Lady Anne shook her head, her frown deeper than ever. I could see the guilt in her manner, the anxiety … even a hint of embarrassment. The corners of my lips insisted on pulling into a triumphant smile, but I did my best to maintain a neutral expression. The woman stretched an arm to one of the cabinets and produced a silver hipflask. She gulped a good sip and then, finally, spoke. A strong scent of whisky filled the room.
‘It is a pity that you force me to reveal this, especially this early. And it will be most detrimental … particularly for you.’
I frowned. ‘Pray, explain.’
She gulped a second draught, deeper than the first one. ‘Ever since I knew of your being in town it has been my intention to introduce you to my granddaughter … since she is of marriageable age.’
I blew inside my cheeks and kneaded my temples. ‘Oh, goodness!’
‘As I told you, it is a pity that you force me to have this conversation today of all days. I am a sensible woman and I would not have introduced this matter until you and my Caroline were more closely acquainted.’
I did not bother to hide my laughter as I stood up. ‘Lady Anne, I understand it all now. You are free of all suspicion. I must leave.’
‘Mr Frey!’ she insisted. ‘You must not dismiss her so lightly. Caroline is an enviable match: beautiful, vivacious, accomplished in languages and music … but most importantly, she is to inherit all my possessions as well as my title. A most advantageous union; it would bring together the nobility of the Ardglass with the gentility for which the Freys have been admired for generations. None of your kin has ever risen to nobility, while my late husband came from a most distinguished lineage.’
I opened the door, feeling almost bilious. ‘Lady Anne, pray, pray say no more! I could refute each and every one of those arguments, but I would prefer we remained on respectful terms.’
‘Mr Frey, won’t ye –’
I had to raise my voice for she would not give up otherwise. ‘A Lady should know how to preserve her dignity! ’
She stood still and cast me the foulest stare. Again she looked like an old witch about to toss a toad into her cauldron. She inhaled deeply and grabbed her little flask. ‘Make yourself at home, Mr Frey,’ she hissed as she quit the room. ‘I hope you enjoy the rest of the ball.’
The ballroom was in turmoil. The music and the dancing had stopped, yet all the attendants were gathered around the small orchestra.
I found Downs at the very end of the crowd, standing on tiptoes and stretching his neck, trying to get at least a glimpse.
‘What is going on?’ I asked him.
‘Something really exciting: a violin duel!’
‘A violin duel?’
‘Yes, between Mr Ardglass and your young brother.’
I felt my jaw falling all the way to the hardwood flooring. ‘What the heck has that little brat gotten himself into?’ I grunted as I elbowed my fellow guests aside, making my way towards the musicians.
Indeed, I found Elgie there, smiling in front of the crowd, and Alistair Ardglass standing next to him. By then the older man was soaked in sweat as he fine-tuned the strings of his violin. He also seemed paler, his yellowish hands contrasting against the dark-coloured violin.
I pulled Elgie’s arm and hissed, my face burning with anger. ‘What on earth do you think you are doing?’
His smile made me want to slap him. ‘I want to shut him up! He believes he knows it all when it comes to music theory. He is the most insufferable, arrogant old man.’
‘And you are ten times more arrogant! I will not let you flaunt like a bloody chorus girl! Do you hear me?’
Ardglass approached us. ‘It is too late, Inspector. Your brother has made such a fuss that our guests are looking forward to it.’
I snorted and let go of Elgie’s arm. ‘Very well. If you insist on making yourself ridiculous I shan’t get in the way.’ And so I left him by the orchestra and went straight to the wine table. I thought that I could not feel more aggravated, but then Miss Caroline approached me …
‘You have the most disgusting brother, Mr Frey.’
‘I wish you had met my eldest one.’ I chuckled bitterly and then indulged myself with a very long sip of wine. How strengthening that was; at least part of my brain could now take care of the social niceties. ‘I must apologize if Elgie was in any way insolent.’
