Madden said slowly, ‘I know who the killer is.’
‘You do?’
‘It was Sir Seymour’s sister. Miss Bettina Tradescant.’
32
The Bad Sister (2)
‘You are positive it was her?’
‘One hundred per cent. I know what Miss Tradescant looks like.’
‘There was something of a contretemps between you and her, wasn’t there? You questioned her right to roam round the premises and she challenged your authority. One of your fellow stewards told me about it.’
‘I would have known she was Sir Seymour’s sister even if I’d never seen her before,’ Madden pointed out. ‘They look uncannily alike.’
‘Well, by her own admission, she was near the scene of the crime at the crucial hour. She had been at Mayholme Manor since early morning, apparently. She told the Master she had been sitting in her car. What was the time when you saw her come out of Sir Seymour’s bathroom?’
‘Some minutes after eight. Five or ten past.’
‘Would you be prepared to repeat your story to the police, if necessary?’
‘I would,’ said Madden.
Two hours later Major Payne and Antonia sat at St James’s restaurant, on the fourth floor at Fortnum and Mason’s, having tea and comparing notes.
‘He saw her coming out of the bathroom. She was dressed in a steward’s orange habit. Or so he claims.’ Payne took a sip of tea. ‘It fits in with what the Master told me about Bettina having an orange habit in her bag when he met her later on.’
‘And Travis saw a figure wearing a wet habit cross the downstairs hall and leave the building at quarter past eight? It all tallies perfectly.’
‘Indeed it does. All perfectly damning.’
‘So it was the bad sister who did it?’
‘Bettina had a good enough motive for her brother’s murder. She benefits from Sir Seymour’s will. It seems he intended to cut her out. Penelope might have told her about it, so Bettina goes and kills him before it is too late. Makes perfect sense.’
‘You said you were not entirely convinced by Madden’s account?’
‘One should be suspicious of light-fingered gentlemen’s gentlemen on principle … I am trying to keep an open mind, my love … Well, Madden had a reason to hate Bettina … He’d been humiliated by her … She’d banged him on the head with her handbag while another steward watched … At one point Madden started acting rather oddly … He suddenly looked ill … His hand went up to his upper lip … I don’t know what it all means, though I feel something stirring at the back of my mind … This is an amply mystificatory affair and no mistake. I am sure we’ll get to the bottom of it soon enough, never fear … May I eat the last smoked salmon sandwich? Would you mind dreadfully?’
‘Eat them all, if you must.’
‘May I kiss you?’
‘No, not now. Not here, Hugh—with the pianist and everything. OK, but be quick about it …’
‘You don’t want the cucumber sandwiches either?’ Payne said a moment later as he straightened his tie. ‘You used to adore cucumber sandwiches.’
‘No one could possibly “adore” cucumber sandwiches … I am not really hungry.’
‘You should make sandwiches like that at home.’
‘I did make sandwiches like that the last time your aunt paid us a visit …’
‘You should do it more often.’
Antonia picked up her teacup. ‘What’s the tune the pianist’s playing?’
‘“These Foolish Things”. Dr Fairchild danced to it with Wallis Simpson. Or perhaps he didn’t. There is a strong possibility he made up the whole thing. He seems to be a notorious Munchausen. A cigarette that bears lipstick traces,’ Payne hummed. ‘An airline ticket to romantic places.’
‘These would make good clues in a detective story,’ Antonia said. ‘A lipstick-smeared cigarette stub and a plane ticket to Tangiers are discovered beside a dead body. It’s the lipstick that’s going to be the clue … Is Tangiers romantic?’
‘I don’t think so … The cigarette was actually smoked by a man …’
‘Wearing lipstick?’
‘No. He had been kissing a woman wearing lipstick.’
‘No. He had been kissing a woman who had been kissing a man wearing lipstick.’
‘Some chaps do wear lipstick.’ Payne nodded sagely. ‘It means nothing at all.’
‘Actually,’ said Antonia, ‘I’ve got an extraordinary story to tell as well. It concerns Penelope Tradescant.’
‘I am all ears.’
