by Carola Dunn
“The murder-suicide Rudolf?”
“That’s never been proven,” Lucy said disapprovingly.
“All right, the one who died at Mayerling under mysterious circumstances. Along with his mistress.”
“Yes, that one. Elisabeth lost her son, and she didn’t get on at all well with Franz Josef. She was travelling alone in Switzerland—”
“Alone with a train of ladies-in-waiting and servants, I assume. And military guards, presumably?”
“I expect so. But when she was attacked, she had only a lady-in-waiting with her. They had just walked from a hotel to board a steamer on Lake Geneva. A man ran up to her. She thought he’d just pushed her, perhaps in an attempt at robbery and she walked aboard before she collapsed.”
“Oh, yes, I remember that much. He’d stabbed her with a filed-down dagger, or something of the sort, hadn’t he? It was so narrow she didn’t feel it enter but she died of internal bleeding.”
Lucy was disgusted. “I might have known you’d only be interested in the gory details. For pity’s sake let’s change the subject.”
Daisy was willing. The Empress Elisabeth out of the way, her next interest was in Lucy’s relatives. Tactfully, she started with her parents, whom she knew well from visits exchanged since childhood. “How are Aunt Vickie and Uncle Oliver?”
“Same as ever. Mother’s always happy as long as she has something to fuss over. There’s never any lack. Her last letter was full of some newcomer to the village who simply can’t be trusted to make a decent job of the church flowers.”
“And how are Nancy and the Rev. Tim? And your niece and nephews?”
“Darling, do you intend to go through everyone on my family tree making polite enquiries? Spit it out: Who is it you’re really interested in?”
Pinned down, Daisy said, “Your cousin Teddy. Bad news, I’m afraid.”
“Any news about Teddy is bound to be bad news. People always assume I’m dying to hear the latest gossip about my nearest and not so dearest. I can’t imagine why. The last I heard about was one of those stupid pranks of his. He never refuses a bet or a dare, they say, and the more disruption it causes the better. He doesn’t give a hoot for anyone’s opinion.”
“Even his nearest and dearest?”
“Especially us. Has he done something outrageous since he was bound over for driving the wrong way round Marble Arch in the rush hour? What is it now? Weren’t you asking about him just the other day?”
“No, you were telling me about him. You hoped he wouldn’t be at Haverhill for your grandfather’s birthday.”
“He wasn’t. Uncle James was furious. Aunt Josephine was upset but as always she excused him. ‘Young people are all so busy these days,’ or some such folderol. Busy making mischief, my dear cousin Teddy.”
“And Angela?”
“Angela?” Lucy said vaguely. “I saw her, I think, but I didn’t talk to her. I’ve never heard her say a word to anyone except her dratted dogs.”
Daisy could not deny that Angela Devenish was far from loquacious, though she could be eloquent in defence of the mistreated animals she rescued. “She gives talks for the RSPCA to Women’s Institutes.”
“Animals are her only subject of conversation. What her relations are with her brother, I haven’t the foggiest. Come on, you were about to tell me about his latest shameful exploit. Does he deliberately set out to embarrass the family, one wonders? Or is it merely a side effect?”
“Now you’ll never find out.”
“What? You don’t mean … Daisy, he’s dead? In suspicious circumstances, knowing your proclivities. Not, by any chance, stabbed while boarding a Swiss steamer?”
“No, much worse, I’m afraid. At least, once the press get hold of the story—”
“Spare me the details! You’re not expecting me to break the news to his grieving parents, I trust.”
“Heavens no. That’s a job for the police. I only told you because of meeting you today. I could hardly sit here eating with your cousin lying dead and not even mention it.”
“True. I’d just as soon hear it from you, in any case. You won’t expect me to pretend I’m grief-stricken.”
“Hardly. What I want is more information about why you aren’t grief-stricken. What exactly has he been up to?”
“You want or Alec wants?”
“Alec’s away. He has nothing to do with this.” Daisy made a moue. “Not yet.”
