Hunter's Green

by Whitney, Phyllis A. ;

  “Eve’s staying overnight in London,” he said. “I’ll be at my club. Will you join us for dinner, Marc?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry. I’ve an engagement of my own tonight. At the Club Casella. If you like, I can tell Alicia that you two are in town—together.”

  Justin’s jaw tightened. Marc had always been able to flick him on the raw, but he did not lose his temper.

  “Perhaps we’ll look in and tell her ourselves,” he said.

  Marc went off down the hall and I spoke my alarm. “You don’t really mean that!”

  “Perhaps I do,” he said. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  A nurse came out of Dacia’s room, and stopped to speak to us. When she stepped aside, I went in and Justin entered with me long enough to speak to the girl in the bed and give her the flowers we had picked up at a nearby stall.

  The room was already bright with blooms. In London Dacia had no lack of friends and admirers, and they had evidently rallied to bring her as much cheer as they could. Her face looked strange against the white pillow. Beneath yellowing bruises it seemed paler than usual, and her eyes, without all the artificial enhancement she painted around them, looked round and dark and very young. A bandage hid most of her head and one arm was encased to the shoulder. Yet her smile was as bright and brave as ever.

  I bent to kiss her cheek, and she gave a small cockney yelp and grinned at me.

  “Aren’t I a fright? They still won’t give me a mirror, and that’s probably a good thing. When I look cross-eyed I can see that my nose is changing from blue to yellow. Do you suppose blue and yellow noses could be trendy?”

  “You could start a trend for anything you choose,” Justin told her. He leaned to pat her hand on the coverlet, said he would wait for me downstairs and went off.

  “The nose will fade,” I said to Dacia. “How do you feel otherwise?”

  She gave me a knowing look. “Up to talking. If they don’t rush in to stick a thermometer in my mouth, or stab me with a needle. Pull up that chair, Eve. You found my note, didn’t you?”

  There was something so conspiratorial about her tone that I found myself lowering my own voice, as though eavesdroppers might hover outside the door.

  “I found the note,” I admitted, “but too late to meet you. It was only by chance that I went through the woods in that direction and stumbled over you lying in the road.”

  “And thanks for that! If I hadn’t snatched up that coat of yours perhaps I’d still be all right. But then where would you be?”

  “So you know that what happened was intended for me?”

  She tried to nod, said, “Ow!” and closed her eyes for a moment against the pain. Then she opened them and went on. “Marc says you think it was him driving that car. But I don’t. He’s got his bad points, but he’d not do that. He’s a layabout sometimes and he likes to play. But believe me, Evie, he’s not up to murder—oh, he’s not!”

  I hoped for her sake that she was right, but she seemed to protest a little too fervently and I said nothing.

  “Funny how I decided it was a good joke on you to leave you my grotty old coat and come out all nice and dry in yours,” she mused. “While still making you curious enough so that you’d have to wear mine and come after me. I’ve been too full of plots, haven’t I? Fun and games! But I got what was coming to me for that, didn’t I?”

  I inched my chair nearer to the bed. “You didn’t see who was driving the car—not even a glimpse?”

  “Not a thing!” Dacia was emphatic. “I heard a car earlier, far off, but what with the rain I didn’t know it was near till the last minute. I can’t even remember being hit. The next I knew I woke up in the hospital with a nurse jabbing something in my arm. But let’s not waste time, Evie. It’s other things I wanted to tell you. I thought they might be useful in some way. Marc’s no good at holding out on me. I wangled everything out of him that I could. About that awful Leo Casella and the tricks he’s been playing around Justin’s workshop. It’s true that Leo could get in through the back door and he hid on the roof, or in the towers, or whatever tower room was empty. You almost caught him once, I guess. He would come down at night, and then go straight back up before anyone was onto him. From the roof he could watch his chance. Though Old Daniel nearly caught him too.”

  “If Marc knows this and hasn’t told Justin, that’s pretty awful, isn’t it?”

