Quest for Alexis

by Nancy Buckingham

  “Alexis was the same,” I put in swiftly. “He would often be up half the night, reading.”

  Brett’s eyes turned again to Rudi. “Did you see any other signs that there was something going on between them?”

  “There were a hundred things. I noticed the way Belle used to look at him, a sort of secret excitement in her eyes. It was unmistakable. I suppose a woman can never conceal her emotions when she looks at the man who is her lover.”

  Brett asked sharply, “And what about the way Alexis looked at Belle?”

  Rudi lifted his shoulders. “I suppose deceit comes more easily to a man.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion,” said Brett. “Anything else?”

  “Isn’t that enough? If you had seen the two of them together day after day these past months, you’d be as convinced as I am.” Rudi hesitated, then added quickly, “There was something. I remember one morning ... Alexis had gone to London soon after breakfast. I went up to his room for some papers he’d left there, and I saw Belle’s silver locket—you know the one I mean, Gail. She always wore it around her neck. It was on the bedside table in Alexis’s bedroom. Of course, I didn’t touch it, and later, at lunchtime, Belle’s hand went to her throat as she suddenly realized it was missing. She made some excuse to leave the table, and when she returned she was wearing it again.”

  “That’s all, is it?” said Brett. “That’s what you based your supposition on?”

  “Well, yes.”

  There was a moment’s pause, then Brett said, “You realize there are two possible explanations for all this. The first that Alexis and Belle were lovers, the second that they weren’t but that Belle wanted you to think they were. Every single thing you’ve mentioned could have been just an act put on by Belle for your special benefit, Rudi.”

  My pulse rate quickened. I dared not snatch too quickly at an explanation I longed to believe.

  “According to what you’ve told us,” Brett went on, “there’s nothing to suggest that Alexis was the least bit interested in Belle in that sense. It was the way she used to look at him. She who’d apparently just come out of his bedroom. I noticed that you didn’t say you actually saw her coming out—you just assumed she had, because she looked so embarrassed. And she seems to have chosen just the moments when she knew you were around to see. Several times, you said. Doesn’t that strike you as a remarkable coincidence? And that locket incident—mark that it was on a day when Alexis had gone to London, so Belle could easily have planted the locket after he’d left. And possibly taken up some papers she knew you’d be needing, to make sure you went up there and saw it.”

  I couldn’t contain my excitement. “Oh yes, Brett, I’m sure that’s it. Everything fits.”

  Rudi sat with his face in his hands, and we stood watching him. At length he lifted his head. “You’re quite right, Brett. There wasn’t a single occasion when Alexis showed any sign. It was always Belle. Oh God,” he groaned, his eyes suddenly sharpened with tragedy. “I should have realized ... You understand what this means? They really have murdered him.”

  Brett said slowly, quietly, “It’s terrible, but I know which way the Alexis I remember would have wished it himself. He’d rather have lost his life any day than be dishonored, than have all that he’s worked for over the years discredited. No, Gail is right, I’m convinced of it.”

  I squeezed his arm in gratitude, and Brett glanced down at me with a sad little smile.

  “I can’t take any of the credit, Gail. It was you, and it puts the rest of us to shame. You were the only one who had faith in Alexis. You never doubted him, however black things looked.”

  This wasn’t quite as true as Brett believed. There had come a point—after that humiliating scene with Belle, in those frantic minutes before I discovered that the man with her was not Alexis at all—when I faced complete disillusionment. But perhaps, in the circumstances, I could not really be blamed.

  “Alexis and I had always been so close,” I whispered. “He was more like a father to me than an uncle.”

  Rudi sat with his head drooped. “I looked upon Alexis almost as a father, too, yet I was ready to think the worst of him. I shall never forgive myself, Gail. Never.” He jumped to his feet and began striding about the room, a man in torment.

  My heart was wrenched in pity for him. I knew how much he had loved my uncle. Forced to flee his native land, separated forever from his only living relatives— his sister and her family in Karlovy Vary—Rudi had, through Alexis, found a whole new meaning for his life. It was terrible for him to go on believing that some negligence on his part had allowed Alexis to be seized and killed.

