The Curious Incident at Claridge's (17 page)

28

Major Payne Pulls It Off

Dr Fairchild cut an absurdly dandified figure in his silk polka-dot dressing gown and polka-dot scarf. He sat in his wheelchair as though it were a throne.

‘I have never met you before, but I can't help being impressed by your reasoning. Touché—as we used to say at the fencing club.' He took his silk handkerchief out of his breast pocket and proceeded to unfurl it. He produced some sparkling object, which he held up between his forefinger and thumb.

‘Would you believe me if I told you I'd been waiting for an opportunity to get rid of the ghastly thing? Here you are, kind sir.' Stretching out his claw-like hand, he placed the ring in Major Payne's hand with a ceremonious gesture. ‘This, I suppose, is how legends of chivalric quests for lost grails are born. Wouldn't you say?'

‘Lost
and
pilfered.'

‘The idea of a pilfered grail appeals to me greatly.' Dr Fairchild nodded. ‘You do say the most entertaining things. This ring is a replica, as I am sure you are aware, and, as such, is of no use to me or to my grandson. Sorry—I shouldn't make his decisions for him. You don't by any chance want the ring, do you, Madden?'

‘I don't,' Madden said.

Dr Fairchild turned back to Payne. ‘Madden does not want the ring either. I suppose you intend to take it back to Tradescant?'

‘Sir Seymour is dead.'

‘Of course he is. My short-term memory is not what it once was. Well, the ring is my rightful possession and Madden pinched it at my request, but I am not sure he killed Tradescant. I never asked him to.'

‘One of the other stewards believes he saw Madden going out of the building at about the time Sir Seymour died, with his hood up and wearing a pair of black gloves,' Payne said. ‘There was a wet patch on the front of his orange habit.'

‘There are occasions when Madden does things impulsively and sometimes he does choose to act on his own initiative. If Madden killed someone,' Dr Fairchild went on in a thoughtful voice, ‘he would do it quietly, without losing his temper. He would do it with a sense of mission. Madden is a former commando. He was in the Foreign Legion, but he was too squeamish about blood and blades, so that necessitated his departure. He would never use a knife. He faints each time he cuts himself shaving. Can't stand cuts, can you, Madden?'

‘I don't faint.'

‘All right, but it makes you feel ill. When he brought me the ring, Madden didn't say a word about finding Tradescant's dead body. I heard about it later on, from the Master. I personally don't believe Madden drowned Tradescant, that's how it was done, wasn't it, though I have an idea that he
might
have seen the killer.'

‘I saw no one,' Madden said.

‘I knew the ring was a fake the moment I looked at it. One glance was enough.
Such
disappointment. You can keep it, if you like. Do with it what you will. Dispatch it to your favourite charity. Or present it to your wife with my compliments. If you have a wife.'

‘I have a wife,' said Payne.

‘I thought you might. You don't look
le célibataire-par-excellence
type at all.' Dr Fairchild's pebble glasses flashed in the light. His irises were pink, Payne noticed, with dark red pupils. ‘What reason would you give if I asked you why you were here?'

‘I have been investigating the disappearance of the Wallis ring.'

‘Sleuthing capers, eh? Are you really a detective? How terribly exciting. You are certainly endowed with a God-like inquisitorial omniscience. What was your very first ratiocinative feat? I am sure you remember. Come on, out with it.'

Payne cleared his throat. ‘I must have been twelve and deeply steeped in the Sherlock Holmes stories. I got it into my head that one of my aunts' butlers wasn't a real butler. I had noticed the fellow lean against the sideboard once too often. I also noticed that he tended to look bored while the family ate and talked and he did nothing to conceal it. I saw him yawn. When I told my aunt about it, she said she was aware of the lack of reverence, but she dismissed the whole thing as a mere “sign of the times”. It was the early '60s, you see. The end of the old order—some said it was the end of civilization as we knew it. But then my aunt's butler disappeared with the family silver and soon after the police discovered that he was in fact a professional burglar. I don't think he was ever caught.'