“So you’re in a hurry to involve yourself before he comes back to stop you.”
“Well, yes, of course. Not that he’s ever had much success with that.”
“What do you want to know? I do my best not to listen to stories about Teddy.”
“I don’t suppose you know who his friends are? Were?”
“Not friends of mine! I see—used to see—him in nightclubs now and then. Ciro’s, the Kit-Cat, Murray’s. Those are the only ones Gerald and I ever go to, but I daresay Teddy frequented some less respectable places, the kind that have gambling rooms upstairs.”
“You didn’t see whom he was with? Any particular girl?”
“Darling, once having spotted him, I kept my eyes turned away for fear of meeting his. It was only a couple of times, anyway. I’ve seen him at fashionable parties, too, where it would be more difficult to avoid acknowledging him if it weren’t that he seems equally anxious to avoid us.”
“So some hostesses still invite him, in spite of his reputation.”
“He is well connected, Daisy, and very well off, and a bachelor.”
“Hmm. Which suggests he’s not associated in people’s minds with any particular young lady. Didn’t you say something about a breach of promise suit, though?”
“That would be a young woman, not a young lady.”
“Of course, darling, but you’d think it would put off any hopeful mamas.”
“Not the more ambitious of them.”
Daisy sighed. “Awful though the war was, at least it spared us the horrors of coming out. I would have hated to be a debutante.”
“I might have rather enjoyed it. Still, we had fun in Chelsea, being independent.”
“Even living on sardines and mousetrap cheese. It was inspiring living amongst artists and writers and musicians.”
“Teddy had his independence handed to him and I don’t believe for a moment he was seeking inspiration when he frequented the artsy-craftsy set. Free love, more likely.”
“I remember you said he’s in with the Chelsea set. In reference to the breach of promise suit?”
“Possibly. Russian émigrés, I’ve heard. The father claims to be a prince, like most who aren’t anarchists.”
“Some really are princes. Or were.”
“He might have been, for all I know. He’s selling off jewels, I believe, and it’s conceivable that he came by them honestly.”
“Not likely to be advocates of free love, then, like the anarchists! I don’t suppose you know their name?”
“No.” Lucy shrugged. “One of those unpronounceable Russian names, no doubt. Darling, you’re not going to try to investigate them? It could be dangerous. Don’t foreigners go in for stabbing more than the English?”
“For pity’s sake, don’t tell a soul I said he was stabbed! That’s the sort of detail the police are most anxious to keep from the press.”
“I shan’t tell. All the same, Daisy—”
“I’m not going to sweep in and start asking questions. I’d just like to find out who they are before Mackinnon even knows they exist. He never did get round to asking me whether I’d heard anything else about Teddy from you.”
“From me! You didn’t tell him I was Teddy’s cousin, did you? Second cousin.”
“I couldn’t help it.” That sounded rather feeble and unconvincing, so she rephrased it more forcefully: “It was unavoidable.”
“So your inspector’s going to come and bombard me with questions? Insufferable!”
“How can he investigate without asking questions of peo
ple who know the answers? Your attitude is exactly why he’ll need my help. Teddy’s respectable friends and acquaintances will all climb up on their high horses and refuse to cooperate, and the artsy lot will go bolshie and refuse to cooperate.”
Lucy laughed. “More than likely,” she conceded. “All right, I’ll be good. Within reason. I suppose the ends of justice must be served, even if Teddy’s no great loss to the world.”
“He was still young. Who knows? A lot of great statesmen sowed their wild oats in their time.”
“Name one.”
“Well, I’m sure there were a few. And great authors and artists, too. Did you stay in contact with any of the Chelsea crowd?”
“Ah, I wondered when you’d get to that. Yes, as a matter of fact. One or two. Do you remember Genevieve Blakeney?”
“Vaguely. Sculptor?”
“Painter. She started doing designs for dress material and some of her stuff has become quite fashionable.”
