A Spider in the Cup (Joe Sandilands Investigation) (21 page)

“Garn!” The Cockney expletive rocketed across the table, conveying utter derision in four letters. “Why would he give
you
his private phone number?”

Armitage’s hackles had been raised by the playground challenge. “From the last case we worked together,” he said stiffly. “We were in close collaboration in that one all right. Politically sensitive. Top Secret stuff. ‘Ring me any time day or night, Bill …’ Still got his card.” He produced it from his wallet.

She snatched it from him, raising her eyebrows in surprise and read out: “Flaxman five-two-zero-four, and a Lot’s Road address. That’s right opposite the power station, isn’t it? Not very posh for a man like him. I’d have expected rooms in Piccadilly—Albany perhaps.”

“He’s not like that. It’s not a good idea to try to predict anything about Sandilands, Julia.”

Julia smiled, understanding that no one was allowed to criticise or question his boss but Armiger. There was mischief in her eyes as she suggested, “It’d shake him up a bit if you gave him a bell when we get back to the hotel.”

“Perhaps I will. Offer to drop round with a toothbrush or two.”

“You can try. But prepare for disappointment—I bet they’re not there. What would they do to pass the time in Chelsea? They’d drive each other nuts, cooped up together.” Then, more soberly: “If they have taken off, William, have you thought—it’s a desperate thing to do. It won’t have been easy to get Kingstone
away when he’s still hoping Natalia might come breezing back. Or fearing her body might turn up. Either way—he’d want to be on the spot. It must mean Sandilands thinks he’s in immediate danger from someone close to him. At the hotel? Kingstone had already come to that conclusion—we all heard him say so. Who’s he got in mind? There’s only us. You? Me? Which of us is it, William?”

Her teasing smile faded and they stared at each other in sudden dismay.

“Don’t forget Natalia, wherever she is,” Bill offered. “I can’t believe she’s a goner. She wouldn’t let us off the hook that easily. Not her. Now she’s really got it in for him, if I’m to trust the evidence of my ears. The last thing I heard her shriek at him involved doing something unspeakable to his crown jewels. I’d call that dangerous, immediate and very close,” he said to relieve the tension. “But you know them as a couple, Julia. I don’t. They surely don’t carry on like that all the time, do they? Funny sort of love affair, I’d say.”

“It’s not a sun-lit pool and it wouldn’t suit me either. But it works for them, I suppose. Most of the time.”

“When were they last together?” Armitage asked, following up the slight uncertainty he detected in her words.

“Their paths crossed for a couple of days in Vienna at Easter—he was over there for a conference. She was dancing and didn’t have much time to spare for him. For any length of time it would be Paris, last Christmas. She was performing the
Nutcracker
. It was a bit stormy.”

Armitage censored the rude comment he was about to make. Her pure profile, so at odds with her own relaxed way of talking, confused and intimidated him. He didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot and spoil their evening.

“She did the same thing in Paris. Bunked off after a week. Shouting and yelling. She came back after two days, bold as
brass, as though nothing had happened and just carried on. She wasn’t there to see the state she’d left him in. Poor bloke. Why, Bill? Why does an intelligent, strong man like Kingstone put up with it?”

“Do you ever feel tempted to give him a few words of advice, Julia?”

She looked at him strangely. “Of course. Wouldn’t you? Problem is—I couldn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know. What can you do to help pick up the pieces? I’m in the other camp and in a servile position as well. He’s not going to take much notice of me. I offer such comfort as I can when it’s required. But, really, the only thing that makes him happy is the sight of Natalia coming through the door, hat box on her arm and a smile on her face.”

“What about all those Americans staying at the hotel? There’s about thirty of them. He must know some of them. Any familiar faces there, Julia?”

She shook her head. But picked up his point. “Right. You say you used to be a detective? Go on, then, do a bit of detecting. Who’s threatening him? If Sandilands has worked it out, we can. Think—did he get to know anyone on the boat over?”

Armitage gave her an edited list of the senator’s sea-board connexions, leaving out the chorus girls and reducing it to two economists and one diplomat, adding, “He’s made no attempt to continue the acquaintance since we arrived here. He’s an odd one. Friendly enough but he doesn’t have the glossy charm of a career politician.”

