A Poisonous Journey (16 page)
"You are probably right, though I am certain neither Laria nor her husband had anything to do with any of this."
"The truth about their affair may come out one way or another. Dymas wanted to question everyone who was at the party, and if Laria has a similar reaction as she did with us, he might put two and two together."
"I might as well save the man some time and effort." Daniel sounds almost relieved now. Sometimes people already know what is right, what must be done, they just need a little push towards it.
"I think that would be wise. You of all people will want this resolved as quickly as possible, I am sure." For a second I think I have overstepped the mark, but after a moment’s hesitation he nods in agreement.
"I will call him once we are back at the house."
"Good." We round a bend, and I glimpse the creamy façade of the villa in the distance. "Daniel," I slightly slow my pace, and he matches it instantly.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"For what?" He wrinkles his brow.
"For trusting me. You are not a gossip, and wouldn’t tell someone’s secrets easily, so I appreciate it." The words hang between us for a moment, until he breaks into a tiny smile.
"You’re welcome. Selfishly I confess, I am happy to have someone to listen."
"My pleasure."
The house is very near now and keen to lighten the mood before we reach it, and before miserable memories overwhelm us, I begin chatting about the village, about the pretty houses, Hercule’s café, the sharpness of his coffee. Daniel understands what I am doing, for he joins in without batting an eyelid and we stroll through the gates nearly at ease. Yannick is in the drive, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, white-blond hair tousled by the gentle wind. He is washing the motor, running a large, soapy sponge along the dripping sides. He nods at us as we approach. Daniel excuses himself to call the inspector. I feel mildly guilty for pushing him into doing it, but it would be wrong to ignore any sort of clue, even if it is far off the mark, and I am almost certain that it is. As he disappears indoors, I linger for a moment, delayed by the desire to talk to the chauffeur who appears to exist almost as a spirit, always around, yet never really there.
I saunter over to the spot where the Delage is parked. Yannick notices and straightens, like a soldier.
"Miss Carlisle, good day."
"Thank you, Yannick. How are you today? Such a terrible thing happened yesterday. I wanted to know how you are. I didn’t notice you this morning when Inspector Dymas was here."
"Ah, yes. I spoke to the inspector yesterday already. I had to change one of the tires this morning, so …" he gives me a smile, but I can see muscles of his bare forearms and in his neck tensing and his grip around the sponge tightening, sudsy water dripping from his fingers. He may just be uneasy. He clearly doesn’t like to chat, and knowing a man has been murdered in the vicinity is something that might set the noblest man on edge. Nonetheless, I have the eerie feeling there is something not quite right. A I have noted before, my imagination is not of the idle sort.
"I am ever so relieved we
all
," I emphasize this, "have alibis. It would be terrible if the police were to suspect any one of us living here." A look of panic enters his eyes, and though he quickly tries to appear normal, I am certain I saw it. It makes me nervous, and I have to steel myself not to take a step away.
all
," I emphasize this, "have alibis. It would be terrible if the police were to suspect any one of us living here." A look of panic enters his eyes, and though he quickly tries to appear normal, I am certain I saw it. It makes me nervous, and I have to steel myself not to take a step away.
"Yes, yes. Very good." He looks at the car and the sponge, clenched in his fist dripping onto the gravel, turning it stormcloud gray.
"Well, I shan’t take up any more of your time. Goodbye then."
"Goodbye, Miss Carlisle."
As I turn to walk to the house, I feel his eyes following me, boring into the back of my head. Inside again, I quickly close the door, a sense of relief mingling with growing anxiety. There is something left unsaid bothering me. Yet who am I to interfere, to meddle?
Only the unfortunate soul who found the body.
I sigh and remove my hat, patting down the stray hairs.
Only the unfortunate soul who found the body.
I sigh and remove my hat, patting down the stray hairs.
I glance at the hallway clock, and I find we have been away almost two hours. As if on cue, my stomach grumbles, reminding me that lunch is overdue. I am surprised to have any appetite at all!
"Evie! Oh good, you made it back safely." Briony rushes at me from the direction of the kitchen. Though she is smiling, I perceive tension in her face.
