Hotel du Barry

by Lesley Truffle

  Jim nodded. ‘What do you reckon, Mary?’

  ‘She’s coming unstuck as you predicted. Lilith said Edwina’s got fresh razor cuts on the inside of her arms. Otto Rubens reckons when people mutilate their bodies it’s not necessarily a cry for help. It can be a way of externalising pain and getting some sort of relief.’

  Jim nodded. ‘Makes sense. She may have murdered two men and inadvertently bumped off another three. No bloody wonder she’s losing her mind and turning into Lady Macbeth.’

  Bertha’s lips thinned. ‘And look how she treated Cat.’

  Jim took her hand. ‘Bertha, let’s dump the rotten stuff and look to the future. As Stavros puts it, let it burn, let it burn. Cat, is Sebastian with us?’

  ‘Yep. I spoke to him last night. He’s dead keen to help. And terribly flattered to be taken into our confidence.’

  Jim stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. ‘Well then, let’s go over the details. There’s no room for mistakes. We only get one shot at this.’

  He glanced at Bertha and she realised that Jim had sharpened up considerably. Obviously he was rising to meet the challenge. His brain had shifted gear and by sheer dint of will he was overriding the pharmaceuticals in his system. She gave his hand an affectionate squeeze and blinked back tears.

  My man is back and everything is going to be all right.

  *

  Edwina had spent another sleepless night. She studied her face in the mirror. There was no doubt about it, she’d aged over the last few weeks. New lines had appeared on her face and she’d lost even more weight. Every time she dozed off she dreamt that Matthew had manifested. Sometimes he appeared sitting on the end of her bed, or he’d just stand there watching her from the other side of the mirror. He never spoke. She thought he must be more than a figment of her imagination because she could smell his special imported cigarettes. They stank of rough tobacco and cloves, a sickly sweet odour that carried with it the smell of the graveyard.

  Sebastian could smell it, too. ‘Perhaps the cigarette smoke drifts up from the rooms below, through the cracks in the floor?’

  Not bloody likely. For it was Sebastian, on Jim’s instructions, who was regularly lighting up and blowing the smoke wherever Madam might catch a whiff of it.

  Edwina washed her hands again. No matter how hard she scrubbed, she just couldn’t get them clean. She picked up the nailbrush and gave them another scouring. Then she splashed eau de cologne on her palms and winced as the alcohol bit into her raw flesh. She checked her watch. It was eleven in the morning but she had no recollection of how she’d spent the last four hours. Her coffee and toast lay untouched and the morning papers were exactly as Sebastian had left them.

  Loneliness was her lot now. How she’d loved having breakfast in bed with Tommy; and vying over who got to read the interesting bits of the newspaper first. God, she felt like a drink. It was way too early for martinis but it was never too early for champagne. She’d heard that ships’ doctors prescribed champagne for pregnant women, a clever cure for morning sickness. And champagne was known to be a nutritious, easily digested food. Edwina rang the bell and drummed her fingers as she waited.

  *

  Eventually Sebastian turned up. He seemed impervious to her agitation.

  ‘I want you to go down to Daniel’s private cellar and bring me back two bottles of Caterina Anastasia Grande Imperial Champagne.’

  ‘Do you want me to open a bottle for you this morning, Madam?’

  ‘Yes. And what of it?’

  ‘Nothing. I just wanted to ascertain if I should get an ice bucket or not.’

  ‘Don’t be idiotic. Of course I want a fucking ice bucket.’

  Sebastian looked hurt. He’d only been back on the job a couple of weeks and already the honeymoon was over. ‘I’ll fetch it right away, Madam.’

  Edwina lay down on the sofa and closed her weary eyes.

  It was quite some time before Sebastian reappeared, and what’s more he was empty-handed. Edwina snapped, ‘Where the hell is my champagne?’

  Sebastian bowed his head. ‘I’m sorry, Madam, but I can’t locate it. I’ve looked everywhere.’

  ‘You’re useless. Give me the key. Fetch the ice while I find it myself.’

