Queen of Hearts

by Rhys Bowen

  “Isn’t the house made of stone?” Craig asked. “That can’t burn, surely?”

  “The stonework is only a façade.” Ronnie’s face was grim. “The whole framework underneath is timber.”

  “What are we going to do?” Algie demanded. “Somebody go for help. We’ll be burned alive.”

  “We may be okay when it reaches the gravel and burns itself out,” the sheriff said, not sounding too confident about this. “Isn’t there a better outlet for those damned hoses?”

  Suddenly there was a crackle above us and smoke rose from the roof.

  “The roof has caught,” Ronnie shouted. “Come on, let’s try and put it out before it takes hold.”

  Craig, the sheriff, and his remaining deputy followed Ronnie into the house. I hesitated, then decided I might be able to help too. “Buckets. We need buckets,” I heard him shouting. “Maria? Francisco?”

  His voice echoed in the high-ceilinged foyer. At that moment Maria came flying down the stairs, followed by Mrs. Goldman and Miss Kindell, clutching at each other and still in their robes.

  “The whole place is on fire,” Barbara Kindell shouted. “You can’t go up there.”

  “Someone should save the candlesticks.” Mrs. Goldman waved her arms frantically.

  “Relax, honey. They’re insured, aren’t they?” Barbara tried to calm her.

  “I don’t know. Did he say he’d insured them or he was going to?”

  I noticed that her concern wasn’t for her husband’s body.

  Ronnie had grabbed some pots and pans and now ran up the stairs. I followed, reluctantly. We crossed the landing and were at the foot of the second staircase when Ronnie turned back, his face ashen. “It’s no use. The fire has come through the ceiling up there.” And even as he was speaking we heard the creak and crash of collapsing timber and exploding glass.

  “Everyone into the pool,” Charlie Chaplin shouted as we appeared from the front door again. “It’s our only hope right now.”

  We didn’t wait to be urged a second time. Algie, Belinda and my mother made it first with surprising speed. I believe Algie knocked my mother out of the way to get down the steps first. The rest of us followed. Queenie hesitated as we jumped in. “I can’t swim, miss,” she called.

  “Then get in the shallow end and duck under the water if the fire comes over us.”

  The surface of that lovely blue water was already marred with ash and I wondered what we would do if the fire really did come over us. How long could we hold our breath under the water? Smoke was now billowing from the open front door and the roar and crackle echoed out. Suddenly from above us there was a horrible scream. I looked up to see Stella at an open window, high above us. We had forgotten all about her.

  “My door is locked,” she screamed. “I can’t get out. Someone help me.”

  Bella was out of the pool like a shot. “Hang on, Gertie, I’m coming,” she shouted. She ran around the side of the house until she found a part of the wall that was made of rough stone. She went up this like a spider, then inched her way across on a ledge until she reached her sister’s window.

  “Come on, Gertie. You’ve got to trust me. Come on. Follow me.”

  “I can’t,” Stella wailed. “I’ll fall.”

  “No you won’t. Remember how we used to do that balance beam routine? You were good. Come on, ducks, or we’ll both burn.”

  Stella inched herself out of the window. The fire was right above them now. Painfully slowly they made their way along the ledge, past a window, then another. At last they reached the section of wall where Bella had climbed up. Bella went first, talking her sister down, showing her where to put her hands and feet. Charlie, Craig and Ronnie rushed over to them, standing ready to break a fall, then helping them down the last few feet to the ground. Bella took her sister’s hand and dragged her into the pool just as flames erupted from Stella’s window.

  The heat became unbearable as fire engulfed the house. Burning embers and flying bits of timber rained onto us. On the far side of the house the garage caught on fire and we heard terrifying explosions as the petrol tanks blew up. A palm tree behind the pool ignited and went up in flames. Animals stampeded around in blind panic, not knowing where to go. A couple of antelopes leaped into the pool with us, and in the forest others burned and screamed as they died. It was truly horrible, and it seemed to go on forever.

