A Dangerous Fortune (46 page)

Hugh had written to the Hotel Russe but got no reply. He had been worried about his friend, but there was no more he could do.

He opened the letter anxiously. It came from a hospital,
asking Hugh to visit. The letter finished: “Whatever you do,
tell no one where I am
.”

What had happened? Tonio had been in perfect health two months ago. And why was he in a public hospital? Hugh was dismayed. Only the poor went to hospitals, which were grim, unsanitary places: anyone who could afford it had doctors and nurses come to the house, even for operations.

Mystified and concerned, Hugh went straight to the hospital. He found Tonio in a dark, bare ward of thirty close-packed beds. His ginger hair had been shaved and his face and head were scarred. “Dear God!” Hugh said. “Have you been run over?”

“Beaten up,” said Tonio.

“What happened?”

“I was attacked in the street outside the Hotel Russe a couple of months ago.”

“You were robbed, I suppose.”

“Yes.”

“You’re a mess!”

“It’s not quite as bad as it looks. I had a broken finger and a cracked ankle, but otherwise it was only cuts and bruises—although rather a lot of them. However, I’m almost better now.”

“You should have contacted me before. We must get you out of here. I’ll send my doctor to you, and arrange a nurse—”

“No, thanks, old boy. I appreciate your generosity. But money isn’t the only reason I stayed here. It’s also safer. Other than you, only one person knows where I am: a trusted colleague who brings me beefsteak pies and brandy and messages from Cordova. I hope you didn’t tell anyone you were coming.”

“Not even my wife,” Hugh said.

“Good.”

Tonio’s old recklessness seemed to have vanished, Hugh thought; in fact he was going to the other extreme.
“But you can’t stay in hospital for the rest of your life to hide from street ruffians.”

“The people who attacked me were not just thieves, Pilaster.”

Hugh took off his hat and sat on the edge of the bed. He tried to ignore the intermittent groaning of the man in the next bed. “Tell me what happened,” he said.

“It wasn’t a routine theft. My key was taken and the thieves used it to get into my room. Nothing of value was stolen but all the papers pertaining to my article for
The Times
were taken, including the affidavits signed by the witnesses.”

Hugh was horrified. It chilled his heart to think that the immaculately respectable transactions taking place in the hushed halls of Pilasters should have any link with violent crime in the streets and the battered face in front of him. “It almost sounds as if the bank is under suspicion!”

“Not the bank,” Tonio said. “Pilasters is a powerful institution, but I don’t believe it could organize murders in Cordova.”

“Murders?” This was getting worse and worse. “Who has been murdered?”

“All the witnesses whose names and addresses were on the affidavits that were stolen from my hotel room.”

“I can hardly believe it.”

“I’m lucky to be alive myself. They would have killed me, I think, were it not that murders are investigated more thoroughly here in London than they are back at home, and they were afraid of the fuss.”

Hugh was still dazed and disgusted by the revelation that people had been murdered because of a bond issue by Pilasters Bank. “But who is behind all this?”

“Micky Miranda.”

Hugh shook his head incredulously. “I’m not fond of Micky, as you know, but I can’t believe he would do this.”

“The Santamaria railroad is vital to him. It will make his family the second most powerful in the land.”

“I realize that, and I don’t doubt that Micky would bend a lot of rules to achieve his aims. But he’s not a killer.”

“Yes, he is,” Tonio said.

“Come on.”

“I know it for sure. I haven’t always acted as if I knew—in fact I’ve been a damn fool about Miranda. But that’s because he has a devilish charm. For a while he made me think he was my friend. The truth is that he’s evil through and through and I’ve known it since school.”

“How could you?”

Tonio shifted in the bed. “I know what really happened thirteen years ago, the afternoon Peter Middleton drowned in the swimming hole at Bishop’s Wood.”

Hugh was electrified. He had been wondering about this for years. Peter Middleton had been a strong swimmer: it was most unlikely that he had died by accident. Hugh had long been convinced that there had been some kind of foul play. Perhaps at last he was going to learn the truth. “Go on, man,” he said. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

Tonio hesitated. “Could you give me a little wine?” he said. There was a bottle of Madeira on the floor beside the bed. Hugh poured some into a glass. While Tonio sipped it, Hugh recalled the heat of that day, the stillness of the air in Bishop’s Wood, the scarred rock walls of the swimming hole, and the cold, cold water.

