by David Smith
‘No, no thanks, one’s enough; OK, so I think I’m ready for my examination now Mr Nevinson. I’m going to take a chance and trust you, we’ll go up to the privacy of my suite quickly and do what you need to do, but no funny business, do you understand?’ she said, a twinkle in her eye.
‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘You can trust me completely.’
By now, Bas was really up for this, funny business or not. He wasn’t too sure about the ethics of going to a patient’s hotel bedroom, but he argued that this was more of a social kind of errand in any case. They climbed the stairs, Bas’s heart beginning to beat more quickly as he followed her up, watching the alluring movement her curves made as she ascended the stairs in her sequinned dress. She inserted her key and opened the door to her suite.
They entered inside into a sort of living room, but as the room door clicked behind them he suddenly began to feel light on his feet. He sat down heavily on a sofa, wondering at this odd sensation. He hadn’t had that much to drink and he could normally handle just about anything without feeling its effects. Maybe this woman was driving him a little crazy; she was after all probably the most gorgeous woman he had ever met. He wondered whether this was really going to happen. Had he really gotten this lucky two nights in a row? He grabbed her leg to steady himself.
‘Hey, steady on, I thought I was clear on the no funny business?’ she said, leaning over him, deliberately torturing him a little with a flash of her bosom.
‘I’m sorry, I came over all dizzy for a second,’ he said in an already slurred voice, taking her hand and standing up again unsteadily, eager not to rush things with her and spoil his chances.
*
‘Let’s have some music then to take both our minds off it,’ Pearl replied and she moved over to the radio on the sideboard, slowly beginning to tune the reception, playing for time; but even before she had finished her sentence, Bas was flat out unconscious on the floor.
After that she wasted no more time. She dragged him quickly into the bedroom onto a rug by the fireplace. She then pulled Arthur Troyte’s limp body out of the wardrobe and placed it alongside Bas. This was the secret she had been hiding all evening, the product of her earlier meeting with him at the bar that lunchtime and all had gone exactly as planned. He was still bound, gagged and out like a light. As a precaution, however, she administered a further dose to him orally as she had calculated that the effects should by then normally have begun to wear off.
Working quickly, she stripped them both naked and arranged their bodies in the most compromising pose she could imagine. She was not sure if this was exactly what men did when they did it together, but a couple of oranges and some gold body spray rapidly enhanced the effect. She took great delight in drawing the biggest scarlet ‘A’s she could manage with her lipstick all over their bodies. Then she suddenly had another idea and opened Bas’s dentist bag to find exactly what she wanted: a surgical scalpel.
With the precision of a surgeon, she started to delicately carve the letters ΑΖΩ into Troyte’s skin, filling the wounds with red nail varnish, in a place on his perineum he would not be able to see very easily. She took out her camera and recorded the whole comic scene to her satisfaction. Within another fifteen minutes she had cleaned them both up and tucked her new aspirant lover-boy, Bas, under a blanket in the bedroom with a kiss.
Dealing with Troyte’s inert body proved more difficult. She had his house keys and the trunk she had bought earlier that day in the living room of her suite. Fortunately his wiry frame was not too heavy and after she had deposited him in the trunk, she dragged it into the living room and closed the bedroom door behind her. She called the concierge. Flirting madly with the young man on the phone, she persuaded him and one of the kitchen staff to carry the trunk down to a waiting taxi for her. For £25 the taxi driver they called was only too happy to take her the relatively short distance to Hawthorne House where he helped her into the house with the trunk.
‘What have you got in there, lady, the dismembered torso of your lover?’ he joked.
‘If only it were that easy,’ she joked back.
*
Once he had gone, she opened the trunk and dragged the sleeping body out, setting about the next stage of her plan. The computer stuff was easy, he didn’t use passwords as she had expected. She synced his laptop to the Wi-Fi using the code she found written on the router in the study. She then downloaded the necessary software fonts in the way that the young man in the shop had shown her, set up a series of timed messages to go from his email account and made the necessary alterations to his PowerPoint presentation, including downloading the photos from the bedroom that she had just orchestrated. She then made some more prints of the bedroom shots with a mini colour printer and finally relaxed back in the chair with a smile. She was finished inside an hour, drank two glasses of his expensive champagne, being careful to leave her lipstick on the rim of one of them, and left another carte de visite with him, thanking him for the wonderful evening, before slipping out of the house and back to her hotel room.
