Barbara Cleverly (39 page)

‘Look at it! It’s been tapping to that jazz rhythm for some time now. I’ve never seen a syncopating nun before, have you?’

‘See what you mean! Come on then, Maisie – into battle! Let’s go and renew an acquaintance!’

They strolled arm in arm along the deck and paused in front of the two grey figures. To the gentle click of rosary beads a French voice was whispering through the office for the day. As Joe turned to look at them and opened his mouth to speak they both looked up, calm and friendly.

‘Dieu soit loué!’ said the smaller of the two easily. ‘Mais c’est le Commandant Sandilands et Madame Freemantle!’ She leaned close and whispered in English, ‘I had wondered when you’d condescend to recognize us! Don’t tell me! You’re running away together! Oh, how romantic that is! Don’t worry! Your secret’s safe with us!’

‘Wish I could say the same, Sister Alice,’ said Joe affably. ‘And how do you do, Marie-Jeanne.’

‘We were just saying – it’s getting very crowded up here and rather too hot,’ said Alice, seemingly undismayed. ‘Why don’t we go below? The Richelieu lounge perhaps will not be so full of people. I’m sure there are things you and Mrs Freemantle would like to confide in private.’

‘We were rather more expecting to put you two in the confessional,’ said Joe. ‘But – lead on, will you? We’ll follow. Not anticipating that we’ll lose track of you out here in the middle of the ocean.’

They settled down on buttoned leather seats around a small table screened by the fronds of potted palms from the rest of the room. As a steward approached Alice immediately opened the conversation. ‘First things first,’ she said. ‘Get us some drinks, will you? Campari-soda for me, Perrier water for Marie-Jeanne. And you? Port and lemon for the old artiste, perhaps? Whisky-soda for the copper? Put it on my bill. Why not? And the second thing – which you should not forget, Joe – is that this is a French ship. But, of course, I hardly need to remind you of that! I can see that for you and Mrs Freemantle the choice would ensure discretion. Imagine the wagging tongues on a P&O ship! For us also the choice is significant. The captain is in command here, and though you may find it hard to believe, Scotland Yard has no authority whatsoever over this little part of the French Republic. Marie-Jeanne and I have papers, perfectly valid papers, which would satisfy the most pernickety juge d’instruction that we are who we say we are – simply two sisters of the Carmelite order on our way from India to

well, let’s say somewhere west of Suez. Give us any trouble whatsoever and I won’t hesitate to complain of interference to the captain.’

Joe had no doubt of this and he had no doubt that any Frenchman would hasten to take the part of a religieuse, especially a pretty one, against an Englishman if she accused him of harassment.

‘I acknowledge the difficulties, Alice, and don’t worry, we’ll stay as far away from you as is possible on a ship this size until we reach Marseilles. And then, while we go on north to London I expect you and your friend will – let me guess now – transfer to a transatlantic liner and on to New York? New Orleans?’

A flash of humour behind the spectacles told him his guess was right. He found it very disconcerting to be talking to Alice, whom he had known in some quite intimate situations, now hidden from him in the folds of headdress and the concealing habit. He found the lack of thick copper-coloured hair confusing and wondered briefly if she’d cut it off the better to enter into the spirit of the playacting. Marie-Jeanne on the other hand looked as though she’d been born to play this role, her quiet air of puzzled sanctity convincing and disconcerting.

‘I was about to ask how you had managed to slip out of Simla but I think I can work that out,’ Joe said. ‘The passenger lists from the station

what was it? – “

four French nuns, three box-wallahs, two brigadiers

” Sir George wasn’t joking when he read out the list? You were the French nuns?’

‘Well, I was one of them, Joe. The other three were girls from Marie-Jeanne’s staff. My only worry was that they were enjoying the performance so much their over-acting would give us away but all was well. ICTC had supplied habits to the convent and we still had some in stock. Your men were looking for a single Englishwoman. They didn’t look twice at a flight of French nuns! There are always some going or coming through the station anyway – it was hardly an unusual sight.’

‘And the swag, Alice? The loot? The ill-gotten gains? Stashed away in your luggage in hollowed-out bibles?’

‘Something like that,’ she smiled. ‘Trade secret, Joe! Don’t ask!’

‘How did you manage to get back into Simla?’ His mind going back to that dark night, he added, ‘We all thought you must be dead. I was horrified for you.’