  “Marc didn’t know for sure. He suspected somebody was using the roof, because of the smoking in the tower rooms and all. He was trying to catch him on his own. Then when Nigel found those things up there and Leo was seen around, Marc went off to talk to Alicia. She wouldn’t tell him a thing, and she made him shut up about it besides.”

  “But what was Leo trying to do?” I pressed her. “Why hasn’t he been arrested?”

  “He was paid to upset things as much as he could, and Marc knows Alicia was behind what happened. Maybe that’s why Justin hasn’t had Leo picked up by the police—because of what might come out in any sort of investigation.”

  I could only shake my head in bewilderment. “Whatever Alicia wants, it’s surely not interference with Justin’s work.”

  “Why not?” Dacia’s brown eyes were unblinking, knowledgeable. “Couldn’t it be this is the way to make Justin need her money even more? After all, it was only mischief—no real harm done. Not even with that fire. And now Leo’s been sent back to London, so there’ll be no more trouble.”

  “Marc ought to go to Justin with this whole story.”

  Dacia tried to shake her head and winced again. “Not when all Alicia has to do is point a finger and ask payment of the money that’s dribbled through Marc’s hands at her gambling tables. She’s let him have his head, you know, and he’s used no sense at all. He’s got gambler’s fever. Alicia has it too, but in a different way. It’s like dope. He always believes the next time round will bring him a winner, and he’ll get everything back. If ever I marry him—which isn’t likely—I’ll not let him keep a farthing in his pocket. Of course if Justin’s experiments work out, then Justin might make enough money so that he could pick up the ticket without any trouble. And then Alicia’d have no more hold over Marc, or over Justin either. But if Marc tries anything now, his house of cards will tumble around his ears, and he knows it. He’s running scared, Evie. I’m worried about him. It might be better if he’d tell Justin everything, but neither he nor Maggie wants to do that. Maggie especially—she wants to protect Marc at all costs, and goodness knows what Justin might do. So Alicia has Marc just where she wants him.”

  “She’d never have that sort of hold over Justin,” I said. “It’s not Alicia’s money he’d marry her for.”

  Dacia wriggled about to the accompaniment of a few more “Ows,” and gave me a long stare. Then she changed the subject abruptly.

  “Justin brought you to London today, didn’t he? How are you doing with him, Evie?”

  This was not what I could talk about, and I shook my head in warning.

  “Is this everything you wanted to tell me?” I asked.

  “It’s all I have to tell. What I wanted was to have you say what I’d better do with it. Go to Justin, or what? But that doesn’t matter any more. Not with what’s happened to me. All that matters to me now is getting well, getting back to my job. I’ve had it at Athmore. That’s no life for me—or for Marc either.”

  Somehow I had to give Marc his due. “I think he’s genuinely in love with you,” I said. “What happened to you has upset him badly.”

  “Sure, I know. But he’ll get over it. He’s got a roving eye. I know that too. I guess it was the idea of me—Dacia Keane!—visiting at Athmore, running around with Marc North and all his swell friends that went to my silly head.”

  “It’s not such a silly head,” I told her. “But you’d better keep it quiet for a while and stay out of trouble. After I found you I kept remembering what you said about tomorrow never coming. It was an especially awful feeling—being to blame for what h
appened to you.”

  She held out her good hand. “I like you, Evie. I hope your tomorrow will be a fine one. But take care, do you hear? It’s better if you don’t go back to Athmore. There’s something desperate going on.”

  Desperate or not, I knew very well that Athmore would call me back until, in one way or another, everything was settled between Justin and me. Nothing would make me give up now.

  A nurse came in, and I left Dacia and went downstairs where Justin waited for me. We said nothing until we were in his car, moving into the stream of London traffic.

  “Can you tell me about it?” he asked.

  On the way down from Dacia’s room I had decided what to do. There had been too much holding back of the truth from Justin. He must be told about Marc, and about Maggie’s notions and strange behavior. Even about Alicia—though it might set him against me again if I went into that.