‘I like it when criminals don't get caught.' Dr Fairchild nodded. ‘There were an awful lot of detective agencies before the war. Not so many now, I understand. I wonder why. Fewer befuddling felonies? The police getting more efficient? Can't be that, surely? I don't suppose it was our dear Master who hired you?'

‘No one hired me.'

‘I never thought I'd live to meet one of those amateur sleuths whose work is their own reward! I must say I am terribly impressed at the way you rumbled us. I expect you own a detective agency? You don't? That makes it even more remarkable! An air of adventure hangs heavily about you. I used to read a lot of Buchan, you know. Richard Hannay. Sandy Arbuthnot. I believe you are the same kind of fellow. You belong to the
breed
. Do let's have some decent conversation, shall we? It's a long time since I have had a decent conversation with a man of such quality. I can't afford to be bored at my time of life. I will be ninety-two in November. Or is it ninety-three? What was it the poet Herrick said?'

‘
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may
?'

‘That's exactly the line I had in mind. The more I get to know you, the more my admiration grows. Madden hates capping my quotations. Madden is a clever boy. He reads books and watches television, but he is sullen, oh so sullen. He refuses to provide me with stimulating conversation. Consequently, all I do is sit in desolation, totting up my sins and misdemeanours.'

‘It will soon be time for your medicine,' Madden said, his eyes on the clock.

‘My theory is that Madden saw Sir Seymour's killer and struck up some sort of a deal with him. Did you see the killer, Madden?'

‘Perhaps I did.'

‘Never a straight answer! The potentate of prevarication, that is Madden. Madden is not his real name, but he chose this name when he came here, so let's stick to it. Our choice of names reveals something about us. My grandson's real name is unusual, one might even say rather an exotic one, but since I have been sworn to secrecy, I will not reveal it. What is
your
name?'

‘Payne.'

‘Is that your real name?'

‘It is. Major Payne.'

‘Major? I never cared much for the military, for majors least of all, but you seem different. You must have deduced that I am not terribly happy with Madden. I wish you could swap places with him, now why don't you? There is a grudge-bearing, vindictive side to Madden. Takes after me, I suppose. I have done some fairly dishonourable things in my life, Major Payne, though
not
for money. Never for money. Well, I intend to send Madden packing. I have no more use for him. Madden lives in what used to be my flat in Cavendish Street, but that's not good enough for him!'

‘I never said that.'

‘No, but you think it, Madden. You think it. I can read your mind.'

‘No, you can't.'

‘On the other hand, it might look a little odd if you went off too soon. There'd be whispering and conjecture and wild canards. Madden failed to bring home the bacon. To think that that was why I arranged for him to be here in the first place. I called him the moment I saw the ring on Tradescant's little finger. It was one of those one-in-a-million occurrences. Me bumping into my former enemy's son and him actually wearing the Wallis ring!'

‘Sir Seymour's father was your enemy?'

‘My bitterest enemy, yes. Are you interested in extraordinary coincidences, Major Payne?'

‘I am. Very often they turn out not to be coincidences at all. You asking for a room on the third floor, for example. Only two doors away from Sir Seymour's room. That was not a coincidence at all.'

‘Of course it wasn't. That was part of the
plan
. Well, I simply
had
to have the ring. Ultimately, the ring would have gone to Madden.' Dr Fairchild sighed. ‘Madden is forever complaining that I am not leaving him much in my will. I am sorry to have to say this, but Madden is a greedy pig.'

‘I didn't fail to bring home the bacon,' Madden said.

‘I don't know why I keep getting cross with Madden. It reduces me to tears each time I do. It's my age, must be. Senescence setting in. The twilight of the gods. Drooling delirium. The Grim Reaper at the Pearly Gates. Do you believe in a future life, Major Payne?'

‘I do.'

‘I don't. Never have. Life is a matter of cosmic hazard, its fundamental purpose mere self-perpetuation. One beautiful day our so-called wondrous world will simply drift into frozen silence, the human species will disappear and they won't be missed for the simple reason that there will be nobody and nothing out there to miss them. Even if there were such a thing as reincarnation,' Dr Fairchild went on, ‘I would hate it if I had to return to the earth as someone else.'

