by Andrew Garve
She got up from the settee. “You know, Adrian,” she said silkily, “I strongly advise you to change your mind about a divorce. For your own sake.”
Something in her tone jarred very unpleasantly on Garland’s ears. “Don’t talk nonsense,” he said sharply. “What do you mean, for my own sake?”
“I’ve been very patient with you,” said Celeste slowly, wondering how long it would take Salacity to reach the sitting-room. “I’ve put up with this high moral attitude you’ve adopted because I didn’t want to quarrel, but if you insist on being insufferable, you force my hand. You’ve asked for it, and now you’re going to get it. Tell me, in your opinion is adultery so very much worse than murder?”
Garland stared at her as though he hadn’t heard clearly “What did you say?”
“Believe me, I didn’t want to bring it up,” she assured him. “I knew it could only make life very uncomfortable. But you see, I happen to know that you killed Dubois.”
The blood drained from Garland’s face. “You’re out of your mind,” he muttered under his breath. He walked quickly to the door and made sure that it was shut. “What on earth makes you say a thing like that?”
Celeste gave him a benevolent smile. “It’s no good, Adrian dear; you’re a dreadfully poor actor, and it wouldn’t make any difference if you weren’t, because I happened to see you do it. If you must know, I was the woman at the Blue Pool.” She made a wry little face. “I’m afraid I wasn’t behaving very well, but after all, it was Fiesta and I was rather drunk.”
“You’re lying,” said Garland thickly. “The whole thing’s a pack of lies. You’re making it all up for some reason of your own. I suppose you think this cock-and-bull story will frighten me out of divorcing you. Well, you’ll see.” His eyes bored into hers. “It couldn’t have been you——”
“Why not?” asked Celeste, amused. “Do you think I’m too pure or something? Or perhaps you think I wouldn’t have been wearing the clothes you saw? Of course, that’s it. So you were there?” She gave a little satisfied laugh at her own cleverness. “But why should I bother to trap you? I saw you, my dear, with my own eyes. I recognised you when your turban fell off. I was wearing a beach wrap, a white one with a wavy purple design. Remember? Now are you satisfied?”
“You haven’t got a wrap like that,” he said hoarsely.
“No,” said Celeste, “I haven’t. It belongs to Susan. She left it here by mistake one day when we’d been swimming, and I thought it would be a sort of disguise if I wore it. I knew Susan wouldn’t be at the Blue Pool anyway. There now, darling, isn’t it nice to know you won’t have to worry any more about who that woman was?” She sat back and beamed at him. “You might just as well admit it. It would be a frightful bore otherwise. If you want me to, I can give you lots of corroborative detail. Do you remember how I stared at you after you’d struck Dubois? I had a glass in my hand. Remember that horrible nigger who bumped into you? Remember the piece of paper you showed Dubois?”
Garland collapsed into a chair, a long trickle of perspiration rolling down from his temples. “You!” he gasped.
“Yes, me!” Celeste nodded brightly. “So at last you believe me?”
“Yes,” he said slowly, “I believe you. I wouldn’t have done a couple of hours ago, but now I do. I can just imagine how you enjoyed exhibiting yourself to the world that night. And the man you were with—I suppose it was the same fellow I saw to-night?”
“The same one. I’m not nearly so promiscuous as you think. But don’t start lecturing me again, darling. I couldn’t bear it.”
Garland gazed at her in bewilderment. For the moment, at least, her sexual adventures had taken second place. All he could grasp was that the situation seemed to have passed from his control. “What are you going to do about it?” he asked. “About Dubois, I mean?”
“Do?” echoed Celeste in a tone of surprise, “why, nothing. Unless you make me. I told you I didn’t want to start anything. It isn’t as though any harm’s been done. I never liked Dubois anyway, and as for Johnson … I suppose you did kill him too? I couldn’t ever quite believe that story you told the Coroner. You’re such a splendid swimmer, and it wasn’t really very far, was it?”
Garland sat fascinated. “I don’t understand you, Celeste. I don’t begin to understand you. You knew all this, and yet you didn’t say anything? It’s inhuman.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, darling. Feminine, if you like. Women often know things they don’t think it wise to talk about.”
“But weren’t you going to say anything at all?”
“I suppose I might have done sometime. I don’t suppose I could have kept it in for ever. We’d have been bound to have a quarrel sooner or later, and then I expect it would all have come pouring out. But only to you. I’d never have given you away, and I wouldn’t have said anything even to you if I could have helped it, because it was obvious it would make things awkward. And, besides, it was rather fun knowing a really guilty secret and not telling.”
“But now that you’ve told me—aren’t you afraid?”
“Of you?”
“You’ve good reason to be. How do I know you won’t tell? I killed Dubois, and Johnson Johnson, and I nearly killed Susan Anstruther because of the wrap——”
Celeste looked shocked. “Oh, Adrian, that would have been a pity. She’ll make such a charming wife for that nice Dr. West. I know you don’t like him, but he is rather sweet.” She smiled amiably at him. “No, I’m not afraid, not when we’re sitting and talking like this. I know you can be rather ruthless. It’s one of the things about you that’s always attracted me. But you seem quite controlled now, and anyway I’m sure Salacity wouldn’t approve if you started being brutal to me.”
