Last Ditch ra-29

by Ngaio Marsh

  Alleyn opened the window and leaned out. Ricky heard the familiar and disturbing voice.

  “You?” Julia shouted. “What fun! We’ve been hunting you.”

  “I’ll come down. Hold on.”

  He nodded to Fox. “Meet you at Plank’s,” he said, and to Ricky. “See you later, old boy.”

  As he went downstairs he thought: “Damn. He went white. He has got it badly.”

  iii

  Julia was in her dashing sports car and Bruno was doubled up in the token seat behind her. She was dressed in white, as Alleyn remembered seeing her in the ship, with a crimson scarf on her head and those elegant gloves. Enormous dark glasses emphasized her pallor and her remarkable mouth. She had a trick when she laughed of lifting her lip up and curving it in. This changed her into a gamine and was extremely appealing. “Poor old Rick,” Alleyn thought, “he hadn’t a chance. On the whole I daresay it’s been good for him.”

  Ricky, standing back from his closed window, was able to see his father shake hands with Julia and at her suggestion get into the passenger’s seat. She looked at him as she sometimes looked at Ricky and had taken off her black glasses to smile at him. She talked — vividly, Ricky was sure — and he wondered at his father’s air of polite attention. When she talked like that to Ricky he felt himself develop a fatuous expression and indeed was sometimes obliged to pull his face together and shut his mouth.

  His father did not look in the least fatuous.

  Now Julia stopped talking and laughing. She leaned toward Alleyn and seemed to listen closely as he, still with that air of formal courtesy, spoke to her. So might her doctor or solicitor have behaved.

  What could they be saying? he wondered. Something about Louis? Or could it be about him, by any chance? The thought perturbed him.

  “Ricky,” Alleyn was saying, “was in a bit of a spot. I’d told him not to gossip.”

  “And there have I been badgering him. Wretched Ricky!” cried Julia and broke into her splutter.

  “He’ll recover. It must be pretty obvious to everybody in the Cove, in spite of all Sergeant Plank’s diplomacy, that there’s something in the wind.”

  “About the accident, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “That it wasn’t an accident?”

  “That it hasn’t been conclusively shown that it was. Is your cousin with you this morning?”

  “Louis? Or Carlotta?”

  “Louis.”

  “You’re sitting on his coat. He’s gone to buy cigarettes.”

  “I’m sorry.” He hitched the coat from under him and straightened it, pulling down the sleeves. “What a very smart hacking jacket,” he said.

  “It goes too far in my opinion. He hooks it over his shoulders and looks like a mass-produced David Niven.”

  “He’s lost a sleeve button. Have I sat it off? How awful, I’d better look.”

  “You needn’t bother. I think my daughter wrenched it off. Why do you want to see Louis?”

  “In case he noticed anything out-of-the-way when he returned to Leathers.”

  Julia twisted around to look at her young-brother-in-law. “I don’t think he did, do you, Bruno?”

  Bruno said in an uncomfortable voice. “I think he just said he didn’t see anybody or something like that.”

  “And, by the way,” Alleyn said, “when you jumped that gap — a remarkable feat if I may say so — did you go down and inspect it beforehand?”

  A pause. “No,” Bruno muttered at last.

  “Really? So you wouldn’t have noticed anything particular about it — about the actual gap?”

  Bruno shook his head.

  “No rail, for instance, running through the thorn?”

  “There wasn’t a rail.”

  “Just the thorn? No wire?”

  For a moment Alleyn thought Bruno was going to respond to this but he didn’t. He shook his head, looked at the floor of the car and said nothing.

  Julia winked at Alleyn and bumped her knee against his.

  Bruno said: “OK if I go to the shop?”

  “Of course, darling. If you see Louis tell him who’s here, will you? He’s buying cigarettes, probably in the Cod-and-Bottle.”

  Bruno slid out of the car and walked along the front, his shoulders hunched.

  “You musn’t mind,” Julia said. “He’s got a thing about jumping the gap.”

  “What sort of thing?”

  “He thinks he may have been an incentive to the Harness.”

  “Harness?”

