Have His Carcase (28 page)

ample personage with brazen hair, who was dressed in a pink wrapper, much-

laddered artificial silk stockings and green velvet mules, and wore about her

heavily powdered neck a string of synthetic-amber beads like pigeon’s eggs.

‘Good morning,’ said Harriet, ‘I’m looking for a room.’

The lady eyed her shrewdly and said:

‘Professional, dearie?’

‘To say ‘Yes’ was tempting but unsafe. Mrs Lefranc looked as though what

she did not know about professionals could have been written on a threepenny

bit. Besides, Harriet was becoming wel-known in Wilvercombe – she could

scarcely hope to hide her identity for ever.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I write books. In fact, Mrs Lefranc, I’m the person who

found poor Mr Alexis last week. I’ve been staying at the Resplendent, but it’s

terribly expensive, and I thought, if your room was stil vacant, I might be able

to take it.’

‘Wel, there!’ said Mrs Lefranc. She opened the door a little wider, but

seemed to be divided between suspicion and curiosity. ‘Wel, there! I hardly

know what to say. You ain’t one of these journalists?’

‘Oh, dear, no,’ replied Harriet.

‘Because,’ said Mrs Lefranc, ‘with those felers you never know where you

are. Worried to death I’ve been with them, poking their long noses into my

private affairs. But of course
you
can’t help but feel an interest, dearie, can you,

seeing it was you that found him, poor boy. Come along in. Excuse my

negleegy, won’t you? If I’m not up and down, up and down, keeping an eye on

that girl, I don’t know where we’d al be. I don’t get time to posh myself up of

a morning. How long would you be wanting the room for?’

‘I don’t quite know. It depends on when they have the inquest.’

‘Ah, yes – and they’ve got to find him first, poor lamb, ain’t they? You

know, I’ve got such a warm heart, I can’t sleep at nights for thinking of him

washing about in al that nasty sea. Mind the coal-scuttle, dearie; the times I tel

that girl not to leave it on the stairs. It’s a lovely room on the first floor – quite

the best in the house, and you’l find the bed comfortable. Poor Mr Alexis

always said it was like a home to him and I’m sure he was like a son to me.’

Mrs Lefranc led the way up, her green mules flapping and displaying large

holes in the heels of her stockings.

‘There, dearie!’ said Mrs Lefranc, throwing open the door. ‘I’m sure you

couldn’t find better in Wilvercombe, and it’s nice and quiet – you’l be able to

do your writing beautiful. I’ve had it al cleaned up and his clothes and things

put away – and if you was to dislike his books and bits of things about, I could

easy put them to the one side. But there! I daresay you won’t mind them. It’s

not as if he’d died in this room, is it, poor soul? And I’m sure Mr Alexis was far

too much the gentleman to commit a rash act on anybody’s premises. That kind

of thing do give a place a bad name, there’s no denying it, and one is apt to be

blamed for things as aren’t in any woman’s control, try as she may to make her

visitors happy. But as to the books, wel, of course, if it had been anything

infectious they’d have to have been destroyed, though as to who they belong to

now I don’t know, I’m sure and the police can’t tel me either, and I daresay

they’ve as much right here as anywhere, with me being like a mother to him this

year past and more. But anything infectious there is not, for he never was

subject to any such complaint, enjoying good health as a rule, barring the pain in

his joints which he had to lay up for at times, and the agony he went through

was cruel. I’m sure my heart bled for him, and the amount of antipyrin he took

for it would surprise you and he never would have a doctor. But there! I don’t

blame him. My sister had the rheumatics something cruel and the amount she

spent on doctors and electric treatment and nothing to show for it, except her

knee sweled up like a pumpkin. And she lost the use of the limb altogether,

which was a cruel thing for a woman in her profession. A trapeze-artist, she

was; I’ve got her photograph in my room if you would like to see it one day,

dearie, and the wreaths her old pals sent to her funeral was beautiful to see.

