Carnage on the Committee: A Robert Amiss/Baroness Jack Troutbeck Mystery

by Ruth Dudley Edwards

  ***

  ‘She was a bitch,’ said Flora Massingham. ‘A complete and utter bitch. Resented me from the moment I was born and was generally horrible to me all the time I was growing up.’

  Pooley tried not to look taken aback. ‘So this was more than typical sibling rivalry, Dame Flora?’

  She looked at him and snorted. ‘Sibling rivalry my ass, Inspector. Hermione took one look at me in the cradle and decided she hated me. Made a couple of attempts to kill me. And, yes, I know that’s normal jealousy and she was only two and later she confined herself to pinching and hair-pulling, but even though she tried to hide it from our parents, she could never bear me. When she wasn’t being snooty and refusing to play with me, she was telling me I was stupid.’

  ‘How did you feel about her?’

  ‘How do you think? There was a pathetic period when I desperately wanted to make her like me, but by the time I was eight or nine I knew it was hopeless and stayed out of her way as much as possible.’

  ‘And in your teens?’

  ‘She did brilliantly academically and I was mediocre, so you’d have thought that would have mollified her, but it didn’t, because I had more boyfriends. She became more benign when she got into Oxford while I seemed destined for something provincial, but it all went to pot again when I landed RADA.’

  Pooley looked at Flora Massingham, whose gamine face, curvaceous body, husky voice and intelligent acting had her widely known as the thinking man’s crumpet, and remembered skinny Hermione Babcock’s stern features. ‘So the relationship went on being competitive?’

  ‘I wasn’t competitive. We lived in different worlds and it didn’t bother me if Hermione did well. In fact I was quite proud of her when she got her first, which was more than she was when I got my big break just afterwards. In fact she was livid that I had made the West End before I had even graduated.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘She told me on the phone that I was so inexperienced I was bound to fail in the part, and when she came to the first night with our parents she made a very bad job of pretending to be pleased that it had gone well.’

  ‘So you became a success immediately?’

  ‘I was lucky enough never to be a struggling actor. Why do you want all this?’

  ‘Because I need to know what your sister was like in order to get some idea of the motive of her killer.’

  ‘I don’t really know what she was like, Mr Pooley. My view must be jaundiced.’

  ‘Still, it would help if you would tell me how your relationship developed.’

  ‘We didn’t see much of each other, even though to my surprise she married a would-be actor, Ralph Babcock, instead of someone donnish.’

  ‘Where did she meet him?’

  ‘Oh, at Oxford. He was quite a figure in the Dramatic Society. But because he really did struggle, and she was pregnant with the twins at twenty-one, when they married, Hermione’s twenties were difficult. I was sorry for her. I think she’d have been happy staying on at university, doing a Ph.D. and all that and becoming something lofty in a women’s college, but instead she was teaching part-time in a college of education in London and spending most evenings alone while her husband earned a pittance as a spear-carrier. Ralph never got the breaks.’

  ‘You weren’t able to help?’

  She looked squarely at him. ‘I don’t like nepotism anyway, Inspector, but even if I had, I would never have been so unprofessional as to try to get a job for someone who just didn’t have the talent. Ralph realised it eventually and became a drama teacher instead. By that time he was involved with someone else and he and Hermione broke up shortly afterwards.’

  ‘Did you see much of the children?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not when they were small. Seeing the children meant seeing Hermione. Too big a price to pay. I sent them decent presents at Christmas and on their birthday and when they were older and Hermione couldn’t stop them, I’d take them on outings. It was all a shame, really. If she hadn’t been the way she was, I could have helped a lot.’

  ‘And then she married William Rawlinson.’

  ‘Nice William. Yes. I can’t imagine what he thought he was doing. But presumably he loved her. He’s certainly been very loyal.’

  ‘You don’t think there were problems in the marriage?’

  ‘Nothing that would have required a prosperous, attractive, sophisticated man to kill his wife. He could have just walked out.’

  She lit another cigarette, lay back against the red and purple cushions and gazed quizzically at Pooley. ‘You need dirt. I realise that. But I think the family’s clean.’