“You’re a devil,” said Garland. “My God, I thought I had strong nerves, but you’re incredible. Aren’t you—aren’t you going to do anything? Aren’t you appalled? Can you take murder in your stride so easily?”
Celeste laughed. “Look, Adrian, I know this has all been a bit of a shock to you, but try to relax. You’re all strung up.” She caught his eye. “I’m sorry, darling, perhaps that wasn’t a very happy phrase, but you know what I mean. The whole trouble about you and me is that we took so long to get to know each other. You were all romantic about me and put me on a bit of a pedestal, when in fact I’m really an adventuress. I don’t want to go into sordid details, but I was brought up in a very hard school, if you can call the gutter a school, and that’s why I’m not easily shocked. You simply expected the wrong things from me. And I was just as stupid about you. I had no idea what sort of a man you were until I saw you kill Dubois. After that, I felt I could get quite interested. By the way, why did you kill Dubois? It’s puzzled me a good deal.”
“He knew too much,” said Garland. “He’d have ruined me. The fact is, Celeste, I allowed myself to be bribed by that contractor fellow, Rawlins, the man whose firm got the contract for rebuilding the leprosarium. Johnson Johnson heard us arranging it, and he told Dubois. I had to kill them. I had no choice.”
It was Celeste who looked fascinated now. “Well, you have been keeping things to yourself,” she said. “Dr. Adrian Garland, the upright administrator, taking a bribe! Amazing!”
“If you can swallow murder,” said Garland, “I should think you can swallow that.”
“Oh, easily, but I am a little astonished, I must say. Did you need money so badly?”
“You did,” said Garland briefly.
“Darling! You mean you did it for me? But how sweet of you! Of course, I see now—that accounts for Honolulu. And we have spent rather a lot lately, I know. I’m afraid I’m dreadfully extravagant. Oh, darling, now we shall get along perfectly. Don’t you see, we’re birds of a feather! We’ve different vices, of course, but we’re both fairly vicious. If only I’d known, I’d have been so much nicer to you. I think virtue is so tiresome. Everywhere I went people told me how wonderful you were, and you always seemed to be doing good among those dreadful
natives. Even when you wanted to make love to me I felt I was going to bed with a well-run department—it was terribly off-putting. Darling, how much was the bribe?”
“Fifty thousand pounds,” said Garland, not without complacency.
“Fifty thousand pounds! But that’s a fortune. Has the man actually paid it?”
“He paid me ten thousand in cash, and the rest is safely tucked away in Singapore.”
Vistas of endless luxury floated before Celeste’s eyes. She said wistfully, “It would have been rather nice to share it with you. We could have had fun.”
“I had everything arranged,” said Garland, his bitterness returning. “When I went to the boat this evening, it was to clear up some bits of evidence that I’d overlooked. After that, I intended that we should go off to Singapore together at once—for good. I’ve made all arrangements. I’ve actually got the plane tickets in my pocket.”
“Couldn’t we still go? What time does the plane leave?”
“Midnight. But I don’t want to take you any more. I’ll never get that cabin out of my mind as long as I live.”
Celeste gave him her tenderest smile. “You will, you know. It was only because you were away so much, darling—I got bored here all by myself. You shouldn’t have left me, it wasn’t fair. You were such a stuffy old thing, too, at least I thought you were. It’ll be quite different when we’re together all the time, and you haven’t got your work to worry about. Think of it, my sweet, one long honeymoon! Doesn’t that appeal to you?”
“You’re shameless,” said Garland. “And transparent. Don’t think I can’t see through you. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“I know, darling. We can both see through each other and nothing need be hidden any more. Isn’t that the perfect basis for a perfect marriage?”
“You don’t mean a word of it,” said Garland. He was consumed with jealousy and self-pity, and oppressed by the weight of his anxieties. “You’re simply trying to sell yourself to me all over again.”
Celeste pouted. “You do put things so crudely. At least you’d have a much better bargain this time.”
“How do I know that? I wonder how long it would be before you found some other good-looking young fellow half my age and started your tricks all over again.”
“I keep telling you, angel, I don’t really like young men. They bore me.”
“You’d say anything to get your way. I can see now that you always have. How can I possibly trust you after what’s happened?”
Celeste showed the tips of her claws. “If it comes to that, darling, after what’s happened have you any alternative?”
“Yes. I can kill you, or myself, or both of us.”
“Oh, let’s not be melodramatic. It would be such a dreadful waste. Things may seem a bit difficult just now, but they won’t when we get away. We must try it, Adrian. We’re in this together, and we’ll pull through together. Life can start all over again. In a few days you’ll have forgotten all about Fontego. Well put it right out of our minds and begin again. I’m sure everything’s going to be marvellous.”
“I wish I could believe it.”
“You will when you get away. Look at me, Adrian. Aren’t I lovely? Don’t you want me more than anything else on earth? Isn’t that why you’ve done everything you have done? Darling, I’ll be all yours from now on. I promise. I’ll be terribly well behaved. Isn’t that a better prospect than—well, than some of the other things that might happen?”
