The Nice and the Good (34 page)

“Is McGrath blackmailing you as well?”

“How do you mean as well? Is he blackmailing you?”

“No, he isn’t! He was blackmailing Radeechy.”

“Was he? Oh yes, I remember. Interesting. Perhaps that accounts for the suicide.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I don’t think I allow your right to question me, my dear Ducane.”

“Then why did you come here tonight?”

“Because you were, shall we say, getting on my nerves. Well, if you really want to know, I came here to ask
you
some questions.”

“What about?”

“About how well you know Judy McGrath.”

“Really!” said Ducane. He got up, jarring his chair back and almost overturning a lamp. He walked quickly to the other end of the room and back. He stared down at Biranne and then realised that they had exchanged positions.
Biranne lounged in his chair, and Ducane stood before him. There was no doubt that Biranne was a clever man. He will get away with it, Ducane thought. Why was he increasingly sure that there was something here to get away with?

“Well?” said Biranne. He seemed quite relaxed now, his hand on his glass, his legs extended in front of him, his long narrow head lolling on the cushions.

Ducane thought, he came here to find out how much I know, and I have virtually informed him that I know nothing! Damn, damn, damn. With this Ducane felt a final certainty that Biranne was guilty, guilty of something, perhaps guilty of something serious. He thought, I must frighten him somehow.

Ducane said, thinking hard, “As you are perfectly well aware, I scarcely know Mrs McGrath.”

“You kissed her,” said Biranne. “But of course dark horses like you often tend to be fast workers.” He laughed shortly and poured out some more whisky.

“She kissed me,” said Ducane. “I confess her professional ease took me by surprise. You know perfectly well that I have no interest of that sort in Mrs McGrath.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“I don’t tell lies.”

“Really?” said Biranne. “Then why did you tell me one just now?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said McGrath was not blackmailing you.”

Ducane looked down into Biranne’s handsome insolent face. Then he turned away and laughed. He began to pace the room.

“All right. McGrath has tried to blackmail me, and for my own reasons I’ve led him on. How did you know?”

“He told me. The fellow has an engaging frankness. He tried to blackmail me too. He and Judy work as a team, as you probably realise. She ensnares people in high places with, shall we say, odd tastes, and McGrath follows close behind with his little camera. He really has quite a talent for photography.”

“I see. He tried it on you. But you wouldn’t play?”

“I told him that if he tried that game on me I’d kill him, and he believed me.”

Ducane turned at the end of the room to look at the long relaxed figure in the armchair. He has an answer for everyone and everything, he thought to himself. I could never make a man believe that I would kill him!

“As I say,” said Ducane, “I had my own reasons for encouraging McGrath.” He was beginning to have an idea, an idea which Biranne himself had put into his head.

“Very compelling reasons, I daresay. With two charming girls involved. Yes, you
are
a dark horse.”

“I see that McGrath’s engaging frankness has known no bounds,” said Ducane. He thought, this fellow knows more about me than I know about him. And I thought of him as my victim, my prisoner!

“Well, he did tell me something about two letters. He was rather proud of himself. I must say, he’s a most ingenious man.”

“He seems to be quite a friend of yours,” said Ducane. “It will be interesting when he tells us
everything
he knows.”

“He’ll never do that,” said Biranne easily. “No one has got anything on McGrath. No one ever will have.”

“I have got something on McGrath,” said Ducane.

Biranne sat forward. “What?”

“Precisely blackmail,” said Ducane. “Why ever do you think I encouraged him? Those two letters are perfectly innocuous. The two young women express themselves warmly, as many young women do, but neither is my mistress, and there’s no earthly reason against their knowing of each other’s existence. In fact they now do know, since I’ve told them. That was the first thing I did when McGrath made his move. McGrath has no power over me as he has nothing to reveal. Really, Biranne, I’m surprised at you. From what you know of my character do you really think I’d tolerate blackmail? I haven’t anything disgraceful to conceal, and I certainly wouldn’t pay money to an object like McGrath in order to spare myself and two girls a small amount of embarrassment.”