‘That is because you could never like anyone else enough to want to be them,' Madden said.

‘Bitter, oh so bitter. Isn't it funny that, had we been Muslims, we wouldn't have dreamt of referring to bacon and pigs? Do you suppose Muslims have any pig expressions in their languages, Major Payne?'

‘I would say it was highly unlikely.'

‘No one in the Pashtun Pass would ever think of getting as sozzled as a sow,
inshallah
?'

‘They wouldn't do that anyway, since they don't drink. You seem to forget that that is their other big taboo.'

Dr Fairchild bestowed on Payne a glance such as perhaps might be due to a performing circus animal of extraordinary accomplishments. ‘Would you care for a drink?' He waved his claw-like hand towards the old-fashioned cocktail cabinet. ‘We've got some first-class whisky. Or would you like some tea? I never know the time. What's the time?'

‘It's time for your medicine,' Madden said.

‘No, thank you,' Payne said. ‘I am all right.'

‘According to a rumour circulating among the brothers at the moment, the Master bumps off those of us who have remembered him in their wills. Somebody died four months ago, chap called Fenelon, distant relation of the Bishop, I believe, and, apparently, he left the Master something like ten thousand pounds. Not an exorbitant amount, but enough to allow our Master to indulge his luxurious tastes … That ring looks awfully pretty, doesn't it? What are you going to do with it?'

‘I haven't decided yet.'

‘Shame it isn't the real one. Must have cost a couple of hundred pounds to have a replica like that made. The real Wallis ring is a 3.7 carat diamond cocktail ring made of gleaming white gold and pavé-set diamonds. Worth a king's ransom. I've got it all written down somewhere. So Sir Seymour's sister beat us to it, eh? Did you hear that, Madden? That old hag beat us to it!'

Major Payne's eyes had strayed to the portrait of the Duchess of Windsor on the wall. ‘Did you know her well?'

‘Let's have a drink and then—then I will tell you a story. We
must
have a drink.' Dr Fairchild clapped his hands. ‘Madden—malt.'

29

Something Like a Love Affair

‘I first met Mrs Simpson, as she then was, in the early days of January 1936. She had gone to Hungary for what they used to call in those days “a discreet nose job”. She had chosen the Streilitz, a little-known, but rather exclusive, clinic overlooking Lake Balaton. Grey Gothic gables, curtains the colour of old blood, chill choking fog, a general air of desolation—you get the picture. My elder brother Lucius—another Dr Fairchild—had been specializing under the legendary Dr Horthy. I was not a doctor yet. I was barely twenty. It was the year of the Abdication. It was my brother who operated on her. My brother had invited me to spend Christmas with him. Mrs Simpson had been at the Streilitz a fortnight.'

‘She wasn't there incognito?' Payne said.

‘I believe she was, though it fooled no one. Imagine Charlie Chaplin, Mickey Mouse or old Musso going somewhere incognito.' Dr Fairchild cackled. ‘Her face was terribly well known. Her picture had been appearing in most of the Continental papers for quite some time. The affair with the Prince of Wales had already become public property. Well, the nose job had been a complete success. Lucius was rather proud of it. Mrs Simpson put in an appearance only after the bandages were removed and all the bruises gone. She was
not
an ordinary woman, Major Payne. Shall we drink to her?'

‘I am not at all sure we should. Wasn't she devious and deceitful? An adventuress and an arriviste?' Payne blustered blimpishly. He hoped he wasn't overdoing it. He had an idea that Dr Fairchild might enjoy a challenge.

He was right. Dr Fairchild cackled, clapped his hands and cried, ‘Encore!'

‘She was self-willed, power-hungry, false and manipulative. She stole our King by means of a technique known as the “Shanghai clutch”. She threatened our national security. She should have been sent to the Tower. They should have had her drawn and quartered.'

Dr Fairchild raised his glass. ‘To a great American lady.'

‘There is no such thing as a great American lady. It is a contradiction in terms,' said Payne teasingly. ‘Great ladies do not occur in a nation that is a little more than two hundred years old.'

