Читать книгу Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 3: Death in a White Tie, Overture to Death, Death at the Bar - Ngaio Marsh, Stella Duffy - Страница 33

Alleyn saw Bridget in her old nursery which had been converted into a very human sitting-room. She made him take a large armchair and jiggled a box of cigarettes under his nose.

‘It’s no good being official and pretending you don’t. I can see you do.’

‘Really!’ exclaimed Alleyn with a look at his fingers which were not stained with nicotine. ‘How?’

‘The outline of your case shows through your coat. You should take up detection, Mr Alleyn, it’s too interesting.’

Alleyn took a cigarette.

‘Got me there,’ he said. ‘Have you yourself any ideas about being a policewoman?’ He fingered the outline that showed through his breast-pocket.

‘I suppose one has to begin at the bottom,’ said Bridget. ‘What’s the first duty of a policewoman?’

‘I don’t know. We are not allowed to hang around the girls in the force.’

‘What a shame!’ said Bridget. ‘I won’t join. I should like you to hang round me, Mr Alleyn.’

Alleyn thought: ‘She’s being just a bit too deliberately the audacious young charmer. What’s up with her? Young Donald, damn his eyes!’

He said: ‘Well, so I must for the moment. I want to talk to you about last night, if I may.’

‘I’m afraid I won’t be much good,’ said Bridget. ‘I hope you find whoever it was. It’s worrying Donna to death, and Bart’s being absolutely lethal over it. Bart’s my stepfather. You’ve met him, haven’t you? All pukka sahib and horsewhips. Is a horsewhip any worse than an ordinary one, do you know?’

‘You knew Lord Robert pretty well, didn’t you?’ asked Alleyn.

‘Yes. He was a great friend of Donna’s. I suppose you think I’m being hard and modern about him. I’d have been sorrier if it had happened longer ago.’

‘That’s rather cryptic,’ said Alleyn. ‘What does it mean?’

‘It doesn’t mean I’m not sorry now. I am. We all loved him and I mind most dreadfully. But I found out I didn’t really know him well. He was harder than you’d ever believe. In a way that makes it worse; having been out of friends with him. I feel I’d give anything to be able to tell him I – I – I – I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry for what?’

‘For not being nice to him last night. I snubbed him.’

‘Why did you snub poor Bunchy?’

‘Because he was beastly to his nephew who happens to be rather a particular friend of mine.’

‘Donald Potter? Yes, I know about that. Don’t you think it’s possible that Donald was rather hard on his uncle?’

‘No, I don’t. Donald’s a man now. He’s got to stand on his own feet and decide things for himself. Bunchy simply wouldn’t understand that. He wanted to choose Donald’s friends, settle his career, and treat him exactly as if he was a schoolboy. Bunchy was just hopelessly Victorian and conventional.’

‘Do you like Captain Withers?’ asked Alleyn suddenly.

‘What?’ Bridget became rather pink. ‘I can’t say he’s exactly my cup of tea. I suppose he is rather ghastly in a way, but he’s a marvellous dancer and he can be quite fun. I can forgive anybody almost anything if they’re amusing, can’t you?’

‘What sort of amusement does Captain Withers provide?’

‘Well, I mean he’s gay. Not exactly gay but he goes everywhere and everybody knows him, so he’s always quite good value. Donald says Wits is a terribly good business man. He’s been frightfully nice about advising Donald and he knows all sorts of people who could be useful.’

‘Useful in what way? Donald is going in for medicine, isn’t he?’

‘Well –’ Bridget hesitated. ‘Yes. That was the original idea, but Wits rather advises him not to. Donald says there’s not much in medicine nowadays and, anyway, a doctor is rather a dreary sort of thing to be.’

‘Is he?’ asked Alleyn. ‘You mean not very smart?’

‘No, of course I don’t mean that,’ said Bridget. She glared at Alleyn. ‘You are a pig,’ she said. ‘I suppose I do. I hate drab, worthy sort of things and, anyway, it’s got nothing to with the case.’

‘I should like to know what career Captain Withers has suggested for Donald.’

‘There’s nothing definite yet. They’ve thought of starting a new night club. Wits has got wonderfully original ideas.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Alleyn. ‘I can quite imagine it. He’s doing quite well with the place at Leatherhead, isn’t he? Why doesn’t he take Donald in there?’

Bridget looked surprised.

‘How did you know about that?’ she asked.

‘You must never say that to policemen,’ said Alleyn. ‘It steals their thunder. As a matter of fact, I have been talking to Withers and the Leatherhead venture cropped up.’

‘Well, I dare say you know more about it than I do,’ said Bridget. ‘Donald says it’s just a small men’s club. More for fun than to make money. They play bridge and things. I don’t think there’s any opening there.’

‘Have you spoken to Donald since his uncle died?’ Bridget clenched her hands and thumped them angrily on her knees.

