Dandy Gilver and a Bothersome Number of Corpses (41 page)

‘Aldo?’ said Alec.

‘I w-was in the b-boat.’ She was shaking so much now that her voice was like a rattle. ‘And he swam. In a r-r-rage. He swam. And I j-just j-jabbed him with the oar. J-j-jab-jab-jab. Until he was g-gone.’

‘Good,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ said Fleur, and her eyes turned upwards as she fainted away.

I hugged her close, although I was almost as cold as she was and, pushing the sodden hanks of her hair back from her face to kiss her eyes, I shuddered to remember Rosa Aldo’s hair in the cable station that day, how it lay in a clump on her soaking dress, and how cold and grey her skin was above the dirty lace of her collar. Perhaps I was passing out too but all of a sudden I could feel again the water closing over my head and filling my mouth and I struggled to sit up.

‘They say drowning is peaceful,’ I said.

‘If it is,’ said Alec, ‘then it was too good for him.’

‘The car’s dead,’ said Constable Reid a few hours later. He had joined Fleur, Alec and me in the lodge kitchen, where we sat wrapped in blankets and nursing the latest in a succession of toddies.

‘The Turners’ car?’ I asked, and he nodded.

‘Donaldson’s car needs to go back anyway,’ said Alec. ‘And you’re the only one of the lot of us who’s fit to drive.’

‘But we’re not going to Portpatrick,’ I said. ‘Constable Reid, you can have St Columba’s on me. I expect you’ll want to go and arrest Ivy Shanks and Miss Barclay and Miss Christopher. But first, can you please take me home? And Miss Lipscott too?’

Reid gave me a long cool look, which I met for a while before dropping my eyes.

‘Miss Lipscott’ll need to come wi’ me,’ he said. ‘To make a statement, at least. It’s up to the Fiscal if it’s more.’

‘Only if she saw the incident,’ I said. ‘Only if she witnessed Aldo’s suicide, surely.’

Alec gave a low whistle.

‘Constable?’ said Fleur. ‘I killed him and if you say I must be arrested and tried then so be it. But what about Sabbatina? She has no relations living now – not closer than Italy anyway – and I would surely be more use as her guardian than as a prisoner?’

Alec and I exchanged a glance. Fleur, we knew, would be very lucky to get away with prison. A jury, hearing of the drugs and the lovers, not to mention the telephone call covering up Aldo’s crime, would more likely call to see her hanged.

‘Tonight was self-defence,’ said Reid. ‘That I’ll give ye. But here’s what’s stickin’ in ma craw: sayin’ ye didn’t know who the corpse was.’

‘I was frightened,’ said Fleur.

‘And then pretendin’ to
be
her!’ Reid said. ‘Makin’ fools o’ us all.’

‘It was Joe’s idea,’ Fleur said. ‘He thought it up in a flash. He’s cunning that way. And I was too frightened not to go along with it. He threatened such dreadful things.’

‘But you were away out of it by then,’ Reid said.

‘Oh no!’ said Fleur. ‘You misunderstand me. I wasn’t frightened for myself. It was Sabbatina. He said he would tell her about us, and tell her I never cared for her. He said he would put her in an orphanage and not even tell her why.’

‘And yet you left her with him?’ Alec said. ‘A man like that?’

‘I was going to send for her,’ Fleur said. Her voice had dropped down to a whisper. ‘I would have written and sent her train fare. It was just all so confusing. Jeanne running away and me trying to pack and Ivy Shanks pecking at me like a carrion crow. Joe too. He wouldn’t stop. And then Rosa’s body. I just— I ran away.’ She gave a tremendous sniff and then looked Alec in the eye. ‘You’re right, Mr Osborne,’ she said. ‘Running off and leaving Sabbatina there was a dreadful thing to do. A weak, thoughtless thing. Maybe I’m not fit to be her guardian after all.’

‘Oh no you don’t,’ I said.

‘I’ll come with you, Constable, and take my chances,’ said Fleur.

‘Not this again,’ I said. ‘Fleur, please. You are not responsible for everything that happens in the whole wide world, you know.’ And I gave both Alec and Reid a look from under my eyebrows, that told them exactly what I thought of them for torturing her. Reid shifted in his seat, but Alec is used to my looks and took this one without blinking.

‘On the other hand,’ said Reid, ‘Sergeant Turner wouldn’t like it that the story he wouldn’t swallow is right enough after all. He’d no’ like that one wee bit. He’d take it out on Cissie and me.’

‘There’s a boat out in the sea loch and a body in the water,’ I said. ‘What could be neater? A woman missing, a body found, her husband gone, his body found too?’

‘Only how would we explain him bein’ all the way up here?’ said Reid.