  Edwina descended to the labyrinth in the service lift. She was livid and in no mood to be pleasant. She pointedly ignored the labyrinth staff who greeted her. They shrugged it off. Nothing unusual about her rudeness. She’d been like that since Mr du Barry died.

  Having thrust the key into the cellar door, Edwina groped around for the light switch. How strange, her hand could only feel a dusty wine rack. The light switch wasn’t where it should be. Admittedly she hadn’t been down there for weeks, so perhaps things had been changed around. When a large Cardinal spider ran up her arm, she screamed and a pantry maid came running. She watched as Edwina clawed the spider off and ground it mercilessly under her heel. ‘Arrrrgh, just die, you filthy, filthy sonofabitch.’

  The maid hovered. ‘Is everything all right, Mrs du Barry?’

  Edwina glared at her. The girl was a cherubic dumpling and she looked to be about twelve years old. All the staff were getting younger while she was turning into a wrinkled old prune. Edwina snapped, ‘Of course everything is not all right, you stupid girl. Get me a goddamn candle or a torch.’

  The maid scurried off and returned quickly with a candle holder and matches. Her hands shook as she handed them over.

  After several attempts, Edwina managed to light the candle. When she stepped into the cellar, she noticed an oil lamp glowing in the darkness and moved towards the light. And there they were. Sitting around a small green baize-covered table were Daniel, Matthew and Michael. Their hinged limbs had been arranged so they appeared to be playing cards while they drank Caterina Anastasia Grande Imperial Champagne. All three wore evening dress and they were frozen in time. A tableau of three dead men.

  Edwina raised the candle higher and Matthew Lamb’s sapphire eyes glittered at her, his likeness was extraordinary. Although his tuxedo was years out of date, his nosegay was fresh. His long, elegant fingers held a cigarette and as it burnt, it gave off the same aromatic smoke she’d smelt up in her apartment. Her twin’s glassy stare shook Edwina to her core and she recoiled.

  The painted cut-outs of Michael and Daniel were also astonishingly life-like. Daniel was looking at her with the same quizzical look he’d acquired shortly before he died and Michael was regarding her with profound scepticism.

  Edwina threw down the candle and ran from the cellar. Tears streamed down her face. Having no desire to be seen by any staff, she climbed the outside fire escape stairs to the ninth floor. She then huddled on the landing outside her apartment for more than an hour until she’d stopped shaking and could control her tears.

  Edwina entered the apartment to find Sebastian calmly polishing the silverware. He glanced up enquiringly.

  Her tone was imperious, ‘I want to know who is playing cruel tricks on me.’

  Sebastian looked perplexed. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Madam.’

  ‘The light switch. Someone’s placed a shelf in front of the light switch. And set up a tableau of three dead men. Who put those paintings down there? Answer me.’

  Sebastian looked completely blank. ‘There was no problem with the light switch. And I didn’t see any paintings.’

  Edwina grabbed Sebastian by the arm and dragged him out the door. ‘How dare you lie to me? Let’s go down there right now.’

  They waited for the service lift in uncomfortable silence and rode down to the labyrinth without speaking.

  Sebastian tried the cellar door but it was locked. Edwina hissed, ‘I didn’t lock it.’

  She shoved him aside and unlocked the door. ‘Right. I want you to show me the light switch that you reckon is still there.’

  Sebastian gave her a puzzled look as he snapped on the light. Edwina gasped, for the switch was exactly where it should have been. And the dusty wine rack had vanished into thin ai
r, as though it had never existed. She rubbed her forehead. ‘Go down to the back of the cellar. Move it.’

  She hustled him down to the rear of the cellar and Sebastian stood on the bluestones looking confused. He shrugged his shoulders and looked at her with the unspoken question. There was nothing there. No table, no oil lamp, no paintings. An abandoned, rusty corkscrew lay in solitude gathering dust.

  Sebastian said nothing until he’d located a crate of Caterina Anastasia Grande Imperial Champagne. ‘Ah, here it is. Terribly sorry, Madam. I didn’t think to look for it there.’

  He turned around but Edwina had vanished.