*
Nobody was more surprised than Troyte the next morning, when he awoke naked at Hawthorne House to see the evidence of his obvious conquest; the expended condom, the cryptic note of thanks from ‘P’ beside his pillow and a strange sore feeling below his groin, where it felt like someone had scratched his skin. He had a vague recollection of meeting a beautiful black woman at the bar of a local hotel, but could not remember anything after that or anything about her. His meeting had obviously been highly productive. Unfortunately, there was no contact number on the card; he assumed he would have to wait for her to get in touch with him again. In any case, the birds were singing delightfully in the garden outside and the sun was already warming up the late summer air. It’s going to be a good day, he thought.
Now that the day had arrived, he was at last looking forward to giving his little talk, buoyed up by his surprise assignation. His only worry was whether his friend Arish, who had still not contacted him, would be there to help him. The bell rang and he saw a driver who had been sent to take him to the gallery waiting for him, so he quickly went back into the house to get ready and quickly collect his laptop and notes.
*
When Bas awoke in the hotel room at the Holly Hotel about the same time, he was also surprised to see the naked and beautiful shape of Pearl seated on the window seat looking out over the park.
‘Did you enjoy last night?’ she asked. She pointed to the champagne glasses and strawberries by the side of the bed. ‘I thought you might like some morning refreshment.’
He searched his memory, a vague recollection of the singer in a bar the night before beginning to surface. He was naked, she was naked, they were in a plush hotel room, she’d ordered champagne and there were two empty condom packets by the side of the bed. Is this a dream? he asked himself.
‘That was the best night ever,’ he replied cautiously but with recovering bravado. He could remember meeting her in the bar and having dinner with his friends, but try as he might, he strangely couldn’t remember a single thing about what had happened in this bedroom. But by the evidence it must have been good. He began to feel aroused again at the sight of her body.
She noticed and laughed, throwing a dressing gown at him. ‘Before you get too carried away, I’m afraid I’ve got a lot to do today. Take your time while I have a shower and get dressed. You can help yourself to some breakfast when I’m gone.’ He enjoyed watching her dress and then closed his eyes pleasantly as she planted a kiss on his lips before leaving the room.
Chapter Fourteen
Enigmatic Eddie – (Allegro presto) ‘E.D.U.’
So furiously she strook in her first Heat,
Whiles with long Fight on foot he breathless was,
That she him forced backward to retreat,
And yield unto her weapon way to pass.
Spenser, The Faerie Queene.
Hugh and Claudia followed Eddie and the two Flyte siste
rs at a short distance and reached Claudia’s house on the corner of the square. They talked a little about rugby and other sports but the conversation was still stilted and he sensed it was going nowhere. So when they stopped at her door, she surprised him by giving him a peck on the cheek. She whispered into his ear that she’d like to see him again, before climbing the steps to No. 10. He was left standing somewhat bemused on the street corner, wondering whether he should have been more forward, blaming his own temperance for the earlier lack of chemistry between the two of them.
*
Meanwhile, Eddie and the Flyte sisters continued further along the road. There were two policemen guarding the entrance to No. 6, Sir William’s house. No. 5 next door, where they lived, was mid-terrace rather than end-terrace like Sir William’s so there was no option of going round the side entrance to avoid the policemen’s stares. Delia in her playful mood couldn’t resist blowing a kiss at them; they frowned back, staring steadfastly ahead. She pulled her skirt further up her leg and shouted something about men in uniform before Julia pulled her away.
‘Do you want to come in for coffee, Eddie?’ asked Delia in a raised and slightly slurred voice as Julia opened the door and reached in to cancel the alarm. Delia had consumed rather more wine than he would have expected for an eighteen-year-old convent girl. Julia shot her younger sister a dark glance and Delia shut up immediately with a hiccup.