‘Ah. She looked radiant that night. There might have been minor scars but they were completely invisible under her artful make-up. It was some sort of a cocktail party. Two of the women—the wife of a White Russian admiral and an American socialite—curtseyed to her. The moment she appeared, there was a sudden concerted silence. Isn't that what is said to mean that an angel has passed overhead? I think there were three Englishwomen present, but they stood looking down their noses, as though they'd smelled a bad egg. Mrs Simpson was unflaggingly pleasant to everyone.'

Madden, Payne noticed with some amusement, blew out his cheeks, rolled up his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Madden must have heard the story hundreds of times already.

‘She wore a most striking dinner coat, Mainbocher
,
I believe, which gave the impression of having been made of spun glass. Her hair too was like glass, smooth and shiny. Below each cheekbone, there was a slight hollow, a miracle of delicate modelling. I am sure you've noticed how fame makes some people so familiar that when one encounters them in the flesh, their real, physical presence seems a little eerie? I remember shivering. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was incredibly thin and angular, yet she moved around the room in a fluid and serpentine kind of way. She exuded great strength and authority. She brought to mind one of those pagan goddesses. She—'

‘
She
—who must be obeyed?'

‘Interesting you should say that, Major Payne—in view of what happened later on. We shook hands. She gazed at me rather fixedly, I thought. I was far from handsome, but I suppose I was rather unusual-looking on account of my extreme whiteness. I was wearing a white dinner jacket too—that must have made me look like a ghost. Or like a moth.'

‘Wasn't your brother an albino?'

‘Oh no. Lucius was perfectly normal, if normal is the word. Makes you wonder about nature's caprices, doesn't it? Mrs Simpson lingered beside me. Our conversation was a series of civil banalities, but then I happened to quote Goethe in German—
Entbehren sollst Du
!'

‘You want me to deny myself?'

‘Mrs Simpson said she had a lot of German friends. Von Ribbentrop, no less. The German ambassador to London at the time, that's correct. Our conversation at that point became more specific.' Dr Fairchild raised the whisky glass to his lips. ‘We discovered a shared fascination with Germany. The conversation turned to politics. We agreed Herr Hitler was doing a first-class job. I then confided in her my intention to join the BUF.'

‘The British Union of Fascists?'

‘I was young and innocent. I believed in purity,' Dr Fairchild said dreamily. ‘Still do … There was a large mirror on the wall above the fireplace and I happened to see our two reflections. Well, we looked different from everybody else in the room. We looked—alien. We might have been fabled monsters that had crept out from the depths of Lake Balaton. I suddenly had the oddest of feelings—
that we belonged together
. Maybe I was a little drunk, but I felt ready to do
anything
for her.'

‘Are you ready for your medicine?' Madden asked.

‘I was an incurable romantic, Major Payne, with a bias towards the bizarre. The Duchess—as she was to become in later years—stood for everything I admired and yearned for. Mystery—oddity—danger—the ultimate challenge. Well, something happened later that night—' Dr Fairchild broke off irritably. ‘What
is
it, Madden?'

‘Your arm, please.' Madden had produced a syringe and an ampoule.

‘Are you sure it's time? Oh, very well.
Castigo corpus meum.
' Dr Fairchild started rolling up his sleeve. ‘Madden has had medical training, so I hardly ever feel a thing. Ouch!
Not
so good this time, Madden. What's the matter with you today? This—this feels different somehow. Why does it feel different, Madden?'

‘I have no idea. You don't think I am trying to poison you, do you?'

‘That remains to be seen. More whisky, Major Payne?'

‘No, thank you.'

‘We danced.
These foolish things remind me of you
. That was the tune they played. Mrs Simpson led—a bit like a man. I didn't mind. It was a foxtrot, I think, or do I mean quickstep?' Dr Fairchild's eyelids flickered. He yawned. ‘It isn't time for my nap, is it?'

Madden said nothing. He was watching Dr Fairchild closely.

‘After we finished dancing—'

Dr Fairchild broke off. The gleam faded from his eyes, and they became dim and extremely tired. A spasm seemed to twist his body. His eyelids flickered once more, closed, and his head lolled and fell forward.