“Er, well, actually ... yes,” I admitted.
This promptly riveted the attention of the other occupants of the waiting room upon me. I smiled apologetically and tried to look as though I were dying to plunge into Punch. It didn’t work for a moment.
“That’s right,” she said. “You took my place – and I – I went back to the House.”
“Well, you did rather insist, you know,” I defended feebly. “I never intended to.” I glanced sideways at Gerry for help, but it was no use. He was deep in Country Life – he had never seen me before in his life.
“If only I had been up there,” she mourned. “If only I had kept my appointment –”
“Honestly” – I tried to comfort her – “there was nothing anyone could do. He’d been – er – it had happened quite a while earlier. You couldn’t have made any difference –”
“But I wasn’t there,” she said. “And so, I’ll never know. There might have been something –”
“We did everything we could.” I’ll never know whether I was comforting her or rubbing salt in the wound. “Believe me, there was nothing –”
“You’re trying to be kind.” She gave me a brief, tight smile that disclosed those yellowed, crumbling teeth again and gazed off into the distance.
Unfortunately, none of the others joined her in studying the distant vistas; they were all too busy staring at me. I began to feel like a sideshow exhibit. I was going to be a bitter disappointment to them at any moment by failing to turn and disclose gills or feathers in unexpected places. I tried outstaring them, but I was outnumbered and it didn’t work. I took the only other option open to me and gazed off into space myself.
“Yes,” she said, “you’re very kind.” She lowered her voice, which did nothing to diminish its carrying power – I’ve heard West End actresses who couldn’t project so well at full power as she did with her lowered voice. It seemed to curl into every corner of the room and echo back at us off the walls.
“I shall never forgive myself. It was my place – my duty – to be there.”
“No, really,” I said. My own voice was almost inaudible, even to me, but as everyone else in the waiting room seemed to be holding their breath in order not to miss any of the dialogue, I was bitterly aware that it wasn’t inaudible enough. “You mustn’t blame yourself. Anyone could be excused for wanting to skip a dental appointment. And you were trying to do a kindness to someone else – to me. You have nothing to reproach yourself about.”
“You don’t understand.” She turned her dark, brooding eyes upon me. “You don’t know all the circumstances. You see, I was engaged to Tyler Meredith. It was a secret at present, but – after we worked out a few difficulties – we were going to be married.”
Over my own gulp of astonishment, I heard Country Life hit the floor. Gerry retrieved it quickly, but gave up the pretence of being absorbed in it. He joined the rest of our breathless audience, goggling shamelessly, ears all but flapping.
“Yes,” she said. “There’s no point in keeping it secret now.” She was oblivious to her listeners. Rather, I revised my opinion, she seemed to accept them as right and natural. As though she were so accustomed to living her life in full view of the multitudes that they hardly registered on her consciousness anymore.
“He was at the threshold of a brilliant career in public service.” It looked as though we were in for a recitation of all the departed’s virtues. Well, perhaps it made her feel a bit better.
“I know,” I said. “He was developing a wonderful new anaesthetic which was going to be of great benefit to the public.”
“Not that.” She moved both head and hands in an impatient gesture of negation. “Oh, I know it’s wonderful – it was to be his parting gift to a profession which had served him, but which really meant little more to him than the stages he began his life on. His real future had nothing to do with this.” She encompassed the waiting room, the surgery, the entire building, with contempt in her tone.
Across the room, I was aware of Morgana Fane regarding us intently. She leaned forward, one elbow on the arm of her chair, her hand cradling her jaw – my own jaw winced in sympathy – and watched us as though we were a command performance convened for her own special entertainment. Except that she didn’t seem very entertained. More probably, we were a welcome diversion to take her mind off her dental problems and the ordeal waiting for her upstairs in the surgery. I wondered if she was here again today on the principle of getting straight back on the horse after having fallen off – it couldn’t be easy for her to get back into that chair where she had had such an unpleasant experience. (I made a mental bet that she was settling for ordinary procaine this time around.) Was that why her manager was with her again – for moral support? Or was he just a glorified chauffeur, standing by to take her on to her next photo session?