  “Let’s go where we can talk,” I said.

  He left his car at a garage and we walked across busy London streets toward the river. The Victoria Embankment looked all too familiar. Justin and I had walked there before. The tall iron lampposts cast shadows across the cobblestones and the plane trees fluttered their leaves above us. We sat on the low wall and watched the barge traffic on the river. Justin waited, not prodding me, but I found it hard to begin. Across the bend of the Thames the Houses of Parliament and the tower that housed Big Ben stood out bold and warm in the afternoon sun. I let my eyes and my thoughts be distracted.

  “You’d better tell me,” Justin said at last.

  There was no way in which to put any of this gently. Besides, it was all hearsay, as I tried to make clear to him. Perhaps he could sort truth from lies, reality from Dacia’s imaginative approach. I mentioned Marc’s grave debts and how Alicia had apparently been carrying him for a long while. I told him what I knew of Maggie’s concerns and fears, and her conviction that she could save everything by marrying Nigel.

  Passersby gave us hardly a glance as they hurried along the embankment. London was like New York in that. Strangers were no curiosity here, and though Americans could usually be picked out with ease, no one troubled to stare at me. I talked and Justin listened, making only a slight movement of impatience or disbelief now and then. I had so few facts to give him, but adding up the words of other people still presented a thoroughly disturbing picture. He said nothing, even when I was through.

  My story done, we walked toward Piccadilly and Half Moon Street. Justin took me to the same small hotel where we’d stayed after we were married, and checked me in. He had appointments this afternoon, he told me, and he would be busy at dinnertime. But this evening he would call for me, and I would go with him to the Club Casella.

  We stood in the dim lobby of the hotel, while an elderly bellboy waited to take me to my room.

  “Why?” I asked him. “Why do you want me to go with you to the club?”

  The look in his eyes gave me new hope. “Perhaps there’s something to be smoked out,” he said. “If Marc is to be there tonight, I want to be there too. And you with me. After all, you’ve made some serious accusations.”

  “But Alicia—” I began.

  He said curtly, “I’ll call for you at ten o’clock. The casino doesn’t open till then,” and went off across the lobby.

  I signaled the waiting bellboy and took the lift upstairs to my room.

  The time before ten o’clock seemed to stretch ahead endlessly, though not because I dreaded to see the hour come. In fact, I was eager for it now. I was no longer afraid of Alicia.

  During the afternoon I mapped my campaign of feminine strategy. I cashed some traveler’s checks and went shopping. First I bought a lightweight coat—popcorn, stitched with black wool, and as smart as today’s London. Then I hunted for a dress to wear to the Club Casella. It took me awhile, but I found what I wanted at last in a little shop in Knights-bridge.

  When I had made my purchases, from sandals to evening pouch, I brought the packages back to my room and scattered them across the bed. These were my armor for whatever lay ahead. That anything might defeat me tonight was a possibility I would not accept.

  Since I did not want to dine out alone in London, I had a tray sent to my room. Afterward I could only wait while the minutes ticked along toward ten o’clock. Of course I started dressing long before then, and took my time.

  When I was ready I studied myself in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door, and found the dress right for me. The soft, light crepe draped to a cowl neckline, with a deep V at the back. In front it went winging out from a high inverted pleat that fell to the toes of my sandals. There were no sleeves and the color was a marvelous lime. Without being strident, it was a dress of the moment—not for Dacia, not for Alicia, but for me. When I moved before the mirror the gown stirred sweetly about me, soft as springtime music. I felt like moonlight in it—an enchanted, singing moonlight!

  There was no need to pile my hair on top of my head. I brushed it to a sable gloss and let it fall to my shoulders in the fashion Justin liked best. I had brought no jewelry with me and I wore none. The dress and I complemented each other, were meant to be. Only another woman could understand that feeling of being armed in beauty, and know how important it was for any encounter.

