’ll try and sneak out to you for a few minutes.”

“Good enough, darling. I’ll be there.” He tried to slip an arm about her waist but, with a fierce little shake of her head, she dodged aside. Bill shrugged miserably. “Oh, all right—if that’s how you feel about it...”

“Now you two!” cried Nesta with coy innuendo. “What are you whispering about? Kitty, how dare you buttonhole poor Captain Dillon. You’re a brazen hussy!”

“Sorry, Mrs. Hedderwick. I was just showing him the view over the town. It looks heavenly in the moonlight.”

As the couple rejoined the circle at the table, Nesta went on cooingly:

“Bill darling, do you play bridge?”

“Well, I’m not a Culbertson, but—”

“Splendid! You must come along and make up a four. Next Friday, dear boy—that’s the day after tomorrow. Friday at eight-thirty. Make a note of it in your diary.”

“Well, I...” stammered Bill. “I’m not sure that...”

“Good! I knew you would. Colonel Malloy and his horrid little wife will be coming over from Beaulieu. We always make up a four on Fridays.” Nesta turned a bolt-eyed glare on her long-suffering companion. “Bill can take your place, Pilly. You’re dreadful. No finesse, dear, and far too talkative.”

“Yes, dear,” murmured Miss Pilligrew submissively.

“Now, Dilys, darling, come and sit next to Bill. I’m sure he’s dying to talk to you. Where’s Tony? And Paul? It’s damned rude the way they just eat and fade away. But that’s men all over. As long as they can satisfy their grosser appetites... no, not you, Bill. Your manners were always delightful. I’m so glad you took me at my word. We want to see an awful lot of you—don’t we, Dilys?”

“Yes, auntie,” mumbled Dilys uncomfortably.

“So from now on no standing on ceremony. Understand, dear boy? Just barge in whenever—” With a dramatic gesture Nesta clapped her hands to her head and uttered a wild little shriek. “Bill dear, what am I thinking about! I’m in my dotage. Why on earth didn’t it occur to me at once? You must come and stay here. Of course you must! The Bandol’s such a grubby little joint. And we’d simply—”

“But... but I can’t do that,” floundered Bill, glancing apprehensively at Kitty, thinking of the delicate and explosive situation that existed between them. “It’s extremely kind of you but—”

“Now don’t be so damned obstinate! You’ll pack up and move in tomorrow. Promise, Bill.”

Kitty muttered desperately:

“But perhaps Captain Dillon prefers staying at an hotel, Mrs. Hedderwick. Men often do.”

Nesta quelled her with a contemptuous snort.

“Don’t talk such poppycock, darling. Nobody in their senses would stay at the Bandol unless they had to. I hear the water’s always lukewarm and the food absolutely ghastly. Of course he’d rather stay here. You would, wouldn’t you, Bill?”

He glanced despairingly at Kitty and mumbled feebly:

“Well, I don’t... I don’t quite know what to...”

“Then that’s settled!” shrilled Nesta, beaming delightedly at the little group about the table. “You hear that, everybody—Bill’s coming! We’ll expect you by lunch tomorrow. So glad I had the sense to—”

But Bill was no longer listening. Tony Shenton had reappeared on the terrace and suddenly Bill recalled where he’d first met the fellow. It was in 1943 at some aerodrome in Lincolnshire. He’d knocked up against him in the bar after dinner in the mess and exchanged a few words with him. Not many, for Shenton had been half-seas-over and more or less incapable of sustained conversation. Later that evening he’d learnt something of Flying-Officer Shenton’s reputation, and what he’d learnt wasn’t exactly edifying. Some question of a missing wallet that Shenton had inadvertently dragged from his pocket when searching for a packet of cigarettes. There’d been nearly forty pounds in the wallet, but for the sake of the squadron the affair had been hushed up.

And this was the fellow Kitty was going around with—a common pickpocket, a wastrel, a scrounger, a playboy! Good God! It was tragic. No doubt about it—unless he could break up this rotten affair before he left Menton then Kitty, poor kid, was heading blindfold for disaster!