Mask of the Verdoy (38 page)

‘What about recent visitors? Anyone come calling in the past fortnight or so?’

‘Well, there’s the Reverend, of course—but then, that’s not unusual.’

‘The Reverend? Reverend Pembroke?’

‘Yes, that’s right—Mr. Pembroke. He’s very involved with the welfare drop-in, you see. And him and her Ladyship are childhood friends, you know … Right, let’s have a drop of this tea, shall we? Both take milk, yes? There’s sugar there, in the bowl.’

‘And how do you find Reverend Pembroke?’ asked Harley, adding sugar to his tea.

‘Oh, he’s awfully nice, really he is … Although …’

‘Yes?’

Violet now leant in close again, and lowered her voice. ‘Well, I don’t like to gossip, but I’m sure I overheard them having a row about something last week. First time I’ve ever heard her Ladyship raise her voice. She normally just gives you a bit of a stare when you’ve done something wrong.’

‘Do you know what they were arguing about?’

‘Ooh no! I wouldn’t ever eavesdrop—wouldn’t be right, would it? Although, between you and me, I think the Reverend has got a bit of a crush on Lady Euphemia.’

‘Well,’ said Pearson, with a sideway glance at his partner. ‘She is a very attractive lady.’

‘She is that,’ said Violet, sipping at her tea with her little finger conspicuously extended.

Just then there was a call from the living room.

‘Oh crumbs!’ squeaked Violet, hurriedly extinguishing her cigarette. ‘That’s her Ladyship! Don’t let on about the fag now, will you?’

‘Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us, Violet. Of course, it’ll have to go in our report.’ Harley noted the look of horror on the maid’s flushed face. ‘Oh don’t be daft! I’m only playing with you!’

Violet gave him a playful slap to the shoulder and then bustled out towards the living room.

‘So,’ said Harley, when she’d left. ‘Our Reverend Pembroke had a little tiff with Lady Euphemia, did he?
And
he’s got a crush on her.’

‘Oh come on, Harley! You don’t really think Pembroke’s got anything to do with the dynamite, do you?’

‘What, just because he’s a vicar?’

‘No, not just that. Because he’s also an old childhood friend of hers. And because he’s a man that spends a lot of his time helping others less fortunate than himself.’

‘Hmmm … By the way—have you had any luck in trying to track Pembroke down?’

‘No. I contacted the Bishop’s office—they said there’s a possibility that he’s at a three-day seminar in Wells. They’re getting back to me to confirm.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t necessarily rule him out of anything, Pearson. Remember how he reacted at the soup kitchen? You’ve got to ask yourself why a vicar would be so wary of the police. And then there’s the Austin 7 connection … We know this special delivery to Effie can’t have been down to Kosevich. And all of the other bombings attributed to the Wild Cat International have been just that—actual bombings, all displaying a certain amount of experience with explosives. This one was something entirely different.’

‘But it was the same dynamite though, wasn’t it? You saw that sketch of the Russian stamp—there’s obviously a connection. And what about this character she’s seen skulking about in the shadows? He’s got to be a suspect, surely?’

‘What—the phantom whistler of old London Town? I dunno what to make of that; since she told us about him I’ve been trying to imagine what someone whistling an Indian folk tune would sound like. Can’t for the life of me conjure such a thing, to tell you the truth. But let’s not rule anything out. Maybe Pembroke’s connected to the previous bombings as well. Maybe our mystery whistler’s involved—maybe they’re one and the same bloke.’

‘But where’s the motive?’

‘I dunno yet. But we’re not gonna find out sitting here nattering like old women over our tea now, are we? Come on, let’s get in there and see if we can get anything else from the lady of the house.’

In the living room they were surprised to find a very different Lady Euphemia to the one they’d previously met. No longer looking like the conscientious charity worker, or the professional nurse, here she appeared as a fitting addition to the beautiful furnishings and works of Art—lounging in the doorway, resplendent in a chic Chinese silk dressing gown which clung tightly to her curvaceous form.

‘My goodness, George! You’ve caught me unawares! I was under the impression that everyone had left.’

For the sake of modesty she attempted to pull the sheer material of her dressing gown together at the front, but this merely resulted in giving greater definition to the generous line of her breast.

‘I imagine, gentlemen, that you’re here because of our little surprise delivery?’