‘Why not?’ said Eddie. ‘I expect they’re fast asleep downstairs, anyway.’
They entered the darkened hall, which was lit by a single table lamp. There was no one else at home. Delia tripped over the entrance step and fell over in the hall, landing in a most undignified manner.
‘Delia, I really think you ought to go to bed,’ said her sister unsympathetically.
‘Oh dear, yes my head does hurt,’ said Delia. Eddie pulled her up off the floor. She hung on to him for support.
‘Eddie, I’m so sorry, but if you don’t mind I think Julia’s right for once, I might have to get off to bed.’
He put his hands rather suggestively on her hips while giving her a kiss on each cheek, which caused her to blush, and then lowered his hands around her thighs to lift her into the air with a big bear hug, making her blush even more.
‘Give Betjeman a big hug for me.’ He watched while Delia walked up the stairs unsteadily and somewhat reluctantly.
*
Eddie returned to the kitchen where Julia had put the kettle on the hotplate of the Aga to heat. He noticed how the fine golden hairs on her forearms were picked out by the halo of the kitchen spotlights. In the amber light, the deeply cut back of her dress showed off her strong shoulder blades and his eyes were drawn to the beautifully formed ladder of her spine as it proceeded from the nape of her neck downwards. He had to try hard to resist the temptation to pass his hands around her midriff, to flirt for old times’ sake. She had lost none of her magical sadness he thought.
‘I was hoping for something a little stronger than coffee,’ he said, his voice somewhat slurred. She smelt gorgeous. The only sound in the kitchen was the ticking of the wall clock.
‘Eddie, please don’t tell me you’re drunk as well, like my silly sister,’ she said sharply, elbowing him in the stomach.
‘Nowhere near, it’s just what you do to me, Julia.’
‘Eddie, behave!’
‘OK, OK but what have you got to drink then, apart from coffee?’
‘If you mean spirits, there’s some scotch in the cabinet in the red room and ice in the fridge,’ she said efficiently but sternly, passing him a pair of cut-glass tumblers.
‘After all the fun we’ve had today, you can pour me one as well. I’ll bring the coffee through in a second,’ she added more gently, relaxing a little. She supposed his flirting was harmless really.
Eddie passed into the little snug that they called the ‘red room’ next to the kitchen. Because of the layout of the house, the formal drawing room was at the back, looking out over a small but pretty garden. Lady Mary’s private rooms and a second formal sitting room were up one flight of stairs on the first floor. This upper room was rarely used; the ground floor snug was the room where they usually entertained family and friends. Across the hall was Lady Mary’s study, where she did the family accounts and planned her own busy life. Julia and Delia both had large rooms with en-suite bathrooms on the second floor and Eddie knew from his baby-sitting days there were some guest bedrooms in the attic above, originally meant for servants. Apparently, Penny had recently decided to take one of those rooms, but had not yet moved in.
He half-filled the cut-glass tumblers with Lady Mary’s best ten-year-old malt whiskey so that the ice broke free and floated on the top of the liquid, then sat down against a batch of cushions on the sofa. He was feeling a little light-headed but pleasantly so; he hoped she would chill a little when she returned to the room. Julia appeared in a couple of minutes and put the tray on the table before them. She had made the coffee properly in a stylish pewter coffee pot.
‘This is nice,’ she said. She went over to the CD player and the sound of Anna Calvi’s ‘Desire’ emerged. Julia recognised the track as one that Delia had been playing constantly, and quickly found something less dangerous – Carole King, an old favourite, that would do. She sat down primly at the opposite end of the sofa, her long legs closed together but turned toward him. Again he could not help noticing the way her stockings disappeared shyly into the sequinned taffeta folds of her dress. How long had it been since he touched those gorgeous legs? She was wearing a set of amber stones in a chain across her neck and a matching bracelet, setting off the flame colour of her top and echoing the depth of her brown eyes.
She really is gorgeous, he thought, a flawless beauty. She had a grace and lightness about her movement that was magnetic – unhurried, exquisite, unrepentant. She poured the coffee and took a swig of the scotch as a chaser. He noticed how her lower lip stuck for a moment to the rim of the glass where it has been cooled by the ice, before returning to its natural curves.
