Hotel du Barry (20 page)

It was late at night and Edwina was snug as a bug in a rug. She was reclining in bed with Dr Sigmund Freud and a warm brandy eggnog. Freud's book
The Interpretation of Dreams
was providing Edwina with much-needed intellectual stimulation and conversation topics. She was keen to travel down the royal road to the unconscious, and waiting on her bedside table was a blank notebook and a pen. Each night she'd gone to sleep hoping for insightful dreams, but they'd eluded her. Indeed, she had no recollection of ever having had pleasant dreams; nightmares had consumed her since boarding school. Sometimes the only way to avoid night terrors was by staying awake all night.

She snuggled further under the quilt and listened to Big Ben striking three. The hotel was quiet at last. Edwina's hot-water bottle was still warm and her feet were toasty. Just as well for Julian that the hot-water bottle was doing its job, for she was not above summoning him from his bed to organise a prompt refill.

Edwina held her breath and focused on a new sound. There was no doubt about it, somebody was quietly inserting a key into her apartment door. She exhaled slowly. Nobody would be foolish enough to try to rob her. The hotel was as secure as Lloyd's of London. After
all, that shyster Jim Blade employed moonlighting policemen to cover the night watch. And recently she'd changed the lock on the apartment door. So who could it be now? She heard heavy footsteps crossing the parquetry.
It's a man.
The intruder wasn't making any effort to conceal his presence. Good grief, he was heading straight to her bedroom. Edwina shrank further under the quilt.

He opened the door, leant against the door jamb and lit a cigarette. Obviously he'd been out on the town as he was wearing a tailored tuxedo. It must have been raining as his shoulders were wet and his hair looked damp. Edwina recalled the sexy way his dark hair curled on the back of his neck. She wanted to touch him, kiss him, stroke him, take him into her bed and lie skin to skin with him. She yearned to have him make love to her.

He was watching her through narrowed eyes. As usual he was trying to assess the situation without revealing his own thoughts. ‘Good evening, Eddie. It's just like old times, isn't it? Me standing in the doorway and you feigning shock at my timely intrusion.'

Edwina yawned, pretending to be bored. ‘Why are you here, Sean?'

‘I thought I'd pay you an evening visit since you're refusing to take my telephone calls or even acknowledge my presence in public.'

‘I'm terribly busy these days. And it's no longer evening. It is three in the morning. Furthermore, I will not tolerate you smoking in my boudoir.'

Edwina rearranged her negligee so her breasts were decorously covered.

Sean Kelly nonchalantly flicked ash onto the floor. ‘Since when, darling? We've shared many post-coital cigarettes in this room. Tell me, who is warming your bed these days? Own up – it's one of the new Dublin lads isn't it?'

‘My affairs are no longer any of your business. And who the hell gave you a key?'

‘That would be telling now, wouldn't it? You seem to forget that I was once a Hotel du Barry manager.'

‘Leave, or I'll ring for the night watchmen.'

Sean strolled across the floor and sat down on the bed. He flung off his silk evening scarf. ‘Don't do that. I have something that simply cannot wait a moment longer.'

Edwina shrank back against the bed head. ‘Don't touch me!'

Sean pulled down the front of her negligee and lightly caressed her small breasts.

‘I have to know why you refused to confirm to the police the fact that I was here, in your bed, on the night Daniel died.'

She slapped his hand away. ‘Because you were not here. You were probably off with some other woman.'

‘Why are you doing this to me, Eddie? Don't you know you're my only alibi and that you've made me a murder suspect?'

‘Of course.'

Sean switched his attention to the soft part of her neck. She usually loved being caressed but tonight his tone was distinctly sinister. He whispered, ‘What is it, Eddie? What made you decide to dump me? Didn't I pay enough attention to you? Perhaps a trip to Paris would have made you more agreeable.'

He slipped his hands under the bedcovers and stroked his way to the top of her thighs. Sean eased her legs apart; she was powerless to resist. Edwina fought to ignore the heat being generated by his touch. Her voice trembled and her breathing was jagged. ‘I'm trying to protect the du Barry family name for my daughter's sake. I can't have anyone knowing we were lovers, although I wouldn't mind them knowing what a bastard you are.'