Antonia took a sip of tea. ‘One of the Tradescant maids, a girl called Daisy Warren, went to the police and reported that, on the day of Mrs Mowbray’s fatal fall, Mrs Mowbray and Lady Tradescant had a serious argument about something. They “exchanged words”. It sounded extremely serious, Daisy insisted, though she couldn’t say exactly what the argument was about.’
‘Nothing to do with Mrs Mowbray and the accounts? Mrs Mowbray, if I remember correctly, had been caught cooking the accounts earlier that morning?’
‘It wasn’t to do with the accounts. Mrs Mowbray was threatening to tell her son something. Daisy had no idea what. Lady Tradescant and Mrs Mowbray then started walking up the stairs. Daisy heard Lady Tradescant say they needed to discuss the matter in private. It was the two of them, and not only Mrs Mowbray, as originally stated by Lady Tradescant, who went to the top floor. Some quarter of an hour later Mrs Mowbray fell to her death.’
‘Daisy suggested Lady Tradescant pushed Mrs Mowbray from the top window? That it was with that purpose in mind she took her to the top floor?’
‘Well, the policemen simply presented Penelope with the facts. They were extremely tactful about it. It was clear from the way they spoke to Penelope that they weren’t taking Daisy’s story really seriously. It was all in the nature of a routine inquiry, they kept repeating.’ Antonia took a sip of tea. ‘Or maybe they were only pretending not to be taking the story seriously. Might have helped if I’d been able to observe their faces, but of course I couldn’t.’
‘This is extremely interesting.’
‘Vic said the allegations were all rubbish.’
‘Ah. The lover.’
‘Maybe not the lover. Vic suspects Penelope has other lovers. At least one other lover. He believes there is a new man in Penelope’s life. Someone who is nothing special to look at, apart from a shining upper lip. Vic is very jealous, poor boy. Actually I thought there was someone at the house on the day of my visit, so he may not be completely wrong. Daisy was very jealous of Penelope. She had had a crush on Vic, apparently. She regarded Penelope as her rival. That, I suppose, seems a very good reason why she should have made up the story.’
‘Shame Daisy had no idea what it was Mrs Mowbray was threatening to tell her son.’ Payne bit into a fresh sandwich.
‘As a matter of fact,’ said Antonia, ‘I have a theory what it might be about. It is a bit far-fetched but perfectly possible. Rather fascinating. Shocking too, in a way. Of course I have no proof. It’s only a theory. I wonder who would know,’ Antonia went on thoughtfully. ‘Mrs Mowbray, most certainly, but she is dead. Who else is there? Would Bettina know?’
‘Know what?’
When Antonia eventually told him, Payne whistled. There was a pause.
‘Sometimes your hunches let you down, you know. Resemblances can be jolly deceptive.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Remember Major Nagle?’
‘I remember Major Nagle.’
‘Who was actually not Major Nagle. If only I’d been in the library with you that day, you wouldn’t have made any mistakes.’
‘It ill becomes you to be pompous and patronizing.’
‘I do believe you said something a minute ago,’ said Payne, ‘which fits in with something else that’s been nagging at me …’
‘Isn’t that always the way with us?’ Antonia sighed. ‘I think we should speak to Bettina Tradescant. I have an idea she might know. Whether she’d be willing to spill the beans is a diff
erent matter. Penelope described her as a “great friend”. It was Bettina who “discovered” Penelope, put her on the catwalk and so on.’
Payne glanced at his watch. ‘She lives in Rutland Gate. Let’s see if she’d agree to speak to us about such an uncomfortably personal matter. I have a feeling she would. Eccentrics aren’t as easy to shock as the rest of us mere mortals.’
33
A Guilty Thing Surprised
The door was opened by Bettina herself. She was wearing a clinging medieval-style gown of dull green brocade. Her faded brown hair—if indeed that was her hair and not another wig—was parted in the middle and brought down over her ears. She had the look of an ageing Madonna, an effect somewhat spoilt by her lapis-lazuli blue parrot earrings.
She didn’t seem to find their unexpected visit at all strange. She seemed genuinely pleased to see them. She invited them in and led the way into a room painted pale gold and furnished with cherry-wood Victorian pieces. Although the afternoon was warm, logs were burning in the grate of an elegant arched fireplace, and there was a bowl of green tulip-buds on a low table beneath one brightly twilit window.
