Chapter 22
All people could talk about that night at dinner was the discovery of the murder weapon.
‘It was a statuette,’ Sir James informed the company.
‘Statuette of what?’ asked Miss Tyneham.
‘Oh, Aunt Josephine, I showed it to you once. It was the marble statuette of Rodin’s The Thinker,’ Lady Mowbray said. ‘James’ father bought it in Paris.’
‘Rodin who?’ Lorenzo Spinoza asked.
‘Auguste Rodin, a French sculptor.’
‘Very over rated if you ask me,’ Cecil chipped in. ‘I can’t see why people make a fuss about The Thinker, just because it’s big. Shows what a bourgeoise society we live in.’
‘Nobody did ask you,’ Sir James said promptly.
That night, after dinner, Cecil got rather drunk and decided to hang around Etta.
‘I congratulate you,’ he slurred.
‘On what?’
‘On having the discovery of the murder weapon to make people forget about your little faux pas of getting arrested. And; on having an exciting story to tell your pals, when you return to London. People will invite you to dinner just to hear your story about a murder occurring and nearly getting arrested while staying at the Mowbrays. And the fact that they found the necklace in your bedroom, priceless.’
Etta had definitely made up her mind, she loathed Cecil Mowbray.
‘I’m sure your mother will be very pleased to have it back,’ she said.
‘Don’t be so sure,’ Cecil said and laughed. His eyes were glittering and his breath smelt of alcohol. Etta tried to edge away from him but he moved closer.
‘Did you know, I know a lot of secrets.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes, about this crowd.’ He waved his arm dramatically around and nearly knocked Etta’s drink out of his hand. His voice was getting louder and she could see several people looking at them. ‘I know things that they wouldn’t want me to tell any one else. Shall I tell you who they are?’
‘No,’ said Etta hurriedly but it was too late to stop him.
He started counting on his fingers, which was a mistake as he had a glass in his hand and the red wine slopped onto the floor.
‘Father dearest, I know something about him, let me tell you, Dennis, oh how he would hate that to get out and…’ Etta was looking over his shoulder, wondering how to politely get away from him. ‘And I know something about the murder!’ he concluded. Etta swung her attention back to him. ‘Ah, I thought that would make you listen to me. I know something very important, something the police would give their eye teeth to know.’
‘Then hadn’t you better tell them?’ she asked as she looked round the room for Algernon. She was hoping to signal him with her eyes to come and intervene. However, he was engrossed in conversation with Dorothy and Marjorie Mowbray.
‘No! Because the person I know the secret about, will have to be very generous to me from now on,’ he said with drunken confidence
Etta had seen too many films and too many books not to know that this could all end badly.
‘I really think you should tell the police. It could be dangerous.’
‘So what? I’m not a scaredy cat and what’s more, I’ll tell you,’ he pushed his face very close to Etta and she recoiled.
‘All right, that’s enough now, old man,’ said Stewart Grenadier as he loomed up behind Cecil, to Etta’s relief.
Cecil spun round to see him and nearly overbalanced.
‘Steady on, old man,’ Stewart said and took him by the arm.
Cecil shook him off, ‘don’t you old man me,’ he shouted, ‘you great oaf.’
‘I think you’ve had enough to drink and you’re bothering Miss Ashcroft.’
‘I’m not bothering her! I’m not bothering you, am I Hetty?’ he pleaded with the fervour of the drunk.
Etta hesitated and Stewart grabbed Cecil again and pulled him away.
‘Why don’t you go and have a cup of strong black coffee?’ he suggested.
‘I don’t want a cup of coffee,’ protested Cecil as he was dragged away.
Stewart returned some moments later to Etta.
‘Sorry about that. Hope Mowbray wasn’t making too much of a nuisance of himself?’
‘A bit,’ admitted Etta, torn between being grateful to Stewart and annoyed with herself for not handling Cecil by herself. Why had she expected Algy to come to her aid? It wasn’t as if Cecil was bigger than her. She could have handled him. She was just too polite, she told herself; she hadn’t wanted to make a scene.
Stewart stayed chatting to her for a while until Dorothy came up and interrupted them. It was clear that Dorothy wanted him to herself so Etta found some excuse to move away.
As soon as she did, Lorenzo Spinoza greeted her, ‘Hey, Hetty, how are you doing?’
‘Fine, thank you,’ she said primly.
He laughed. ‘Only a Brit would say that after being falsely arrested in the morning and being pestered by drunks in the evening.’
So you noticed Cecil, thought Etta, but you didn’t do anything about it and she felt a little flare of dislike towards him and a corresponding urge of warmth towards Stewart.
‘You know, I feel you and I have something in common, Hetty,’ he said, bending down towards her.
‘We do?’
‘Yeah. We’re both kinda outsiders here, aren’t we?’
Etta hadn’t looked at it that way but she supposed it was true. Lorenzo, because he was a brash American and Etta, because her persona was of a gauche, newly wealthy girl, unaccustomed to this social setting.
‘You could be right,’ she said.
‘I know I’m right. I worry about you, Hetty.’
He seemed awfully fond of using her name.
‘Why is that, Lorenzo?’
It felt very daring to use his first name when he was so much older than her but he thought he could use her first name without her asking him to do so, then she could jolly well do the same. The thought drifted across the back of her mind that she was starting to talk and think like one of these characters.
‘I think you need looking after.’
Etta couldn’t hear his next couple of sentences because she was so engulfed in rage. How dare he? When she next tuned in, he was saying, ‘you know what is better than being wealthy?’
Was he expecting a reply? She suspected that her role in this conversation was either to say yes or no.
‘No?’
‘Being very wealthy,’ he said triumphantly. ‘You can never be too wealthy, Hetty.’
‘You can never be too rich or too thin,’ she said.