‘I can deal with boys like him,’ she said. ‘There is something much more delicate that made me come to you. I must beg you to answer something.’
I saw danger coming – not of murder or injury, but from the far more horrifying and baffling realms of the female character. However, my manners did not allow me to send her away. ‘Then pray ask, miss.’
‘Mr Frey, I am so sorry to put you in such an awkward situation but –’ she took a deep breath, ‘– has my grandmother asked you any … improper questions?’
I inhaled, trying to think of a courteous way to tell her the truth. She read my expression before I could say anything.
‘Dear Lord! ’ she squealed. ‘Has she offered you my hand already? She must be utterly desperate to do so on the very night she met you! Mr Frey, I must make something very clear immediately.’
‘Miss …’
‘My grandmother might have sold herself to a bankrupted lord, but that does not mean that I will follow her steps. I shall not be paraded like a calf in the cattle market. Do you understand?’
‘Miss …’
‘It is disgusting enough to hear her talk about lineage and bloodlines as if she were breeding mules …’
Her speech was becoming so impertinent I had to forget all decorum and place two fingers on her forearm.
‘Miss Ardglass, before you get carried away, rest assured that I never, never had the slightest desire or intention of accepting your hand.’ Too late I realized how appalling the words had sounded. ‘Oh … forgive me. I did not mean … that is to say, in other circumstances – well, a fine lady like yourself would be –’ I was now dangerously close to offering an actual proposal. I cleared my throat. ‘Miss Ardglass, this is not a conversation to be had with a twenty-minute acquaintance. Kindly excuse me.’
I bowed and walked away swiftly, feeling both sorry for the young woman and shamed by my stuttering. She seemed a spirited, smart girl, and perfectly able to fend for herself. Still, I wondered how much Lady Anne’s efforts to secure her future were actually driving suitors away.
I moved to a table on the other side of the hall, away from the crowd, feeling my guts writhing in the worst state of frustration. I could not remember having been at a more disastrous party … and yet the worst was still to come.
Alistair had just finished tuning his violin and then, with the most ridiculous attempt at an eloquent voice, he introduced the violin duel. They would try to outperform each other until one of them admitted defeat, or until the crowd decided that one of them was clearly the better.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said at last, ‘as a good host I will cede to my challenger the privilege of playing the first piece. I give you Mr Elgie Frey.’
There was some sporadic applause as Elgie received the violin. He covered the chinrest with a handkerchief; it was the one I’d given him at the theatre, and I could not help feeling a little flattered. After carefully protecting his neck, Elgie got the instrument in position, tried a couple of notes and trills, and finally took a deep breath.
Elgie only had to play two or three bars before we all recognized the main theme of ‘The Hunt’, from Vivaldi’s ‘Autumn’. I had to give him credit; he’d chosen a well-known, friendly piece to begin with, and soon I saw ladies swaying from side to side, following the catchy melody. Close to the ending, his violin exploded in a frenetic passage that utterly surprised the crowd – almost as much as if a real fox and a pack of hounds had suddenly appeared in the middle of the hall. The ovation was great, and it cheered me to see that Caroline and her grandmother were grimacing.
Alistair took the violin, reflec
ted for a few moments, and then smiled maliciously as he pressed the instrument against his chin.
From the very beginning, his bow stroked the lowest string at full speed. It was the dark, prestissimo movement of ‘Summer’, also by Vivaldi, and Ardglass played it even faster than the piece was supposed to be. Not content with that, Ardglass also enriched it with embellishments that were not in the original score. The music sounded like a ravaging storm.
In the end, the roaring applause came from admiration rather than pleasure. By choosing a more difficult movement of the same composition, Alistair was trying to make the superiority of his skills crystal clear. Elgie would find it difficult now; nevertheless, his reaction could not have been more suitable.
‘I did not know that we were confining ourselves to the Four Seasons!’ he said. ‘If you raise no objection, I shall try to be a little more imaginative.’