  It wasn’t until the fire in the parkland below finally burned itself out that we heard the sound of approaching fire engines.

  “Better late than never, I suppose,” Mummy said and began to remove her hair curlers.

  We hauled ourselves out of the pool as the first of the fire engines came through the blackened forest toward us.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” the fire captain said. “Can’t do anything to save the house, I’m afraid. It’s gone.” He started to assist us up onto the truck. This wasn’t a simple process as embers were still flying out from the burning house.

  “My suitcase,” Belinda exclaimed and ran to retrieve it.

  “No space for that, ma’am,” the fireman said. “We’ll bring it down later if we can. At the moment my priority is to get you away from here.”

  “But I can’t leave my things behind,” Mummy said. “Look how tiny I am, Captain. I really don’t take up much space and I could sit on my suitcase. . . .”

  “Fine with me if you don’t want to come,” the fireman said. Mummy hastily grabbed an armful of clothing from her case before nimbly hopping aboard. The firemen piled us onto the truck and drove us down to the gate. The area around the gate itself had escaped from the fire as it rushed up the hill. It was a shock to suddenly come upon green trees by the fence and a giraffe and several zebras cowering there. I was glad they hadn’t all met a horrible end and found myself wondering about Juan. Had he also found a place of safety by the fence? I have to say that I no longer felt as charitable about him as I had done. Anyone who can condemn innocent people to being burned alive is truly despicable. I hoped the sheriff’s men caught him and that he did have to face execution.

  The sheriff’s truck with the dog handlers had arrived and was waiting on the road.

  “Keep an eye on the fence, boys. I don’t want that bastard trying to slip past us,” the sheriff said.

  We climbed down, shivering now in our wet clothing.

  “How on earth are we going to get out of here?” Belinda asked. “All the motorcars have been destroyed.”

  “We’ll take you back to our headquarters in the truck,” the sheriff said. “It will be a bit of a tight squeeze but we’ll manage. We’ll need statements from all of you.”

  I turned to see Stella looking at her sister with wonder. “It really is you,” she said. “I began to think it must be my guardian angel come to save me.”

  “It’s really me, all right,” Bella said. “Maybe I am your guardian angel.”

  “It’s a miracle, Flossie. What were you doing here?” Stella asked.

  “Come to visit my big sister. What else?” Bella grinned at her. “It’s been a long time, Gertie.”

  “Too long. I’ve missed you.”

  “Really? I thought you were too busy being famous.”

  Stella smiled. “We used to have good times together, didn’t we? We only had each other.”

  “You left me behind. You said I held you back.”

  “I know. It was stupid of me. And hurtful. And now you saved my life. I’ll try and make it up to you if I can.”

  The sheriff helped her climb aboard. Bella watched her sister with a kind of fierce longing. Then it was my turn to join the others. The doors were shut and off we went. It wasn’t until we finally reached our destination that we realized that Bella was not with us. She had somehow managed to melt away as we were busy boarding. I can’t say I blamed her, and secretly I wished her well.

&nbs
p; Chapter 31

  AT THE SHERIFF’S HEADQUARTERS AND AFTERWARD BACK IN BEVERLY HILLS

  AUGUST 4

  The next few hours were a blur of being cold, hungry and in shock. We had to make statements. We were given blankets and mugs of coffee but all I wanted to do was to climb into a safe warm bed. I wished Darcy was with me, and wondered what he must be going through if he had arrived back at the estate to find it burned to the ground. At least the men at the gate could reassure him that we were safe, but he’d be worried nonetheless.

  By midafternoon, taxicabs were ordered to drive us back to Beverly Hills. I had forgotten that so many of us were celebrities and was shocked, as we emerged from the sheriff’s headquarters, to face a hail of flashbulbs going off in my face. Mummy, completely recovered and having changed into one of her retrieved outfits, posed as if nothing had happened and answered questions prettily. She joined us in a cab with the two maids.

  “I do hope the firemen will remember to bring me my suitcase,” she said. “It was so good of you to save that much, Claudette. I shall send you home on holiday as a treat.”