He looked startled. ‘Riiight.’ Then he recovered himself. ‘Being very rich is the best way to protect yourself against everything.’
He was starting his spiel, Etta realised. This was what Algy had wanted. She was the bait, she reminded herself. She glanced across at Algernon, who at that moment looked up and saw her. He made the thumbs up sign.
‘Do tell me more,’ she said.
Lorenzo’s voice was eager. ‘I know of a way for you to become extremely rich. Is that something you would want?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘It’s a rock solid investment, something that can’t go wrong. Whatever investment you make will be recouped a thousand times over. Does that sound good?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘It’s a goldmine, now this is pretty hush hush. I wouldn’t want you going around talking to people about this. I want to get you in on the ground floor, before it takes off because that is where the real money is to be made.’
‘Where is the goldmine?’ Etta asked just for the sake of variety. She was getting tired of being a yes woman.
Lorenzo smiled indulgently. She wanted to slap his smug face.
‘Everybody asks that. I can’t tell you the exact location for reasons of security but it’s in India.’
‘In India? I didn’t know gold had been found India.’
‘Why, yes. It’s g
ot the third largest gold deposit in the world after the continent of Africa and the continents of America, North and South.’
‘Well, fancy that.’
‘So are you interested in becoming a millionairess, Hetty?’
‘A millionairess?’
‘That’s what you would very likely become. Like the sound of that?’
‘I do, indeed,’ Etta said. ‘What would I have to do?’
‘You’d need to invest a substantial amount of money.’
‘How much?’
‘You can invest as much as you like but I’d suggest…’
At that point, Stewart Grenadier came over and said, ‘everything all right, Hetty?’
‘Hetty and I were just having a little chat,’ Lorenzo told him, unsmiling.
‘Oh really, sorry to interrupt but I wanted to show Hetty something.’
‘Can’t it wait?’ Lorenzo asked impatiently.
‘Afraid not. Has to be done now.’ With that, Stewart drew Hetty away and moved out of the room.
‘What is it?’ asked Etta.
‘Hmm?’ He looked down at her. Men seemed to have a habit of doing that here, Etta noted.
‘What was it you wanted to show me?’ Etta repeated.
‘What? Oh that. Nothing. I just wanted to get you away from that old swindler, Spinoza.’
‘You know about him?’ asked Etta.
‘I have my suspicions. I’ve seen him and Dennis stalking you like lions after a calf. Dennis asked Dotty to invite you down here, you know. Thought a naïve girl like you would be easy pickings.’
I am not naïve, was Etta’s first thought. Second was, I thought it was Algy who got me invited. Then Stewart got the drift of her words. He drew his brows together.
‘So you knew about him?’
‘Not until he started talking to me about goldmines. I may be young but I am not that stupid.’
‘Well, good for you.’
A thought struck her. ‘Have you warned Dotty about him?’
‘No. I hardly thought that Dennis would allow his own sister to be conned. Now, who’s the naïve one, thought Etta.
‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ she said.
He looked startled and thoughtful. ‘Would she believe me, I wonder?’
‘I think she would believe anything you said,’ Etta told him. ‘Unfortunately,’ she added but he was already striding away.
Algernon came out of the Drawing Room.
‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘Why did Grenadier take you away from Spinoza?’
‘He wanted to protect me’. Etta asked Algernon, ‘Algy, have you warned Dotty about Dennis and Mr. er Lorenzo?’
‘Me?’ He looked sad. ‘I would have but I do not think she would believe me,’ he said simply. His face saddened.
‘Don’t worry. Stewart is going to warn her. She will believe him’
His face darkened. ‘That damn scoundrel,’ he said bitterly and flung himself away.
Miss Mittens also came out of the Drawing Room.
‘You’ve been having a busy evening, I see,’ she said by way of greeting.
‘You wouldn’t believe it,’ Etta said with feeling.
‘Shall we go somewhere quieter and discuss it?’ Miss Mittens invited.
They withdrew to the Morning Room. The moon, a bright half orb in the dark sky could be seen through the windows.
‘Have you learned anything useful?’ Miss Mittens asked.
‘Lorenzo is definitely in on the scheme with Dennis. He was trying to talk me into investing when Stewart interrupted.’
‘Ah yes, Stewart Grenadier. Interesting.’
‘What’s interesting?’
‘It’s interesting that he showed no sign of interest in you until the death of Evangeline Spinoza,’ Miss Mittens clarified. ‘I wonder why.’
Etta’s vanity was a little stung at this. She was the only single woman on the premises apart from Dorothy Mowbray.
‘What I mean is,’ said Miss Mittens, ‘is that if you are supposed to be a pretty, young woman who has come into an inheritance, which is significantly greater than Dotty Mowbray’s, why did he not start courting you immediately he arrived?’
‘He was worried about appearances?’
Miss Mittens snorted. ‘Does he seem the type of man to really worry about keeping up appearances?’
Etta was forced to agree that he did not. She wanted to change the subject, it was making her uncomfortable.
‘Cecil Mowbray said something very interesting to me,’
‘Oh yes?’
Etta tried to put it as accurately as she could. ‘He said that he knew a secret and that it was important, about the murder.
Miss Mittens drew a breath and stood up straighter. ‘Indeed!’
‘He said the person whose secret it was would to have to be very generous to him.’
‘Poor foolish boy.’
‘I told him he should tell the police but he just laughed at me.’
‘Perhaps we should both go and have a word with him and help him see the error of his ways,’ Miss Mittens said.
But when they looked for Cecil, he was nowhere to be seen.
‘Master Cecil has gone to bed,’ Cook said when asked for his whereabouts. He didn’t add ‘best place for him’ but his manner indicated that.
‘We’ll just have to wait until morning,’ Miss Mittens said to Etta.
Murder and Mittens Page 22