“That’s one of the reasons I like him. I’d say politics for him is a means to an end, not a goal in itself. It’s a game of power for most men in the countries I’ve visited—and that’s a dozen or more. It’s a chessboard they set up for themselves but one with millions of pawns who’ve never asked to be in the game. I thought Kingstone was different.”

“He is. Cheer up, Julia. You’re not
his
maid. You’re not paid to
worry about him. What’s it to
you
if he’s gone off into the blue yonder without a clean pair of underpants? He’ll be all right with Sandilands. Another odd fish who makes his own rules. They’re two for a pair.”

“Probably sitting down watching a roulette wheel spinning, brandy glass in one hand, blonde floozy in the other, as we speak,” Julia said with a grimace.

“You’ve got it! Look, Julia, they’re out of our hair. The night’s young. London’s just warming up. Where shall we go? I’ve still got contacts in this town—I can get us in anywhere, and you’re dressed for anything,” he said with eager confidence. “There’s Ciro’s just off the Haymarket … The Ambassador’s closer, just across Regent’s Street and they’ve got Joe Loss and his Harlem Band tonight. Or if you fancy something more exotic and classy there’s always the Blue Lagoon in Beak Street, all countesses and cocktails. You’ll blend right in! Gargle a bit of that Russian in the back of your throat like you do and they’ll think you’re an émigrée duchess with her gigolo in tow.”

She was laughing at him and warming to the idea, he could tell, until he made his big mistake.

“They don’t close until four-thirty in the morning, when they start serving breakfast. They’ve got a good jazz band. What about it? How do you fancy cutting a rug?”

The careless slang had slipped out before he realised what damage it could do.

Julia rose to her feet and picked up her bag, resigned and sad. “Now there was I, thinking you’d noticed. I don’t go in for rug-cutting these days. I’ll trouble you to whistle up a taxi for me—they tend not to want to stop for women who look like me. Odd and difficult.” She slipped a half crown onto the table. “There’s my share. I enjoyed the supper. I’m going back to the hotel now for that cocoa and I’ll leave you to do whatever single young men do on a Friday night in London. I’ll be tucked up in my own room
when you get back and I don’t expect to be fetched out to look at any more corpses before at least ten o’clock.”

Armitage flushed with embarrassment and anger. He left the half crown on the table, grabbed Julia by the waist and propelled her to the door. He’d done enough pussy-footing around. This girl was playing with him like a monkey on a stick. He’d take her somewhere quiet and make her answer a few questions. Like, who was she really working for and what was her business with a criminal outfit in Harley Street? That would do for starters.

Seducing girls for information might be the Sandilands way, all lobster, champagne and oily charm; Armitage had discovered a smack across the chops produced quicker results.

“Toodle-oo, Billy boy!” Sam shouted after him. “Goin’ on somewhere, are you? Well—have a nice time, me old son! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

T
he butler flung wide the door a second before his mistress came scurrying down the hall to join him. Unperturbed, Pearson launched into his usual speech: “Welcome, sir. Mr. Kingstone. You are expected. I hope you had a good journey down. I’ll get your things and put the motor away in the garage.”

It was all he had time to say before Joe was enveloped in a Chanel-scented hug. He freed himself from the layers of floating yellow chiffon to perform the introductions.

“Lydia, may I present Cornelius Kingstone … Senator Kingstone of the United States? Senator—this is my sister, Lydia, Mrs. Dunsford.”

“Mrs. Dunsford, I’m pleased indeed to be meeting you and sorry it has to be in such difficult circumstances,” Kingstone began courteously.

He was swiftly interrupted by Joe’s sister. “Senator Kingstone—Cornelius,” she said. “Please call me Lydia. We’re surprised but delighted to meet you. And don’t be concerned—my brother’s guests are usually suffering circumstances. Goodness you’ve made good time! My husband, Marcus, will be down directly—he’s upstairs helping to make up your room. He’s putting out the essentials for an unscheduled weekend in the country—a pair of pyjamas, a toilet bag and a shotgun under the bed.”

She seized the senator by the arm and led him down the corridor. “You’re looking awfully pale—that’ll be Joe’s driving I expect. Most of the visitors he brings me call weakly for a glass of water the moment they stagger over the threshold. Can I offer you a drink? I find brandy works best.”