‘Belinda du Broke’s boy is always welcome here. Hugh, wasn’t it? The last time I saw you, you were wearing a black bowler!’ Bettina wagged her forefinger at Major Payne. ‘The trouble with black bowlers, Hugh, is that they can create a false impression. You could have been taken for an Ulster Protestant. Belinda married a man young enough to be her son. Fellow called Talleyrand-Vassal, if one has to be precise. She must have had you a bit late in life.’
‘Rupert Talleyrand-Vassal was my stepfather.’
‘Do sit down. Make yourselves comfortable. Let me light these scented candles—there—drat, I always scorch my fingers—delicious smell, don’t you think? How about a little drinkie à trois—or are you here strictly on business? This is not a bad dress, my dear,’ Bettina told Antonia. ‘It suits your colouring admirably. I imagine you live in the country?’
‘Hampstead.’
‘I grew up in the country and I hated it. The annual clay pigeon shooting used to upset me more than words can express. Once my father tricked me into eating strawberries soaked in ether. He said it would be like kissing snow, but it was nothing of the kind. My twin brother—he is dead now—made my life hell. I loathed that guileless limbo between girlhood and adulthood. Do remind me of your name, my dear. Antonia? Women with classical names are almost invariably bitches. Ah, the Claudias, the Helenas and the Cassandras I have crossed swords with! I dare say you do seem an extremely nice woman. You have a generous mouth, though your lipstick is a shade too pale. Be bold, that’s my advice. You won’t regret it.’
Bettina held up her right hand and twiddled her fingers admiringly. She was wearing the ring, Payne noticed. The ring. The unique Wallis ring, which she had stolen from her brother. She seemed completely unselfconscious about it.
‘Did you manage to see my brother that day, Hugh? You seemed intent on bearding him in his lair.’
‘No. I didn’t see him.’
‘Seymour apparently died the next day. Seems I was wrong about it.’ She sighed. ‘So much wasted energy! Unless the Master perpetrated a deception? In my opinion, the Master is the one to watch. Never trust a man with a beard, unless he is a king. That’s what my father used to say. Are you sure you don’t want a drink? I have some apple-green liqueur, which I find delicious but no one else seems to like it. I have no idea what’s in it. Not apples. A most interesting flavour. You haven’t come to ask questions about the funeral, by any chance?’
‘Not quite—’
‘The funeral seems to have been postponed indefinitely. I am not sure whether I should attend. It would be hypocritical of me if I did, don’t you think? They haven’t yet issued a death certificate. Penelope is naturally worried, poor girl. The contents of the will haven’t been revealed to any of us either. I tried to pump old Saunders about it on the phone, but he was terribly tight-lipped about it. I suppose you know that Seymour intended to leave all his money to that ghastly place?’
‘To Mayholme Manor? Really?’
‘Yes, Hugh. Really. He told Penelope about it. He was mad about that place. He brought home one of those orange habits once, she told me, and had been using it in lieu of a dressing gown. I still like the colour, mind. Isn’t it a blessing Seymour snuffed it before he could change his will? There may be a post-mortem. Heaven knows what they hope to discover. Have you met Penelope?’
‘I went to see her this morning,’ Antonia said.
‘You went to Half Moon Street? How perfectly splendid. Good to know Penelope has loyal friends who stick by her at times of trouble. She phoned me an hour ago, actually. She took me to task about something I did.’ Bettina laughed. ‘I must say she was extremely sweet about it. She is a dear, dear child.’
She twiddled her fingers once more, causing the Wallis ring to flash in the lamplight. She seemed to expect them to make some comment. She must have had the band narrowed, Payne thought.
‘That’s a beautiful ring,’ he said.
‘Yes, isn’t it? It belonged to Papa, then to my brother. Now it’s mine,’ Bettina explained nonchalantly. ‘Finders keepers, losers weepers.’
‘This sounds like some private kind of joke.’
‘It’s a Van Cleef and Arpels. I intend to sell it eventually, but the future belongs to me, as they say, to carve as I wish, so I would like to wear it a bit longer. Papa’s passion for jewels knew no bounds. In one extraordinary photo he is wearing at least ten tiaras, about twenty necklaces, fifty bracelets, a dozen diamond clips—and very little else. My poor mother had her garden, but I do believe there was talk in the servants’ hall. Whenever a piece of jewellery caught Papa’s fancy, he simply had to have it. He couldn’t rest, he got tension headaches. He was like a magpie. He’d go to the most extraordinary lengths to acquire it.’