Or – another, nastier, thought suddenly occurred to me – had the police sent for those who had been here yesterday, in order to facilitate their inquiries?
Could they do that? Was it only because I was already here that I hadn’t been sent for? I decided I didn’t really want to know the answers to those questions and tried to stop thinking about them. Even though this meant I had to return my attention to the still-voluble mourner beside me.
“... truly brilliant career opening out before him. I was so certain of it, I was going to give up my seat to him – after we were married, of course.”
I rolled with that punch and let my mind wander. She took a terrible picture, I realized, looking at her. In fact, she must be one of our least photogenic MPs. The ghastly hats she persisted in wearing every time she was photographed didn’t help, either. Nor did her habit of never smiling – although I’d seen the reason for it when she first smiled at me yesterday – do anything to soften the grim visage the cameras recorded.
In person, and without a hat, she looked softer and more attractive. It was too bad she hadn’t met a sympathetic photographer –
I pulled myself together abruptly. This was no time to be thinking of business. At least, not new business. We had quite as much as we could manage trying to keep our devious dentist out of the clutches of the law. Once that was accomplished – if it was accomplished – we could worry about new clients.
“... brought me here today,” she was saying.
“Yes?” I tried to look as though I had been paying rapt attention.
“I wanted to collect a few things from his flat – just little personal things. Nothing valuable. They wouldn’t mean a thing to anyone else. But, I thought – if I might go up and –”
You and half of London. But I couldn’t say that. I nodded, with what I hoped was a suitably understanding expression. As long as she didn’t look at Gerry, we were all right. His bemused expression would have given the game away – or at least, told her there was a game.
“I really must” – she took a deep breath and stood up decisively – “go and speak to Mr. Zayle about it now. I – I just wanted to sit down for a moment and – and gather myself together, as it were.”
“Of course, but” – I felt I had to warn her – “I think you’ll have to speak to someone other than Mr. Zayle. There’s still an investigation going on and the policeman in charge of it is upstairs in the Zayle living room. I believe you’ll have to get his permission before you do anything about the Meredith flat.”
“I see.” She drew in her breath thoughtfully.
“Just tell him everything you’ve told me,” I said encouragingly. “Especially the part about being secretly engaged.” That would give Rennolds some food for thought – enough to choke him, if we were lucky.
“Tchk!” She made an impatient exclamation with her tongue. “I haven’t much time to spare. There’s an important debate coming up – I must get back to the House. It will probably mean a division – and an all-night sitting.”
“Tell that to the inspector. He’ll understand.” I smiled reassuringly to her as she went out the door.
/> Then I became aware that Gerry was signalling to me urgently. I, too, felt that a corridor conference was strongly indicated and nodded. We gave our MP time enough to clear the stairs and be out of our way, then wandered out of the waiting room with a vague indifference which probably fooled no one.
Certainly not Morgana Fane. She was watching us with a curious expression, and for a nasty moment, I thought she was going to follow us out and declare herself in on whatever we were doing. Fortunately, she had second thoughts – if she’d ever had the first thought – and we found ourselves alone in the corridor.
“Well,” I said, “wait until Rennolds hears the rest of the tales of the lovelorn. That ought to change his mind about Zayle.” I couldn’t help gloating a bit. I’m as law-abiding as the next one, but I felt that Rennolds deserved any problems he got.
“Mm-hmm.” Gerry was still bemused, trying to follow the workings of a mind he was beginning to admire. “It’s a pity we did our trading with the wrong partner. That Meredith was a genius. Do you see how perfectly he planned things? The Honourable Edytha’s money, backing a political career handed to him on a platter by the Right Honourable MP, and with Adele in the background for a spot of luscious crumpet when he felt like a pastry.”