Sean snorted. ‘I'm sure you've tangled with bigger bastards than me.'

Edwina sat up. ‘I intend getting married again and can't afford to have it known that I consorted with a gigolo for over a decade.
Not when I could easily marry a titled gentleman of the British establishment or perhaps a brilliant, internationally respected psychiatrist.'

She tried to edge away from him but he pinned her to the bed. Sean effortlessly whipped off her negligee and tossed it onto the floor. Edwina shivered and tried to cover her nudity by pulling the quilt up round her neck. Sean made himself comfortable on her pillows and crossed his legs. Edwina knew he was trying to get a reaction, so she pretended not to notice that his wet shoes were soiling her white satin quilt.

He slid his hand back under the quilt and found his way to the junction of her thighs. ‘Eddie, have you informed Dr Otto Rubens of your intentions? Despite his pronounced masculinity you're capable of crushing him like a sparrow and spitting out his feathers. Who knows, maybe he's eager for the experience? Or is he succumbing to a death wish?'

‘Don't be so vile. And stop doing that!'

He responded by tearing off the bedcovers and working his fingers back into her inner warmth. Edwina almost relented before clamping her legs shut.

He leant over the pillow. ‘You love me touching you like this, don't you, Eddie? You're all wet and slippery. Admit it. You want me inside you, don't you? All you have to do is say,
yes
.'

She pushed him away. ‘Stop it! You and I are finished. I'm putting all scandal firmly behind me. Imagine if people found out I'd been having a love affair with one of my husband's closest friends.'

‘I think you're glamorising the facts, Eddie darling.'

‘All right. Imagine if people found out I'd fallen for Sean Kelly, an immoral cad who provides paid sexual services to society women but still can't resist fucking working-class sluts on the side.'

‘Name them. Come on, I dare you.'

‘Well, there's your neighbour, the child-bride Mrs Jennifer Jones, then Mary Maguire of course and that vulgar barmaid called Brenda from the Fox and Hounds. Cut that out!'

Sean grinned and continued stroking her breasts. ‘
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
I must say you're remarkably well informed but the detail is missing. You're getting sloppy, darling. Just for the record, Jenny Jones is the closest I've ever got to having a younger sister. And I'd protect her against all comers. So tell your informant, to stay away from her. Or I'll be tracking him down and yanking his brain out, through his eyeballs with a fork.'

Edwina rolled her eyes. ‘You've failed to mention the other two.'

‘Brenda is the publican at The Dirty Duck, not a barmaid at the Fox and Hounds. I grew up with her in Dublin. She's a fine lassie and we go way back. As for Mary Maguire? That's my business and I won't have you slandering her. So lay off.'

‘You know, Sean, I've always wondered why there's no English word for a male slut.'

‘Don't be nasty, Eddie. I can't help it if women lust after me. I like seeing them happy and well fucked. It's my weakness, I just can't say no.' Sean slowly licked her left nipple. ‘You know, I've always suspected you were having me followed. Tell me, who does your dirty work these days? It's a Hotel du Barry employee, isn't it?'

‘None of your damned business. I'm simply protecting myself.'

He turned his attention to her right nipple. ‘From what?'

‘From a man who has no moral scruples whatsoever. A man who expects me to sacrifice my reputation to save his own.'

Sean lit another cigarette. ‘I've got no reputation worth saving and I've never pretended to be better than what I am. Are you scheming to put me on trial for Danny's murder? Surely even you wouldn't go that far.'

‘You killed Daniel because you wanted to marry me and get your hands on the du Barry fortune. You were drunk at the time
and your jealousy got the better of you. No doubt, you regretted it when you sobered up.'

Edwina pulled him up by the hair and reached for her eggnog. He promptly dropped his cigarette into her drink.

Sean rolled off the bed, stripped off his tuxedo jacket and tossed it onto the bed. ‘Fuck it, is this some kind of sick joke, Eddie? If I make love to you now, will it make your anger go away?' He tore off his bow tie and started unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Or do you want a penitential fucking, with me on my knees, begging you not to turn me in? What the hell is going on? Are you snaky because I made no response when you confessed you loved me?'