Covered the hearse, they did, and they had to have an extra carriage on

purpose for them. But as I was saying, if you don’t care about the books I’l

take them away. I’m not going to have that Weldon woman or Leila Garland –

the little cat – coming here trying to get hold of them.’

The room was pleasant enough – large and airy and much cleaner than

Harriet could have hoped from Mrs Lefranc’s appearance. The furniture was,

of course, hideous, but, though shabby, solid and in good order. The books

were just as Inspector Umpelty had described them: mainly novels in cheap

editions, with some Russian paper-backs and a few volumes of Russian Court

memoirs. The only striking relic of the former tenant was a very beautiful little

ikon hung at the head of the bed – certainly old and probably valuable.

For form’s sake Harriet entered upon a long haggle with Mrs Lefranc about

terms, emerging victorious with an inclusive charge of two and a half guineas

per week, or twelve shilings and find yourself.

‘And it’s not everybody I’d do that for,’ said Mrs Lefranc. ‘Only I can see

you’re one of the quiet sort. If there’s a thing I don’t want in my house it’s

trouble. Though I’m sure al this dreadful business is trouble enough for

anybody. The cruel shock it was to me,’ said Mrs Lefranc, gasping a little and

sitting down on the bed, as though to demonstrate that the shock had not yet

spent its force. ‘I was that fond of poor Mr Alexis.’

‘I’m sure you must have been.’

‘Such a thoughtful boy,’ pursued Mrs Lefranc, ‘and the manners of a prince,

he had. I’m sure, many’s the time when I was run off my feet with the girl and

the lodgers and al, he’d say, “Cheer up, ma” – they al cal me that, “cheer up,

ma. Have a little cocktail with me and here’s to better days.” Just like a son he

was to me, I’m sure.’

Whatever Harriet may have thought of this touching reminiscence, which

sounded quite unlike anything she had heard of Paul Alexis, she did not ignore

the hint.

‘How about a spot of something now?’ she suggested.

‘I’m sure,’ said Mrs Lefranc, ‘I wasn’t meaning – wel, there! It’s no end

sweet of you, dearie, but I couldn’t touch anything this time in the day. Not but

what there’s the jug-and-bottle at the Dragon just round the corner, which

comes very convenient, and there’s no doubt as a drop of gin do help your

dinner to settle.’

Harriet bent her energies to overcoming the resistance of Mrs Lefranc, who

presently put her head over the staircase and caled to ‘the girl’ to slip round to

the Dragon for a suitable quantity of gin.

‘They know me,’ she added, with a wink. ‘What with these ridiculous laws

about bottles and half-bottles, if they don’t know you, they’d get you al

locked-up before you knew where you were. You’d think they wanted to

make folks drunk by Act of Parliament, wouldn’t you? What with one thing and

another and the police sticking their noses in and asking questions – as though

my house wasn’t always as wel-conducted as the Archbishop of Canterbury’s

– and they know it too, for I’ve been here twenty years and never a complaint

– it’s hard for a decent woman to keep her head above water these days. And

one thing I can say – I’ve never stinted anybody. My house is just like home to

’em, and so you’l find it, dearie.’

Under the influence of gin-and-water, Mrs Lefranc became less and less

guarded. She had her own version of the Leila Garland complication.

‘What there might be between those two,’ she observed, ‘I couldn’t tel you,

dearie. It’s not my business, so long as my visitors conducts themselves quietly.

I always say to my girls, “I’m not against ladies seeing their gentlemen-friends

and contrariwise, provided there’s no trouble caused. We’ve al been young

once,” I say to them, “but you wil please to remember we want no trouble

here.” That’s what I say, and there’s never been a mite of trouble in this house

til now. But I must say I wasn’t sorry when that little cat took herself off. No, I

wasn’t. Nor I didn’t like that dago of hers, either. I hope she’s making him pay

through the nose. You couldn’t give that girl enough. Not but what she didn’t

make herself pleasant enough, and bring me a bunch of flowers or a little

present when she came to see Mr Alexis, though where the money came from I

was not asking. But when poor Mr Alexis told me that she had taken up with

this da Soto felow, I said, “You’re wel rid of her.” That’s what I said, and if

you ask me, he knew it wel enough.’