‘So is our Braggadocio well away with this new woman by now do you think?’ she grinned, rather too knowingly, he thought.
‘I’m sure he’s getting his just desserts,’ he laughed. ‘But with Pearl Taylor I think it may be a case of biting off more than he can chew.
Suddenly, there was a noise upstairs. ‘Damn, it’s Delia again.’ There was a hint of a tear in her eye. A black cat strolled into the room, stretching.
Eddie just laughed. ‘Oscar!’ he exclaimed. But he was also relieved that it was not her sister.
‘God, why are all the best men taken?’ she uttered to herself somewhat breathlessly. ‘OK, last chance Eddie. I’ve got something to show you upstairs, but only if you’re prepared to behave. Look, if we’re going to do this play-acting stuff, let’s get organised and do it properly,’ she said as she moved toward the door. He shook his head but got up and followed her out into the hall. She led him upstairs, up the thick red carpets, past her mother’s bedroom, past the locked rack of beautiful hand-engraved Holland and Holland shotguns with polished walnut stocks on the right-hand side of the landing.
Eddie knew well that Lady Mary was a keen shooter, and might have noticed that one of her favourite rook guns was missing if he had not been so intent on another course of action. They tiptoed past Delia’s bedroom, listening in precaution to the shallow breathing in the bed, climbing another flight up to the attic rooms above, where Penny’s door-to-be was also closed. They entered the spare room where the manufacture of their secret plan was ready, spread out eagerly like so much evidence across the floor.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.
Chapter Fifteen
Toposcope Hounds – (Allegro con molto fuoco)
Mr Hilton Cubitt of Ridling Thorpe Manor in Norfolk visits Sherlock Holmes and gives him a piece of paper with this mysterious sequence of stick figures.
The little dancing men are at the heart of a mystery, which seems to
be driving his young wife Elsie to distraction. He married her about a year ago, and until recently, everything was well. She is American, and before the wedding, she had asked her husband-to-be to promise her never to ask about her past, as she had had some ‘very disagreeable associations’ in her life, although she said that there was nothing that she was personally ashamed of. Mr. Cubitt swore the promise and, being an honourable English gentleman, insisted on living by it, which was one of the things causing difficulty at Ridling Thorpe Manor.
Précis of Arthur Conan Doyle’s, The Adventure of the Dancing Men
It was early on Sunday when I bumped into Izzie and her new friend Penn in the Costa on the Parade. Like me, they were picking up coffee and muffins for breakfast. The break in Penn’s filming was likely to last a few days and Izzie had also been given a couple of days off to recover from the shock of Winnie’s death. Izzie is one of my oldest friends and had originally introduced me to Alice and Eddie a long time ago. Life and connections have become ever more complicated. After my mother’s death, it’s good at least to have an adoptive extended family in the area. The context of this meeting was slightly embarrassing, as it turned out.
I opened the door to the coffee shop and noticed immediately the young man standing in the coffee queue. He was dressed in hobo ankle boots, cargo pants and a rough checked shirt. I was not normally keen on facial hair, but this guy’s smart little goatee really suited him. I was intrigued and joined the queue behind him and on some pretext started up a conversation with him. He was American with a sort of cool way of speaking. I soon caught myself in the reflection of the counter, preening back my hair around my ears. He seemed interested too and offered to buy my drink for me, which of course I declined with a flirty little giggle. That wouldn’t do, accepting drinks from a complete stranger.
Unfortunately, this nascent romance was nipped firmly in the bud when Izzie emerged from the ladies and stared uncomprehendingly at me, realising at once that I was hitting on her new boyfriend. The penny dropped with me too and I understood at once why she had been so keen to get away on Saturday morning. Anyway I had to accept that she deserved to find a decent bloke and this one certainly seemed more her type than her last public school idiot boyfriend. Of course, after the embarrassment had passed, I immediately commiserated with her about Winnie’s death, before turning expectantly again to look at her friend, awaiting from her a full explanation.