‘That’s right,’ said Harley, trying his best to resist gazing at the flash of thigh and stocking-top that could just be glimpsed through the split in the side of the silk gown. ‘We’ve just been asking Violet a few questions.’

‘Well I hope you haven’t been too hard on the poor girl; she’s had quite a shock, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh no, miss,’ said the maid, who was busying herself tidying the coffee table. ‘They’ve been ever so nice, really they have. It was more like a little chat really, over a cup of tea.’

‘Well, that’s as maybe, Violet, but I imagine you’ve had quite enough excitement for one day. Why don’t you finish early, get yourself off home? That’s if Mr. Harley and Mr. Pearson have finished with their questions, of course.’

‘Absolutely,’ said Harley. ‘Thank you, Violet—you’ve been a great help.’ He turned to Pearson and gave him a surreptitious wink. ‘Albert, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind escorting Violet downstairs? And if any of those nice detectives in their Q cars are still stationed outside, perhaps you could persuade them to give her a lift home?’

Pearson gave Harley a resigned sigh and held out his arm to the maid.

‘Come on then, Violet. Let’s see what we can do, eh?’

‘Thank you, miss—much obliged!’ said Violet, giving Lady Euphemia a little curtsey before turning to the policeman. ‘I’ve just got to get my bag first. It’s Camden Town—that won’t be too far, will it, Mr. Pearson?’

‘I’m sure that’ll be fine, Violet,’ he said, ushering her out of the living room.

‘She’s a funny little thing,’ said Euphemia, taking a seat in one of the chic armchairs and indicating that Harley should do the same. ‘A little garrulous at times, but conscientious with it … But, of course, I don’t suppose you approve of the employment of domestic staff, do you, George?’

Harley smiled. ‘Who’ve you been talking to?’

‘Oh, I’ve just been asking around a little; trying to get the measure of you.’

‘I can’t imagine that you’d know anyone who’d have a clue who I was.’

‘Oh, you’d be surprised …’

‘Go on then—what did you find out?’

‘That you’re possibly the kind of person who
doesn’t
approve of domestic staff?’

‘Well, things are a lot different now to what they were before the war. And I suppose it depends on what the relationship is, doesn’t it? If it’s just a job, on mutually agreed terms, if each party treats the other with respect—’

‘Oh, come now, George! We both know that what you’re describing is far from Violet’s situation. You’re avoiding the question.’

Harley gave a chuckle. ‘Maybe I am.’

The artful smile that Euphemia now gave him once again reminded Harley of Cynthia—Cynthia in one of her playful, seductive moods.

‘I see you and Mr. Pearson have been exposed to more violence—nothing too serious I hope?’

Harley had forgotten about his black eye. He now probed the tender place on his cheekbone, a little embarrassed at how it might make him appear.

‘It’s nothing—comes with the territory. Pearson’s was a bit more serious, but he’ll bounce back alright … So, tell me—why would you be asking around after me?’

‘Oh, I don’t know—let’s just say you intrigue me.’

‘Is that so?’

She leant forward and opened a lacquered box on the table, exposing a strip of creamy white thigh in the process.

‘Cigarette?’

‘Gold-tipped? Very impressive.’

‘Yes; awfully extravagant, aren’t they? They were a present from Freddie, actually. He gets them made up in St James’s—he was so excited when he discovered it was the same place that Wilde used to get his from.’

‘I take it you haven’t heard from Freddie since we last spoke?’

‘Not a whisper, I’m afraid. Although I think it’s likely he’s abroad—something that my aunt let slip in conversation. He’s safe at least, I know that.’

‘He’s in Paris; as far as we know.’

‘Really? Well, that would make sense—Freddie adores Paris. He’s obviously got himself embroiled in another little scandal. I do keep hoping that he might mature enough to grow out of all of this high drama … but I’m afraid there’s been no evidence of it so far. Thank you for sharing that with me, George, it’s appreciated … Light?’

Harley leant forward to touch his cigarette to the flame from Euphemia’s engraved silver lighter. He lingered for a moment, thrilled by the way she met his eye, then sat back to savour the first pull on the smooth Turkish tobacco.

‘You know Violet blames herself for what happened earlier, don’t you?’ he said after a while. ‘She thinks she put your life at risk by bringing the parcel into the apartment. She got quite upset about it.’

‘Oh, the silly girl! It’s a lot of fuss over nothing, as far as I see it.’

‘I beg to differ.’