“You? Patron of the arts? Or, no, patron of fashion.”
“It doesn’t have to be one or the other. That’s beside the point. Do you want an introduction? A reintroduction, rather?”
“Hmm.” Daisy pondered. “What I really need is to speak to as many people as possible. Best would be one of those informal parties, where if one turns up with a bottle no one worries about invitations.”
“Then you don’t need me to wangle an invitation for you,” Lucy pointed out.
“No, but you could find out the where and when.”
“I expect so.”
“And go with me. If you were feeling well enough.”
“That’s another matter! I suppose I might, if you couldn’t find someone else.”
“It wouldn’t be at all Phillip’s cup of tea.”
“Phillip? Who’s Phillip and what has he to do with taking you to parties?”
“Phillip Petrie. You must remember him.”
“Of course. But he went to America.”
“He’s over on business. I’m going to have him escort me to some nightclubs.”
“Daisy! You could always wrap him round your little finger, but won’t his wife object? Not to mention Alec.”
“Gloria stayed over there. She’s in the same ‘interesting condition’ as you. When Alec comes home, I’ll tell him I’m thinking of writing an article about today’s bohémiens. Which isn’t a bad idea, come to think of it.”
“From all I hear, our nightclubs aren’t a patch on American speakeasies. Besides, Alec would offer to take you himself. That would put paid to your investigation.”
“Most unlikely. I think it’s a jolly good scheme.”
Lucy sighed. “I suppose you can’t come to much harm with Phillip. As long as you stick to the respectable places. Promise you won’t go to the dives Teddy frequents—frequented.”
“Even if I wanted to,” Daisy said regretfully, “Phillip would never agree. As far as he’s concerned, I’m still Gervaise’s little sister.”
TEN
When Daisy reached home, she found several messages on the hall table notepad. She glanced through them, half-relieved, half-disappointed that none was from Alec. Much as she missed him, if he had been going to return home tonight, she would have had to postpone her planned outing with Phillip, or even cancel it.
Sakari had telephoned and wanted her to ring back. She went into the office and dialled the number.
“Daisy, good afternoon. How is your unfortunate nurse?”
“She’s doing well but she still can’t remember anything. It’s madly frustrating.”
“For her, too, I expect.”
“I daresay. And for the police.”
“You have seen them today?”
“Oh yes, bright and early. They showed me a photograph of … him, not too frightfully grisly, and I was able to identify him. I’d better not tell you on the phone. Not someone you’d know, anyway. Did the inspector visit you as well?”
“He sent a sergeant. I had no useful revelations for him. Him? You said ‘him’?”
“Yes, darling. A young man disguised as a woman.”
“How odd! I cannot see the purpose of such a trick.”
“I imagine it was a bet, or a dare.”
“Young men do foolish things. But this does not explain his death. It was not an accident, I assume?”
“Apparently not. Or probably not, I should say. Insofar as I’m in the confidence of the police, which is not far.”
“He must have been killed by the other nanny,” Sakari reasoned. “The one Mrs. Gilpin followed.”
“Presumably. There doesn’t seem to be any hint of anyone else in the vicinity, barring the attendant.”
Sakari laughed. “By all means bar the attendant. Is it known—”
“Caller, your three minutes is up. Do you want another three?”
“Yes, please! Daisy, are you still there?”
“I am. You were asking…?”
“Is it known whether the second nanny is man or woman?”
“Not to me, and I think not to the police.”
“He or she was responsible for your nanny’s misfortune?”
“So it would appear. Thanks for asking that, Sakari. You’ve clarified in my mind why I’m so keen to help catch him. Or her. It’s not as if I care a hoot about Teddy. He was an obnoxious youth when I met him, and it doesn’t sound as if he improved much. Rather the reverse, in fact. But an attack on one of my employees is definitely my business.”
“Oh, Daisy, is this not rationalisation?”
Sometimes Daisy wished her friend had not attended so many lectures on psychology. “You mean it’s just an excuse for being nosy?”
