Читать книгу Death on the Riviera - Ernest Elmore - Страница 7

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It was at this stage in Dilys’ reflections that Tony’s crimson Vedette (a birthday present from Nesta) droned to a standstill in the garage-yard directly behind the villa. There stepped out of it a broad-shouldered, fair-haired young man, dressed in a pale blue singlet and butcher-blue shorts. At a casual glance, Tony Shenton had the appearance of one of those clean-living, clean-limbed young Englishmen who decorate the pages of women’s magazines or preen themselves in muscular poses in advertisements for men’s underwear. A more prolonged scrutiny would have given the lie to this illusion. Whatever Tony’s constitution might have been at twenty-one, it was now very definitely on the down-grade. Good-living, hard drinking, late nights and lack of exercise had scribbled their signatures on his sun-tanned limbs and torso. His features, in repose, now clearly displayed the ravages of his dissipation. Yet Tony unquestionably had a way with him. When he exerted himself he could be both knowledgeable and amusing. His technique with wealthy, middle-aged women was a revelation. With Nesta Hedderwick it was faultless. No matter that his charm was synthetic, where Nesta was concerned it had rewarded him with a thumping big dividend.

By the time he’d garaged the car and strolled round on to the terrace Kitty was alone at the breakfast-table. On seeing him she glanced up and flashed him a little smile.

“Oh hullo, darling. Had a nice run?”

“Bang on, thanks.”

“Had your breakfast?”

“No—I’m famished.” He cast a predatory glance over the table. “Good lord! Two rolls, one small pat of butter and a small dish of marmalade. Just because Nesta’s on a diet there’s no reason why the rest of us should starve. What’s the coffee like?”

“Lukewarm, darling.”

“O.K. We’ll look into this.” He crossed to a bell-push by the french-windows, then crossed over and dropped with a sigh of exasperation into Nesta’s chaise-longue. Patting the arm of the chair he added in a furry voice: “You don’t look particularly matey on the other side of the table, sweetheart. Coming over?”

“I’m not so sure that I am,” said Kitty slowly.

Tony jerked himself upright and stared at her in surprise.

“Hullo. What’s biting you? Somebody been poisoning your sweet mind against me?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then what the devil’s wrong?”

“Tony?”

“Well?”

“Where did you sneak off to this morning? I think you might be honest with me. After all I—”

Lisette, the parlour-maid, appeared in the french-windows. Tony swung round with a whoop of satisfaction.

“Look here, Lisette, be an angel and make me a fresh pot of coffee, will you? This stuff’s undrinkable. And what about a couple of fried eggs and some thin crisp toast? You know how I like it. Can do, chérie?”

“But of course, M’sieur.”

“Splendid!”

The moment the girl had withdrawn, Kitty observed:

“Really, Tony, anybody would think you owned the place by the way you order the staff around. I wonder Nesta puts up with it.”

Tony chuckled.

“Miraculous, isn’t it? All done by kindness. But don’t let’s drag Nesta into this. You were just tearing a strip off me. You may as well finish the process.”

“It’s these early morning car drives—what’s the big idea, darling?”

“Fishing,” said Tony tersely.

“I don’t believe it!”

“O.K. then—don’t.”

“You’re sure... you’re quite sure it isn’t another woman?”

“Good God! Before breakfast? Don’t be crazy.”

“Then why didn’t you ask me to string along with you?”

“Because I never suspected you’d be interested in fishing. Women are usually bored stiff with this kind of thing.”

“Quite. But I’m not that sort of woman. So the next time you sneak out all bright and early, darling, you’ll take me with you. Promise?”

“Sorry, angel. Nothing doing.”

“But, Tony—”

“Oh for crying aloud!” exclaimed Tony with a sudden flash of annoyance. “Don’t let’s natter about it. When a bloke goes fishing he likes to concentrate. And how the hell do you expect me to concentrate when you’re around? Shall we leave it at that and keep the party sweet?”

“Oh very well, if that’s the line you’re going to take,” said Kitty in surly tones. “I’m sorry if I’m such a millstone round your neck. I didn’t realize...”

“Oh forget it! You’re not. Now why not be sensible and give me a kiss?”

“I might,” said Kitty, melting a little.

“There’s no ‘might’ about it,” concluded Tony forcefully. “You will!”