“The coroner was told that Peter was in difficulty in the pool. He was never told that Edward was ducking him repeatedly.”

“I knew that much,” Hugh interrupted. “I had a letter from Hump Cammel in the Cape Colony. He was watching from the far side of the pool. But he didn’t stay to see the end.”

“That’s right. You escaped and Hump ran away. That left me, Peter, Edward and Micky.”

“What happened after I left?” Hugh said impatiently.

“I got out and threw a stone at Edward. It was a lucky shot: it hit him square in the middle of the forehead, and drew blood. It caused him to leave off tormenting Peter and come after me. I scrambled up the side of the quarry, trying to get away from him.”

“Edward was never light on his feet, even then,” Hugh observed.

“That’s right. I got well ahead of him, then halfway up I looked back. Micky was continuing to bully Peter. Peter had swum to the side and was trying to get out of the water, but Micky kept pushing his head under. I only glanced at them for a moment, but I could see very clearly what was going on. Then I continued to climb.”

He took another sip of the wine. “When I got to the rim of the quarry I looked back again. Edward was still coming after me but he was a long way behind and I had time to catch my breath.” Tonio paused, and an expression of revulsion crossed his scarred face. “By this time Micky was in the water with Peter. What I saw—perfectly clearly, and I can see it in my memory now as if it were yesterday—was Micky holding Peter under the water. Peter was thrashing about, but Micky had Peter’s head under his arm and Peter couldn’t break the hold. Micky was drowning him. There is absolutely no doubt about it. It was straightforward murder.”

“Dear God,” Hugh breathed.

Tonio nodded. “It makes me feel ill to think of it even now. I stared at them for I don’t know how long. Edward almost caught me. Peter had stopped thrashing about, and was just struggling feebly, when Edward reached the rim of the quarry and I had to run away.”

“So that’s how Peter died.” Hugh was stunned and horrified.

“Edward followed me through the woods a little way, but he was puffed out and I shook him off. Then I found you.”

Hugh remembered the thirteen-year-old Tonio wandering through Bishop’s Wood, naked, wet, carrying his clothes and sobbing. The memory brought back the shock and pain he had suffered later that same day, when he learned that his father was dead. “But why did you never tell anyone what you had seen?”

“I was afraid of Micky—afraid he’d do to me what he did to Peter. I’m still afraid of Micky—look at me now! You should be afraid of him too.”

“I am, don’t worry.” Hugh was thoughtful. “You know, I don’t believe Edward and his mother know the truth about this.”

“What makes you say so?”

“They had no reason to cover up for Micky.”

Tonio looked dubious. “Edward might have, out of friendship.”

“Perhaps—although I doubt he could have kept the secret more than a day or two. Anyway, Augusta knew that the story they told, about Edward trying to rescue Peter, was a lie.”

“How did she know that?”

“My mother told her, and I told my mother. Which means that Augusta was involved in covering up the truth. Now, I can believe that Augusta would tell any amount of lies for the sake of her son—but not for Micky. In those days she didn’t even know him.”

“So what do you think happened?”

Hugh frowned. “Imagine this. Edward gives up chasing you and goes back to the swimming hole. He finds Micky dragging Peter’s body out of the water. As Edward arrives, Micky says: ‘You fool, you’ve killed him!’ Remember, Edward hasn’t seen Micky holding Peter’s head under. Micky pretends that Peter was so exhausted by Edward’s ducking that he could swim no longer and he
just drowned. ‘What am I going to do?’ says Edward. Micky says: ‘Don’t worry. We’ll say it was an accident. In fact, we’ll say you jumped in and tried to rescue him.’ Micky thereby covers up his own crime and earns the undying gratitude of both Edward and Augusta. Does that make sense?”

Tonio nodded. “By God, I think you’re right.”

“We must go to the police,” Hugh said angrily.

“To what purpose?”

“You’re witness to a murder. The fact that it happened thirteen years ago makes no difference. Micky must be brought to book.”

“You’re forgetting something. Micky has diplomatic immunity.”

Hugh had not thought of that. As the Cordovan Minister, Micky could not be put on trial in Britain. “He could still be disgraced and sent home.”