‘We actually wanted to—’
‘My family is not a healthy family. I am terribly glad I haven’t got any offspring. Nicky—my nephew, you know—has had no children either, which I always thought a jolly good thing, but now, it turns out, he’s expecting not only one but two. By deux putains. Nicky phoned me earlier on. He seemed deliriously happy. A blonde and a brunette, he kept repeating. First one told him about it, then the other. He was a bit drunk, which is understandable. He intends to divorce his wife as soon as possible, so some good is going to come of it after all. He wants to do the honourable thing and marry both girls, or so he says. I suppose it could be done it if they all went to one of those sultanates?’
‘We wanted to talk to you about Penelope,’ Payne said.
‘Poor Penelope is completely out of her depth. Well, that’s how I would feel if I knew that by Hallowe’en I was going to be one of the richest girls in the land. We arranged to have tea at Claridge’s tomorrow, so I expect she’ll tell me all about it.’ Bettina turned towards Antonia. ‘You said you saw her this morning. How did you find her?’
‘She seemed fine. Two policemen came while I was there,’ Antonia went on quickly, fearing another interruption. ‘They wanted to talk to her about Mrs Mowbray.’
‘The housekeeper woman? But Mowbray is dead!’
‘The police were interested in Mrs Mowbray’s children,’ Antonia said boldly. She wondered if there would ever be a time when she wouldn’t have to tell lies.
Bettina inserted a cigarette into a short silver cigarette holder and rattled a silver match-box. ‘No more matches.
Light, anyone? Do you mean the police know?’
Payne produced his lighter.
‘I am afraid they do.’ Antonia hoped they were talking about the same thing.
‘Well, it was bound to come out sooner or later. Couldn’t matter less this day and age. Who cares about lowly origins any more? If we lived in the Victorian age, a novel might have been written about it. Lady Tradescant’s Secret. Something on those lines. People say I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth and where did that get me?
I imagine the police have come across papers and things proving beyond any reasonable doubt that they are mother and daughter?’
‘Yes.’ Oh dear. So I was right, Antonia thought.
‘Mowbray was an unsavoury character, though I dare say I admired her chutzpah. Did it all for the money of course, what else? A survival technique, some may argue. They haven’t been able to track down the other children, have they? Though why should they want to do that? At one time Mowbray had quite a farm of little ones, I understand. She was almost indecently fertile. Is childbirth too awful, my dear?’
‘Mine was very painful,’ Antonia said.
‘I knew it! I don’t think Penelope would mind paying for her mother’s funeral, if that is indeed what this is all about. She is a good girl. I hope she finds some nice young man soon enough.’
‘You seem to know her well,’ Payne said.
‘She has been scarred badly, poor child. Such an unsettled kind of background. When I first met her, she was the proverbial wild girl, you see. Doing really crazy things, dressing up in outrageous costumes, going on hair-raisingly reckless capers, taking incredible risks. She’s changed since. She is a different person now. She could easily have been vain, frivolous and foolish, but she is in fact frightfully intelligent. I love her to bits. She is the daughter I never had.’
‘When did she learn that Mrs Mowbray was her mother?’ Payne asked.
‘Her adoptive parents told her at some point, gave her the name and so on. Penelope then got it into her head to seek Mowbray out. Well, eventually they met and she and Mowbray hit it off, it seems. Got on like a house on fire. To start with, at least. Penelope was already married to Seymour. It was Penelope who got her mother the job in Half Moon Street. She is a very kind-hearted girl.’
‘Did Penelope ever try to get in touch with any of the other children—her brothers and sisters?’
‘If she did, she never told me. Apparently there are Mowbray children all over the place. Australia, Canada, the Middle East, someone in Kenya—adopted by a missionary couple. Penelope has inherited her mother’s business sense, I think. What other reason could there have been for her marrying Seymour? I must admit I encouraged her. Marry him, I said, make sure he leaves you everything, then have him bumped off!’ Bettina gave a loud laugh.
The Curious Incident at Claridge's Page 18