  Pooley thought so too. ‘How did she react when you became a Dame?’

  ‘She never mentioned it.’

  ‘You were very young.’

  ‘I was. I’ve a sneaking suspicion a particular senior minister had the hots for me and pressed my damery very strongly as a populist measure at a time when I’d had a big success on television. I thought Hermione would mind a lot, but fortunately William was knighted the following year so she became a Lady. Even if she had to confine her ladyness to her married name, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘You can’t use your husband’s title without using his surname, you mean.’

  ‘Exactly. But even being Lady Rawlinson must have salved the wound a bit. And of course she was cock-a-hoop when she became a peeress in her own right. Invited me to a big party held in that morgue she called a drawing room. I went to it too. For fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Did you see each other often?’

  ‘Impossible not to once she became a grand figure in the literary world, as it impinges so much on the thespian. We kept up appearances: Christmas cards, air-kissing when we met and pretending to speak to each other warmly, that kind of thing, especially once the papers started going on about our enmity.’

  Pooley, whose researches had already revealed hundreds of articles speculating on the relationship between the sisters, said, ‘Enmity?’

  ‘I’m surprised you didn’t know about the gossip, Inspector. I’d have thought you’d have looked us up.’

  Milton had long ago taught Pooley that proving one was ahead of the game was not always the smart thing to do. He looked puzzled. ‘Sorry, Dame Flora. I’m afraid the arts world is not one I know anything about.’

  ‘Better you don’t waste your time. Basically, the chatterers are split between those who think I was jealous of Hermione because of her intellect, her children and later her peerage, and those who think she was jealous of me because I was famous long before her, was richer and was thought to be more fanciable. The gossip intensified when it emerged that I lived with a woman.’

  ‘Did your sister meet her?’

  ‘I took Jane to the peerage party and Hermione ignored her. Nothing to do with being anti-gay, you understand. Hermione was far too right-on for that. But Jane’s a doctor and is therefore of no networking value. And, besides, she was tarred with my brush.’

  She unleashed on Pooley a dazzling smile that made him feel momentarily faint. Then, recollecting that she was more than a quarter-century his senior and a lesbian to boot, he recovered himself. ‘Could you tell me something about Lady Babcock’s children, Dame Flora?’

  ‘They’re sweethearts. Not a bit like Hermione. Neither could stand the literary world—or at least, their mother’s version of the literary world. They’ve talked to me about the horrors of being patronised and embarrassed at her soirées because they failed to impress when asked what they were reading.’

  ‘You get on, then?’

  ‘They’re nice, straightforward, good-hearted kids. Not such kids now, when you come to think of it—must be pushing forty. I’m fond of them and I think they’re fond of me. We talk on the phone and we see each other when they’re in England. They both left as soon as they’d graduated. Couldn’t wait to get away from their mother, who never stopped criticising them.’

 
‘And her friends?’

  ‘They weren’t what I’d call friends, Inspector. She liked fashionable people, did Hermione. Fashionable or functional. I doubt if there’ll be many tears for her.’

  ‘Lovers?’

  ‘Were there any?’

  ‘There are rumours.’

  ‘There are always rumours. And I wouldn’t be in the least surprised if Hermione had useful affairs. I would, however, be very surprised if they were passionate.’

  ‘It has been suggested that she had a relationship with Den Smith.’

  Dame Flora emitted a happy chortle. ‘Dirty Den himself,’ she said. ‘Why not? He’s supposed to have had everyone else in literary London. Thuggish, priapic shit that he is, he stuck his hand up my skirt once, in the back of a taxi. I slapped his face so hard he never spoke to me again. But to Hermione at a certain stage in her life, Dirty Den might have come in quite handy.’

  ‘No passion, though.’

  ‘No passion.’ She paused. ‘I think. I presume. But then what do any of us know about other people really? Maybe Hermione had a wild side I knew nothing about.’

  ‘Who do you think killed your sister?’