Tonio shook his head. “I’m the only witness. Micky and Edward will both tell a different story. And it’s well known that Micky’s family and mine are sworn enemies back home. If it had happened yesterday we’d have trouble convincing anyone.” Tonio paused. “But you might want to tell Edward that he’s not a murderer.”

“I don’t think he’d believe me. He’d suspect me of trying to stir up trouble between him and Micky. There is one person I must tell, though.”

“Who?”

“David Middleton.”

“Why?”

“I think he’s entitled to know how his brother died,” Hugh said. “He questioned me about it at the duchess of Tenbigh’s ball. He was rather rude, in fact. But I said that if I knew the truth I would be honor-bound to tell him. I’ll go and see him today.”

“Do you think he’ll go to the police?”

“I assume he’ll see that it would be pointless, as you and I have realized.” Suddenly he felt oppressed by the
drab hospital ward and the grim talk of past murder. “I’d better go to work.” He stood up. “I’m going to be made a partner in the bank.”

“Congratulations! I’m sure you deserve it.” Tonio suddenly looked hopeful. “Will you be able to stop the Santamaria railroad?”

Hugh shook his head. “I’m sorry, Tonio. Much as I dislike the project, I can’t do anything about it now. Edward has made a deal with Greenbournes Bank to float the bonds jointly. The partners of both banks have approved the issue and contracts are being drawn up. I’m afraid we’ve lost that battle.”

“Damn.” Tonio was crestfallen.

“Your family will have to find other ways to oppose the Mirandas.”

“I fear they may be unstoppable.”

“I’m sorry,” Hugh repeated. A new thought struck him and he frowned in puzzlement. “You know, you’ve solved a mystery for me. I couldn’t understand how Peter drowned when he was such a good swimmer. But your answer is an even greater mystery.”

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

“Think about it. Peter was innocently swimming; Edward ducked him, just out of general nastiness; we all ran away; Edward gave chase—and then Micky cold-bloodedly killed Peter.
It has nothing to do with what went before
. Why did it happen? What had Peter done?”

“I see what you mean. Yes, it’s puzzled me for years.”

“Micky Miranda murdered Peter Middleton … but why?”

 CHAPTER FIVE

JULY  

1

AUGUSTA WAS LIKE A HEN
that had laid an egg on the day Joseph’s peerage was announced. Micky went to the house at teatime as usual and found the drawing room crowded with people congratulating her on becoming Countess Whitehaven. Her butler Hastead was wearing a smug smile and saying “my lady” and “your ladyship” at every opportunity.

She was amazing, Micky thought as he watched everyone buzzing around her like the bees in the sunny garden outside the open windows. She had planned her campaign like a general. At one point there had been a rumor that Ben Greenbourne was to get the peerage, but that had been killed by an eruption of anti-Jewish sentiment in the press. Augusta was not admitting, even to Micky, that she had been behind the press coverage, but he was sure of it. In some ways she reminded him of his father: Papa had the same remorseless determination. But Augusta was cleverer. Micky’s admiration for her had grown as the years went by.

The only person who had ever defeated her ingenuity was Hugh Pilaster. It was astonishing how difficult he was to crush. Like a persistent garden weed, he could be stamped on time and time again and he would always grow back straighter and stronger than ever.

Happily, Hugh had been unable to stop the Santamaria
railroad. Micky and Edward had proved too strong for Hugh and Tonio. “By the way,” Micky said to Edward over the teacups, “when are you going to sign the contract with Greenbournes?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good!” Micky would be relieved when the deal was finally sewn up. It had dragged on for half a year, and Papa was now sending angry cables twice a week asking irascibly if he would ever get the money.

That evening Edward and Micky dined at the Cowes Club. Throughout the meal Edward was interrupted every few minutes by people congratulating him. One day he would inherit the title, of course. Micky was pleased. His association with Edward and the Pilasters had been a key factor in everything he had achieved, and greater prestige for the Pilasters would mean more power for Micky.

After dinner they moved to the smoking room. They were among the earliest diners and for a while they had the room to themselves. “I have come to the conclusion that Englishmen are terrified of their wives,” said Micky as they lit their cigars. “It is the only possible explanation for the phenomenon of the London club.”