"Yes, everything was fine. Are you all right? You look a bit pale."
Briony, to my surprise, glances around furtively, then grabs me by the hand and pulls me into a small sitting room.
"What is it? Why are you being so secretive?" I follow along willingly. The room is cool and smells mildly of something floral. I sink into the floral silk settee and become aware of my tired feet still encased in "sensible", low-heeled shoes.
"Evie, Laria called. She was in such a state!"
"She called again? Twice in one morning?" Childish, I know, but I can’t resist. Briony doesn’t even blush.
"Oh, well, you caught me. I wasn’t feeling up to company this morning, so I told a little lie. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone with the men. You’re not angry, are you?" She blinks a few times very rapidly, and I shake my head. I recognize the first signs of imminent tears and certainly don’t want to be the cause.
"No, not at all. Just teasing. Go on."
"Right. Well, she called, whispering hysterically. She said you and Daniel told her about what happened. Oh, you should have heard her. You won’t believe this!" Briony’s eyes are wide with barely supressed amazement. I can imagine what she will say and refrain from interjecting, not wanting to spill out the truth in case Laria’s affair isn’t actually the subject she is so desperate to confess.
"Well?"
"You mustn’t tell anyone about this, but she told me she and Caspar had an
affair
! She assured me it was all over by now. I think she merely needed to tell someone. Laria seems to think my morals on these matters are much looser than those of her other friends," she furrows her brow, momentarily displeased.
affair
! She assured me it was all over by now. I think she merely needed to tell someone. Laria seems to think my morals on these matters are much looser than those of her other friends," she furrows her brow, momentarily displeased.
"Nonsense, she trusts you, that is why she told you. You are her friend." This buoys her spirits and she straightens.
"Well, I did tell her I was quite shocked. Which is the truth. Laria and Caspar! It doesn’t seem … well, right. Nikolas is lovely and their daughter, you should see her, such a beautiful child." Briony’s eyes glazed over with a faraway look.
"Maybe Laria was unhappy? Maybe it was simply a foolish mistake. Either way—"
"That’s where you’re wrong, Evie, I think she loved him," she interjects.
"Why would you believe that? Their affair was over, wasn’t it?"
"Yes, yes," Briony waves this off as inconsequential. "It was the way she spoke, the grief. I tell you, I could almost feel her tears through the telephone receiver! She loved him. I am sure of it. Maybe she still does."
If Laria’s relationship with Caspar was more serious, it could prove an even greater motive for her husband to be connected to his death. If Nikolas found out, or if she confessed and told him she loved another man, or even that she wanted to leave him … But then why break it off? I have to find out when they ended their liason.
"Did Laria tell you how long this relationship went on and when it ended?" I try to sound only innocently curious as the wheels spin in my mind.
"Not long. Only two months. It started almost as soon as Caspar got here and ended a few weeks ago."
"Hm … so quickly? She might have felt guilty. Her husband appears to be a kind sort of fellow, and at the party, I thought she doted on him."
"I thought so, too, how deceptive people can be," she shakes her head in confusion.
I wonder whether I should air my suspicions to Briony, experiencing a tiny stab of guilt for pretending this information is entirely new to me. What if Nikolas knew nothing of the affair? I only hope Dymas speaks to Laria first, and that he understands such delicate matters must be touched with kid gloves.
"Briony," I finally begin, "I shouldn’t say this, but after I saw Laria’s reaction to Caspar’s death I was confused, and Daniel confessed he was aware of the affair. Now that you also know, we can talk about it without betraying anyone’s trust." Pronouncing this with emphasis as though it is something to be glad about, I wait a moment for the news to sink in. The expression on her open face remains composed.
"Go on."
"If her husband knew of the affair, he would has the perfect motive for the murder." Out it is. Briony opens her mouth, then closes it again and shakes her head.
"No Evie, no, this cannot be. I
know
them."
know
them."
But do you?
I want to ask, finding myself hoping her faith in humanity won’t be badly shaken once this is all over. Briony has maintained much of the innocent optimism of her childhood, a precious attitude I hope will remain as long as it can in a world such as this.
