In the Teeth of Adversity (10 page)

“Frankly, it depresses me,” I said. “It was one thing to quietly marshal the possible evidence against the client between ourselves, but it was unnerving to discover how far along the same path the law was racing ahead of us.”

“Let's get out of here,” Gerry said abruptly.

“The inspector didn't say we could go,” I reminded him.

“He didn't say we couldn't.” Gerry was ever the optimist.

“Perhaps we could go back to the waiting room for half an hour or so. Out of sight, out of mind. Then if he doesn't call us back, we can leave and have the excuse that we waited for some time, but had to get back to the office.”

“Good thinking,” Gerry said. “Let's get out of sight right now.” Without waiting for my answer, he started downstairs and I plunged after him. I didn't intend to be found in the hall by myself if the inspector should end his telephone conversation quickly and come looking for us.

I discovered it was old home week as we walked into the waiting room – and I didn't like it one little bit. It looked like the gathering of the clans – if you presupposed that there had been some great clan tragedy.

Yesterday's cast was now complete, with Mrs. Kate Halroyd, MP, Morgana Fane and her business manager, all sitting in various attitudes of dejection around the waiting room. Even the newcomers – who were, presumably, today's appointments – seemed infected by the general air of gloom.

It's not that anyone expects a dentist's waiting room to have an air of jollification and general merriment, but this place was as cheerful as a wake. All that was missing was the corpse.

I immediately wished I hadn't thought of that.

Even Gerry seemed subdued. He followed me to an unoccupied corner and sat down without attempting to disperse any sweetness and light. A sure sign – when there were celebrities present – that he had subconsciously tested the emotional temperature of the water and decided that it was better to imitate an invisible jellyfish rather than a large frog in a small pond. He didn't often come to that conclusion. It added to my uneasiness.

When he picked up a three-year-old copy of
Country Life
and immersed himself in it, my worst fears were realized. To all intents and purposes, he was no longer with us and – with his unfailing sense of occasion – that meant all hell was ready to break loose.

I picked up a rather later issue of
Punch
and tried to follow his example, but was doomed before I started. I had carelessly let my gaze cross that of Mrs. Kate Halroyd. She leaned forward and fixed me with an accusing eye.

“You
were here yesterday,” she breathed.

“Er, well, actually ... yes,” I admitted.

This promptly riveted the attention of the other occupants of the waiting room upon me. I smiled apologetically and tried to look as though I were dying to plunge into
Punch.
It didn't work for a moment.

“That's right,” she said. “You took my place – and I – I went back to the House.”

“Well, you
did
rather insist, you know,” I defended feebly. “I never intended to.” I glanced sideways at Gerry for help, but it was no use. He was deep in
Country Life
– he had never seen me before in his life.

“If only I had been up there,” she mourned. “If only I had kept my appointment –”

“Honestly” – I tried to comfort her – “there was nothing anyone could do. He'd been – er – it had happened quite a while earlier. You couldn't have made any difference –”

“But I wasn't there,” she said. “And so, I'll never know. There might have been something –”

“We did everything we could.” I'll never know whether I was comforting her or rubbing salt in the wound. “Believe me, there was nothing –”

“You're trying to be kind.” She gave me a brief, tight smile that disclosed those yellowed, crumbling teeth again and gazed off into the distance.

Unfortunately, none of the others joined her in studying the distant vistas; they were all too busy staring at me. I began to feel like a sideshow exhibit. I was going to be a bitter disappointment to them at any moment by failing to turn and disclose gills or feathers in unexpected places. I tried outstaring them, but I was outnumbered and it didn't work. I took the only other option open to me and gazed off into space myself.

“Yes,” she said, “you're very kind.” She lowered her voice, which did nothing to diminish its carrying power – I've heard West End actresses who couldn't project so well at full power as she did with her lowered voice. It seemed to curl into every corner of the room and echo back at us off the walls.

“I shall never forgive myself. It was my place – my duty – to be there.”

“No, really,” I said. My own voice was almost inaudible, even to me, but as everyone else in the waiting room seemed to be holding their breath in order not to miss any of the dialogue, I was bitterly aware that it wasn't inaudible enough. “You mustn't blame yourself. Anyone could be excused for wanting to skip a dental appointment. And you were trying to do a kindness to someone else – to me. You have nothing to reproach yourself about.”