“I did not put it so.” Amusement suffused Sakari’s voice. “Let us call it curiosity, a trait we have in common. But your kind of curiosity can be dangerous. Remember that the person about whom you are curious has killed one and seriously injured another. Is not the hunt best left to the police?”
“I can help them. I know people who can find out who his friends were.”
“I will not attempt further to dissuade you. If there is anything I can do to assist your investigation, you can count on me.”
“Thank you, darling! As a matter of fact, I was thinking of lunching at the Café Royal, the haunt of the artsy crowd. Would you like to go with me?”
“I should love to. I have met interesting people there, as well as a few poseurs.”
“Let’s go tomorrow. I’ll ring you later to make definite plans.”
They said good-bye and rang off.
Daisy dealt with the rest of the messages, wrote a couple of letters, and dropped in to see the twins on the way to change for tea. Not that she usually changed for tea, but when a gentleman who had proposed to one several times—however unenthusiastically—came to tea after a long absence, one put one’s best face forward. Especially when about to ask a favour.
Phillip arrived promptly, presented her with a bunch of yellow roses, and assured her she didn’t look a day older. Nor did he. Tall and blond, he was good-looking in an indeterminate way, with a generally amiable expression. In his mid-thirties, he still had a youthful loose-limbed suppleness of movement, valuable in a profession that involved a good deal of diving into the innards of motorcars. By the time they had exchanged news of their respective families, they were on the old informal footing.
Daisy passed the biscuits and refilled his teacup. “Phillip, will you take me to a nightclub?”
He spluttered and tea dripped on his old school tie. “Dash it, old thing, you ought to give a chap a bit of warning before springing something like that on him!” He dabbed ineffectually at the tie with his handkerchief, then gave up, tucked it away, and smoothed back his already sleek hair. “Why don’t you ask Fletcher?”
“He’s out of town, I told you.”
“Lucky man. Wait till he comes home.”
“I really want to go tonight.”
“You never used to care for nightclubs
. What are you up to, Daisy?”
“What a nasty suspicious mind you’ve developed in America!”
“That’s the way they run business over there. No sealing a deal with a handshake. All the i’s have to be dotted and the t’s crossed. I’m glad I’m on the technical side. But that has nothing to do with your sudden passion for nightclubs.”
“I haven’t got a passion for nightclubs! I just thought it would be fun to go to one this evening.”
“Come off it, old girl. I wasn’t born yesterday, and I’ve known you since you were a babe in arms. You’ve got some bee in your bonnet. You haven’t got yourself mixed up in one of Alec’s cases again, have you?”
Considering Phillip knew of only two or three such cases, Daisy considered his assumption unwarranted. Besides, the case was not Alec’s—so far. “No. Will you take me? Or I’ll have to find someone who—”
“Not on your life! I’ll take you. Any particular place you have in mind?”
“I was thinking of the Kit-Cat?”
Phillip approved. “I was a member before I left the country. A respectable place. In fact, more respectable than it used to be. I heard it was raided by the police and reopened as a restaurant with dancing and entertainment.”
“It sounds to me like a nightclub.”
“Pretty much, but one is expected to eat, not just drink champagne. By the way, have you learned to dance yet?”
“No. I still have two left feet.”
“Oh well, I expect they still have good bands and an amusing cabaret. It’s no use going till half after ten, though. That’s when they start rolling out the best stuff. I say, would you like to make a night of it, Daisy? Dinner and a show first, I mean?”
“That sounds like fun, but I’ve got the children to think of.”
“Surely the twins will be—Oh, your stepdaughter.”
“And the visiting cousins. Belinda and Ben are too old to be fobbed off with nursery tea instead of dinner downstairs.” Besides, perhaps she was old-fashioned, but she didn’t think dining tête-à-tête, even with an old friend, would be quite comme il faut. “Why don’t you join us? We can go on afterwards to a show.”