  “You are too good, madame,” Claudette said.

  “How fortunate it was only a weekend’s jaunt and the rest of my things are safe and sound at the hotel.” Mummy examined her hair in the taxicab window.

  “All right for you,” I said. “The good clothes you bought me in London have gone up in smoke.”

  “We’ll just have to get you some more, darling. I expect they have passable clothing in Beverly Hills.”

  “I’ve lost the rest of my things too, miss,” Queenie said. “My spare knickers and all. I got new ones, special, ’cos we was traveling and I thought the ship might go down.”

  The thought of Queenie’s spare knickers suddenly made me laugh. We were safe. We had survived and all would be well. There were more reporters waiting as we drove into the Beverly Hills Hotel. I noticed Tubby Halliday among them. He had the nerve to wave. Then one man pushed his way through the mob and ran toward me. It was Darcy.

  “Thank God.” He wrapped me in his arms, not seeming to notice that flashbulbs were going off around us. “I’ve been out of my mind with worry. The telephone lines were down and when I got there . . .” He took my face in his hands and kissed me hungrily. And if the reporters were watching, I didn’t care.

  “Well, I suppose that is the end of my motion picture career,” Mummy said as we ordered drinks and sandwiches beside the pool. “I can’t see anyone else wanting to take over that particular picture. It really was awful, wasn’t it? Absolute bosh. And I can’t say I’m sorry. Max would have been furious, I expect, and I really enjoy a life of privacy and leisure these days.” She picked up a chicken sandwich and took a delicate bite. “I suppose I was flattered that the world still saw me as a star. But now I look back on it I suspect that Stella only wanted me to take the part of Mary because she thought I would make her look younger and more beautiful.”

  “She didn’t succeed,” I said. “You looked much better. And acted much better too.”

  Mummy looked genuinely pleased. “Well, aren’t you the sweetest thing. What a nice daughter I have.”

  I turned to Darcy. “And I’m afraid that’s the end of your movie career too,” I said. “Unless you want to try your luck auditioning at some of the other studios.”

  Darcy looked at me fondly. “Can you really see me as a film star? I only agreed to take on the role because I thought it would give me a chance to observe Stella Brightwell. And then, of course, I realized that I might make enough money to enable us to marry. So now we’re back to square one, old thing.”

  “Not quite,” I said and filled him in on all that had been happening while he’d been gone.

  “Her sister.” His face lit up. “How very clever of you to work that out.”

  “It made sense,” I said. “Mummy had told me about their sister act when they were children and then people saw Stella Brightwell in places that she couldn’t be. Just think how clever it was, Darcy. Bella slipped in to all the house parties where Stella was a guest, and if anyone saw her, they assumed she was her sister. But on every occasion Stella had a perfect alibi for all the actual robberies.”

  “You don’t think they were in it together?” Darcy asked.

  “I’m sure they weren’t. Stella was amazed to see her sister after all this time. They hadn’t communicated for years. It was a touching reunion, actually. Especially because Bella saved her sister’s life.”

  “And where is this sister now? Do the police have her in custody?”

  “I’m afraid not. I don’t know where she is,” I said. “There was a lot of confusion when we were being loaded into a truck and I think she took her chances to slip away then.”

  “Pity,” Darcy said. “So it looks as if I might go home empty-handed. They won’t like that.”

  “But you know who did it. The port authorities can be on the lookout for her if she returns to England—although I must warn you that she uses disguises and travels under a false passport.”

  Darcy sighed. “That’s cheerful, isn’t it? Fat chance of catching her, then.”

  “I wonder if she might not give up her career in crime now that she has reunited with her sister,” I said. “Stella certainly makes enough money to look after them both.” Although as I said it I wondered if Stella’s career might now be at an end with Mr. Goldman’s death.

  I looked at Darcy and tried to sound casual. “So you’ll be going home now, I suppose.”

  “I’ll have to cable Scotland Yard and see what they want me to do and whether they want the American police to get involved. Since she hasn’t stolen anything in America, that’s not likely.”