‘Don't flatter yourself. I was never really in love with you. How could I be, when you kept beating me up?'

‘What a crock of shite. I only smacked your bottom because you insisted. Sadism is not my style. But that brother of yours has got a lot to answer for. Small wonder you're so twisted.'

‘How dare you mention Matthew!'

‘Don't be so bloody touchy. It's true and you know it.'

She flicked his tuxedo jacket onto the floor. ‘You know, darling, I still have the photographs that were taken after you beat me black and blue.'

Sean lost all control. He grabbed her arms and gave her a thorough shaking. ‘Any photographs you've got are a put-up job. Or are those the same photographs that were taken after that thug hospitalised you? Jaysus, and to think I was stupid enough to shove his teeth down his throat because you told me he'd violated and humiliated you.'

Edwina viewed the marks on her arms with mock astonishment. ‘You brute, look what you've done. You know, I bruise so easily. Like a peach.'

Sean stood up, fists balled and face white with anger. ‘I never thought you'd stoop this low. Clearly I've underestimated you,
you're much more devious than I thought. So let's imagine I do go to trial for Daniel's murder, eh? Any bogus photographs used as evidence will make no fucking difference, because ultimately it's your word against mine. So I dare you to do your worst.'

‘Really? What about the incriminating letters you wrote? I've kept every single one.
I want your husband out of the way, Eddie. I can't bear the thought of him touching you
.'

‘Hand them over now! Or you'll regret it.'

Edwina laughed and reached for a cigarette. ‘I think not. I knew at some point you'd want them back. Too late. Your love letters are sitting in a bank vault with other
precious
items.'

Sean grabbed the cigarette out of her hand and took a deep drag. ‘We both know my letters were just a game. It was all part of the service and done for a fee. You're basically a cold fish and only kinky games and a few slaps can get you in the mood. This all comes back to that sadistic brother of yours. Most shrinks would probably call it incest.'

‘Leave Matthew out of this!'

‘No. Because he's what's wrong with your life. If it hadn't been for Matthew you'd never have met Daniel. And Danny Boy represented the easy wealth and luxurious life you'd always aspired to. So you made an upfront pre-wedding deal with him – a business arrangement – and later reneged. Why?'

Edwina brushed away a tear. ‘I loved Danny. He'd been honest right from the beginning and so it didn't matter that he didn't love me. But I so wanted to be the one to make him happy.'

‘Liar. And don't give me those crocodile tears. I had it from a reliable source that you often referred to him as the Cash Register. Later on, vanity got the better of you and you thought you'd have more power over him if you seduced him into changing his sexual preferences. That was unfair and plain stupid of you, Eddie.'

She blew her nose. ‘Please stop.'

‘Good idea. I don't have the stomach for this.'

She looked into his eyes. ‘I may have said rash things about Daniel when I was plastered but I truly loved him. I thought we'd be growing old together. I was too proud to grieve properly and now I'm distraught and lashing out at everybody including you.' She touched his face very gently. ‘I'm truly sorry, Sean.'

He instantly tensed up. ‘Eddie, your behaviour is beyond the pale. The staff are now terrified of you and I'm hearing stories about you all over town. You just haven't been behaving like a grieving widow.'

‘Oh God. The whole of London is talking about me! Anyway, it wasn't murder. Danny killed himself and he's left one hell of a mess. He was suffering terribly but his pride wouldn't let him admit it. That goddamn war was still with him and he never got over losing his entire family. You and his other friends never saw the real Daniel du Barry, he was the consummate actor and he hid the fact he was cracking up. You know, I really knocked myself out to get him to see a shrink but he flatly refused.'

Sean sat back down on the bed and rubbed his forehead. ‘Jaysus, Eddie. I didn't know any of this. But let's not get sidetracked, I'm under suspicion for murder and I need you to provide me with an alibi.'

She looked at him mockingly. ‘Come on, darling. Sean Kelly, up for murder? By denying you an alibi I'm not sending you to the gallows. You'll smoothly talk yourself out of trouble just like you always do. Think of this as a temporary inconvenience.'