‘I could help with that perhaps,’ said Fleur. ‘I did offer the Aldos the chance of a summer holiday here. So he knew of the place, you see.’ She gulped and swallowed hard. ‘I wanted to bring Sabbatina here. I wanted to show her my home.’

‘This isn’t your home, darling,’ I said. ‘Show her Pereford. Take her down to Mamma-dearest and Batty Aunt Lilah and let Pearl and Aurora loose on her. If anything could make up for losing her parents that way, Pereford can. That’s what you need, too. Go home.’

‘Aye well,’ said Reid. ‘I can get you as far as Perthshire anyway.’

So we detoured on the way south again and reached Gilverton after sunrise, trundling up the drive towards the shuttered house, only the gardeners up and about and waving uncertainly at the unfamiliar motorcar as it passed.

‘Are you looking forward to seeing Mademoiselle Beauclerc?’ said Alec to Fleur. She had been quiet and deeply morose as we travelled, but now she roused herself and gave a smile.

‘If she’ll forgive me.’

‘Of course she will. You thought she’d be safer at Low Merrick Farm than running away with you, and you were right. Aldo might have killed both of you.’

‘And Jeanne had only just stopped thinking death would be welcome,’ Fleur said.

‘Do you know her story?’ I asked her. ‘Why was she open to blackmail?’

‘The usual,’ she replied. ‘The kind of thing that would be winked at if she were a boy. And she held out for so long, but Shanks just ground away at her. She
had
to run to the Patersons’, Dandy. You’ve no idea what Ivy Shanks is like. And she does it all with a smile on her face as if it’s funny.’

Alec nodded with understanding, but when Fleur spoke of Jeanne’s sins I had felt a small cold hand creep under my ribs and squeeze some organ it found there.

The car drew up and the front door opened. I steeled myself for Pallister, but it was Donald who burst out, still in his dressing gown and with a smile on his face the size of the sun.

‘Mother!’ he cried. ‘Welcome home. What on earth are you wearing?’

‘What are you doing up?’ I said. ‘It’s . . .’ I glanced at my wristwatch but of course it was ruined.

‘I can’t sleep,’ said Donald. ‘I’m too bursting with joy. Thank you, Mother, for sending her.’ And with that he disappeared and his place on the doorstep was taken by Hugh.

‘Dandelion,’ he said.

‘Oh dear,’ said Alec’s voice behind me in the shadows of the motorcar.

‘Who’s that?’ Hugh said, glancing at the driver’s seat.

‘Constable—’ was as far as I got.

‘Brought home by the police now!’ said Hugh. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Portpatrick,’ I said. ‘You knew that.’

‘Nonsense,’ he barked. ‘I rang and rang.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Yes. And Somerset. Pereford. Hugh, look who’s here. It’s Fleur. Johnny Lipscott’s youngest child.’ I smiled my most winning smile and wiggled my eyebrows significantly too.

‘Is it?’ said Hugh and gave a short bow to Fleur. His manners, even when he is in a rage the size of the current one, are always civil. He leaned towards me. ‘It might well be Johnny Lipscott’s youngest child,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘but she’s too late.’

Then he spun on his heel and marched inside again.

‘Off you pop then, Dan,’ said Alec, struggling against a surge of laughter which would kill his broken rib. ‘Constable Reid, if you’d be so good as to take me another seven miles, I think I might just as well go home. Perhaps a more restful atmosphere for my recuperation. And Miss Lipscott? If things get too hot here, you’re very welcome to join me.’

‘Not so fast,’ I said to him. ‘Reid, could you wait here, please?’ I scrambled out of the motorcar. ‘Or I tell you what,’ I went on, turning back, ‘trundle round to the kitchen door and get my good Mrs Tilling to make you each a bacon sandwich.’ Then I sped off after Hugh.

He was nowhere to be seen – he can vanish like a cloaked conjuror when the mood takes him – but it was not difficult to guess where he would have gone to earth in the kind of temper he was in this morning. I rapped on his business-room door and entered without waiting, to find him sitting amongst the plans and papers which normally soothe him.

‘How far can it possibly have gone?’ I asked. ‘Not breach of promise already surely?’

‘If only!’ cried Hugh.

‘What?’ This remark made no sense at all.

‘Our son has . . .’ Hugh coughed, glanced at the door, and went on in a low voice, ‘. . . ruined the girl.’

I let out a hefty sigh and dropped down into a chair.

‘Good God, Hugh, you had me thoroughly rattled. No, he hasn’t. But what do you mean, anyway?’

‘Wanderings in the night,’ said Hugh, so darkly that I had to try very hard not to smile. ‘I caught him in the passageway and he didn’t even deny it. So. Now you’re home you must speak to him. And to her. And he must do the honourable thing.’

