Читать книгу Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 8: Death at the Dolphin, Hand in Glove, Dead Water - Ngaio Marsh, Stella Duffy - Страница 17

‘What I can’t see,’ Desirée said, turning her enormous lack-lustre eyes upon her former husband, ‘is why you’ve got yourself into such a state. Poor Mr Copper’s been told that you and P.P. and Connie won’t guarantee the sale. All he’s got to do is take the car away from them.’

‘If they return it,’ Mr Cartell amended.

‘I hope, Harold darling, you’re not suggesting that they’ll make a break for Epping Forest and go native on Magnums’ smoked salmon. That really would be too tiresome. But I’m sure they won’t. They’re much too anxious to worm their way into my party.’

‘You can’t,’ Mr Cartell said in a hurry, ‘possibly allow that, of course.’

‘So everybody keeps telling me.’

‘My dear Desirée –’

‘Harold, I want to tackle you about Andrew.’

Mr Cartell gave her one sharp glance and froze. ‘Indeed,’ he said.

‘He tells me you won’t let him have his money.’

‘He will assume control of his inheritance at the appointed time, which is on the sixth of November next.’

‘He did explain, didn’t he, why he needs it now? About the Grantham Gallery being for sale and wanting to buy it?’

‘He did. He also explained that he wishes to leave the Brigade in order to manage the gallery.’

‘And go on with his own painting.’

‘Precisely. I cannot agree to anticipating his inheritance for these purposes.’

‘He’s gone into it very carefully and he’s not a baby or a fool. He’s twenty-four and extremely level-headed.’

‘In this matter, I cannot agree with you.’

‘Bimbo’s been into it, too. He’s prepared to put up some of the cash and go in as a partner.’

‘Indeed. I am surprised to learn he is in a position to do so.’

She actually changed colour at this. There was a short silence and then she said: ‘Harold, I ask you very seriously to let Andrew have his inheritance.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You may remember,’ she said, with no change of manner, ‘that when I do fight, it’s no holds barred.’

‘In common with most –’

‘Don’t say “with most of my delightful sex”, Harold.’

‘One can always omit the adjective,’ said Mr Cartell.

‘Ah, well,’ Desirée said pleasantly and stood up. ‘I can see there’s no future in sweet reasonableness. Are you enjoying life in P.P.’s stately cottage?’

Mr Cartell also rose. ‘It’s a satisfactory arrangement,’ he said stiffly, ‘for me: I trust for him.’

‘He won’t enjoy the Moppett-Leonard crise, will he? Poor P.P., such a darling as he is and such a God-almighty snob. Does he know?’

‘Know what?’ Mr Cartell asked unguardedly.

‘About your niece and her burglar boyfriend?’

Mr Cartell turned scarlet and closed his eyes. ‘She is NOT,’ he said in the trembling voice of extreme exasperation, ‘my niece.’

‘How do you know? I’ve always thought Connie might have popped her away to simmer and then adopted her back, as you might say.’

‘That is a preposterous and possibly an actionable statement, Desirée. The girl – Mary Ralston – came from an extremely reputable adoption centre.’

‘Connie might have put her there.’

‘If you will forgive me, I’ll have a word with Raikes. I regret very much that I have troubled you.’

‘P.P. is dining with us. He and I are going to have a cosy old chum’s gossip before my treasure-hunt party arrives.’

Mr Cartell said: ‘I am not susceptible to blackmail, Desirée. I shall not reconsider my decision about Andrew.’

‘Look,’ Desirée said. ‘I fancy you know me well enough to realize that I’m not a sentimental woman.’

‘That,’ said Mr Cartell, ‘I fully concede. A woman who gives a large party on the day her brother’s death is announced –’

‘My dear Hal, you know you looked upon Ormsbury as a social scourge and so did I. By and large, I’m not madly fond of other people. But I am fond of Andrew. He’s my son and I like him very much indeed. You watch out for yourself, Harold. I’m on the warpath.’

A motor horn sounded distantly. They both turned to the windows.

‘And here,’ Desirée said, ‘are your friends. I expect you want to go and meet them. Goodbye.’

When Mr Cartell had left her, she moved into the French window and, unlike Moppett, very openly watched the scene outside.

The Scorpion came up the drive at a great pace, but checked abruptly. Then it moved on at a more decorous speed and pulled up. Leonard and Moppett got out simultaneously. Sergeant Raikes advanced and so did they, all smiles and readiness, but with the faintest suggestion of self-consciousness, Desirée considered, in their joints. ‘It’s people’s elbows,’ she reflected, ‘that give them away.’

They approached the group of three. Moppett, with girlish insouciance, linked her arm through Mr Cartell’s causing him to become rigid with distaste. ‘First blood to Moppett,’ thought Desirée with relish.

Leonard listened to Sergeant Raikes with an expression that progressed from bonhomie through concern towards righteous astonishment. He bowed ironically and indicated the Scorpion. Catching sight of Desirée, he shook his head slowly from side to side as if inviting her to share his bewilderment. He then removed two large packages from the Scorpion.

Desirée opened the French window and strolled down the steps towards them. Mr Cartell furiously disengaged himself from Moppett.

‘I think,’ he said, ‘that we should get back, Raikes. If Copper drives the other car, you, I suppose –’

Sergeant Raikes glanced at Moppett and muttered something.

‘Don’t let us keep you,’ Leonard said quickly and with excessive politeness. ‘Please.’

They touched their hats to Desirée, mounted their respective cars and drove away, inexplicably at a disadvantage.

‘Well!’ Desirée asked cheerfully, ‘did you find my tiresome food?’

Moppett and Leonard, all smiles, began to chatter and give way to each other.

Finally Moppett said: ‘Dear Lady Bantling – yes. We’ve got it all, but, as you see, we ran into a muddle of sorts. Mr Copper’s made a nonsense about the Scorpion and we’ve missed buying it.’

‘Inefficient,’ Leonard said. ‘It appears somebody else had first refusal.’

‘How very disappointing.’

‘Isn’t it!’ Moppett agreed. ‘Too sickening.’ She gave a little scream and put her hand to her mouth. ‘Leonard!’ she cried. ‘Fools that we are!’

‘What, darling?’

‘We ought to have gone back with them. Look at us! Now, what do we do?’

Leonard allowed the slightest possible gap to occur before he said: ‘I’m afraid Mr George Copper will have to make a return trip in my car. Too bad!’

‘What will you think of us?’ Moppett asked Desirée.

‘Oh,’ she said lightly, ‘the worst,’ and they laughed with possibly a shade less conviction.

‘At least,’ Moppett said, ‘we can bring the food in, can’t we, and if we might ring up for some sort of transport.’

Bimbo came out of the house and fetched up short when he saw them. Desirée grinned at him.

‘Why not stay?’ she said very distinctly to Moppett. ‘After fetching all our food, the least we can do is to ask you to eat it. Do stay.’