‘Of course, he rang me up. I’d just got to the telephone when Bart came in looking like a beastly old Cochin China rooster and took the receiver from me. I could have killed him, he was so infuriating! He was all sort of patient and old-world. He sympathized with Donald and then he said: “If you don’t mind old fellow speaking frankly, I think it would be better if you didn’t communicate with my stepdaughter for the time being!” I said: “No! Give it to me,” but he simply turned his back on me and went on: “You understand. I’m afraid I must forbid it,” and put the receiver down. I stormed at him but we were in Donna’s room and she was so upset I had to give in and promise I wouldn’t write or anything. It’s so beastly, beastly unfair. And it’s all because Bart’s such a filthy old snob and is afraid of all the reporters and scandal and everything. Horrid bogus old man. And he’s absolutely filthy to darling Donna. How she ever married him! After daddy, who must have been so gay, and charming, and who loved her so much. How she could! And if Bart thinks I’m going to give Donald up he’s jolly well got another think coming.’

‘Are you engaged?’

‘No. We’re waiting till Donald begins to earn.’

‘And how much must Donald earn before he is marriageable?’

‘You don’t put it very nicely, do you? I suppose you think I’m hard and modern and beastly. I dare say I am, but I can’t bear the idea of everything getting squalid and drab because we have to worry about money. A horrid little flat, second-rate restaurants, whitewood furniture painted to look fresh and nice. Ugh! I’ve seen these sorts of marriages,’ said Bridget looking worldly-wise, ‘and I know.’

‘Donald is his uncle’s heir, you know.’

Bridget was on her feet, her eyes flashing.

‘Don’t you dare,’ she said, ‘don’t you dare to say that because Donald gets the money he had anything to do with this. Don’t you dare.’

‘And don’t you go putting ideas into people’s heads by getting on the defensive before you’ve been given cause,’ said Alleyn very firmly indeed. He put his hand inside his breast-pocket. The slight bulge disappeared and out came Alleyn’s notebook. In the midst of her fury Bridget’s glance fell on it. She looked from the notebook to Alleyn. He raised one eyebrow and screwed his face into an apologetic grimace.

‘The idea was perfectly magnificent,’ he said. ‘It did look like a cigarette-case. The edges of the bulge weren’t quite sharp enough.’

‘Pig!’ said Bridget.

‘Sorry,’ said Alleyn. ‘Now then. Three or four offical questions, if you please. And look here, Miss Bridget, will you let me offer you a very dreary piece of advice? It’s our set-piece for innocent witnesses. Don’t prevaricate. Don’t lose your temper. And don’t try any downright thumping lies, because if you do, as sure as eggs is eggs, you’ll be caught out and it’ll look very nasty indeed for anyone whom you thought you were going to protect. You think Donald is innocent, don’t you?’

‘I know he is innocent.’

‘Right. Then you have nothing in the wide world to fear. Away we go. Did you sit out in the green sitting-room on the top gallery?’

‘Yes. Lots of times.’

‘During the supper hour? Between twelve and one?’

Bridget pondered. As he watched her Alleyn looked back at youth and marvelled at its buoyancy. Bridget’s mind bounced from thoughts of death to thoughts of love. She was sorry Bunchy was murdered, but as long as Donald was not suspected she was also rather thrilled at the idea of police investigation. She was sincerely concerned at her mother’s distress and ready to make sacrifices on Lady Carrados’s behalf. But ready to meet all sorrow, anger or fright was her youth, like a sort of pneumatic armour that received momentary impressions of these things but instantly filled out again. Now, when she came to her mother’s indisposition she spoke soberly, but it was impossible to escape the impression that on the whole she was stimulated rather than unnerved by tragedy.

‘I was up there with Donald until after most people had gone into the supper-room. We both came down together. That was when I returned her bag to Donna. Donna wasn’t well. She’s awfully tired. She nearly fainted when I found her in the supper-room. She said afterwards it was the stuffiness.’

‘Yes?’

‘It was a queer sort of night, hot indoors, but when any of the windows were opened the mist came in and it brought a kind of dank chilliness. Donna asked me to fetch. her smelling-salts. I ran upstairs to the ladies’ cloakroom. Donna’s maid Sophie was there. I got the smelling-salts from Sophie and ran downstairs. I couldn’t find Donna but I ran into Bunchy who said she was all right again. I had booked that dance with Percy Percival. He was a bit drunk and was making a scene about my having cut him out. So I danced with him to keep him quiet.’

‘Did you go up to the green sitting-room again?’

‘Not for some time. Donald and I went up there towards the end of the party.’

‘Did you at any stage of the proceedings leave your cigarette-case on the pie-crust table in that room?’

Bridget stared at him.

‘I haven’t got a cigarette-case; I don’t smoke. Is there something about a cigarette-case in the green sitting-room?’

‘There may be. Do you know if anybody overheard Bunchy telephone from that room at about one o’clock?’