‘You don’t think he kiled himself on her account, then?’

‘I do not,’ said Mrs Lefranc. ‘And I’m sure I’ve puzzled my head often

enough wondering why he did it. It wasn’t on account of the old lady he was

engaged to – I know that. To tel you the truth, dearie, he never expected that

to come off. Of course, a young man in his position has to humour his ladies,

but her family never would have stood it. Mr Alexis as good as told me that

would never come off – and not so long ago either. “You see, ma,” he said to

me no longer ago than last Sunday week, “one of these days I may do stil

better for myself.” “Oh, yes,” I says to him, “you wil be marrying the Princess

of China, you wil, like Aladdin in the Panto.” No. I’ve thought about it over

and over again, and I’l tel you what I think. I think it was his speculations went

wrong.’

‘Speculations?’

‘Yes – those speculations of his in foreign countries. The letters he used to

get! Al stuck over with foreign stamps and addressed in funny handwriting. I

used to chaff him about them. Reports, he said they were, and if they came

right, he’d be one of the biggest men in the world. He used to say, “Ma, when

my ship comes in, I’l give you a tiara stuck ful of diamonds and make you

housekeeper to royalty.” Oh, dear, many’s the laugh we’ve had together over

it. Not but what there was a time when I could have had tiaras and necklaces if

I’d wanted ’em. One of these days I’l show you my newspaper critiques. Airy-

fairy-Lilian they used to cal me when I was principal boy in old Rosenbaum’s

shows, though you mightn’t think it to look at me now, dearie, for my figure’s

spread a bit, there ain’t no denying.’

Harriet admired and sympathised, and led Mrs Lefranc gently back to the

subject of the foreign letters.

‘Wel, dearie, there was one of them come two days before this dreadful

thing happened. It must have been a long one, for he was shut up hours and

hours with it. Working out his position, he used to cal it. Wel
I
think there must

have been bad news in it, though he didn’t let on. But he was queer al that day

and the next. Seemed as though he didn’t see you or hear you when you spoke

to him. And laughing – hysterical, I should cal it, if he’d been a girl. He kissed

me on the Wednesday night when he went up to his bed. Joking he was and

talking wild, but I didn’t pay attention. That was rather his way, you know.

“One of these days,” he said, “you’l find I’ve opened my wings and gone.”

Little did I think – oh, dear me! Poor boy! I can see now that was just his way

of breaking it to me. I heard him about in his room al night. Burning his papers,

he was, poor dear lad. He’d had a dreadful disappointment and he didn’t want

anybody to know. And in the morning he gave me his week’s money. “I know

it’s a bit early,” he said – because, of course, it wasn’t due til Saturday, “but if

I give it to you now, it’l be safe,” he said. “If I took it out with me, I might

spend it.” Of course I know what was in his mind, poor dear. He knew he was

going out and he didn’t want me to suffer; he always was considerate. But

when I think now that a word might have saved him –’

Mrs Lefranc burst into tears.

‘I did think he might have been going away sudden to see after his

speculations, but he didn’t pack up anything, so of course I put that out of my

mind. And as for him doing what he did do – how could I have thought it? He

seemed in such high spirits. But there! I
might
have guessed, if my mind hadn’t

been ful of other things – only what with the girl giving notice as she did that

morning and one thing and another, I didn’t pay attention. But they often do

seem to be in high spirits before they put an end to themselves. There was poor

Bily Carnaby – he was just the same. Gave an oyster-and-champagne party to

the whole cast on his last night with his last penny and him the life and soul of it,

making us split our sides – and then went off and blew his brains out in the