A Bedlam of Bones (22 page)

I rang the doorbell and waited. Silence. I rang again, the dog fidgeted and there was still no response. I scanned the corridor, put my ear to the door and tried once more. Nothing.

It was a bit much, I thought. Turnbull issues an urgent summons, I break my neck to arrive on time and then he doesn’t appear. Wretched man, had he gone out? But why? He
knew
I was coming! I stared at Bouncer. ‘Some people,’ I grumbled, ‘are so ill-mannered!’ The dog looked blank and burped. Baulked of the promised Fleurie, I began to tire of the whole thing; but before turning away gave a desultory rap with my knuckles. The door must have been on the latch for it yielded slightly. I gave a tentative push and the next instant it had swung open and we were inside.

‘Are you there, Turnbull?’ I called. ‘It’s Francis – Francis Oughterard.’ Silence. Hesitantly I started to move forward but was restrained by a whine from Bouncer and a sharp tug at the lead. ‘Oh do come on,’ I muttered, ‘and stop playing silly beggars, we’ve come to see the nice man.’ Unimpressed, he sat down mulishly and refused to budge.

I let go of the lead and rather irritably called again to Turnbull, taking a few more steps into the room … And there I found him: back towards me, slumped across a writing desk by the window, his right hand clutching a toppled wine glass whose dark contents had soaked lavishly into the blotting pad.

Apart from shock, my initial reaction was one of annoyance. He had specifically asked me to come, and despite inconvenience (not to say reluctance) I had agreed. And yet here he was, out for the count in a drunken stupor! It was the last thing I had expected, and I was just wondering whether I should seek the kitchen to get a glass of water either to administer or throw, when I heard a low growl from Bouncer. I glanced round and saw the object of his vexation: Attlee.

Indifferent to the other dog, the little creature stood poised in a doorway, staring severely at the crumpled figure draped over the desk. But in the next instant he had turned tail, and with a tart bark disappeared from the room. I gazed after him, perplexed. If Attlee was here, what about his owner? Turnbull had intimated he wanted a private talk and, given the topic, it had hardly occurred to me that Lavinia herself might be present … But was she? There seemed to be no sign or sound. Unless of course she was having a quick ‘crisis of the soul’ in the bathroom – or, like Turnbull, was also laid out in a pre-prandial torpor!

I was pondering this possibility when I heard a light footfall, and in place of Attlee stood his owner, suited, be-hatted and carrying a shiny handbag and smart travelling case. The air became redolent with Je Reviens.

‘Ah, Francis,’ she exclaimed, ‘I hoped I might catch you before I left. I had been meaning to write but there has been so much to do what with one thing and another, and there simply hasn’t been time! I hope you don’t mind.’ She flashed me a dazzling smile.

I had no idea what she was talking about. Where was she going and why should she want to write to me? My puzzlement must have been plain, for she said teasingly, ‘Oh dear, you haven’t a clue, have you?’

I replied rather coldly that I did not have a clue and wouldn’t it be a good idea if before her departure we attended to her comatose companion? I gestured towards Turnbull’s slumped figure.

‘Oh, Rupert’s not comatose,’ she said, ‘he’s dead – or at least he jolly well ought to be by now, I gave him enough stuff!’

For a few seconds my mind was a static blank and I registered nothing except the ticking of the clock and Lavinia’s smiling eyes. And then the blankness gave way to a kaleidoscope of gruesome images: Boris bludgeoned on the flagstones, Violet Pond’s stark white legs upended in the potting shed, Climp sprawled in blood on the high plateau, Felter’s frozen features inches from my neck in the Singer … and in precise and graphic detail, Mrs Fotherington throttled and mottled in Foxford Wood. The scenes shifted dizzyingly before my eyes, forms and colours blending and dissolving in protean nightmare. Strange the way the proximity of death stirs our subconscious.

‘You look tired,’ her voice said. ‘Sit down and I’ll get you a drink.’

I glanced at the fallen wine glass. ‘No,’ I replied quickly, ‘it’s quite all right. Please don’t bother.’ Gingerly I perched on the arm of the sofa and groped abstractedly for Bouncer’s shaggy head.

She scrutinized her watch. ‘I shall have to be going pretty soon. My seat’s booked on the Golden Arrow and I couldn’t bear some last-minute hitch. Travelling always makes me rather jumpy, doesn’t it you?’