There was no mistaking it, Gerry’s tone was openly envious.
“Do you realize Tyler Meredith was on the verge of pioneering new frontiers in bigamy?”
“He didn’t get away with it,” I reminded Gerry, bringing him down to earth sharply.
“No, he didn’t, did he?” He brightened slightly. “I guess I’d better stick to the love ’em and leave ’em routine. It has its drawbacks, but –”
“But it’s healthier,” I finished for him.
“True, only too true.” He shook his head sadly. “Birds get very upset about little things. Each one likes to think she’s the only one in the nest – let alone wearing the wedding ring. Whichever one of Meredith’s birds found out about the other two –”
“The hot-tempered Adele.” I cast my vote promptly, unable to forget the way she had tried to push her husband into the path of the oncoming train. “That woman would do anything.”
“On impulse, yes,” Gerry said. “But I’m not so sure about long-distance planning. Remember, she has an alibi for the past week. She was with friends at the seaside.”
“Alibis can be staged,” I argued, “and any true friend would do a bit of lying in a good cause.”
“A good cause?” Gerry raised his eyebrows.
“If the friend was another woman – who also didn’t approve of bigamy.”
“Only too true again,” Gerry admitted sadly. “The best of birds is likely to have a very wonky view of morality.”
“I suppose you can’t really blame them,” I said. “They just see things differently from us.”
“Now my money,” Gerry said, “is on the Honourable Edytha. It’s always those tall, thin, high-strung ones you’ve got to watch. They’re overbred, or something, like horses. One minute they’re perfectly all right, the next minute they’re trying to knock your head off charging under a low branch, or trying to break your leg brushing you off against a fence. If I’d ever had a horse,” he added thoughtfully, “that showed as much white to its eye as the Honourable Edytha, I’d have shot it before it got a chance to do any damage. Some creatures you just can’t trust.”
It was a good argument, but I doubted that it would hold up in a court of law. “Maybe,” I said, “but she strikes me as too timid to be violent. How about the Right Honourable MP? Now there” – I warmed to the idea – ‘Is a woman I would put nothing past.”
“Neither would the Opposition,” Gerry said. “Even though she’s been known to work very well on committees.”
“What do you mean?”
“The hardest thing to bring off in bigamy,” Gerry said, as though he’d thought deeply about the subject, “is keeping the ladies apart. Suppose Meredith didn’t manage it. The wronged ladies could have formed a conspiracy for revenge and drawn straws or something for the one who’d actually do the deed. Then the others got to work and manufactured three solid alibis.” He looked into space thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t be surprised if a conspiracy like that were pretty nearly undetectable. So long as none of them broke under the strain.”
“That’s a bloodcurdling thought.” I felt as though the temperature had plummeted a good thirty degrees, although the thermostat on the wall beside me continued to register a perfectly respectable reading of 70°F. “But it could have worked. Edytha and Kate alibied each other in the waiting room. Sir Geoffrey admitted he’d only been there half an hour. It might depend on just when Tyler Meredith died. How long it took, I mean. One or both could have slipped past the receptionist, knocked Meredith out, strapped the mask over his face, and gone back to the waiting room – trusting to luck that no one would go into the surgery in time to rescue him.”
“Even if he was discovered in time,” Gerry said, “they didn’t run much of a risk. Could he bring any sort of charges? He’d have to admit what had driven them to it – and I’m not sure it isn’t the kind of crime that draws a prison sentence. At any rate, you’ve got to admit society frowns on bigamy.”
“Whichever one did it,” I said, “no one could deny she had sufficient provocation. Quite probably, no jury would convict her. Not if there were any other women on it – and any decent QC would see to it that there were.”
“Provocation, indeed,” Gerry said.
“You’ve got to admit Tyler Meredith brought it on himself. After all, he was planning to betray –” Was that quite the right word? I tried again. “He plotted to use –” That didn’t seem the mot juste, either. “Er...” I floundered desperately.