‘Thank you, Joe. I appreciate that. I decided to play safe and return the way I’d come. It wasn’t easy in the dark, in fact it was awful! I didn’t stop – just slogged away on that good horse at a slow pace. The worst part was coming across your rescue party, flares and all, clattering along in the dark. Not that they were likely to catch sight of me – I saw them coming a mile off – but you’ll never know how tempting it was to rush forward and ask their help. So many of them. So solid. So cheerful. It was agony to hear their silly, familiar voices getting further and further away and the blackness and silence rolling in again. Leaving me shivering and alone.’ Her voice wavered.

Maisie groaned and kicked Joe’s ankle.

‘All’s well that ends well,’ said Joe brightly, ‘and it certainly seems to have ended well for you, Alice. Tell us where you holed up in Simla. You disappeared without trace. And some very clever fellows were watching for you: Charlie’s regulars, George’s irregulars. Quite a decent reward discreetly on offer as well.’

‘I was in the convent of course. The Mother Superior was very understanding when I explained that I was being pursued, misrepresented and threatened. I have been a very generous patron of the order, you understand, Joe. She repaid a portion of my kindness. And glad to do so. I still have friends, you may be surprised to hear.’

‘And then Mademoiselle Pitiot joined you later, travelling openly to Bombay to keep a long-arranged business appointment.’ He turned his attention to Marie-Jeanne. ‘With another glove salesman, I wonder? The kind who disappears before he can confirm your alibi? Like the gentleman you had lunch with on the day of Korsovsky’s death?’

‘No,’ she said placidly, ‘not a glove salesman. The recent purchaser and new owner of Belle Epoque. The sale was arranged some while ago. No mystery there!’ Marie-Jeanne went on absently telling the beads of her rosary.

‘Not impossible, I suppose, to locate your guest,’ Joe went on ruminatively. ‘But to be honest I didn’t even try. I did, however, talk with the maître d’hôtel of the Grand. I checked their bookings and, of course, there it was: a table for two for lunch at one o’clock in the name of Mademoiselle Pitiot. The maître d’hôtel, who knows you well, remembers you arriving and showing you to table number ten which you had particularly requested. He reports that the lunch party didn’t break up until after half-past two as would have been normal. The murder occurred several miles away over rough country at precisely two forty-five.’

Marie-Jeanne continued to fix him with a melting look of innocence. ‘This is what I told you, Commander. I commend you on your thoroughness because it establishes that what I told you was the truth.’

‘Thorough? Yes, Marie-Jeanne, I was thorough. Belatedly thorough. Before I left Simla I returned to the Grand. I insisted on having table ten pointed out to me and on interviewing the waiter who had personally served you throughout the meal.’

‘Oh, yes?’ said Marie-Jeanne without curiosity.

‘Table ten is right at the back of the dining room, screened from the rest of the diners by potted plants – a sort of little kala-juggah all on its own and conveniently close to the rear door. Your guest must have been a bit puzzled when you left the lunch table – but only a bit. Filled with anticipation of the best the house had to offer it may have been a moment or two before he realized that the pretty girl who returned and sat down opposite him was no longer the hard-headed bargainer but something younger and more pliable. One of your assistants? Identically dressed? Why should he complain? The waiter spoke very admiringly of her. It was discreetly done according to him and did not surprise him. It’s not unusual for him to preside over clandestine meetings of an amatory nature and his estimation that this was what was taking place was reinforced by the large tip he was given at the end of the meal. The lunch was a great success apparently and the pair rolled away through the back door a good deal the worse for copious amounts of food and two bottles of burgundy. The time was well past half-past two, nearer three, he says, and if you had indeed been present, Marie-Jeanne, there would have been no time to allow you to get out to Tara Devi in time to lie in wait and shoot Korsovsky. But you weren’t there, were you? You’d ridden a distance of five miles through the hills by then, and were setting up your ambush. Puffing halfheartedly at a couple of Black Cat cigarettes and firing two dumdum bullets into my friend’s heart.’

After a long silence Alice found her voice. ‘None of this matters any longer, Joe,’ she said. ‘Don’t you see? No one is going to want to hear such things – not any more – not even George Jardine. Why don’t we just acknowledge that you’re a very clever chap? I’m sure that’s what you want to hear. And why don’t we leave it at that?’

She made to rise. She seemed suddenly uneasy, eager to end the conversation.