  In the mirror my very face seemed different. I wore only a touch of lipstick, but my look was bright, unshadowed by self-doubting. I knew my direction now and I did not mean to be stopped from my course. Tonight I too must be a gambler—for the highest of stakes.

  When the telephone rang I lifted the receiver and heard Dacia’s voice. She was calling from the hospital, and there was relief in her tone as I answered.

  “Evie! It’s jolly lucky I caught you! Marc says you may be going to the club with Justin tonight.”

  “I am going,” I told her. “He’s picking me up in a little while.”

  “That’s fine! But I’ve just learned something from Marc and I think you ought to know before you go there tonight—that Alicia has lost the Club Casella.”

  Her words were hard to believe. “What do you mean—lost?”

  “It’s been taken away from her. Apparently her management has been bad in a business sense and her share of it is gone. There’s a new owner. Not only that, but she may be in a bad way all around. Marc is scared, Evie. He doesn’t know who has taken over the club, or what will happen if his debts are called in.”

  “I’ve told Justin everything,” I said. “He knows about Marc’s debts and whatever else I could tell him.”

  She was silent for a moment. “I expect that’s for the best. All this had to tumble down for Marc sometime. But Justin doesn’t know about this change of hands at the club. He’ll go there tonight believing that Alicia is still in charge. She hasn’t had time to move out yet, you know. She’ll be there, Marc says. Had you better warn Justin?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll have to think about this.”

  I could almost see Dacia nodding her bandaged head and wincing at the movement “Yes. It’s best to take one step at a time. And—Evie—”

  “I’m here,” I said.

  “Evie—maybe this is big game you’ll be trying for tonight. I just wanted you to know that I’m betting on you to win out.”

  I smiled at the telephone. “If you’re going to bet, bet high, Dacia. You should see my new dress!”

  She laughed softly. “Good for you! But take care, Evie.”

  She rang off and I stood with my hand on the telephone, thinking of what she had told me. If Alicia no longer owned the Club Casella, and Justin did not yet know about this, there were ramifications that had alarming possibilities. I couldn’t know what effect this might have upon Justin, and the fact made me uneasier than ever. A strong enemy might be fought boldly and the matter of mercy need not enter in. But how would Justin react to an Alicia who was going down to destruction—if matters had indeed gone that far?

  The phone rang again, startling me, and as I picked up the receiver, I
knew what I must do. Justin must of course be warned about what had happened. He must have time to think about his own course of action, whatever it might be. I spoke into the receiver.

  Justin was waiting for me downstairs. I put on my coat and picked up my purse, gave myself a last look in the mirror before I walked toward the lift—not hurrying, not flying toward a love I needed to support me, but accepting with a new assurance that he was indeed my love and that whatever happened I must support him. Knowing as well that I had no other hand to play except that which I dealt myself.

  XII

  In the cab on the way to the club I told Justin the bare facts of Dacia’s phone call, and found him less surprised than I’d expected.

  “I know Alicia’s been worried about something lately,” he said. “But she would neither tell me what it is, nor let me help. She’s always been proud and self-reliant.”

  There was nothing I could safely say, and we were silent for the rest of the ride. Justin’s manner toward me was curiously blank, as though he too was taking one careful step at a time and meant to commit himself to nothing.

  The Mayfair townhouse which the Club Casella occupied was discreetly residential in appearance. One rang the doorbell and waited for admission. Since Justin was known, we were invited into a small Georgian anteroom with classic pillars and a marble floor. There an attractive girl took our wraps, and as I slipped from my coat Justin really looked at me for the first time that evening.

  “You’re beautiful tonight,” he said, and his eyes were softly tender.

  He had given me the compliment every woman wants to earn. He had not said my dress was beautiful—I already knew that. He had added up the total and given me what I longed to hear.

  We went through double doors into the main gaming room. Other rooms appeared to lead off it, each given over to different play. At the back a graceful stairway curved upward to open upon an oval gallery overlooking the gaming tables below.