‘At the moment Tancred Vane is engaged on a biography of Prince Cyril. Actually, this has nothing to do with the murder.’
‘There was a Prince Leopold in the film,’ Antonia said dreamily. ‘He was something of a sadist where his ladies were concerned … I see that you have been living it up in my absence.’ She had picked up a slip of paper from the little table beside her chair. ‘You stayed at the Corrida Hotel in Earls Court and drank a bottle of champagne and a can of Red Bull!’
‘What’s that?’
‘How appropriate – drinking Red Bull at the Corrida Hotel!’ Antonia laughed. ‘Though not with champagne. No gentleman of taste and discernment would do that sort of thing. Un peu plebeian, as you’d be the first to point out. It’s a bill, Hugh. A hotel bill.’
‘It’s not my bill.’ Payne sounded annoyed. ‘No idea how it got there.’
‘Are you sure you are not playing some exceedingly silly game with me?’
‘I am not playing a game.’
‘I refuse to believe that. It is a fact universally acknowledged that an Englishman of good breeding always plays the game whenever it offers. It is a national trait such as the rest of the world admires … And now I must go to bed.’ Antonia yawned. ‘Sleep, I need sleep.’ She rubbed her temples.
There was a pause.
‘Why are you sitting so still? And why are you looking at me so pitifully? Stella Markoff wasn’t really beheaded at the Villa Byzantine, was she?’
‘She was. And I’ve got the newspaper cuttings to prove it.’ Payne spoke in a weary voice. ‘I’ve been putting them aside for you.’
Antonia gazed at him with slightly unfocused eyes. She tried to collect her thoughts. No, Hugh wasn’t playing a game. He was not making things up. While she had been away, he had got involved in murder. Stella Markoff, the rather boring Bulgarian woman they had met at Kinderhook, had been beheaded … Antonia remembered the curious apprehension she had felt at Melisande’s party. Had she sensed something? A premonition … Perhaps she was still on the plane, perhaps at long last she had fallen asleep and was dreaming?
She said, ‘The police have no idea who the killer is?’
‘At the moment Stella’s daughter is their prime suspect.’
‘The bloodthirsty girl?’
‘The bloodthirsty girl.’
‘Hasn’t she got an alibi for the time of the murder?’
‘No. She was arrested, but then the police released her. They don’t seem to have enough evidence. I bumped into Melisande this morning and she called it an absolute outrage that the girl hadn’t been clapped in the cooler yet. Melisande is convinced Moon is the killer.’
‘That strikes me as the most logical assumption,’ said Antonia. ‘Moon couldn’t stand her mother. She made no attempt to conceal the fact. And didn’t she go on about blood and beheadings?’
‘She did. Yes. Well, maybe that’s all there is to it. Asordid case of domestic violence, which has been unduly glorified by its neo-Byzantine setting.’ Payne drew a thoughtful forefinger across his jaw. ‘I am ashamed to admit it, but deep down, I harbour the rather illogical suspicion that the elusive Miss Hope has something to do with Stella’s death.’
‘Who is Miss Hope?’
‘An owl-faced woman Vane was expecting on the day of the murder but who didn’t turn up. Vane seemed to think that Stella and Miss Hope knew one another.’
‘An owl-faced woman … Are you absolutely sure you are not making this whole thing up? I’ll be very cross if you are,’ Antonia warned. She sighed. ‘You might as well tell me the whole story. You are clearly dying to.’
Some ten minutes later Antonia said, ‘How utterly bizarre … You are right about the odd features … The scene of the crime in itself is rather unusual. Why at the Villa Byzantine? And why with a sword? Perhaps it was Tancred Vane who lured her to her death, wouldn’t you say? He phones her and asks her to pay him a visit—’
‘He claims he didn’t. He wasn’t at home at the time Stella was killed.’
‘Have the police checked Tancred Vane’s alibi?’
‘They must have done. Would be scandalous if they haven’t. Alibis of course can be faked. Shame I no longer know anyone at Scotland Yard. Not that I would want to, from what I hear. To think that at one time I had three Commissioners eating out of my hand.’ Payne sighed. ‘What would Tancred Vane’s motive be?’