  “Rudi, you don’t need to blame yourself. What could you have done to stop this from happening?”

  Leaving Brett’s side, I went to Rudi, touching his arm in compassion. To my surprise, he jerked himself away.

  “I don’t deserve your pity, Gail,” he said in a bitter voice.

  Brett cut in, “Let’s not talk about blame. It doesn’t get us anywhere. Our job now is to discover the truth. It’s one thing for us three to feel certain we know what happened, but it will be quite a different matter to convince other people. What we’ve got to do is find some real, solid evidence that Alexis was murdered. So far it’s just guesswork. Let’s start at the beginning. Exactly how did Belle Forsyth work herself into a job here? Did she come from an employment agency?”

  We both looked at Rudi. He made an effort to pull himself together. “Yes, we’ve got to try and be practical. But I’m afraid I can’t help about Belle. I’ve no idea where she came from. Alexis merely told me one day that he’d found the perfect nurse-companion for Madeleine, and I was delighted.” He gave me an apologetic shrug. “I know it sounds odd not to have asked Alexis for any details. But I was up to my eyes at the time—working on the indexing of the book. As you can imagine, with so many cross-references it was a complicated job.”

  “When was it Alexis told you about Belle?” asked Brett. “What were the circumstances? For example, had he been up to London that day? Could he somehow have met her there?”

  Rudi hesitated, but in the end he made a helpless gesture with his hands.

  “I can’t remember clearly. I think we were here in the study, and I think ... yes, I’m pretty sure that Alexis had just read a letter. Perhaps it was from Belle.”

  “If so, presumably you had to answer it, make an appointment for her to come for an interview or something?”

  Rudi looked from Brett to me. I could sense his desperate anxiety to be of some help. But in the end he could only shake his head.

  “Alexis fixed it up entirely by himself. He just told me she was coming the following week. And of course, when she did come, she really seemed ideal. Madeleine was immensely taken with her.”

  I closed my eyes, remembering bitterly how my poor aunt had been deceived by Belle Forsyth’s treacherous charm. Even a few hours before Madeleine’s death, when I’d talked to her in the middle of the night, she had been wondering when her dear Belle would be coming back.

  “Did Belle have any friends?” Brett continued. “Any contacts at all?”

  Again Rudi shook his head. “The Communists will have covered their tracks well. Any line you try to follow about Belle Forsyth will only end in a blank wall.” His voice cracked. “I know them. They will go to endless trouble to achieve their aims.”

  Brett said crisply, “I can understand how you feel, Rudi, but a defeatist attitude won’t get us anywhere. The only way I know of winning is to keep pressing on even when things look utterly hopeless. As Gail did from the very beginning. As I’m going to do from now on.”

  * * * *

  It was very late when at last Brett persuaded me to go up to bed. The doctor had given me a pill to take, so at least I knew I would be able to sleep.

  We parted at the foot of the staircase before Brett went through to the other wing of the house. He held me to him briefly, kissing my forehead. Then he let me go.

 
; “Gail, I’ve come to a decision. I’m going to go ahead with the film about Alexis. I’m going to finish it. Some day—very soon, I hope—it will be needed. I want it to make a fitting memorial to Alexis Karel.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I heard the cheerful whistle of the newspaper boy as I came downstairs the next morning. His bicycle slithered to a racing stop on the gravel. The folded copy of the Times appeared through the letterbox and fell to the floor with a thud.

  For a few moments I stood staring at it, as if it was something contaminated. Then I bent and picked it up, scanning through it quickly.

  Madeleine’s death was reported with brief details. The paragraph went on to say that Dr. Alexis Karel had not been seen or heard of since having a short interview with his niece, Miss Gail Fleming, at a hotel in Geneva a few days before. That was all.

  I left the paper on the console table in the hall and went to the kitchen to get myself some coffee. A big cupful, hot and milky, slowly brought me back to life. I even found the appetite to eat a buttered crispbread. To my relief, Mrs. Cramp hadn’t turned up yet.