“Is it? I shall always be in your power.”
Celeste laughed lightly, knowing the tide had turned. “Of course you will, you solemn old thing. Always, for one reason or another. Haven’t you always been? What does it matter what the reason is? Naughty passions or murder—the result’s the same. You can’t do without me, and you know you can’t. Adrian, we were made for each other. We suit each other. I’ve been very foolish; I can see that now. Do let’s have another try.”
She got up and stood where the soft light of the single shaded lamp fell on her. It was a kindly light, and made her look pure as a Madonna. “It shouldn’t be a difficult choice for you,” she said. “Me—all of me for yourself, or——” Delicately, she left the sentence uncompleted. “Well?” she said, smiling.
“You’re a devil,” cried Garland hoarsely. “You know you drive me crazy. I’m a fool, a damned weak fool, but, by God, Celeste, I need you. I’ll have to take you—I can’t help myself.”
“Darling!” murmured Celeste. “I promise you’ll never regret it.” Suddenly she became business-like, aware that she was about to become an open accessory after murder. “Adrian, I suppose no one suspects you?”
“Of course they suspect me,” said Garland. “That’s why I’m so anxious to be off. Susan knows I was going to kill her, and young West is treading on my heels. But they can’t prove anything.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Certain. I’ve tidied up all traces. They haven’t an inkling about Tacri, and there’s no way they can find out. The only thing I’m afraid of is a lot of probing questions by the police. If only we can get away quickly, I’m positive everything will be all right.”
“You’re so clever, darling,” said Celeste. “Let’s go and pack.”
Chapter Thirty
“Celeste, we must leave,” Garland called urgently, as the clock struck eleven. “I’m sure we’ve got everything that matters.”
The Garland home had been thrown into chaos by ruthless rummaging and packing. Celeste, unwilling to sacrifice treasures she couldn’t replace, was having a last look round. Garland had gathered his own things together and was satisfied that he had overlooked nothing vital. He felt on edge. Salacity had at first tried to be of assistance, but she had been ordered away and was now hovering resentfully in the kitchen. She had always helped Celeste on previous occasions, but this time both master and mistress seemed to have gone crazy. A fine way to pack for a holiday!
Garland hurried Celeste into the car. “It’s going to be a close thing,” he muttered, ramming in the gear. “That detour round the broken bridge will take us an extra ten minutes at least. Hold on—I’m going to drive fast.”
“Good, it’ll be exhilarating,” said Celeste, settling herself comfortably and nestling up close to Garland. “Well, I’m glad thats over. What a whirlwind! I do hope I haven’t forgotten anything.”
“We may be able to have the rest of the stuff sent,” said Garland, “if all goes well.”
“Yes, of course,” agreed Celeste. What did it matter, she thought. They could buy new things now.
Her eyes sparkled as for the last time she looked out upon the noisy streets of the eastern suburbs. “It’s wonderful to think that we shall never see Fontego City again,” she gloated. “What a shoddy place it is! All galvanised iron and shops.”
Garland grunted. It would be time enough to start feeling cheerful when they were out of their difficulites. He still couldn’t think very straight about Celeste. It was wonderful to have her there, that was all he knew. It was what he had always dreamed of, to have Celeste warm and friendly and clinging, and wholly with him. Nothing else mattered—except catching that plane.
Once out on the Main Trunk Road he gave the lively little car all she had. The road lay ahead invitingly wide and open, a swathe of macadam between the sugar canes. The close air became a refreshing breeze with the speed of their passage.
“After we’ve collected the money,” said Celeste, her lips parted in an ecstatic smile, “let’s fly to Honolulu as we planned. Everybody raves about it.”
“It’ll certainly gladden my eyes,” said Garland.
“I’ll have to do a lot of shopping, I’m afraid. I haven’t a rag to wear. There’ll be dancing and shows—I believe they have some first-rate cabarets. Oh, what a gorgeous change it’s going to be! And what shall we do after that? Perhaps we ought to go to some really cool place. Do you remember fresh air? I’d like to be made to shiver.”
“That may be easier than y
ou think,” said Garland grimly.
“Darling, how morbid! Seriously, though, I’ve had enough of the tropics for the time being. I’d like to get thoroughly cool and eat a nice crisp apple.”
Garland permitted himself a slight smile at Celeste’s chatter.
“I’m sure it’s a very modest wish,” she went on.
“That’s a change for you.”
“Oh, Adrian, don’t be an elephant. We’ve started our new life.”
A brilliant beam of overtaking headlights suddenly flashed on the windscreen, and in a moment or two there was an imperative honk behind them. Garland, fearing pursuit without expecting it, felt his heart leap. He slowed, and a huge streamlined limousine swept past, dangerously close, and roared ahead on an erratic course. It seemed to be full of Negroes. They were shouting and singing in raucous disharmony, and one of them was waving a bottle.
“How I hate reki,” said Celeste.
“Damned fools,” growled Garland. “Look at them—all over the road. That driver must be drunk as an owl.” Unconsciously he drove faster himself, pressing the accelerator to the boards and roaring after the wildly swaying car in front. But it had more power than he had, and its rear light slowly faded.
