Barbara Cleverly (22 page)

Joe smiled. ‘I agree. And this is where it all begins to get a little unreal. They are not just a series of officers’ wives. They are a very particular group of officers’ wives, chosen according to some obscure pattern. There are things they had in common, there are things they did not have in common. There are things a proportion of the group had in common — both Dolly Prentice and Peggy Somersham were pregnant. Is this significant or is it misleading? But there is one thing which I think is very significant. Naurung — Mrs Drummond and I have discovered that the ladies all had this in common — they had a phobia.’

Translations of the word rattled back and forward over Joe’s head until the satisfied nods of the two Naurungs encouraged him to go on. Nancy supplied the details of each victim’s special horror, linking it with the means of her death and the faces of father and son grew grim.

Finally, Naurung said seriously, “This is the work of a devil, sahib. I fear we have worked our way back to our first conversation if the sahib remembers?’

‘The Churel? Kali the Destroyer? I still do not accept this. But you and your father have added today another element to the motive of conviction killing and that is — political. To murder, not soldiers but soldiers’ wives and by subtle and repulsive means might be a calculated way of sowing terror and suspicion in the ranks of the British army. A way which would lead to the reprisals and overreaction we have discussed. But I don’t think the answer lies here either. For two apparently insignificant reasons. The murders have all occurred in March. On the grave of each victim has been placed a bunch of Kashmiri roses — all in March. This is a ritual aspect which rules out every one of the motives we have so far examined.’

Joe frowned. ‘And so I am reduced to working out this whole problem from what any decent policeman would consider the wrong end. I have built up a picture of the person who must have committed these crimes

’

‘Very well, Sandilands,’ said Nancy with a hint of challenge in her voice, ‘prove that you’re not a defective! Tell us who’s responsible.’

‘He is male. He is European. He is middle-aged, strong and agile in body and mind. He is very close to Indians and either has employed them to do these killings or is sufficiently confident to have tricked himself out as an Indian to get close enough to do the murders himself without arousing suspicion. He lives on the station at Panikhat. If you passed him walking on the maidan you would greet him by name.’

There was a deep silence as names crowded into everyone’s mind. Nancy shook her head and muttered, ‘No. That’s not possible.’

The young Naurung was more positive and Joe even wondered whether he had arrived at this point before he had himself. ‘Sandilands Sahib, I think you know and I too can guess who has done these dreadful things,’ he said, ‘but why? My father,’ with a short bow to Naurung senior, ‘will always say, “Know how and why and you will know who,” but what you are saying is quite the reverse.’

‘I know,’ said Joe, ‘and to fill in the picture I must go back to Panikhat. That’s where it started and that’s where the answers lie.’

‘One thing, Sandilands Sahib,’ said Naurung’s father diffidently. ‘I worked with Bulstrode Sahib on the case of Memsahib Simms-Warburton who was drowned. It was I who interviewed the ferryman who nearly drowned with her. I suspected him. He could, unseen by the bystanders, have secreted a knife about the raft and slit the hides when they were in the middle of the river. He dived under water to help the poor lady but they were both under the surface for a long time. It occurred to me that he could have been holding her down until he was sure she was dead. I spoke to him afterwards and took a statement which unfortunately did not attract the interest of Bulstrode Sahib but I remember it well.

‘Commander, Englishmen are brown down to their neck and pink below that. This man was naked apart from his turban and loin cloth. I saw his body. And he was Indian-skinned from head to soles of his feet.’

Ť ^ ť

Joe and Nancy rose to take their leave of the Naurungs, who accompanied them to the foot of the stairs with what Joe supposed to be an exchange of formal compliments.

‘Well, Naurung senior rather exploded your theory, didn’t he?’

‘Not necessarily,’ said Joe slowly. ‘In fact what he had to say may answer other questions I still have.’ He looked at his watch and said, ‘Uncle George will be home by now. Perhaps we should report to him?’

‘Oh, Uncle! There will be things he wants to know.’ She gave Joe a searching look. ‘And things perhaps we ought to explain. And I think I’ve got something I ought to explain.’