  “I’ve got a fixation about her name. The others think I do it to be funny but I don’t, poor thing.”

  “I gather she was hell-bent on the jump anyway.”

  “So she was but Bruno fancies he may have brought her up to boiling point and it makes him miserable. Only if it’s mentioned. He forgets in-between and goes cliff-climbing and bird-watching. How’s Cuth?” asked Julia, and when he didn’t reply at once, said: “Come on, you must know Cuth. The uncle.”

  “In retirement.”

  “Well, we all know that. The maids told Nanny he’s drinking himself to death out of remorse. I can’t imagine how they know. Well, one can guess. Postman. Customers wanting hacks. Ricky’s chum Syd before he bolted.”

  “Has he bolted?”

  “Cagey old Ricky just said he’s gone over to Saint Pierre-des-Roches, but the village thinks he bolted. According to Nanny. She has a wide circle of friends and all of them say Syd’s done a bunk.”

  “Why do they think he’s done that?”

  “Well it’s really — you mustn’t mind this, either,” said Julia opening her eyes very wide and beginning to gabble, “but you see, to begin with, Nanny says they all thought there must be funny business afloat when the inquest was adjourned and on top of that everyone knew she was going to have a baby. Well, I mean, Cuth seems to have bellowed away about it, far and wide. And as she was a constant caller at Syd’s place they put two and two together.” Julia stopped short. “Have you ever thought,” she said in a different voice, “how very appropriate that expression would be if it was ‘one and one together.’ ”

  “It hadn’t occurred to me.”

  “I make you a present of it. Where was I?”

  “I think you were going to tell me something that you hoped I wouldn’t mind.”

  “Ah! Thank you. It was just that your arrival on the scene led everyone to believe that you were hard on Syd’s trail because Syd was the — what does ‘putative’ mean? Not that Nanny used the expression.”

  “ ‘Supposed’, or ‘presumed.’ ”

  “That’s what I thought. The putative papa. Somehow I don’t favor the theory. The next part gets vague: Nanny hurries over it rather, but the general idea seems to be that Syd was afraid Cuth would horsewhip him into marrying Dulcie.”

  “And what steps is Syd supposed to have taken?”

  “They don’t say it in so many words.”

  “What do they say? It doesn’t matter how many words.”

  “They hint.”

  “What do they hint?”

  “That Syd egged her on. To jump. Hoping.”

  “I see,” said Alleyn.

  “And then, of course, your arriving on the scene—”

  “I only arrived last night.”

  “Nanny was at a whist-drive last night. The W.I. Some of the husbands picked their ladies up on the way home from the Cod-and-Bottle where they had been introduced to you by Sergeant Plank.”

  “I see,” said Alleyn again.

  “That’s what I hoped you wouldn’t mind: the whist-drive ladies all saying it looked pretty funny. It seems nobody really believes you merely came to give Sergeant Plank and the boys in blue a new look. They’re all very thrilled to have you, I may say.”

  “Too kind.”

  “So are we, of course. Here they come. I expect you’d like to have your word with Louis, wouldn’t you? I’ll pay Ricky a little visit.”

  “He’s got a black eye an
d will be self-conscious but enchanted.”

  Alleyn, a quick mover, was out of the car and had the door open for her. She gave him a steady look. “How very kind,” she said and left him.

  The presence of Louis Pharamond on the front had the effect of turning it into some kind of resort — some little harbor only just “discovered,” perhaps, but shortly to be developed and ruined. His blue silk polo-necked jersey, his sharkskin trousers, his golden wristwatch, even the medallion he wore on a thin chain were none of them excessive but one felt it was only by a stroke of good luck that he hadn’t gone too far with, say, some definitely regrettable ring or even an earring.

  Bruno, who trailed after Louis with his hands in his denim pockets, turned into the shop. Louis advanced alone and bridged the awkward gap between himself and Alleyn with smiles and expressions of pleasurable recognition.

  “This is a nice surprise!” he cried with outstretched hand. “Who’d have thought we’d meet again so soon!”