  30

  Get Her off the Stage

  Cat couldn’t stop thinking about the six dozen roses delivered that morning in a long, white cardboard box. With great excitement she’d ripped away yards of violet satin ribbon. The roses came from London’s most exclusive florist and they’d seduced her with their dusky hothouse beauty. She couldn’t resist burying her face in them and feeling their downy petals against her skin.

  Henri had personally brought them up to Cat’s studio. ‘There was no card. They were delivered by a young thug. He was covered in tattoos and equipped with a pirate’s earring and an arrogant attitude. He ordered Charlie to deliver them pronto to Cat du Barry. I telephoned the florist for further information and they identified the lad as the buyer but didn’t know his name. They got the impression he wasn’t in the habit of buying flowers for young ladies. He paid cash and peeled it off a thick roll of banknotes. He didn’t trust the florist to make the delivery.’

  Cat had never received such exquisite blooms. Abundant in their lushness, they were a new breed of indeterminate colour, neither mauve nor purple.

  *

  Later that morning the phone rang. The operator connected the call to Cat’s apartment and it was the voice Cat had been longing to hear.

  ‘Hey, babe, do you like the roses?’

  ‘They’re absolutely stunning. Thank you. Your French friend caused quite a stir at the hotel when he delivered them. Where are you, Jules?’

  ‘Paris. I’ve taken a job with your mother’s latest lover, Francois Richelieu. Bit of a coincidence, eh?’

  ‘Interesting. Did you meet my mother before or after Monsieur Richelieu employed you?’

  ‘No. I met your mother when I was taking care of business. And she put me in touch with Francois. Synchronicity, eh?’

  ‘Why do I get the impression that you’re leaving something out? I believe it’s called lying by omission. Anyway, what exactly does your job entail?’

  ‘Come on, don’t be like that. I accompanied Richelieu on a few business trips after his bodyguard was murdered in a bar room brawl. Richelieu’s a sharp cove and he learnt to fly with Lindbergh. He now pilots his own planes, so I get to fly all over Europe.’

  ‘But what do you do, exactly, Jules?’

  ‘I’m managing all his asset protection needs. And I get to hire my friends.’

  ‘He’s got the right man for the job, Jules. I always suspected you knew way too much about the wrong side of the law.’

  ‘Ouch. I deserved that. I’m sorry, Cat. I’ve been less than honest with you.’

  ‘Understatement of the century, Jules. But I’d rather you levelled with me some other time. I just don’t think I can take any more bizarre revelations right now. I’m dealing with too many other dramas and I’ve got a lot on my mind.’

  ‘Sure, I understand. Listen, your mother’s been asking about you.’

  ‘Really? That’s surprising. But you know what? I’d rather not have to think about that woman. She’s the last gasp as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘Look, I just want to say I’m truly sorry I had to leave like that. I really miss you. You’re the first person I think of when I wake up and you’re my last thought before I go to sleep at night. I love you, Cat and –’

  ‘You can explain yourself another time. I’d rather you told me what you’ve been up to in Paris. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be amused by someone who has clearly underestimated my intelligence.’

  There was a long pause and then he laughed. ‘Whoa, I wasn’t quite sure how to take that, my love. Anyway, my job is very lucrative and I get quite a few perks. Would you consider spending a few days with me? Just you and I someplace swell.’

  ‘Sure, I’ll think it over, but there is one condition.’

  ‘Name it, Cat. Anything. It’s yours already.’

  ‘That you start telling the truth. Beginning with your real name.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘No. I can’t bear to hear the truth right now. Jim was hospitalised, he nearly died. And I’m having a terrible time with Eddie. Her behaviour is increasingly strange but I can’t discuss it on the phone. The only good news is that your favourite Irishman has struck it rich overseas. I guess his gigolo days are well and truly over.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Can’t tell you on the phone, Jules.’

  ‘Sounds like you need a break from the hotel. Why not come to Paris next weekend? I know exactly how to take your mind off things.’

  Cat smiled and her voice was wistful. ‘That would have been lovely but I can’t. Things are going to get worse before they get better. I lay awake all last night trying to work out what to do. I’ve been so distracted I haven’t set foot in my studio and I’m now behind schedule with my commission.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that, Cat. It’s just not like you. I should own up and tell you that I rang Bertha a few days ago. Told her I’d already booked a ticket for next week and was going to surprise you with a visit.’

