Traces of music, low and well behaved, drifted out from an open window above. Voices came out to join them at intervals but the words were indistinct. Somewhere up there too was the sound of a guitar being played badly, the same few chords over and over, as Gina laid the glasses and wine down on an iron table where there was room for just two chairs and we each scraped one back noisily and sat down.
‘You don’t seem like the sort of person who’d be friends with Alice,’ Gina said to me once she’d poured the wine, sparing me the difficulty of deciding how to begin.
‘You didn’t get along?’
‘I only met her once. That was enough. Enough for Alice too, from what Felix said.’
‘She didn’t take to you?’
‘Ask her.’
Touchy subject. I let it drop. I could always come back to it later.
‘How did you meet him?’
‘It was my idea. As you saw inside, I’m a photographer too. I sent him one of my photographs. I’m not denying it, I was looking for my first step on the ladder. I wanted to have someone looking out for me. I thought if he liked my work, liked me, then it would help me get a foothold in the art world. Maybe get my own exhibition, space on someone’s walls, a dealer, who knows? If you don’t look out for yourself, no one else will.’
‘Why Felix?’
‘Why did I choose him to send my stuff to, you mean? Because I liked his work. Genuinely admired what he did. His work was different from everyone else’s. I know everyone thinks their own work is unique, but I really do think mine has a quality not everyone would appreciate. I thought he might. So I wrote to him, didn’t know if I’d hear from him again, but he called me one night, we talked, and arranged to meet next day.’
‘How long ago was this?’
‘About a year ago?’ she said, considering, slipping on a pair of sunglasses, reminding me of Alice. They both seemed to retreat behind sunglasses when the light hardly merited them. ‘Yes, that’d be right. Maybe January last year. We arranged to meet in a hotel the following afternoon. We had drinks. I showed him my photographs. Some of them are quite, well, erotic I suppose. You saw them. It obviously had an effect on him. We ended up spending the rest of the day in a room at the hotel, making love. I didn’t get the impression it was a surprise to him that the meeting ended that way.’
‘Do you think he arranged the meeting in a hotel with sex in mind?’
‘He was a man, he probably did everything with sex in mind, even putting up a shelf. Not that I can imagine Felix putting up shelves. But no,’ and here she gave a small smile half of pleasure, half of mischief at the memory, ‘I must confess that the hotel was my idea.’
‘You planned on seducing Felix?’
‘I wasn’t averse to the idea. He was a good-looking man. I didn’t think it would hurt, I thought if he felt something for me, he might . . . you know.’
‘Make you a few introductions?’
‘That was the idea. Afterwards, I agreed to see him again and for a few months we spent a lot of time together. I even used to go out with him sometimes at night when he was taking pictures. I suppose those are the moments I cherish most.’
‘Did you ever go out with him when it was snowing?’
‘I don’t think so. I’m sure I’d remember. Why’d you ask?’
‘No reason. Curiosity.’
She frowned at me slightly over the top of her sunglasses. I didn’t blame her. Curiosity. Did I think she was stupid?
‘And did he?’ I said quickly to change the subject. ‘Introduce you to the right people, I mean?’
‘Vincent Strange was one. Have you heard of him?’
‘Our paths have crossed.’
‘Then you’ll know all about him. Big shot. Big house. Big head. Important gallery. Frightfully well connected, don’t you know? He’d been a supporter of Felix’s from his early days. I hoped he might do the same for me but nothing came of it. Felix, though, I was growing rather fond of. The sex wasn’t up to much, but he was sweet, and he seemed to have a genuine interest in my work. Always encouraged me. First one who ever had. I was touched. I was feeling vulnerable at the time, I suppose. I don’t have any family. My sister died when I was young; both my parents are dead; I’d only recently arrived here from London, I hadn’t made many friends, I was doing some crappy commercial photography work to make ends meet. So when Felix showed me some affection, I was glad of it. It wasn’t just sex. Sometimes he didn’t even want to make love. He just came round here and we lay on the bed and talked. Sometimes he put his head on my shoulder and slept.’
‘So what went wrong?’
‘Nothing, as far as I was concerned,’ Gina said. ‘No quarrels, no drifting apart, none of the usual clichés. He just called one day and said we shouldn’t see one another again.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I’m not the begging type,’ Gina replied from behind her sunglasses, unreadable. ‘I wasn’t going to throw myself at him – though I know what you’re probably thinking. That that’s exactly what I did at the hotel that first afternoon.’
‘I wasn’t thinking that.’
‘Doesn’t matter if you were. It’s all over now. I called him a few times, turned up once at Strange’s gallery when I knew he’d be there, but he was distant, preoccupied, almost—’ She stopped herself clumsily.
‘What were you going to say?’
She spoke the next words slowly. Reluctantly, I thought, though she might have just wanted me to think they were reluctant; they might have been exactly the words she wanted me to hear all along.
‘I was going to say he seemed almost afraid to talk to me, but that wouldn’t be what I meant. That is, it’s what I thought at the time, but maybe I just needed to believe there was some other reason he was dumping me rather than the fact he’d just tired of me.’