‘Well, I want to hear it!’ Maisie broke in angrily. ‘The whole world ought to hear it! And it’s a crying shame if there’s no way two conniving, murdering creatures can be brought to justice because they’ve got the means and the nous to get themselves away over frontiers and over seas! Joe, are you just going to let them get away with it? I hate the thought that these two can just set up somewhere else and use the money they’ve got their hands on! If they’d stolen a gold watch you’d be down on them like a ton of bricks!’ she finished acidly.

‘I have to. There’s no way they can be pursued as things stand at the moment. India to the USA – that’s too far for British justice to stretch, I’m afraid.’

They were both looking at him with sly triumph. A sudden surge of anger and distress for Korsovsky shook him.

‘But Feodor was well known and much loved in America,’ he said. ‘It mightn’t be difficult to get the attention of those who would want to bring his killers to justice. Why the hell did you have to kill him, Alice? You could have just left Simla – you could have avoided him.’

Alice seemed not to know how to reply and it was Marie-Jeanne who answered. Laying a protective hand over Alice’s she said, ‘Alice told me last November that this man was to come to Simla. I don’t know how much of Alice’s history you know, Commander? Perhaps you are not aware that this Russian, this glamorous, much-fęted figure was, like most Russians as far as I can tell, a smooth, sentimental, self-serving

’ She paused and finally brought out the word explosively, ‘

shit! He met Alice when she was visiting the south of France under the guardianship of a family friend and managed to seduce her. And she a schoolgirl at the time. He promised marriage of course. He didn’t reveal that he was already married to a Russian lady who was living in New York. At the first sniff of a European war he went back there and wrote a letter to Alice telling her all. I have seen it. I know that this is true.’

‘That’s enough, Marie-Jeanne. He knows all this. I told him. He doesn’t need to know any more. We must go now.’

Alice’s voice was curt and Joe was again aware of a lapse of confidence. The awareness was followed by the sudden gratification which accompanies the realization that an opponent at cards is bluffing. There was one more thing that Alice wanted to remain concealed, something that could still do her damage if he guessed it. And he thought he had guessed her weakness.

‘No, stay a little longer. Here come our drinks,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Marie-Jeanne, do go on but remember that I met Korsovsky and formed a good opinion of him. It would take much to convince me that he would behave badly to the innocent young girl I’m sure Alice was in those days.’

Alice gave him a look of guarded suspicion but Marie-Jeanne was eager to continue. ‘You will see how misplaced was your good opinion, Commander! Alice didn’t tell him that by this time she realized she was pregnant. This was dealt with in a discreet clinic in France but the scars of this emotional and physical abuse have stayed with her unhealed – corrosive even. She hated him and for good reason. Alice has been more than kind to me, I owe her more than I can say and it was a small thing to repay some of what I owe by removing the cause of her torment. I was brought up to shoot – a skill in which I excelled my brothers though of course like my many other qualities it went unacknowledged.’

‘But not unremarked, Marie-Jeanne,’ said Joe. ‘I and many others were deceived by the marksmanship. We assumed that the killing had been done by a sniper of formidable talents.’

A slow smile of satisfaction acknowledged the compliment. ‘It was a man of just such talents who taught me. My father’s gamekeeper had been a soldier. He had fought the Rifis in Morocco and survived. I have a good eye and the target was not a difficult one,’ she finished modestly.

Maisie gave a snort of disgust. ‘Your target, as you call him, was a living man and your talent splattered his blood and flesh all over Joe. And I’d still like to know why. Because I’m not convinced by all this nonsense about doing it for poor little Alice.’

Marie-Jeanne looked stonily beyond Maisie, loftily refusing to acknowledge her presence let alone her right to speak out in criticism.

Undeterred, Maisie pressed on, a sudden gleam of understanding in her eyes. ‘You were doing it for yourself! Why does anyone kill? You were looking after number one! You knew this Russian was the love of her life

if he’d resurfaced in Simla who knows what might have happened? She told you she hated him but you’re clever – you weren’t deceived! Love? Hate? They’re very close. I’m guessing – and I think you guessed – she’d have had her bags packed and been off on the next boat with him! Leaving her old friend and protégée Marie-Jeanne to face the music. You love her, Marie-Jeanne, don’t you? She’s your whole life. There was no way you could risk letting her meet Korsovsky again! She never asked you to kill him for her. You did it for yourself!’