‘Oh
yes
,’ I agreed, ‘always.’ Then clearing my throat, I added, ‘But before you go, might you have time to—’

‘Explain? Of course. But I can’t be too long – I’m not risking having my plans upset all over again!’

‘What plans?’ I asked dazedly.

‘My plans to go to South America. Much safer there than here after all this kerfuffle!’ Her eyes swept the room, resting momentarily on the figure by the window.

I looked in the same direction at what I now knew to be the very dead Turnbull. ‘Why did you do it, Lavinia?’ I ventured. ‘I thought you were fond of him.’

‘I
was
,’ she sighed, ‘but he turned into such a rat. And after everything I had been through with Boris and the French tarts I simply wasn’t having it! I had sunk a lot of money into those wretched language schools and the toad repaid me by having a walk-out with Millie Merton of all people! Well, I can tell you, I wasn’t going to be made a fool of by that squat little thing. She’s as rich as Croesus – obviously her only quality and presumably the attraction – so I was none too pleased when I found out about it. And added to that, he actually had the nerve to imply that I was under an obligation to him for ridding me of Boris … In a way, of course, that was true, but it’s not something one cares to have pointed out.’ She frowned. ‘And then when blackmailing Freddie got wind of things and had to be silenced, I began to grasp the full extent of Rupert’s ruthlessness and the danger of my own position. After all, I knew all the details of the French business. So in case he decided to dispense with me as well, I thought I would get in first. I think it’s known as being ahead of the game. Isn’t that the expression, Francis?’

Terrified, I assured her that it was. She nodded amicably, lit a cigarette and offered me one, but I was too unsettled to accept and instead gave a weak smile. ‘Er, Freddie’s blackmailing activities,’ I murmured, ‘didn’t Rupert do a bit of that as well? I mean—’

‘Oh yes. If you are referring to that last letter to your boring bishop, that was Rupert all right. He thought he might cash in on what Freddie had started. Had him down for £10,000, I think. One of the many. He discovered all the details when he broke into Freddie’s house to rescue his own dossier. You know, it’s amazing just how comprehensive and meticulous Freddie’s notes were. Even had the dirt on your sister. My goodness, that was a turn-up for the books!’ She laughed merrily. I did not.

‘So Rupert wrote to her as well? As well as to Ingaza and Clinker.’

‘Oh no! Not worth it. That was
me
. “What price the Canada geese?”,’ she trilled.

I stared aghast. ‘You mean to say it was you who sent Primrose that nonsensical note and its follow-up?’

‘We-ll, not all that nonsensical. After all, it rather hit a nail, didn’t it?’ She shot me a knowing look which I carefully ignored.

‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ I said as icily as I was able, ‘Primrose has no connection with Canada and the whole thing was exceedingly puzzling.’

‘If you say so,’ she replied sweetly. ‘But Freddie used to go to Canada a lot and had a shrewd eye for pictures. He could spot a pastiche a mile off and seemed to have some knowledge of your sister’s style – but we won’t go into that now, life’s too short.’ And she shot another look at our dead companion.

Stunned though I was, I was also extremely angry. ‘That’s a bit much, isn’t it, Lavinia?’ I exclaimed. ‘You may recall that you were a guest in my sister’s house. She put you up during that gallery launch and you say you had the brass neck to send her that ridiculous missive. Frankly I think that’s a bit rotten.’

She had the grace to look mildly abashed. ‘Yes, that was rather naughty. But you see, helping Rupert over the Boris business gave me a taste for adventure, and – well, I suppose, power.’

‘Power?’

‘Sort of. You’ve no idea what a frumpish and tedious life I was leading in France with Boris and his mystical vagaries (not to mention those sordid liaisons). I felt so stultified and
mere
! So after his little accident, it was as if I was reborn and ready for anything!’

‘Including blackmail for fun?’

‘Well, yes. Freddie and Rupert seemed to find it amusing and didn’t do badly out of it either, so I thought I’d try my hand too. But then Rupert became so difficult and bossy and it rather took the edge off things. And when he started seeing Millie, that was the last straw. Boris was bad enough, but Rupert was repressive
and
dangerous. Anyway, I am free of them both now and I’m off to Rio. A girl can have a good time there, and I mean to have it!’