I want to ask, finding myself hoping her faith in humanity won’t be badly shaken once this is all over. Briony has maintained much of the innocent optimism of her childhood, a precious attitude I hope will remain as long as it can in a world such as this.
"I am not saying anything is certain, of course. It is only speculation."
"Why did you have to put such an awful idea into my head, Evie?"
"Do you not think you might have come to the same conclusion? Besides, even Daniel, who has a good deal of respect for the doctor, agrees it might be possible."
"Daniel? You said this to Daniel?" Her voice rises, a sign of her distress.
"You have no need to get so upset. It may be nothing at all—"
"But if it is true, it will ruin their marriage!" Her outburst stuns me for a brief moment, before I can find the words to reply without causing further distress.
"Ruin their marriage? If her husband is a murderer, I would say they are already on shaky ground. She had an affair, it must have been less than rosy for some time."
"They have a child, Evelyn," she narrows her eyes, looking at me in an unfamiliar way. Perhaps I was wrong about her lingering naïveté after all.
"Briony," I aim to sound calm, though I feel my heart pounding against my chest as I continue, "please, this isn’t my fault. Do you think I want him to be guilty?"
She shudders and closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, they are glistening. "No, of course not. I’m sorry I got so upset."
I put an arm around her shoulder, very much the big sister, though in fact I am a few years younger than her, though five inches taller, it should be noted.
"I do understand. Maybe it’s nothing, but I cannot get the image out of my mind. Until there is resolution … Oh, I don’t know." I brush a strand of hair from my face.
"This is all too much!" A teardrop splatters onto her salmon linen shift, coloring it crimson.
"Don’t cry." I soothe, placing a hand on hers. "It will work itself out. You are not at fault in any of this. None of us can control what other people do. It is a horrible, horrible thing, but Briony, you cannot blame yourself! It is not your fault by any measure."
"I know." Her voice is small, almost a whisper. "Some days it is as if nothing can motivate me to even get out of bed. And now this has happened and—" her shoulders rise slightly as she takes a deep breath, "and I just can’t … I just can’t …" She doesn’t finish her thought.
I have been aware that there are problems, still this admission frightens me. I know Briony as a happy person. Smiling, making people laugh, caring and fussing, and being the life and soul anywhere she goes. Looking at her now, mistress of her own home, wife, grown woman, her familar brightness has been dimmed and diluted.
"It will be all right" I mutter the necessary words of reassurance, feeling I must say something, lest she regret having confided in me. "I am here now. And Jeffrey loves you. You are not alone, and as long as you want me to, I will stay."
"We’re sisters, aren’t we." Her voice is thick with uncried tears, nonetheless I have to smile.
We’re sisters
. As children we would introduce ourselves as such. Sisters.
We’re sisters
. As children we would introduce ourselves as such. Sisters.
"Yes, always."
CHAPTER 9
Twenty minutes later, I have sent Briony to rest. Her frame of mind worries me. Should I talk to Jeffrey? I don’t want to betray her trust. Surely he must know she is not happy? Still in the sitting room, I lean back on the soft cushions of the armchair. I have borrowed a well-thumbed copy of
Emma,
and am about to settle in for a nice hour or so of lighthearted reading when I hear someone enter the room. Turning around, craning my neck to arched doorway, I spot Niobe, carrying a tray.
Emma,
and am about to settle in for a nice hour or so of lighthearted reading when I hear someone enter the room. Turning around, craning my neck to arched doorway, I spot Niobe, carrying a tray.
"Hello." I smile at her. She looks nervous, my company clearly unwelcome.
"Mr. Farnham said I should bring you some lunch." She approaches slowly and sets the tray on the low table in front of me.
"Thank you. How kind." I lean forward, hungrily eyeing the small plates of olives, triangular pastries and shards of cheese. "This looks wonderful. Is Mr. Farnham not eating?"
"He ate when you and Mr. Harper were out."
"And Daniel, Mr. Harper?"
"I will bring him a tray as well."
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