Ardglass gave him a filthy look as he handed over the violin, and my brother grinned as if fed by the man’s resentment.
Even though Elgie was beginning to foresee his defeat, he welcomed the instrument once more. His second piece was definitely not as quick as Alistair’s frantic ‘Summer’, but his perfect rhythm and the bright notes, melded with his happy, childish attitude, gave us the most vivacious, uplifting piece of music. From time to time I could see him glancing at the crowd, rejoicing in their appreciation, and then I understood what he was attempting; while Ardglass was focused on showing off his virtuosity, my brother wanted people to like his music. A brilliant move, for even if Ardglass beat him on the technical side, Elgie would win people’s hearts.
Suddenly I realized that I had heard him playing that piece before … and not just on any day. That was the piece he’d been playing on the very day I had lost my position in London; that dreadful day after I had faced the prime minister at Scotland Yard. It was Paganini’s 24th Caprice, the same theme. Nevertheless it sounded somehow … different. I had to listen carefully for a moment, enraptured by my brother’s skill and enthusiastic movements. I had to transport myself back to that awful day and remember every image, every step, every word and every smell … And then it all came clear; the sound was different because Elgie was playing a different violin. The resonance from the strings was not quite as bright; the echoes of the low notes were louder and deeper, and the higher notes sounded pleasantly muffled, almost dark.
‘Could it be that …?’ I did not realize that I’d muttered those last words out loud until Downs spoke to me.
‘I beg your pardon, Inspector?’
I shook my head. ‘Nothing. Just a thought …’
When Elgie finished, there was a second of bewildered silence, and then a thunderous applause resounded across the room. I could hardly imagine that the ovations could get any louder and, apparently, Ardglass was thinking the same, for he received the violin with faltering hands. For a moment he held the instrument and stared at it with his confused little eyes. Slowly, he raised his head and gave Elgie a scornful stare. Everyone noticed his sombre mood and a tense, sepulchral silence fell on the room.
Alistair then lifted the violin and placed it against his already reddened neck. The silence was so deep that every scrape and scratch against the violin’s wood seemed amplified. He inhaled and exhaled deeply and noisily, and then brought the bow to the strings, as meticulously as a surgeon about to press a scalpel against a patient’s flesh.
Sharp, acute notes came, which immediately brought to my head the shrilling sound of a sword being sharpened. They began slowly and softly, but Alistair gradually increased both speed and volume, like an eerie chuckle rising to become a piercing, cruel cackle.
He played some extravagant passages, and then, twisting his fingers at abnormal angles, he played two different themes on two strings simultaneously; something I can only describe as spine-chilling.
One string quivered like the broken voice of a terrified soul, while the other provided a low, anguished accompaniment that brought to mind Mrs Caroli’s desperate wails. Altogether, the strings produced unimaginable echoes and harmonics – had I not seen it with my naked eyes, I would have sworn we were listening to an entire string quartet brought from Hell.
The soft voice of an old woman came to my memory: ‘It was horrible music … like poking knives … fear itself must sound like that …’
Alistair concluded with a roaring chord, literally banging the strings with the bow.
The echoes took a moment to fade and then there was no clapping, but an eerie silence that could not have been more expressive. We were all open-mouthed; it was as though we’d seen Alistair go into a momentary fit of madness, which started and ended with that fiendish melody.
I remembered McGray reading that old book of his; the things that people said about Paganini and his ‘demonic deportment’.
And then it hit me!
I thrust myself towards Ardglass, frantically pushing and elbowing people. Elgie told me later that I was panting and snorting, though I did not even notice. I snatched the violin from his hands so swiftly that one of his fingers was cut by the strings.
‘Hey! I was win–’
‘Shut up! ’ I howled. I lifted the violin and looked into the case through the f-hole.
Amati, 1629.
Those were the very characters that I was expecting to find. I immediately turned to Ardglass. His face was as red as if it had been scalded, the most frightened sparkle in his eyes.