  There was the weather-worn bench close by, where Ricky had sat in the early hours of the morning. Village worthies sometimes gathered there as if inviting the intervention of some TV commentator. Alleyn, having negotiated Louis’s effusive greetings, suggested that they might move to this bench and they did so.

  “I gather,” he said, “you’ve guessed that I’m here on a job.” Louis was all attention: appropriately grave, entirely correct.

  “Well, yes, we have wondered, actually. The riding-school girl, isn’t it? Rotten bad show.” He added with an air of diffidence that one didn’t, of course, want to speak out of turn, but did this mean there was any suspicion that it wasn’t an accident?

  Alleyn wondered how many more times he was to say that they were obliged to make sure.

  “Anything else,” said Louis, “is unbelievable. It’s — well, I mean what could it be but an accident?” And he rehearsed the situation as it had presented itself to the Pharamonds. “I mean,” he said, “she was hell-bent on doing it. And with her weight up — she was a great hefty wench, you know. Not to put too fine a point on it. I’d say she must have ridden every ounce of eleven stone. Well, it was a foregone conclusion.”

  Alleyn said it looked like that, certainly.

  “We’re trying to find out,” he said, “as closely as may be, when it happened. The medical report very tentatively puts it at between four and five hours of when she was found. But even that is uncertain. She may have survived the injuries for some considerable time or she may have died immediately.”

  “Yes, I see.”

  “When did you arrive back at Leathers? I know about the cramp.”

  Louis sat with his lightly clasped hands between his knees. Perhaps they tightened their grasp on each other; if so, that was his only movement.

  “I?” he said. “I don’t know exactly. I suppose it would have been about three o’clock. I rode back by the shortest route. The cramp cleared up quite soon and I put on my boot and took most of it at an easy canter.”

  “When you arrived was anybody about?”

  “Not a soul. I unsaddled the hack and walked home.”

  “Meeting anybody?”

  “Meeting nobody.”

  “Did you happen to look across the horse paddock to the hedge?”

  Louis ran his hand down the back of his head.

  “I simply don’t remember,” he said. “I suppose I might have. If I did there was nothing out-of-the-way to be seen.”

  “No obvious break in the gap, for instance?”

  He shook his head.

  “No sign of the sorrel mare on the hillside?”

  “Certainly not. But I really don’t think I looked in that direction.”

  “I thought you might have been interested in young Bruno’s jump.”

  “Young Bruno behaved like a clodhopper. No, I’m sorry. I’m no good to you, I’m afraid.”

  “You know Miss Harkness, didn’t you?”

  “She came to lunch one day at L’Espérance — on Ricky’s first visit, by the way. I suppose he told you.”

  “Yes, he did. Apart from that?”

  “Not to say ‘knew,’ ” Louis said. He seemed to examine this remark and hesitated as if about to qualify it. For a second one might have almost thought it had suggested some equivocation. “She came into the pub sometimes when I was there,” he said. “Once or twice, I wouldn’t remember. She wasn’t,” Louis said, “exactly calculated to snatch one’s breath away. Poor lady.”

  “Did you meet her on a Thursday afternoon near the foot of a track going down the cliffs?”

  The movement Louis made was like a reflex action, slight but involving his whole body and instantly repressed. It almost came as a shock to find him still sitting quietly on the bench.

  “Good Lord!” he said, “I believe I did. How on earth did you know? Yes. Yes, it was an afternoon when I’d been for a walk along the bay. So I did.”

  “Did you meet by appointment?”

  That brought him to his feet. Against a background of sparkling harbor and cheerful sky he stood like an advertisement for men’s wear, leaning back easily against the seawall. An obliging handful of wind lifted his hair.

  “Look here,” Louis said, “I don’t much like all this. Do you mind explaining?”

  “Not a bit. Your note was in the pocket of her hacking jacket.”

  “Damn,” said Louis quietly. He waited for a moment and then with a graceful, impetuous movement reseated himself by Alleyn.

  “I wouldn’t have had this happen for the world,” he said.

  “No?”

  “On several counts. There’s Carlotta, first of all, and most of all. I mean, I know I’m a naughty boy sometimes and so does she but this is different. In the light of what’s happened. It’d be horrid for Carlotta.”