‘The grandmother’s letters and diaries,’ Antonia said promptly. ‘Didn’t he covet them? I mean Stella’s grandmother. I believe he tried to buy the letters and the diaries for fifty pounds?’
‘Allegedly. That’s what Moon said … Royal biographers, I have no doubt, could be obsessive, cranky, ruthless and ultimately lethal. It did occur to me to ask Morland where the letters and the diaries were, yes, but he said he had no idea. In Stella’s suitcase, he imagined.’
‘Might be useful to know if they are still there.’
‘I keep wondering about Morland. He had a guilty air that day, you know, when he came to see me. I am sure of it. Though it may have had nothing to do with Stella’s death.’
‘He wouldn’t have come and asked you for help if he’d been guilty of Stella’s death, would he? That might have been a ruse of course. D’you see Morland as a likely sword wielder?’
‘No, I don’t. Unless I’ve completely misread him.’
‘Morland might turn out to be the high priest of some unspeakable suburban cult.’ Antonia couldn’t believe she’d said that. She was extremely tired. She couldn’t think straight. She was suffering the effects of a bad jetlag.
She bit her lip but it was too late. She saw her husband nod gravely. Hugh needed so little encouragement.
‘Why didn’t I think of it? Morland’s real intention was to have Stella immolated on the altar of the bloodthirsty pagan deity he happens to worship. Or rather he and Vane happen to worship. Stella possessed some unique characteristic that made her the perfect sacrificial victim, according to their book of magic lore. Stella had a sixth toe or an oyster-shaped birthmark on her—’
‘You said Morland was determined to prove Moon’s innocence, didn’t you?’
‘Determined is correct … You don’t want to hear about Stella’s birthmark?’
‘No,’ Antonia said firmly. ‘I don’t think it’s funny, Hugh.’
‘You are right. It isn’t. Gratuitous flippancy was something I used to disapprove of. Well, Morland keeps phoning, asking what progress I’ve made. He’s become something of a pest. The other night he rang as the clock was chiming midnight. He just goes on and on. Morland seems terribly keen on doing the right thing. He’s considering adopting Moon. He says he owes it to Stella. In my opinion, he’s bidden adieu to good sense. I can’t see any such adoption being a success, can you? He’ll rue the day.’
‘I agree. Moon will drive him mad.’
‘Shall I mix you another g&t?’
‘Yes, please. And then I must go to bed … Perhaps Moon is Morland’s biological daughter, that would explain his keenness. Morland and Stella might have known each other for much longer than they made out,’ Antonia mused. ‘Their affair might have started years ago. He said he had been going on regular business trips to Bulgaria since 1993.’
‘It seems more than likely that Moon was set up,’ Payne said as he handed Antonia a glass.
‘It’s possible. No one drops monogrammed handkerchiefs made of fine silk beside dead bodies … Silly, really … Unless that was a double bluff,’ Antonia said thoughtfully. ‘Moon might have killed her mother and then planted the handkerchief, implicating herself in a deliberately absurd manner, knowing perfectly well she would be exonerated in due course. Do you think she’s clever?’
‘As clever as a bagful of monkeys. Is there anyone else we should consider?’
‘Melisande has the best motive. Stella was her love rival. Melisande is an adroit sword wielder. She was Joan of Arc.’ Antonia raised the glass to her lips. ‘You noticed how expertly she handled the sword in t
hose photos.’
As they were getting into bed, Antonia remembered something.
‘Hugh, is there a third sister at Kinderhook? I saw a woman who looked very much like an older version of Melisande and Winifred.’
‘You saw her too? So I didn’t imagine her! I saw her a couple of days ago. When did you see her?’
‘As we were coming back from the airport. We drove past Kinderhook. I pointed her out to you, but you didn’t want to miss the cricket score on the radio. She was standing outside Kinderhook. She seemed on the point of going in. I believe she was unlocking the front door. She looked about eighty – stiff white hair – slightly stooped – long skirt – glasses?’
‘Yes! Melisande was adamant that I was mistaken when I mentioned the woman. They did have an older sister once, but she’s dead. Died a long time ago, apparently.’