‘Alistair Ardglass,’ I said firmly, so that everybody could hear, ‘you are under arrest for the murders of Guilleum Fontaine and Danilo Caroli, and possibly also of Theodore Wood.’
A general gasp filled the ballroom and the coarse voice of Lady Anne travelled all the way from the farthest corner: ‘This is outrageous! ’
Ardglass pulled the most miserable face. ‘I-I … can explain! It’s not what it seems!’
‘You will explain,’ I said. ‘You shall have plenty of time in the questioning room.’
‘No, no!’ he babbled, cowering and stepping backwards until he tripped on the music stands of the orchestra. How pathetic he looked.
‘Do not make me force you out!’ I hissed. I did not feel like running after him and dragging him away as if he were a child in a tantrum. Fortunately he did come back to his senses and, very slowly, started to make his way to the entrance. I followed him closely, for I am used to unpleasant surprises when arresting people, but Ardglass simply kept saying once and again that he could explain it all. When we reached the main hall it was almost surreal to have the butlers help us put on our overcoats. One of the old men patted his master on the shoulder and Alistair could not hold back his tears.
Finally, we walked out of the house to find that Duke Street was unusually busy, given the time. While we waited for the carriage I looked at the violin, still in my hands. The instrument had a normal scroll instead of the instantly recognizable lion head. Looking closely, new fittings over the original wood were pretty obvious.
‘What did you do with the carved lion?’ I asked. ‘Did you truly believe that nobody would notice?’
‘I found it in my office, Inspector!’ he whimpered. ‘I swear. I swear!’
I chuckled. ‘How convenient! Especially hard to swallow, though, given that you were present when it was stolen from the Carolis.’
He grabbed me by the shoulder. ‘I want to talk to Mr McGray. He will believe me.’
I laughed. ‘Will he? I do not think that McGray will be too keen to defend your case.’
‘He will believe this! He’s seen these things.’
‘Seen what things?’
Then Ardglass shuddered visibly, pressing his stomach with both hands, his face even redder than before. At first I thought that the tension was making him sick.
‘The Devil.’
It was as though the words ripped him. Alistair’s face turned into all the wrong colours and then, exploding like a breaking dam, he threw up the most disgusting spurt of wine and half-digested canapés. He f
ell onto the pavement, his hands and knees splashing on the pool of vomit, and then he yelled with his mouth still dripping: ‘The Devil came to me! Gave me the fiddle. Talked to me! ’
I leaned over him. ‘Ardglass, do not speak, we’ll take you to a doctor …’
Ardglass did not seem to hear; his crazed eyes flickered about while he kept mumbling and spitting. I turned for a second, looking for someone to help me lift him up, but that second was enough for him to leap to his feet and sprint towards the road.
He was a gruesome thing to behold: howling like a demented wretch, his arms flailing madly and his feet sliding on the mud.
Just as I started towards him, Ardglass ran across the path of a dray cart loaded with barrels. The two horses pulling it neighed loudly and the driver roared as he pulled the reins, but the road was so slippery that they could not stop. In an instant the beasts ran directly over poor Alistair: I had a full view of their hooves stomping on his chest and torso, and then the front wheel of the cart rolling over his legs. He did not even have time to scream.
As soon as the cart halted I ran towards Ardglass, not even aware of the small crowd of screaming people gathering around us. I had to crawl under the cart, where he lay in an awkward position, only to find what I already knew.
Alistair Ardglass was dead.
I want to tear my heart to rags; spoon my eyes out!
It is doomed, my perfect plan! All falls apart!
Pox on my bad luck! Pox on my cursed life!
These thoughts are venom. Venom! The mind poisons itself …
I must not despair, not despair. I must act quickly. I can still fix it quickly!
28
McGray stormed into the questioning room in his ever imposing manner. He took off his overcoat and tousled his soaked hair heartily, splattering tiny drops of water all over my face.
The Strings of Murder Page 24