“The situation reminds me,” Gerry said solemnly, “of a classic American newspaper legend. It happened back in the innocent days. There was a sensational court case featuring a dentist accused of rape.
“Naturally, no respectable newspaper could print such a word in those days. Not even when the jury found the accused guilty as charged. The brightest sparks of one of the leading newspapers cudgelled their brains late into the night trying to come up with a lead fit for the delicate sensibilities of their readers.” He paused.
“And?” I prompted.
“They finally headlined it,” he said, “‘Dentist Fills Wrong Cavity.’ ”
Chapter 9
We were carelessly standing with our backs to the stairs; a mistake I became aware of when a sudden clatter of onrushing heels sounded unnervingly close behind me. I half expected, as I turned, to face the Honourable Edytha, rushing away from memories which had suddenly threatened to overcome her.
Instead, I was nose-to-flaring-nostril with Adele. Chin high, haughty, and imperious, she defied me to remain blocking her path. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had commanded, “Out of the way, peasant!” I stepped away hastily. There was no doubt about it – if we had been in a Roman amphitheatre, Adele’s thumb would have been turned down.
However, she did her best to twitch the corners of her mouth into a smile. It wasn’t a very good smile, but one had to applaud the obvious effort.
“I – I’m sorry,” she said, sidling past. “I – I just feel I need a breath of fresh air.” It was so unconvincing it was almost original.
“Then, allow me.” Gerry crossed and swung the front door open for her with a flourish. It wasn’t until he had closed it behind her and turned back to me that a thoughtful look occupied his face.
“Did you notice anything just then?” he asked.
“Anything?”
“That thing she was carrying. Was it one of those large-size handbags, or one of those small-size overnight cases?”
“I don’t know,” I said. I might have added that I didn’t want to know. We had enough problems. If Adele decided to go back to her friends on the coast, or to go home to mother, it wasn’t for us to worry about. I felt Zayle could only be congratulated – but would he see it
that way?
“I wonder whether we should have let her go.” Gerry was determined to worry. “The inspector won’t like it.”
“How could we have stopped her? And why should we have? We’ve nothing to do with the police. If the inspector wants to keep people cooped up, he should have put a policeman on the door. So far as we’re concerned, that was the client’s wife and she wanted to go out. Were we supposed to bring her down with a flying tackle and carry her back upstairs?”
I was working myself into a fine state of righteous indignation. It sounded like a pretty solid argument – but would the inspector view it that way?
“That’s right.” Gerry, at least, was willing to view it that way. “It isn’t up to us to keep track of his suspects. In fact, so far as I’m concerned, we haven’t even seen her this afternoon.”
“That may be the best story,” I agreed. “Besides, we aren’t certain she’s decamped.”
“No, but I wouldn’t like to take any bets on it.”
Neither would I. The experience had taught me a lesson, though, and I faced the stairs as we resumed our conference. I wasn’t going to be caught off guard again.
That was how I happened to see Penny as she darted out of the surgery and down into the loo on the landing of the stairs, pausing only to give us a cheerful wave. There was nothing unusual in that.
What was unusual was the way in which Zayle almost immediately emerged from the surgery and pussyfooted up the stairs. His manner was distinctly furtive. What’s more, he didn’t make a return journey. I wondered if he had his own set of keys to his partner’s quarters. It would hardly be surprising – it was his house, after all.
“What do you think – ?” Although Gerry had his back to the stairs and hadn’t seen a thing, he came to the crux of the situation with his usual sixth sense. “What do you think the dear departed kept in that flat? I mean, it’s positively unnatural the way all those birds want to get in there and remove souvenirs. Do you suppose he had a collection of nude photos of them? Or do you suppose he peddled drugs in his spare time and they want to get their hands on what’s left, now that the source of supply has been cut off?”
In the Teeth of Adversity Page 8