She took hold of Joe’s arm and squeezed it to her. ‘I don’t know much, perhaps I don’t have to tell you that, but at the outset — and it seems a very long time ago — I said that when I got back to India all my dreams came true and you asked me — I don’t suppose you remember asking — whether all my dreams came true. Well, the plain answer is no. But last night you took me somewhere I hadn’t been before. It was probably obvious to you — I don’t know how these things work — but now I have to say that I am a trustee — a trustee for Andrew. He rescued me from France and in exchange I, and others of course, brought him back to life. I’m not going to do that and leave him stranded. You do understand that, don’t you?’ She looked earnestly at Joe. ‘It’s important to me that you should.’

‘I understood,’ said Joe.

‘Well, go on understanding. That’s all you have to do.’

As they drew into Government House, dazzling in the sunshine, a Daimler with a flag on the bonnet pulled in ahead of them.

‘Uncle George,’ said Nancy. ‘Just beaten us to it.’

There seemed to be a heightened efficiency, a heightened formality associated no doubt with the return of the Governor. As they entered, George’s European staff seemed much more in evidence. Their return was greeted on all sides and they were shown with rapidity into the presence.

‘How do I play this?’ Joe thought. ‘Do I say, “I’m afraid I spent last night in bed with your niece? I hope you don’t mind. Oh, and, incidentally, the next Mutiny may be about to break out”.’

But with dexterity Uncle George went straight to the heart of the matter. ‘Morning, Nancy, my dear! And good morning, Sandilands! Hope you got a good dinner last night? Sleep all right, did you? Can be damned hot in Calcutta. Now, been to see the Naurungs, I hear.’

‘Now how the hell did he know that?’ Joe wondered but the Governor read his question.

‘How did I know? You can’t do this job unless you’ve got eyes in the back of your head and whatever else I may have I have a very good information system. Good idea, though! I find old Naurung is very worth hearing. Perhaps you’ll tell me what passed?’

Deeply relieved to be speaking in English without the necessity to pause for translation, Joe set to work to explain the scope of their enquiries, the fears of the Naurungs and the direction in which their deductions were moving. The Governor looked from one to the other, saying at last, ‘I asked you to discover whether these deaths were linked. I asked you to discover whether a suspicion of foul play could seriously be entertained. That now seems a long time ago. The answer to both questions is yes and I grieve to hear it. A dark and mysterious affair and I would say “No light, but only darkness visible.” Eh? What? And now you tell me you’re looking for a European murderer? I never thought otherwise.’

‘Yes,’ said Joe, ‘I think that fairly describes where we’ve got to. We have a strong suspicion as to who but we are no nearer the why and sketchy as to the how.’

‘Starting at the wrong end, you might say?’

‘Exactly. There must be a connection but we — or at any rate I — am too thick to see it.’

‘Don’t belittle yourself,’ said George politely. ‘Considering the cold trail you’ve been following, I think you’ve done very well. Now — leave it at that. Keep me posted. Come and see me whenever you want to. Hang on to the Naurungs. But continue to suspect everybody so don’t exclude the Naurungs.

‘But now I have another and purely domestic matter to discuss with you. You’re going back to Panikhat today. Correct? In Andrew’s car, I presume? Well you’ve got a passenger! Big enough to seat three, I assume? I have a very charming little guest (with a very great deal of luggage!) and perhaps you can guess who? No? Well, it’s Midge or perhaps I should say more formally that it’s Minette Prentice, Giles Prentice’s daughter. She was going back with Molly Bracegirdle but now Molly’s down with a gastric thing — Delhi belly as we sometimes call it, the Indian answer to Gippy tummy. Midge was here a little while ago but she’s gone down to the town to do a bit of shopping belatedly having decided she ought to have a present for her father. No money, of course! Spent it all! Had to finance her! Oh, my goodness — it’s Dolly Prentice all over again! Just like Dolly — of a, oh, er, a wheedling disposition, you’ll find.’

‘Where’s the child been?’ Joe asked.

‘Finishing school. Finishing school in Switzerland. Why on earth it’s called a finishing school I’ve no idea. Starting school more like, if you ask me! Now, I’ve got work to do but stay and have tiffin with me. In about half an hour? Nancy, my dear, go and organise your packing. Ought to leave as soon as we’ve eaten. You’ve a long way to travel and you don’t want to be motoring in the dark. And you, Sandilands? I expect you can amuse yourself for a while and we’ll meet back here?’

Joe spent his time wandering in the rose gardens and duly made his way back into the house in time for lunch. Walking across the wide landing to the Governor’s apartments, he heard the voice of Midge Prentice long before he saw her.