  ‘Not the faintest idea. I suppose it was someone in whose way she was standing. Or someone she gave a nasty review to. Or even maybe something to do with the Warburton. Somehow I think it would be appropriate that the murder motive had to do with ambition. Nothing much else mattered to my sister.’

  8

  Pooley’s report to Milton on Flora Massingham was interrupted by a brief visitation from the Assistant Commissioner that ended in raised voices.

  ‘What was all that about, sir?’ asked Pooley, after the door had banged shut.

  ‘Let’s just say the AC so hates press attention that he becomes at times just a little irrational when dealing with issues that attract it.’

  ‘Demanding immediate results while refusing extra resources seems extremely irrational.’

  ‘Indeed it does. However, we’d better use the few resources we have as efficiently as possible. I’m up to my eyes and can’t go with you to see Ralph Babcock, but I very much want both of us to see Den Smith this afternoon if only to protect each other against the possibility of any complaints. See you back here about two.’

  ***

  ‘I’ve haven’t seen Hermione for ages,’ said Ralph Babcock. ‘I really don’t see how I can help you.’

  ‘We’re just trying to build up a picture of her, Mr Babcock. I’ve just come from Dame Flora Massingham, who has been extremely helpful.’

  ‘I’ll bet she has,’ said Babcock, chuckling. ‘It must be quite a relief for Flora to be able to say what she thinks of Hermione to someone who isn’t going to spill it to the press.’ He paused. ‘Or are you one of those leaky policemen?’

  ‘Certainly not, sir. Leaking is rank unprofessionalism.’

  ‘Glad to hear it. What do you want to know?’

  ‘If you could just tell me the story of your relationship from your point of view?’

  ‘We met at Oxford. I was a star and she was in my firmament.’ He laughed again. ‘You’re very good at the po-face, Inspector. By rights you should look surprised that a fat old teacher living in suburbia should say such a thing. But it was true. I was handsome, confident and ambitious and Hermione, who was skinny, intense and a swot, thought I was wonderful and would go places. If she hadn’t thought I’d be successful, I’m sure she wouldn’t have set her cap at me.’

  ‘And her attraction was…?’

  ‘I just explained. She thought I was wonderful.’ There was another chuckle. ‘Maybe you new men are immune to this, but in my day, someone telling you you were God and could do anything went a long way.’

  He paused again. ‘And then she got pregnant. And her father was a minister. And I wasn’t a complete bastard.’

  ‘The pregnancy was an accident?’

  ‘How do I know?’

  Pooley said nothing.

  ‘I think she probably did it on purpose. She was smart and she probably guessed I’d never have married her otherwise. What she wasn’t smart enough to know was that I wasn’t going to live up to expectations. I was supposed to sweep all before me and outdo Flora, but I didn’t have Little Sis’ star quality. In fact in truth I didn’t have any talent worth speaking of. Couldn’t even make a decent living. So Hermione found herself in a crap job with a depressed and unsuccessful husband and looking after twins when she didn’t really have much of a maternal instinct. I’d have been sorry for her if I hadn’t been concentrating on being sorry for myself.’

  ‘She was jealous of Flora?’

  ‘Jealous! She was obsessed with her. And yet Flora was a nice little thing who could have been a real friend. She once offered to subsidise childcare so that Hermione could do her doctorate and Hermione told her to keep her filthy money. Simple jealousy. Yet she was never done complaining that Flora wouldn’t get me parts. And I knew by then that I wasn’t good enough for the commercial stage so was relieved Flora never offered to try.’

  There was another silence.

  ‘It was a grim time, sir.’

  ‘It certainly was. But it cheered up no end when I fell in love with my agent’s secretary, split up with Hermione and took up a job I was good at—spotting talent in kids and encouraging them.’

  A forty-something woman stuck her head around the door and offered coffee. ‘That would be lovely, darling. But first tell this nice policeman what you thought of Hermione.’

  ‘Cold-hearted bitch. Do you take milk and sugar?’

  Pooley, who had stood up when she entered, sat down again. ‘Just milk, please, Mrs Babcock. And Dame Flora?’