‘Remember, George, I opened the parcel. I’m no expert, but even I could see that it wasn’t a proper bomb, just a stick of dynamite in a box—someone’s idea of a joke. Rather poor taste, but there you are.’

‘I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that, Effie. That explosive was dangerously unstable. The Royal Engineers that came to remove it said it could have gone up at any minute. They wouldn’t even risk transporting it back to their barracks—blew it right here, just outside on the rec’. It was just sheer luck that you and Violet weren’t killed. An explosion in a small space like this—it would have been carnage. You saw what happened at Spitalfields.’

‘But … I …’

Visibly shocked by Harley’s revelation, Euphemia stood up and turned her back to him, placing a hand on the mantelpiece to steady herself.

‘That poor girl …’

‘
For Christ’s sake!
This ain’t about Violet, Effie—it’s about
you!
Don’t you see? Someone’s trying to kill you!’

Harley stood now and took a step towards her. He could see her tears in the mirror, the tremble of her shoulder. His instinct was to place an arm around her, draw her close … He reached out a tentative hand and after a moment’s hesitation she buried her face in his neck … then pulled away again immediately, wiping at her cheeks with her palm.

‘I do apologize! I’m acting like a silly schoolgirl again. It was just the shock of hearing it like that. I thought … Oh, I don’t know what I thought—that it was just a silly prank, I suppose.’

She walked over to the drinks cabinet.

‘I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. Care to join me?’

‘Just a little one—I’ve got a feeling I’ll be working late tonight.’

‘A little scotch, soda?’

She busied herself with the drinks, chugging her first one down in seconds and then refilling her glass.

‘Here you are …’

‘Thanks,’ said Harley, clinking glasses.

‘You must think me weak, George. But you’d be surprised—I’m no stranger to death, to danger … God knows I saw enough of it in France.’

‘It’s not weakness. It’s perfectly human—you’ve had a shock.’

Euphemia took a long draw on her whisky and shook her head.

‘It’s not just that … You see my brother, Rupert—my twin, actually—that’s how he was taken: an explosion, direct hit, at Ypres … nothing left of him, they said. But, of course, that’s not true, is it? It can’t be … He must have still been there—vaporised in the air, inhaled by his comrades, on their uniforms, under their feet, assimilated into the Flanders mud. My father found it so difficult to take—the fact that we had no body to bury. As if that makes any difference.’

‘Oh, believe me—it does.’

She studied his face for a moment.

‘Just now … Well, it brought it all back, you see—the thought of the apartment blown apart like that, of what would have happened to Violet, to me …’

‘Who’s responsible, Effie? You must have some idea.’

She shook her head slowly, closing her eyes and placing a hand to her forehead.

‘George,’ she whispered. ‘I wonder … would you hold me? Just for a short while … would you?’

He took a step towards her … And then he was in close, embracing the soft yield of her flesh beneath the gown, her hot breath on his neck … her lips, searching, finding his mouth. Urgent now, the flimsy silk pushing against the coarse material of his suit, his hands finding the cheek of her rump … The taste of liquor and tobacco from her tongue …

The doorbell rang … and then rang again. From the hallway came the sound of the bobby greeting someone.

‘
Damn!
’ said Harley pulling away. ‘Bloody Pearson!’

He put some distance between the two of them and straightened his tie.

There was a light knock on the door.

‘Come!’ said Lady Euphemia, pulling the silk robe back into place with the innate sangfroid of the aristocracy. ‘Ah, Mr. Pearson. I wonder if you might give us a moment? George here was just explaining about the dangerous condition of the dynamite and … Well, I’m afraid it came as rather a shock to me.’

‘Of course, Lady Euphemia. I’ll just be outside, George,’ said Pearson, with an enquiring glance at his rather flustered-looking partner.

‘Thanks, Albert! I won’t be long,’ said Harley, sitting back down in the armchair with his back to the door, making sure he kept his face from view.

‘Alright, George. But don’t forget we’ve got that appointment later; we can’t be late for General—’

‘Yes, Albert! Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten …’

‘If you’re going to be a while, maybe I should—’

‘
Albert!
I get the message! I’ll be fifteen minutes, tops.’

Pearson retreated once more into the lobby.

‘Well, I don’t quite know what to say …’ said Euphemia once Pearson had gone, attending to her hair in the mirror above the fireplace. ‘I assure you, I don’t usually go around throwing myself at policemen.’