“You mean you—”

“Yes. McGrath has no power over me. But I have power over him and I am going to use it. Naturally I am not interested in convicting McGrath, but I am interested in persuading him to talk, and talk he will.”

“But have you—evidence?” Biranne’s watchfulness had returned and he was plucking again at his knuckles with bared teeth.

“The man was fool enough to write me a letter. And I have a tape recording. I too have been a little ingenious in this matter.” For a truthful man I’m certainly having a strange evening, thought Ducane. He had come near to Biranne now and was watching him closely. Biranne was plainly uneasy.

“So you’re going to put the screw on McGrath?”

“Yes. He’s told me half the story already. I’ll get the other half next week. Possibly with, possibly without, the help of the police. I have a feeling it will be interesting. And I have a feeling it will concern you.”

“He won’t tell you anything,” said Biranne. He was looking down at the carpet now.

“So you don’t deny he has something to tell?”

“Oh, he has plenty to tell. But not about Radeechy. Of course you can threaten poor McGrath and make him turn King’s evidence. But it won’t help you. He doesn’t know any more about that.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Because I think he’d have told me, or at least hinted. Too much has been made of this Radeechy business. I can’t think why you’re all so excited about it. There’s no more in it than meets the eye. Radeechy was a half crazy crank with an interest in the occult and some pretty odd tastes in sex. He’s just the sort of man who kills himself. Why shouldn’t he? Can’t he kill himself quietly without all this to-do?”

Ducane sat down. He moved the table with the whisky on it a little out of the way and pulled his chair forward. He said softly, “Look here, Richard, I
know
you’ve been lying to me this evening, and I
know
you’re more involved in all this than you’ve pretended to be, deeply involved, up to the neck. You know why Radeechy committed suicide and before you leave this house you’re going to tell me. You took something off Radeechy’s body and I know what it was that you took. I may not have found out very much about you, but I’ve found out quite enough to get you into trouble if I choose to do so.”

Biranne, sitting upright now, his hands in golden light,
gripping either arm of the chair, the long cylinder of his head averted and shadowed, said, “Sorry, Ducane, I’ve nothing more to say to you except goodnight.” But he did not move.

Ducane realised that he had used Biranne’s Christian name. With this came at last a sense of having the man cornered. He thought, I’ve got him. He said urgently, leaning forward, “Don’t be a fool. Why did you say I was getting on your nerves? You didn’t just come here to find out what I knew, you came here to tell me things. I’m not bluffing you, Biranne. This damned enquiry is coming to a finale, and you’re in the finale whether you like it or not. The point for you to consider is this. Up to now the thing hasn’t been a police matter. It’s been entirely secret and I have discretion to keep it secret and to hold back completely anything which I find which I think is irrelevant. Well, you know what my briefing was. If you tell me the whole truth I may be able to keep it dark, so far as it concerns you. Obviously I can’t promise this, but I could consider it. If you won’t talk I shall have to hand the whole thing over, suspicions and all, to the police. If you’d rather be interrogated by them than by me, it’s up to you. And don’t expect any loyalty from a man like McGrath.”

Biranne drew in a very long breath. His head was bowed forward now and Ducane could see one long slit of blue eye. The stiff crest of hair glowed golden in the light of the lamp. Biranne said, half under his breath, “Let me think, let me think.” Then, still not looking up, he said, “If anything I were to tell you was not strictly germane to answering the question: was Radeechy a spy? you would have discretion to withhold it?”

“Yes.”

“If I were to tell you precisely why Radeechy died could you report the explanation in general terms without further naming of persons?”

“I don’t know. Your question is too vague. I can’t promise you silence. For instance if you tell me that you killed Radeechy.”

“I didn’t kill Radeechy. At least not in any sense that could bring me into a law court. Just wait a minute, will you, wait a minute.”

Biranne got up. He turned his back on Ducane and
looked away into the darkened corner of the room. Ducane ran his hands up over his forehead and found that his hair was limp and damp with perspiration. He kept his eyes and his will intently fixed upon Biranne, focusing upon the nape of his neck, where the wiry fuzz diminished into curly blond fur. Ducane kept silent but filled the silence with will. But he knew now that Biranne wanted to talk and would talk. Perhaps he had intended to do so from the start and had just wanted, needed, to be coerced.