  ‘Sweetheart. And the twins are OK too. Very good, considering.’

  She left the room.

  ‘Tessa’s a bit biased. Apart from anything else, it’s really got up her nose all these years that Hermione held on to the Babcock name. And she believes Hermione just used me. But I recognise that I was a terrible disappointment to her and I wasn’t much help with the kids. Not like I’ve been with mine and Tessa’s. Men weren’t in those days. I spent an awful lot of time being the life and soul of parties in the name of networking while she sat at home seething. Can’t have done her character much good.’ Another chuckle. ‘Still, it gave her the inspiration to write that all-men-are-bastards novel that created a bit of a stir, so I suppose you could say I gave her her chance.’

  ‘Did you keep closely in touch?’

  ‘We did the parental bit reasonably successfully. Shared the kids’ holidays and that sort of thing and didn’t fight too much about money. Tessa mightn’t agree, but Hermione wasn’t mean. A bit mercenary, yes. Wanted access to money. But not mean.’

  ‘Was she a good mother?’

  ‘Conscientious. Expected too much of them, if you ask me. Very disappointed that neither of them made Oxbridge. As if it matters. But I suppose she thought it reflected on her. As my failure did.’

  ‘You have not been a failure, Ralph,’ said his wife, as she swept into the room with a tray. ‘You have been a fine teacher and your children love you—even her children.’ Handing a mug to each of the men, she left the room again.

  Pooley cupped his mug in his hands. ‘I really need to know more about Lady Babcock’s relationships with men, Mr Babcock, and, frankly, I don’t know how to ask you the next question.’

  ‘You want to know what she was like in the sack, is that it?’

  To his chagrin, Pooley felt himself blushing. ‘Well…’

  Babcock pulled himself lazily forward, picked up a plate and waved it in Pooley’s direction. Pooley shook his head and Babcock took a chocolate biscuit. ‘I should think Hermione has always done what she thought was expected of her if it suited her. Are you with me?’

  ‘Calculated, sir?’

  ‘Calculated, Inspector. Calculated and controlled.’ He demolished the biscuit in two bites. ‘To my knowledge there w
as no corner of Hermione’s life in which she wasn’t a control freak. The exception was her irrationality about Flora. If it hadn’t been for Flora, Hermione wouldn’t have wanted to marry me: I’m sure the idea was that I would be a far more successful actor, so Hermione could patronise and belittle her sister from her vantage point at the top of glamorous London society. Hence the pregnancy. Talk about the law of unintended consequences!’

  He snorted into his mug, and then reached for another biscuit. ‘She thought she was pulling off a daring plan, but I didn’t deliver, Flora did brilliantly and Hermione became domestically a drudge and professionally a badly-paid, unhappy instructor of disadvantaged kids whom she despised.’ He burst out laughing. ‘I’m not much help, Inspector, am I? I seem to be giving you an excellent motive for Hermione to have murdered Flora then, rather than for person or persons unknown to kill Hermione now.’

  ***

  ‘I know very little about my mother’s private life, Inspector,’ said Joshua Babcock. ‘She was not the sort of person with whom one discussed intimate matters. I’m afraid I can’t help.’

  Pooley moved the phone to his other ear while he tried and failed to think of an inspired question. He decided to fall back on the simple appeal. ‘Mr Babcock, I need your assistance. There is no obvious motive for your mother’s murder, so the police need those who loved her to help us determine why anyone should have wanted to kill her. I need to know what kind of person she was. What kind of enemies she might have made.’

  ‘Who have you talked to?’

  ‘Your father and stepmother, your stepfather and your aunt.’

  There was a chuckle that reminded Pooley of Joshua’s father. ‘Hardly a list of those who loved her. Except for William, I suppose.’

  ‘That’s where you come in.’

  ‘’Fraid not, Inspector. It’s pretty difficult to love someone who regards you as an obstacle to achievement. Alex and I weren’t best pleased when she went on about the pram in the hall being the enemy of good art. And of course there was all that Virginia Woolf wankery about a room of her own.’

  ‘Well, she certainly got that all right.’