  “And what about us?” I asked Mummy. “We can’t stay here now, can we? Now that there is no film to shoot. I suppose we’ll have to go back to that awful little house in Reno.”

  “Not immediately, darling,” Mummy said. “We need time to recover from our ordeal, don’t we? Treating us to this hotel is the least Golden Pictures can do for us after we were nearly burned to a crisp. And I’ll need to do some shopping for the items I lost. All my cosmetics, darling. I don’t know how I’m going to replace them here. I suppose somebody in America knows how to make face cream.”

  “There’s always Helena Rubinstein or Max Factor,” Darcy said.

  Mummy looked dubious. “But they only make it for the masses and the movies, don’t they. Not delicate skins like mine. I need things like monkey glands that aren’t in normal cosmetics.”

  I glanced across at Darcy and grinned. “You could always ask Stella Brightwell. She looks quite good for a woman of her age.”

  Mummy shook her head. “Darling, she has wrinkles. It’s the California sun. You notice that’s why I never go out without a hat. Besides, she’ll be in mourning for poor Cy. The whole world will be mourning him, won’t they? He brought happiness into the lives of so many little people.”

  I stifled a smile. Only my mother could get away with saying something like that.

  She looked up suddenly. “I’ve a brilliant idea! Why don’t you two lovebirds rent a motorcar and take a little drive up the coast?”

  “That sounds wonderful.” I turned to look at Darcy.

  He nodded. “I’m sure they won’t expect me to take the very next train back to New York. I’ll ask the reception desk to procure a car for us.”

  “That’s settled, then.” Mummy looked smug. “You should find a delightful little wayside inn and have a night of unbridled passion.”

  “Mummy!” I couldn’t even look at Darcy and my cheeks were burning.

  “Well, why not?” she said. “I would. And poor Darcy’s positively panting for it.”

  “I’m not like you,” I said.

  “And I don’t think that I could justify a night of passion at an inn on expenses,” Darcy quipped, to spare
me my embarrassment, I suspect. “We’ll settle for a day out alone, with no interruptions. Right, Georgie?”

  I beamed at him. “Perfect,” I whispered.

  Mummy stood up and smoothed down her linen slacks. “And if you do decide to spend the night along the way, don’t worry about your poor, aged mother, left all alone here. I’m sure I’ll survive.”

  “No doubt Mr. Chaplin is in the neighborhood and he’d be delighted to keep you company,” I teased. “By the way, what was he like?”

  “Rather fun, actually. Only please, this must remain entre nous. Max wouldn’t like it.”

  Darcy and I exchanged a grin. He got to his feet too. “I’d better send that cable to England right away. As soon as I know my instructions I’ll be able to rent that car for us.”

  “Heavenly.” I beamed at him. “And speaking of cables—did you ever learn the truth about Algie Broxley-Foggett?”

  “I did. He’s exactly what he claimed to be—a silly young twit. The family is quite wealthy and he’ll inherit a title one day. Hasn’t exactly been a good boy all his life. Sent down from Oxford for cheating. No criminal record since. Father’s a military man who despairs of him.”

  “So he really was sent to America to make a man of him,” I said. “I don’t think it will work, do you? I think he’s a dedicated sponger and con artist.”

  “Good God. Speak of the devil,” Darcy said. We looked up to see Algie coming toward us, followed by Belinda. Their clothing was now dry, but they definitely looked like survivors of a shipwreck—as I had done when I first glimpsed myself in the mirror back at the hotel. Algie’s white flannels were smudged with soot and horribly crumpled. His white V-necked pullover appeared to have shrunk. Belinda’s normally perfect hair hung limp and straight and she was wearing no lipstick or rouge. For once she didn’t look better than me!

  “Oh, there you are. Jolly good show,” Algie said. “We hoped we’d find you here. We’re orphans in the storm, you see. No clothes, no money and nowhere to go. Don’t quite know where to turn, either. Simply can’t wire the pater for a handout.”