‘How very odd. Perhaps the third sister isn’t dead …’
‘The third sister may have escaped from some lunatic asylum and Melisande and Winifred may be hiding her. They would be reluctant to admit her existence. Like the brother in The Cocktail Party. I am sure you know your Eliot?’
‘I don’t.’ Antonia yawned.
‘Three of them, but they kept the third one very quiet.’ Payne turned off the light. ‘Wonder if it has anything to do with Stella’s murder. What do you think?’
‘Don’t see how,’ said Antonia. ‘But it’s very odd.’
‘It’s creepy. Goodnight, my love.’
‘Goodnight.’
14
Young and Innocent
At ten minutes to three in the morning their phone rang. With a groan, Major Payne reached out for it.
‘Hello?’
‘Who is that?’
He gave their phone number. What a bloody nuisance. It was probably some drunk misdialling.
‘Is that you, Hugh?’
‘Yes,’ Payne said after a pause. ‘It’s Hugh Payne speaking.’
‘Oh hi, Hugh. I wanted to say hi. Sorry, that’s a totally dumb thing to say, but it’s freezing cold here.’
‘Who is it?’ The next moment he knew. ‘Good lord.’ He raised himself on his elbow. ‘Moon?’
She sniffed. ‘Yes.’
‘Where are you? Not in jail, are you?’
‘You wish!’
‘Sorry. Where are you phoning from?’
‘What does it matter where I’m phoning from? Why does everybody want to know where I am? Julia would be mad with me if she knew I was phoning you. That’s James’ sister. She’d be totally mad.’
‘I wouldn’t be in the least surprised. Do you know what time it is?’
‘No. Julia is a bitch.’
‘You shouldn’t talk like that.’
‘Julia’s a bitch from hell. I don’t like her. I hate her. Always asking me what I’m doing, where I’m going, why my eyes are red. She thinks I smoke pot. It doesn’t occur to her I might be sad. That I might have been crying.’
‘Do you smoke pot?’ Really, Payne thought, I should ring off. It was some unearthly hour.
‘You think I killed my mother, don’t you?’
‘I think you should be in bed.’
‘Do you think that if a person truly defines themselves by dark actions, when their identity is actually shaped by sin, then their soul may indeed be beyond salvation?’
‘I think you should be in bed,’ he said again.
‘It bothers me, questions like that.’
‘What’s the matter, Hugh?’ Antonia asked, her voice muffled by the pillow.
‘Sorry, darling,’ Payne said.
‘You called me darling!’ Moon giggled. ‘You are funny.’
‘I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to my wife.’ Payne gave an exasperated sigh and, putting his hand over the receiver, said, ‘It’s Moon.’
‘Moon!’
‘Why aren’t you in bed?’ Payne spoke into the receiver.
‘Where are you?’
‘Where am I? Outside the witches’ house, if you want to know. I’m not a bit sleepy.’
‘What witches?’
‘The Witches of Kinderhook. I mean James’ ex – Melisande – and her sister – what was her name? Winifred? Actually, she’s the scarier of the two. She looks like the nice one, but she freaked me out at that party. It’s the way she smiles—’
‘Are you really standing outside Kinderhook?’
‘Yep. I am talking to you on my mobile … Their house is dark … No. One window is very dimly lit. Whose room is that, I wonder? The witches may be casting midnight spells … Now I am turning round … Now I am looking at your house. I know which one it is. Your house is dark too.’
‘Are you serious? Are you really in our street?’
‘Totally. I am looking at your house at this very moment. I can’t see much because your house is dark. All your windows are dark.’
‘What’s going on, Hugh?’ Antonia turned on the bedside table lamp.
‘You turned on the bedside light just now – or your wife did,’ said Moon. ‘It’s an upstairs window. Doesn’t that freak you out?’
Payne turned towards Antonia. ‘Moon is actually in our street – looking at our house.’
‘Will you give me a cup of coffee? I’m freezing,’ Moon said. ‘I have started walking towards your house … I am actually standing at your front door now … You’ve got a cool knocker. Is that a tiger’s head? Or a lion’s?’