I stared open-mouthed, trying to gather wits and a suitable response. But before I had a chance to do either, she added coyly, ‘As a matter of fact, I shan’t be entirely alone. There’s rather a rich gentleman waiting for me. Very agreeable and … er, rather
old
. Convenient, really.’ She gave a gay laugh and a broad wink.

I glanced again at the desk, and in as detached a voice as I could manage, said, ‘I am not quite clear – Rupert invited me here for lunch, had some business to discuss, I gather. Did you know?’

‘Yes, he mentioned it last night. It annoyed me at first as I had everything worked out exactly and was running to a tight schedule. But then I thought, oh what the hell, I’ll just have to go ahead anyway! Which as you can see is what I did.’ She smiled and flicked a piece of fluff from her jacket. And then leaning forward, said confidingly, ‘You see, I rather think he was trying to get me certified – or simply have it rumoured that I was in the grip of some appalling depression. I overheard him telling a colleague that he was “fearfully distressed about poor Lavinia’s mental state”, and that he felt so helpless. Actually, I bet that’s why he brought you up here: to have someone to discuss it with and to spread the word. A sort of corroborating device.’

‘But why?’ I gasped.

‘As insurance, in case I started to cut up rough about that Merton cow and took it into my head to let drop a few hints about the French business. Then if that happened he could always say I was losing my marbles. But the point is, that might not have been enough for him. He could so easily have gone further, i.e. snuff me out and fake my suicide – suicide while the balance of the mind was disturbed, as they say. After all, he had done it before – and frankly, Francis, it was a risk I wasn’t prepared to take. As I said, one does have to be ahead of the game!’

‘I see,’ I murmured. ‘But even if you had started to accuse Rupert about what happened in France, in that case surely he could have retaliated with tales of your own involvement. I mean, he did rather hold a few cards of his own, didn’t he?’

‘
Exactly
,’ she exclaimed. ‘So whichever way you look at it, he simply had to go!’ And opening her handbag, she withdrew lipstick and rouge and started to apply them liberally.

As I watched the subtleties of the ritual, for some reason the crazed white features of Victor Crumpelmeyer
*
came into mind. Lavinia’s face was prettier and her speech more lively, but I couldn’t help pondering why it was my lot in life to be thrust among the dotty and insane. Perhaps they were my nemesis for the Foxford Wood incident. But that had been a mistake, surely … Hadn’t it? No, I brooded, on the whole probably not. Not really …

‘My dear, I simply must fly,’ broke in Lavinia’s voice, ‘I have no intention of boarding the Golden Arrow in a gasping heap. As it is, I shall have to walk to a taxi rank – I couldn’t possibly have a cab pick me up
here
. Wouldn’t be prudent! And I suggest you also slip out as quietly as you can. Look both ways!’ She started to gather her things.

‘Er, one minute, Lavinia,’ I said quietly. ‘Talking of prudence, was it wise to take me into your confidence in this way? I mean, how do you know that I won’t – well, sort of blow the gaff on things? After all, in the circumstances …’ I gestured vaguely in the direction of Turnbull.

She paused, adjusted her hat in the mirror and then said genially, ‘Oh, I’ll take a chance on that. You see,
I
think you did in Mrs Fotherington …’

The words tore at my stomach and I found it physically impossible to speak. Taking advantage of my silence, she continued, ‘As it happens, Mummy was a bosom pal of Elizabeth’s – they had been at school together – and she had all manner of theories about the murder. Simply wouldn’t let it rest. So boring! Anyway, one of her pet sayings was, “Believe me, my dears, it was that parson person she was so silly about. There’s much more there than meets the eye!” Naturally no one took a blind bit of notice of her – we never did. Besides, I was far too busy with dreary Boris in France to bother about Ma and her cronies, dead or alive. But after her dire warnings it was such a coincidence bumping into you like that at Berceau-Lamont!

And at the time I thought you were rather nice – still do, really – but I also remembered Mummy’s words,
There’s much more there than meets the eye
, and I began to think she could be right … Yes, I bet you probably did do it. I’ve no proof but I rather suspect it exists all the same, and one day someone will dig it up. Meanwhile I’ll leave you to that quiet life you seem to want – unless of course you try to upset mine. You might find that troublesome – I had good mentors in Rupert and Freddie. It’s amazing what can be achieved with a few hints here and there … Now I
really
must dash. Rio here I come!’

‘You’ve forgotten something.’