  He waited for Alleyn to say something but Alleyn was silent.

  “You do understand, I’m sure. I mean it was nothing. No question of any — attachment. You might say she simply happened to be damn good at one thing and made no bones about it. As was obvious to all. But — well, you’ll understand — I’d hate Carlotta to know. For it to come out. Under the circs.”

  “It won’t unless it’s relevant.”

  “Thank God for that. I don’t see how it possibly could be.”

  “Was this meeting at the cliffs the first time?”

  “I’m not sure — yes, I think it might have been.”

  “Not according to the note. The note said ‘Usual time.’ ”

  “All right, then. It wasn’t. I said I wasn’t sure.”

  “One would have thought,” Alleyn said mildly, “you’d remember.”

  “Basically the whole thing meant so little. I’ve tried to explain. It was nothing. Absolutely casual. It would have petered out, as you might say, without leaving a trace.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “What the hell do you mean?”

  “She was pregnant.”

  “If you’re trying to suggest—” Louis broke off. He had spoken loudly but now, after a quick look up at Ricky’s window stopped short. In the silence that followed Julia’s voice could be heard. Alleyn looked around and was in time to see her appear briefly at the closed window. She waved to them and then turned away. Ricky could be dimly seen in the background.

  “There is absolutely no question of that,” Louis said. “You can dismiss any such notion.”

  “Have you any theory on the parentage?”

  For a moment or two he hesitated and then said that, “not to put too fine a point on it, it might be anybody.” By one of those quirks of foresight Alleyn knew what his next remark would be and out it came. “She was quite a girl,” Louis said.

  “So I’ve been told,” said Alleyn.

  Louis waited. “Is that all you wanted to see me about?” he asked at last.

  “Pretty well, I think. We’d just like to be sure about any possible callers at Leathers during the day. A tidying-up process. Routine.”

&nb
sp; “Yes, I see. I’m sorry if I didn’t take kindly to being grilled.”

  “It was hardly that, I hope.”

  “Well — you did trick me over that unlucky note, didn’t you?”

  “You should see us when we get really nasty,” Alleyn said.

  “It’s just because of Carlotta. You do understand?”

  “I think so.”

  “I suppose I’m pretty hopeless,” said Louis. “But still…” He stretched elaborately as if freeing himself from the situation. “Ricky seems to be enjoying the giddy pleasures of life in Deep Cove and la maison Ferrant,” he said. “I can’t imagine what he finds to do with himself when he’s not writing.”

  “There’s been some talk of night fishing and assignations with his landlord in the early hours of the morning, but I don’t think anything’s come of it. Do you ever go in for that?”

  Louis didn’t answer. It was as if for a split second he had become the victim of suspended animation, a “still” introduced into a motion picture with the smile unerased on his face. This hitch in time was momentary, so brief that it might have been an illusion. The smile broadened and he said: “Me? Not my scene, I’m afraid. Too keen on my creature comforts.”

  He took out his cigarette case and filled it with a steady hand from a new packet. “Is there anything else?” he asked.

  “Not that I can think of,” Alleyn said cheerfully. “I’m sorry I had to raise uncomfortable ghosts.”

  “Oh,” Louis said, “I’ll survive. I wish I could have been more help.” He looked up at Ricky’s.window. “What’s all this we hear about him taking a plunge?”

  Alleyn said it appeared that Ricky had slipped on the wet wharf, knocked his face against a gangway stanchion, and fallen in.

  “He’s a pretty picture,” he said, “and loath to display himself.”

  Louis said they’d soon see about that and with a sudden and uncomfortable display of high spirits, threw a handful of fine gravel at the window. Some of it miscarried and spattered on the front door. Ricky loomed up, empurpled and unwilling, behind the glass. Louis gestured for him to open the window and when he had done so shouted, “ ‘But soft, what light from yonder window breaks,’ ” in a stagey voice. Julia appeared beside Ricky and took his arm.

  “Do pipe down, Louis,” she said. “You’re inflaming the populace.”