  Cat was speechless for a few seconds. ‘Ah . . . and what did Bertha say?’

  ‘She told me in no uncertain terms that you were having a really tough time. And a surprise visit would be a big mistake.’

  ‘She got that right.’ Cat took a few self-calming deep breaths. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to see you Jules. Honest. You’ve no idea how much I miss you. But right now I can only focus on what Eddie’s up to. I’m consumed with what is happening and unfortunately I can’t really discuss it with you right now on the phone. None of it is good.’

  Jules gave a low whistle. ‘Bloody hell, the situation is worse than I thought, babe.’

  ‘Tell me something to take my mind off the hotel.’

  ‘Let’s think . . . when I first met Josephine at the, uh, drinks party, she wanted to know precisely what my intentions were towards you. She’s not a woman who pussy foots around, and she really let me have it with both barrels. Your mother reckons you need protection from bad boys like me.’

  Cat snorted. ‘That woman seems to have forgotten that she relinquished the right to interfere in my life. But Josephine’s obviously smarter than she looks if she’s got you worked out.’

  ‘Come on, be fair. If you didn’t want me in your life you would have hung up in my ear when you first heard my voice. Anyway, I managed to persuade Josephine that my intentions are all good. Later she got a bit inebriated and confessed to being worried about you.’

  There was a long pause before Cat answered. ‘Bloody hell. Why the sudden turn around? I don’t understand her.’

  Jules spoke slowly as though he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. ‘Gossip about Edwina has reached Paris. Something about her creating a scene in a classy restaurant. Josephine reckons Edwina experiences short episodic madness, usually when she feels abandoned. She briefly turns into an eye-gouging fiend but the rest of the time she’s rational. Apparently at one point Matthew was hospitalised and he told Josephine that Eddie was trying to poison him.’

  Cat felt the ground open up. She couldn’t speak. Jim had been right all along, but she’d refused to see what was right in front of her nose. What a little idiot she’d been, telling them that she knew Eddie better than anyone else.

  ‘Cat? Hello? . . . Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes. Oh Jules, I’ve made a terrible mistake. I’ve underestimated her.’

/>   ‘There’s more, babe. Matthew bundled Edwina off to a private Swiss psychiatric clinic a few times at his own expense. Just short visits because Edwina would only stay until she calmed down. She honestly believed she was the only sane person in the whole damn clinic.’

  ‘Saner than the shrinks?’

  ‘Yes. But this is the important bit. Josephine reckons Edwina is ruthless, dangerous and capable of anything . . . Cat?’

  ‘Fuck this. I’m sorry Jules, but Josephine could easily be describing herself. I can’t believe she gives a shite about me. You didn’t hear what she said but you saw what I was like afterwards. That woman didn’t want me around.’

  She burst into tears.

  ‘Cat, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. You probably won’t believe this – but in her own way she does care about you. I won’t mention her again. Look, I’ve got connections in London. Chaps who are fixers. Their methods are a bit unconventional. But I can call in a few favours. They’re brilliant at solving the sort of problems that keep folk awake at night.’

  Cat smiled. ‘Ah, no thanks, Jules, but it’s nice of you to offer. There is something you could do for me, though.’

  ‘Anything. Name it.’

  She wiped away her tears and blew her nose. He patiently waited until she was ready to speak.

  ‘Jules, I want you to lie to me. Tell me something fantastically improbable. Make up a story about how you fetched up in Paris. Charm me like you used to. For just a few minutes, I want to be lied to. I want to be seduced.’

  He thought for a few moments, then he swept her up. Cat was borne away on his deep voice to a luminous place where truth and beauty prevailed, to the city of light where young men of elastic morality found themselves being offered lucrative careers, palatial apartments and a life free of fear. In these new beginnings there were no predators and no menacing shadows. Life was fabulous and every day a new adventure. Anything was possible and achievable, for Paris was the place where lost boys could reinvent themselves and become men of substance.