‘Were you surprised when he broke off your relationship?’
‘Surprised is putting it mildly. I was spitting fire. Look, I’ve been dumped before, it’s not exactly a new experience. But usually for some reason, you know? With him, I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong. I thought I deserved an explanation at least.’
‘Why did you think he’d ended the affair?’
‘Oh, there’s no real mystery about it,’ said Gina. ‘He told me eventually. He said it was Alice’s fault, said she didn’t think I was right for him. As if she was his mother or something. And more than just a mother, if you know what I mean. I don’t think she thought anyone was good enough for Felix. Except her.’
There was something about the way she said this that made me aware she meant more than she was saying. I left a silence for a moment, then said: ‘When I was talking to Alice the other day, I sensed something in the way she spoke about Felix. Something—’
‘Not quite right?’ she jumped in. ‘That’s what I thought too. They were way too close for brother and sister. There was too much of an intimacy there. Wasn’t normal. She may come across as some kind of vestal virgin – doesn’t take any lovers, there’s never any gossip or scandal about her name – but if you ask me, that’s because she already had what she wanted in Felix. Had in every sense of the word, if you know what I mean. It’s no wonder she was so jealous when I started getting in the way.’
‘And did you sense Felix felt the same about her?’
‘He was always talking about her,’ she confessed. ‘How Alice had done this and Alice had said that. Always checking things were OK with Alice. We couldn’t have a date or go anywhere without making sure it was OK with Alice, and obviously it pretty quickly started to be not OK with Alice.’
‘Must’ve been awkward for you.’
‘You go out with someone, you don’t expect them to be running home each night to their sister, or be constantly talking about her when they’re in bed with you. It’s bad enough when they talk about their former lovers. When it’s their sister, it starts to get a bit creepy.’
‘Why did you put up with it?’
‘I had no right to expect anything of Felix, he was an occasional lover and if I ever allowed myself to think there was more to it than that, then I knew I was just daydreaming. I was still nothing next to him, a minor thing in his world, Alice’s world, Strange’s world. But I did think we had something, we fitted together, so when he was able to throw it away so easily on what seemed to me so flimsy an excuse, then I was disappointed in him. He wasn’t the man I thought he was. He hadn’t lived up to what I hoped he’d be.’
So that was what she’d meant on the phone by not knowing him as well as she’d thought. And maybe she hadn’t. Maybe I hadn’t either. Was there something in Felix and Alice’s relationship that I hadn’t picked up on before? And did it matter if I hadn’t?
Lives are messy, after all. Doesn’t mean there’s any connection between the messiness of the life and the mystery of the death.
I took another sip of wine and replaced the glass, watching the light dance on the unsettled surface for a moment before settling into the reflection of a window up above.
‘Did you ever see him again afterwards?’
‘After we split up? Sure. I was at a party, some friends of friends of friends of Strange. Don’t ask me how I got an invite, but I turned up. And yes, I probably was half hoping I’d bump into Felix. I hadn’t completely given up, though weeks had passed without a word. I was wandering round looking for someone I knew when I saw him with a woman. They were standing in a dark corner and I was sure they’d been kissing. I was annoyed, I suppose, that he’d been there with another woman so soon after dumping me, and I just walked out of the party. It was only afterwards, when Strange introduced me to Felix’s sister, that I realised she was the woman at the party. She just smiled at me smugly, as if she’d won.’
‘How did you hear Felix was dead?’
‘Strange called me. He knew Felix and I had been lovers. He said he thought I was owed the courtesy of a call. It’s not as though Felix and I were destined to be together or anything, but I at least deserved that, otherwise I’d have heard about it on the late news.’
‘How did you feel?’
‘I just felt dreadfully sorry for him. I went round to the police, wanting to see his body, but they said I couldn’t without Alice’s permission. I even left a note for her at Felix’s house but she never had the courtesy to get back to me. Same old Alice.’
‘She’s had a lot on her mind.’
There I went, defending her again; I’d have to knock that on the head.
‘I don’t mind admitting I was scared too,’ Gina said. ‘When something like that strikes so close to home, it makes you think no one’s safe. But then I heard this morning that it wasn’t the Marxman at all, and then I just felt ashamed that I hadn’t realised he was in such pain, enough pain to – I don’t need to say it – to do something like that. It was a long time since we split up, so there’s no reason why I should have known. I felt bad, that’s all.’
‘You’ve no doubt he killed himself?’
She looked at me like she didn’t understand the question.
‘What’s it got to do with what I think?’ she said. ‘Strange told me about the autopsy report. The papers this morning said the police were no longer looking for anyone else in connection with his death.’
‘Alice doesn’t think Felix killed himself,’ I said. ‘She still thinks he was murdered.’
She shook her head sharply.
‘I wouldn’t listen to anything that bitch tells you. She is one seriously screwed-up lady. Trust her to turn Felix’s death into some major drama for her. It couldn’t just be suicide. Is that why she has you asking questions? What are you, some kind of private detective?’
‘Nothing like that. I’m the one who found Felix’s body,’ I told her. ‘He called me that night, asked to meet me. He thought I could help him, but I never got the chance to find out what it was he wanted to tell me. He sounded – troubled.’ I didn’t mention how he’d said someone was trying to kill him. ‘My only interest is in finding out what happened.’