‘I haven’t heard of it,’ said Bridget. He saw that her curiosity was aroused. ‘Have you asked Miss Harris?’ she said. ‘She was on the top landing a good deal last night. She’s somewhere in the house now.’

‘I’ll have a word with her. There’s just one other point. Lord Robert was with your mother when you returned her bag, wasn’t he? He was there when she felt faint?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘Did he seem upset in any way?’

‘He seemed very concerned about Donna but that was all. Sir Daniel – Donna’s doctor – came up. Bunchy opened a window. They all seemed to want me out of the way. Donna asked for her smelling-salts, so I went and got them. That’s all. What about a cigarette-case? Do tell me.’

‘It’s gold with a medallion sunk in the lid and surrounded by brilliants. Do you know it?’

‘It sounds horribly grand. No, I don’t think I do.’

Alleyn got up.

‘That’s all, then,’ he said. Thank you so much, Miss Bridget. Good-bye.’ He had got as far as the door before she stopped him.

‘Mr Alleyn!’

‘Yes?’

She was standing very erect in the middle of the room, her chin up and a lock of hair falling across her forehead.

‘You seem to be very interested in the fact that my mother was not well last night. Why?’

‘Lord Robert was with her at the time –’ Alleyn began.

‘You seem equally interested in the fact that I returned my mother’s bag to her. Why? Neither of these incidents had anything to do with Bunchy Gospell. My mother’s not well and I won’t have her worried.’

‘Quite right,’ said Alleyn. ‘I won’t either if I can help it.’

She seemed to accept that, but he could see that she had something else to say. Her young, beautifully made-up face in its frame of careful curls had a frightened look.

‘I want you to tell me,’ said Bridget, ‘if you suspect Donald of anything.’

‘It is much too soon for us to form any definite suspicion of anybody,’ Alleyn said. ‘You shouldn’t attach too much significance to any one question in police interrogations. Many of our questions are nothing but routine. As Lord Robert’s heir – no, don’t storm at me again, you asked me and I tell you – as Lord Robert’s heir Donald is bound to come in for his share of questions. If you are worrying about him, and I see you are, may I give you a tip? Encourage him to return to medicine. If he starts running night clubs the chances are that sooner or later he will fall into our clutches. And then what?’

‘Of course,’ said Bridget thoughtfully, ‘it’ll be different now. We could get married quite soon, even if he was at a hospital or something all day. He will have some money.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Alleyn, ‘yes.’

‘I mean I don’t want to be heartless,’ continued Bridget looking at him quite frankly, ‘but naturally one can’t help thinking of that. We’re terribly, terribly sorry about Bunchy. We couldn’t be sorrier. But he wasn’t young like us.’

Into Alleyn’s mind came suddenly the memory of a thinning head, leant sideways, of fat hands, of small feet turned inwards.

‘No,’ he said, ‘he wasn’t young like you.’

‘I think he was stupid and tiresome over Donald,’ Bridget went on in a high voice, ‘and I’m not going to pretend I don’t, although I am sorry I wasn’t friends with him last night. But all the same I don’t believe he’d have minded us thinking about the difference the money would make. I believe he would have understood that.’

‘I’m sure he would have understood.’

‘Well then, don’t look as if you’re thinking I’m hard and beastly.’

‘I don’t think you’re beastly and I don’t believe you are really very hard.’

‘Thank you for nothing,’ said Bridget and added immediately: ‘Oh, damn, I’m sorry.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Alleyn. ‘Good-bye.’

‘Yes, but –’

‘Well?’

‘Nothing. Only, you make me feel shabby and it’s not fair. If there was anything I could do for Bunchy I’d do it. So would Donald, of course. But he’s dead. You can’t do anything for dead people.’

‘If they have been murdered you can try to catch the man that killed them.’

‘“An eye for an eye.” It doesn’t do them any good. It’s only savagery.’

‘Let the murderer asphyxiate someone else if it’s going to suit his book,’ said Alleyn. ‘Is that the idea?’

‘If there was any real thing we could do –’

‘How about Donald doing what his uncle wanted so much? Taking his medical? That is,’ said Alleyn quickly, ‘unless he really has got a genuine ambition in another direction. Not by way of Captain Withers’s night clubs.’

‘I’ve just said he might be a doctor, now, haven’t I?’

‘Yes,’ said Alleyn, ‘you have. So we’re talking in circles.’ His hand was on the door-knob.

‘I should have thought,’ said Bridget, ‘that as a detective you would have wanted to make me talk.’

Alleyn laughed outright.

‘You little egoist,’ he said, ‘I’ve listened to you for the last ten minutes and all you want to talk about is yourself and your young man. Quite right too, but not the policeman’s cup of tea. You take care of your mother who needs you rather badly just now, encourage your young man to renew his studies and, if you can, wean him from Withers. Good-bye, now, I’m off.’