  I heard Brett calling my name and went out to the hall to meet him. He smiled at me, his eyes searching my face.

  “You look tired, darling. Did you sleep?”

  “A bit too heavily. I’m not used to taking pills.”

  “Let’s hope you never will be. Have you seen the Times yet?”

  “Yes, just now. It doesn’t say much.”

  “I know, but some of the popular papers have really gone to town—as you’d expect. Look, Gail, I can’t stop. I just came through to tell you that I’m off to London.”

  “To London?”

  “Yes, I must go today. You see, things have rather piled up while we were away.”

  I felt a sudden chill. I’d completely overlooked the fact that Brett had a job to do. Foolishly, I had pictured him being here with me at Deer’s Leap, working together to find the answer to Alexis’s disappearance.

  I said dispiritedly, “When will I see you again?”

  “Oh, sometime later today. I want to restart work on the film right away.”

  I felt better at once. Brett wasn’t forsaking me.

  “Caterina asked me to say she hopes you’ll join them for lunch, Gail. You will, won’t you?”

  “Yes, of course. It’s kind of her to ask me ... in the circumstances.”

  “Gail, you mustn’t think that. My father is very upset—naturally. But not with you.”

  “All the same, I’m part of it all. A continual reminder.”

  Brett stood hesitating for a moment, as if he felt torn. Then he said quickly, “I really must get going. There’s a planning meeting at ten-thirty, and I’ve barely time to make it.” He bent and kissed me swiftly on my cheek. “I won’t be gone all that long. I reckon that Elspeth and I should arrive about teatime.”

  Elspeth. I had completely overlooked her, too.

  Since Brett’s return last night when we had talked, I had believed that he and I were together once more after these long months of separation. In my newfound feeling of warm security I had shut my eyes to the part Elspeth Vane played in his life. Elspeth directed nearly every one of the films Brett made, and often they traveled together, both in England and abroad. When they were actually filming, Brett saw Elspeth every day. And at night, too? Was the former relationship between them still continuing?

  After Brett had gone, I went in search of Rudi and found him in the Oak Room. He was sorting through some papers in a halfhearted fashion.

  “Hello, Gail. There isn’t really anything for me to do, but somehow I can’t just do nothing. So I’m collating Alexis’s notes. One day, perhaps, someone will be interested in them.”

  It was the same as Brett had said about the film.

  I thought how ill Rudi looked. I wished I could say or do something that would ease his feelings of guilt.

  I walked over to the window and stood staring out through the leaded panes. This morning the sun was shining again, mocking us with its cheerful golden brilliance. Against the pale-blue sky, the tips of the conifer trees stood up like an edging of black lace. I was thankful that the Oak Room looked out to the rock gardens and not to the terrace where Madeleine had fallen.

  “Rudi, I’ve been thinking—there’s no reason for Freda Aiken to stay any longer. We could pay her off and suggest she leave right away.”

  Rudi said heavily, “Is that a hint, Gail? Do you mean that you’d like me to leave Deer’s Leap, too?”

  I spun around to face him. “No, of course I didn’t mean anything of the kind. Later ... well, I don’t know what will happen. Obviously I shan’t be staying on here myself indefinitely. But please don’t think of leaving, not for the time being. I need you here. With Freda Aiken, though, it’s altogether different. There’s really nothing more for her to do. Perhaps I’m being unjust to her, but every time I see the woman I can’t help wondering if ...”

  “Wondering what?”

  “Well, it could so easily have been Freda who left the newspaper for Madeleine to see. I wouldn’t put a thing like that past her—there’s a sort of spiteful streak in her that would think it amusing. Obviously though, she’d never have expected such a terrible consequence. If it was Freda, then that would explain why she’s so dreadfully upset.”

  Rudi was staring down at his hands, gripped tightly together on the desk. “If you feel like that, Gail, I suppose it’s best to get rid of her at once. I don’t much care for Freda myself, I admit, and I wouldn’t be sorry to see the back of her.” He hesitated, looking uneasy. “All the same, I’d hate having to tell her to her face that she’s got to get out.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to, Rudi,” I said quickly. “That’s my job. I’ll go and tell her right away.”