‘Hugh, for heaven’s sake—’

‘This is no opera girl, Dandy. I can’t imagine why you passed her off as a seamstress—’

‘If you would open your ears and listen once in a—’

‘Or a nun.’

‘Donald didn’t “ruin” her,’ I said. ‘He’s years too late, for a start. Good Lord, anything less like a nun is hard to imagine.’

Hugh opened his eyes very wide so that his crow’s feet showed white in his weather-beaten face.

‘But she’s an unmarried girl of good family,’ he said, adorably. Hugh’s world is a simple one.

‘So if there’s been ruination,’ I said, ‘it’s she who has ruined him.’

‘Well,’ said Hugh, with some relief, ‘he doesn’t seem to have minded.’

Then he sat up very straight, shocked that his relief had led him so far as to say such a thing to me, instead of keeping it for George at the club where it belonged. I took pity on his frozen discomfiture and left him alone with his tracing paper and pencils again.

‘Is that for Miss Beauclerc, Becky?’ I called across the hallway, seeing one of the parlour maids just starting up the stairs with a tea tray.

‘Oh! Welcome home, madam,’ she said, attempting a curtsey, but with a careful eye on the milk jug. ‘Yes.’

‘Where is she?’ I asked striding over and taking it out of her hands.

‘Oh! Rose room, madam.’

‘Right,’ I said, grimly, taking the stairs two at a time.

‘Will I fetch her bags out of the boxroom?’ Becky called after me, in a hopeful voice.

‘As soon as you can,’ I called back.

‘Oh, good, madam,’ Becky said. ‘Mr Pallister
will
be pleased.’

Jeanne Beauclerc was lolling against the satinwood headboard, taking the rags out of her hair and fluffing it into curls as I entered.

‘Mrs Gilver!’ she said. She sounded startled, but she did not sit up or stop fluffing.

‘Indeed,’ I replied. ‘I’ve found Fleur for you. She’s downstairs. She might be staying here or she might be staying with Mr Osborne, a friend of mine. You, as I’m sure I don’t need to explain, shall not be staying here any longer.’

Mademoiselle Beauclerc blinked at that, but she did not stop smiling.

‘What a pity,’ she said. ‘I have had a very pleasant few days.’ I was speechless. ‘Your son is such a sweet boy, Mrs Gilver.’

‘My son is going back to school tomorrow,’ I replied.

‘And your husband is such a sweet man.’ My speechlessness this time was of a depth and quality I had never experienced before. I simply banged down the tray and turned to go.

‘But the hospitable Mr Osborne sounds very promising too,’ she said in a musing voice. I hesitated, then kept on walking. Alec could take care of himself; this viper was not spending another night in my nest.

‘Frankly,’ said Alec, ‘I’m insulted.’ We had had the carriage to ourselves since East Combe and I had finally asked him straight out if he had managed to resist the charms of Jeanne Beauclerc in the few days she had spent under his roof. ‘Really, Dandy, I’m twice Donald’s age with three times his experience of the world.’

‘Poor Donald,’ I said, not meaning it at all. ‘If I’d known a broken heart would set him straight the way it has, I’d have arranged for it to be broken long before now. But it wasn’t just Donald, you know. Hugh was beginning to sway in time, like a charmed snake, and I’ve begun to wonder why Mrs Paterson at Low Merrick Farm was so keen to get rid of such a nice quiet guest. It never struck me as likely that parents from St Columba’s would really have booked up all the rooms at the farm. I reckon Jeanne was batting her eyes at Mr Paterson over the sheep pens and his wife got wind of it.’

‘And what’s the news from the ruins of St Columba’s?’ Alec said. ‘Anything fresh to report?’

Constable Reid had been telephoning to me with daily updates until Miss Brown at the Portpatrick post office got sick of him monopolising ‘her good kiosk’ and shooed him out once and for all. Luckily, by then little bits of it had begun to leak into the press and we could follow the story as it unfolded.

‘Well, of course, even before it comes to court, they’ve all been defrocked or lost their licences or whatever happens to schoolmistresses,’ I said. ‘Not that Miss Ivy Shanks ever really was one. Miss Christopher and Miss Barclay, this is. I feel sorry for Miss Lovage, since she had money in the place.’

‘And what’s to become of the school itself?’

‘Hah!’ I said. ‘This is priceless. You know it’s called St Columba’s because it was at Portpatrick that Columba landed from Ireland and tamed the heathen hordes?’

‘Vaguely,’ said Alec, which is his way of saying ‘not at all’.

‘Well, it struck a crowd of his fans as the perfect spot. And they’re trying to buy it up to make a convent.’