“Ma’am, the journey was just fine and the welcome much appreciated. I would eye a glass of whisky with favour …”

“Joe will see to it. Come through into the drawing room. There’s a log fire going in there. It can turn quite chilly and these old houses need a bit of cheering up after dark even on a summer evening. When you’ve got your breath back—perhaps you’ll have a bite to eat?” She turned to speak to her brother. “I’ve had supper laid in the small dining room, Joe. We’ve just had the Lord High Sheriff to dinner with his lady wife, which is why you find me still in my glad rags, over-wound and chattering like a magpie. They only left half an hour ago. They talked a lot but didn’t eat much so there’s lots left over. There’s pea soup, half a game pie, a good ripe stilton and a dish of strawberries and cream. I could offer a trout or two that Marcus caught this afternoon but perhaps not for supper—I’ll offer them again at breakfast. Do you fish, Cornelius?”

“I do indeed, ma’am … Lydia. You have a lake hereabouts?”

“Yes we have. Teeming with rainbow trout. But better than that—we have a river full of cunning old browns half a mile away. The river’s running with some colour after the rain we had last week but the beats are fishable again. I’m told we’re experiencing an excellent mayfly hatch at the moment and Marcus has a selection of spare rods.”

Lydia had captured Kingstone’s total attention. Joe left the senator in his sister’s hands and went to pour out two large glasses of scotch.

“O
H, GOOD MORNING
,
Joe!” Marcus and Lydia looked up in surprise from the breakfast table. “You’re up with the larks.
It’s only six o’clock. What will you have? There’s bacon and eggs, kedgeree, porridge, honey and cream off the estate and the first of the season’s strawberry jam. Cook’s standing by with the frying pan for the trout but perhaps you’d like to wait until your friend comes down for that?” Marcus got up and bustled about with a coffee pot to minister to what he knew would be Joe’s first requirement.

“Your guest is still in bed, fast asleep. Mary went in ten minutes ago with a cup of early morning tea but she left it at the foot of the bed and came away. Snoring like a grampus, she reports,” Lydia told him.

“Good. That’s what the man needs. He’s been having a rough time of it. I’ll have some of that coffee, thanks, Marcus. In fact, just pass the pot over and rustle up another, will you? This is going to be a two-pot story.”

They were finishing their second before he’d got to the end.

“Poor feller!” Marcus said. “I shall take him fishing—he’s quite an expert. He’s more or less the same size as me so I’ll get Pearson to lay out some old corduroy and tweed, fresh linen and a pair of gum boots. That’s my prescription for a touch of mental dyspepsia—comfy old clothes and the tug of a hard-fighting eight-pounder on the end of the line. Take his mind off things. The practicalities are easily dealt with.”

“Compared with most of the strays you bring us, Joe, this one’s outstanding. He’s a wonderful guest. I’ve quite fallen for him! I’m hoping he can stay on. Good old-fashioned gentleman and what a life he’s led! Do you know—he was telling me he actually knows the president’s wife, Eleanor? And he rather hates J. Edgar Hoover? He’s been on safari with Theodore Roosevelt and flown with Charles Lindbergh!”

“Ah. But has he danced with Fred Astaire?” Joe asked.

Lydia opened her mouth and closed it again on hearing her husband’s warning growl: “Lydia! Heel, my love!”

“Now, let’s have this straight, old man—are you saying he’s in some actual physical danger beyond his mental stress?” Marcus wanted to know.

Joe nodded. “In London, yes. His life is under threat every moment. Unless I can discover who and what and where the menace is. I think he knows but he’s not telling. I’ve brought him out here for a bit of a break but, above all, to get him away from the hired killers that come so freely to hand in London. No one followed us here and I told no one we were coming. Should be okay.”

“Mmmm … All the same, I shall stand well clear when we’re out and about in case of snipers.”

Joe didn’t quite like to see the passing gleam of excitement in Marcus’s eyes.

“Although …” His brother-in-law sighed. “Early June. The rhododendrons and the azaleas are jungle-thick in places. It’s like Burma out there! Sight lines not good but cover for any malefactor excellent. I’d go for a knife at close quarters rather than rifle. Better prepare for the worst, I always say. I’ll alert the men. They’ll have any intruder into the estate located and immobilised in seconds.”

“That would be good,” Joe said. He knew “the men.” Gamekeepers and stewards, most were local boys; some reformed poachers, some veterans of the trenches, they were all excellent shots. Hard, practical men who’d graduated to a position of trust under Marcus’s kindly but strict concern.