  Freda Aiken was in her bedroom and opened the door to my knock.

  “Oh ... it’s you, Miss Fleming. I was just...”

  Though it was nearly ten o’clock, she was still in her dressing gown. She looked so dejected that I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. But believing what I did, remembering that she’d shown no human kindness toward Madeleine in the short time she’d been my aunt’s nurse, I hardened my heart.

  “I just wanted a word with you, Miss Aiken. You’ll understand that there’s really no point in you staying on at Deer’s Leap any longer, so I thought ...” I saw her eyes widen in alarm. She started to make some protest, and I added hastily, “Naturally your salary will be honored—whatever the arrangement was. But there’s nothing for you to do here now, and you could be working somewhere else, or having a holiday.”

  Her face seemed to crumble up, and she looked as if she was going to burst into tears.

  “Oh, Miss Fleming, please don’t send me away. I... I’ve got to stay nearby, to give evidence at the inquest, and I... well, I’d hate to have to lodge with strangers.”

  It seemed extraordinary to hear Freda Aiken speaking as if we at Deer’s Leap were her friends. But it was true that I had forgotten about her being needed for the inquest.

  “Oh well,” I said awkwardly, “in that case I suppose—”

  “Then I can stay?” Her face brightened at once. “Oh, you are kind. I’m so grateful. I’ve had a dreadful night, Miss Fleming. I couldn’t sleep at all for thinking. I mean, your poor aunt was supposed to be my responsibility. She was put in my charge.”

  Amazingly, I found myself defending her, trying to bring reassurance to this woman I disliked so much.

  “You mustn’t torture yourself, Miss Aiken. You couldn’t be expected to spend every single moment with her.”

  After I had left Freda, I decided on an impulse to have a look in the bedroom Belle Forsyth had used. Just possibly I might find some clue there.

  It was, as always, immaculately tidy. I stood in the middle of the blue carpet, staring about me, reluctant to touch anything that Belle had handled. But I forced the feeling down.

  I was opening the top drawer of the tallboy when it
struck me that I must be careful not to disturb anything. One day there might be a full-scale criminal investigation.

  The contents of the drawer were entirely impersonal. They might have belonged to anyone. Odds and ends of lipstick, face cream, and powder, a bottle of skin lotion, some French Fern bath cubes—all well-known makes that could be bought at any pharmacy.

  The unexotic, everyday beauty items that fitted the image of Belle Forsyth—nurse and companion. And a small pile of handkerchiefs, all plain white hemstitched, unmarked in any way.

  I closed the drawer and passed to the next one down. It contained chain-store underwear, neatly folded. Several pairs of tights. In the bottom drawer there were blouses and sweaters, all like a million other women possessed.

  What exactly was I looking for? I didn’t know. Just something, anything, that would point to Belle’s true character—give a lead, perhaps, about where she had come from. Just a tiny shred of solid evidence.

  On the bedside table was a paperback, a collection of modern verse. I flicked through the pages, expecting nothing, finding nothing. I went across and opened the heavy oak wardrobe. There were a couple of wool dresses on hangers, a red jersey suit, a gabardine raincoat, two or three skirts. A black umbrella, neatly rolled, was looped over a hook. I examined every item without hope. Manufacturers’ labels told me nothing. The pockets of the suit and raincoat were empty.

  Clean white paper lined the bottom of the wardrobe. But in one corner, at the back, it wasn’t lying quite flat. As I automatically bent and smoothed it down with my hand, I felt a ridge of something like a piece of thick cardboard.

  Suddenly excited, I drew the lining paper back. I saw a large buff envelope, torn open along one edge. The name and address were typewritten—Miss Belle Forsyth, Deer’s Leap ... It contained photographs. I shook them out, spreading them on the carpet.

  There were five altogether, postcard size, all of them similar—but none exactly the same—as the picture of Belle I’d seen in the newspaper. The changed Belle, with her hair cascading down. In one photograph the tip of her tongue showed teasingly between her lips. In another her shoulders were drawn back to reveal the outline of her breasts through the thin silk of her dress.