A cheerful unending babble of reminiscence. Joe paused outside the door and listened, curiously attracted by that little voice and even more by the reality when he opened the door. Recognisably the daughter of Dolly Prentice, recognisable from that old and faded photograph. Though Midge had her father’s dark colouring she had the same upswept eyes, the same pretty face and the same quality that Kitty had described as ‘elfin’.

The Governor made the introductions and Midge said at once, ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Commander. Now you can tell me what you think! I think it’s beautiful! I think it’s just what he will like. What do you think?’

She produced from a box and from its tissue paper wrappings a small ivory statuette. A figurine of an outstandingly erotic subject. Conventionally, two figures, their eyes half closed in bliss, were carved in convolute embrace and twisted ingeniously through 180 degrees at the waist.

‘There,’ said Midge once more. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think he will be absolutely charmed,’ said Joe, aware that he was only saying that he would himself be absolutely charmed. What the austere Prentice would make of it Joe could only speculate.

‘It must have cost a lot of money,’ said Uncle George with resignation.

‘Oh, it wasn’t too bad,’ said Midge. ‘I worked it out in pounds as best I could. I think it cost about thirty shillings. They were so nice about it when they saw I was with you from the flag on the car — they just let me sign for it.’

Uncle George began to look a little strained.

They sat down to lunch and Midge’s account ran on. She was now describing a fancy dress dance. ‘There we were,’ she said, ‘Betty Bracegirdle and me. She went as a Red Indian and I went as a cowboy. We won the prize easily and we did a lap of honour round the room and everybody cheered!’

‘And have you,’ asked Joe, ‘left a train of broken hearts behind all across Europe?’

‘No,’ said Midge morosely. ‘Not a train. Only one.’

‘Tell us about him,’ said Nancy as was no doubt expected of her.

‘Oh,’ said Midge, ‘it wasn’t a him, it was a her.’

‘A her?’

‘Yes.’ And, with a fluttering of downcast eyelids and a hand theatrically on the heart, ‘It was me. My heart was broken. Oh, he was so nice! He taught me to play piquet. If you’re on a boat, everybody plays cards in the morning — mostly boring bridge or double boring poker but he taught me to play piquet. We taught other people and after a bit all the best people were playing piquet with us. It was — the fashionable thing to do!’ And, to Joe, ‘Do you play piquet?’

‘Yes,’ said Joe, ‘as a matter of fact, I do.’

‘We must play some time,’ said Midge. ‘I’m used to dancing on most nights but now he’s gone off back to his regiment, leaving me forlorn, eating my heart out. No wonder I look so pale!’

‘He’s gone back to his regiment? After a tearful parting, no doubt,’ said Nancy.

‘Oh yes,’ said Midge. ‘Was there ever such a tearful parting!’

‘And this Paladin,’ said Uncle George, ‘this hero, this maritime Lothario, has he a name?’

‘This knight in shining armour!’ Midge giggled. ‘Oh, he’s got a name all right. And if he comes down to see me all will be revealed. He’s tall, dark and handsome

absolute blissikins! You’ve no idea! Oh, goodness, I do hope Dad likes him! He ought to!’

Her audience fell silent. All in their different ways were speculating as to how Giles Prentice would receive this unknown officer who seemed to have found his way into the doubtless inflammable heart of Midge Prentice. Midge Prentice, Dolly’s daughter. With Dolly’s looks and, it would seem, with Dolly’s propensities.

After several hours sitting together in Andrew’s car, to Nancy and Joe’s relief Midge finally fell silent and fell asleep, her head companionably resting on Nancy’s shoulder. It was dark when they arrived in Panikhat and when they drew up outside Prentice’s bungalow.

A tall and slender figure, Prentice stood illuminated by the advancing headlights with the air of one who had been patiently waiting. Midge fell out of the car and ran towards him. Prentice dropped on one knee with his arms outstretched. Silently Nancy and Joe agreed to stay in the car. They waited until Midge’s voluminous luggage had been taken out and transferred to the house then, on a word from Nancy, Naurung slipped in the clutch and the big car stole silently out of the compound leaving Midge and Prentice on the verandah, each with an arm round the other, Midge, predictably, doing all the talking, Prentice all the listening.