Biranne turned back, and his face was a good deal calmer. His thin mouth smiled faintly with an air of sardonic resolution. He said, “All right. I trust you as far as you say you can be trusted and I put myself into your power. This document, on which I’d like to make one or two comments after you’ve read it, will tell you everything you want to know.” He held out a piece of folded paper towards Ducane and then once more turned his back.

Ducane unfolded the paper. He saw at once that it was written in Radeechy’s familiar compressed hand. It read as follows:

This is to state to the police, the public, and before God if He exists, that in September of last year I murdered my wife Claudia by pushing her out of a window. I acted impetuously and without premeditated intent to kill her. My motive was jealousy of her liaison with Richard Biranne. Biranne witnessed my act and has since attempted to blackmail me. I die now by my own hand. Biranne has my dying curse.

I loved my wife
.

Ducane was so extremely surprised and in an odd way so moved by this document that he simply wanted to crush it against his brow and close his eyes. But he had too an immediate and cautious instinct of himself as an actor, an instinct which took him back to his days in the law courts. To calm himself he got up, went to his desk, took out a magnifying glass, and examined the letter carefully under the lamp. The writing was strong and fluent and certainly Radeechy’s.

Biranne was still standing with his back turned. Ducane said, “Sit down, please, Biranne.”

They both sat down, Biranne breathing deeply and stretching himself out as if very tired.

Ducane said, “Perhaps you could answer a few questions.”

“Anything you like.”

“I am prepared to assume that Radeechy wrote this. Is it all true?”

Biranne sat up again. He said, “It’s true that he killed Claudia and that I saw it happen. It’s also true that he was jealous of me and Claudia. It’s not true that I tried to blackmail him, at least not exactly true.”

“What do you mean by ‘not exactly’?”

“I’m afraid I don’t come very well out of this.”

“Never mind how you come out of it. Tell me the truth.”

“You see, I wanted Judy McGrath.”

“And since you had this hold over Radeechy—?”

“I never intended to use the hold, I never even hinted at it. It was a matter of what Radeechy decided to think. I wanted to get Judy away from him, right away, and I must have made this pretty clear, and he chose to imagine he was being threatened.”

“And you let him imagine?”

“I suppose so—”

“And when was this happening?”

“My take-over bid? Two or three months ago. Not just after—”

“Quite. And is what is given here in your view the whole explanation of his suicide?”

“Yes. At least, what is a whole explanation? There’s no other secret, no other particular key. But he was a weird man who lived in a perpetual condition of fear and anxiety. I think he did half believe he was communing with spirits and he was afraid of them.”

“Did he love his wife?”

“Yes, I think so. But please believe me that I didn’t realise this at the start.”

“Did you go to bed with Mrs Radeechy?”

“Yes.”

“Was she a very unhappy woman?”

“No, not really, not till the end anyway. I didn’t understand
this to begin with either. I took a conventional view of the thing. Claudia looked like a deserted wife. Radeechy had quite a harem of necromantic girl friends, at least he had until Judy turned up and made him sack the rest. I think Radeechy fell properly for Judy—and this did hurt Claudia. She’d tolerated the others, safety in numbers and so on, but this was serious. I think this was what made her ready to flirt with me, and then I just rather took her by storm. It was unexpected. I didn’t do it in cold blood. I was amazed by the degree of Radeechy’s jealousy. I didn’t think he’d care that much.”

“How did you first meet Claudia, anyway?”

“Through one of Judy’s predecessors. Claudia came to this girl’s place to see if she could find out something about Judy, that is after she’d started to fret about her. And I, well, happened to be there.”

“I see. So Radeechy was jealous and he told you to clear out?”

“Yes. And perhaps I ought to have done. But I somehow felt I had to stand up to him for Claudia’s sake. I
liked
Claudia, she was somebody. And it was all getting pretty muddled by this time. I told him he didn’t deserve her. And he didn’t. Those other girls, you know, he didn’t fuck them, not even Judy, he didn’t beat them either. He was a weirdie all right.”