‘You found him?’ She seemed genuinely taken aback by the news. ‘I heard on the radio that a woman had found him, but I thought it meant some local in Howth.’
‘I asked for my name to be kept out of it,’ I explained.
‘Least they respected it. More than the police obviously did when I said I didn’t want to be involved.’ She took another sip of wine. She must be on to her third glass by now. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she added quickly. ‘I don’t mind. I haven’t had much chance to talk about Felix since he died. And I suppose that explains what Miranda Gray was doing here too.’
‘Felix’s therapist has been here?’
‘She turned up yesterday. Asking what I knew about Felix’s death. She said she was worried about some stuff Alice had said to her. Gray used to treat them both, you probably know that already. She used to see him every Monday and Friday afternoon. When we were together, I’d drive him round to her consulting rooms and wait outside in the car whilst he went in for his session. She used to see Alice straight after. Cosy set-up, don’t you think?’
‘And now she’s digging. I wonder why?’
‘She said she was concerned for Alice,’ said Gina. ‘Not an emotion I find myself sharing, I must say.’
My eye was distracted momentarily by a bee which had landed on the edge of the table and was now walking unsteadily about, one of the first of the new spring.
I hate bees. I was stung once as a child and still remembered it, the panic I’d felt and how my mother had berated me for making such a fuss. She wasn’t a woman who believed in people making a fuss, not even frightened children. And maybe she was right. There were easier ways to deal with pests than panic, and I moved my hand quickly as I sat there to flatten it against the table. But Gina was too fast for me. By the time I had moved, the bee was already dead and she was wiping her hand on a cloth to clean off the remains.
She laughed lightly.
‘More wine?’
Chapter Twenty-One
The last thing I expected when I got back to my apartment some hours later was to find Alice sitting on the stairs outside my door waiting for me; and I wasn’t sure I was in the mood for talking to her either. My head was the worse for wear with wine. Gina had ended up making pasta and showing me more of her photographs, opening another bottle. And then another one after that. She was hard to keep up with, and I’d got out of the habit of drinking seriously during the day, which Fitzgerald would no doubt say was a good habit to get out of.
Now here was Felix’s sister expecting what of me?
And what would I get in return?
More evasions?
A woman like Alice needed delicate handling, and she’d caught me at the wrong time for diplomacy. Hence I was a little abrupt as I asked how she’d gained entry to the building.
‘The doorman let me in. I said we were friends.’
Hugh. I should make a note reminding me to kill him.
‘I went round to the house,’ Alice explained, ‘and yours was the last number that had called. I tried ringing you back, but there was no answer here, and I knew you didn’t have a new contact number for me. So I came round.’
A simple enough explanation.
Except I didn’t remember giving her my address.
Still, I could hardly leave her sitting on the steps.
‘You’d better come in,’ I said.
I unlocked the door and ushered her inside, chiding myself as I started giving the apartment a brief once-over to see if it was tidy. Like I cared whether it was tidy. I must be picking up some civilised habits from Fitzgerald; I’d have to put a stop to that.
‘How’s the hotel?’ I said.
‘I don’t think it’s going to work out,’ said Alice. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing there really, apart from running up a huge bill on my credit card in the mini bar. I can’t run away from Felix simply by leaving the house. I can’t stop thinking about him simply because I ca
n’t feel his presence in the room like I do at home.’
‘At least the suicide verdict means the police can release the body,’ I replied. ‘Isn’t that what you want? Grace Fitzgerald says you’ve been asking about it pretty insistently.’
‘My brother’s body was collected from the morgue this afternoon,’ Alice said with a stiff nod, either not noticing or ignoring the harder edge to my response than I’d allowed myself to indulge on our previous meetings. ‘That’s another reason I came round,’ she continued unruffled instead. ‘I wanted to give you this.’
She took a card from her pocket and handed it to me.
Invitation to a funeral.
My social life really needed improving.
‘This is fast,’ I said, looking down at it.
‘There’s not much point dragging it out,’ said Alice. ‘I’d rather get this over with as speedily as I can and then start getting on with my life again. If you can call it a life.’
But I wasn’t in the mood right now for feeling sorry for her. I was tired of hearing different versions of what she’d said, what she thought. My sympathy for her was leaking away through the gaps between them all.
‘You didn’t need to bring this round personally,’ was all I said.
‘I wanted to. I wanted to make sure you got it. Also, I . . . I wondered how you were getting on with investigating the circumstances of his death.’
‘You’re not letting this go?’
‘Not until I’m satisfied that Felix died by his own hand, no.’
Died by his own hand: she talked sometimes like she’d been a Victorian governess in a previous life.
‘I don’t think I can help you,’ I said, and she didn’t make any effort to hide her disappointment. And, annoyed with her though I was, her look scratched at me because I knew what it was like when no one would help. When no one would listen.
Sydney’s death had taught me that lesson.
The Dark Eye (The Saxon & Fitzgerald Mysteries Book 2) Page 13