‘A lion’s,’ Payne said mechanically.
‘Shall I ring or knock? I’ll ring – is that OK? Now I am ringing your bell—’
Her phone went dead. The next moment they heard their front door bell ring.
As Major Payne donned his yellow dressing gown with its very vivid scarlet lining and lapels and put on his slippers, he wondered whether he would get one of those instantaneous flashes of intuitive certainty the moment he clapped eyes on her. Would he be able to say at once, Yes, she killed her mother? He knew it was an absurd idea, yet his heart beat fast in his chest. He turned on the lights and he started walking down the stairs. It was three in the morning, the clock on the wall told him.
He unchained the front door. Moon entered the hall and followed him into the drawing room.
‘Were you asleep?’ she asked.
‘Well, yes. Does that surprise you? It’s three in the morning.’
‘Is it? I thought it was ten to midnight. Sorry. I thought you might be watching telly or reading a book or playing cards with your wife or something.’ Her voice sounded hoarse and she was shivering. She sat down in one of the armchairs and crossed her legs.
Black spiky hair. They all seemed to have spiky hair nowadays. Lowish forehead, slightly oriental eyes, broad full mouth. Attractive, in a gamin kind of way. Her face was white, the dark eyes looked feverish. He couldn’t see the pupils, but then his eyelids were still gummed by sleep. Had she taken some substance? Her lips were bluish. She must be frozen. She wore black mittens and the long black coat. The shinel with the bloodstains. Also jeans and boxfresh trainers with orange laces.
Did she look like a killer? Payne found his eyes straying to the girl’s hands. What was it Morland had said? Moon had broken her wrist a couple of months ago, ergo she wouldn’t have been able to lift a heavy samurai sword, let alone deliver a lethal blow with it.
There was something vulnerable about her – in spite of, or was it because of, her ultra-casual manner? Only sixteen – looked older, though. What a pedigree! Mother beheaded, father in jail …
‘It’s warm in here,’ she said, looking round. ‘Cool room.’
‘Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?’
‘You are funny.’ Suddenly she sat very still and fixed him with her dark eyes.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Payne said. ‘You said coffee, right? Not tea?’
‘No. I hate tea. Coffee. Black. Three sugars. I drink it mega strong – three or four spoonfuls, if it’s instant.’
‘Won’t that be too strong?’
‘I feel sleepy.’
‘Did I wake you up?’
‘I believe you did.’
‘You’ve got stubble. You haven’t shaved, have you?’
‘It’s three in the morning.’
As he walked towards the kitchen, Payne wondered if there was something particularly valuable in the drawing room that was small enough for her to pinch and drop into the shinel’s – no doubt – bottomless pockets. One of Antonia’s amber cats – the tiny but exceedingly precious Wedgwood vase – or perhaps his great uncle’s silver snuff box?
Five past three. Payne didn’t care for the appraising look she had given him. The girl’s gaze seemed to hold a certain suggestive element … He was old enough to be her grandfather … He shouldn’t have let her in … Most unwise. Might make all sorts of claims afterwards. Must try to get rid of her as soon as possible. Put her into a cab and despatch her back to Kensington … The tube closed at half past midnight … How long had the girl been standing in their street?
Heaven knew when he’d be able to get back to bed, if at all … He heard Antonia’s voice coming from the drawing room. She’d come down and was talking to Moon.
Placing the three steaming cups and the tin of Fortnum & Mason’s chocolate biscuits on the tray, he carried it gingerly to the drawing room.
Suddenly he was possessed by the not entirely rational conviction that Moon could not have murdered her mother, that suspecting her was a waste of time, that it was somewhere else they should be looking for the killer …
15
Feast at Midnight
‘Moon’s been outside since half past two,’ Antonia said brightly. She was wearing her blue dressing gown.
‘Dangerous, being out so late,’ Payne said, placing the tray on the low table between the sofa and Moon’s chair. He stole a glance at the mantelpiece: his great uncle’s snuff box was still there. ‘A girl, on her own … London can be a dangerous place … How old are you exactly?’
Murder at the Villa Byzantine: An Antonia Darcy and Major Payne Investigation Page 9