“You don't understand.” She turned her dark, brooding eyes upon me. “You don't know all the circumstances. You see, I was engaged to Tyler Meredith. It was a secret at present, but – after we worked out a few difficulties – we were going to be married.”

Over my own gulp of astonishment, I heard
Country Life
hit the floor. Gerry retrieved it quickly, but gave up the pretence of being absorbed in it. He joined the rest of our breathless audience, goggling shamelessly, ears all but flapping.

“Yes,” she said. “There's no point in keeping it secret now.” She was oblivious to her listeners. Rather, I revised my opinion, she seemed to accept them as right and natural. As though she were so accustomed to living her life in full view of the multitudes that they hardly registered on her consciousness anymore.

“He was at the threshold of a brilliant career in public service.” It looked as though we were in for a recitation of all the departed's virtues. Well, perhaps it made her feel a bit better.

“I know,” I said. “He was developing a wonderful new anaesthetic which was going to be of great benefit to the public.”

“Not that.” She moved both head and hands in an impatient gesture of negation. “Oh, I know it's wonderful – it was to be his parting gift to a profession which had served him, but which really meant little more to him than the stages he began his life on. His
real
future had nothing to do with
this.
” She encompassed the waiting room, the surgery, the entire building, with contempt in her tone.

Across the room, I was aware of Morgana Fane regarding us intently. She leaned forward, one elbow on the arm of her chair, her hand cradling her jaw – my own jaw winced in sympathy – and watched us as though we were a command performance convened for her own special entertainment. Except that she didn't seem very entertained. More probably, we were a welcome diversion to take her mind off her dental problems and the ordeal waiting for her upstairs in the surgery. I wondered if she was here again today on the principle of getting straight back on the horse after having fallen off – it couldn't be easy for her to get back into that chair where she had had such an unpleasant experience. (I made a mental bet that she was settling for ordinary procaine this time around.) Was that why her manager was with her again – for moral support? Or was he just a glorified chauffeur, standing by to take her on to her next photo session?

Or – another, nastier, thought suddenly occurred to me – had the police sent for those who had been here yesterday, in order to facilitate their inquiries?

Could they do that? Was it only because I was already here that I hadn't been sent for? I decided I didn't really want to know the answers to those questions and tried to stop thinking about them. Even though this meant I had to return my attention to the still-voluble mourner beside me.

“... truly brilliant career opening out before him. I was so certain of it, I was going to give up my seat to him – after we were married, of course.”

I rolled with that punch and let my mind wander. She took a terrible picture, I realized, looking at her. In fact, she must be one of our least photogenic MPs. The ghastly hats she persisted in wearing every time she was photographed didn't help, either. Nor did her habit of never smiling – although I'd seen the reason for it when she first smiled at me yesterday – do anything to soften the grim visage the cameras recorded.

In person, and without a hat, she looked softer and more attractive. It was too bad she hadn't met a sympathetic photographer –

I pulled myself together abruptly. This was no time to be thinking of business. At least, not new business. We had quite as much as we could manage trying to keep our devious dentist out of the clutches of the law. Once that was accomplished –
if
it was accomplished – we could worry about new clients.

“... brought me here today,” she was saying.

“Yes?” I tried to look as though I had been paying rapt attention.

“I wanted to collect a few things from his flat – just little personal things. Nothing valuable. They wouldn't mean a thing to anyone else. But, I thought – if I might go up and –”

You and half of London.
But I couldn't say that. I nodded, with what I hoped was a suitably understanding expression. As long as she didn't look at Gerry, we were all right. His bemused expression would have given the game away – or at least, told her there was a game.

“I really must” – she took a deep breath and stood up decisively – “go and speak to Mr. Zayle about it now. I – I just wanted to sit down for a moment and – and gather myself together, as it were.”

“Of course, but” – I felt I had to warn her – “I think you'll have to speak to someone other than Mr. Zayle. There's still an investigation going on and the policeman in charge of it is upstairs in the Zayle living room. I believe you'll have to get his permission before you do anything about the Meredith flat.”

“I see.” She drew in her breath thoughtfully.

“Just tell him everything you've told me,” I said encouragingly. “Especially the part about being secretly engaged.” That would give Rennolds some food for thought – enough to choke him, if we were lucky.

“
Tchk
!” She made an impatient exclamation with her tongue. “I haven't much time to spare. There's an important debate coming up – I must get back to the House. It will probably mean a division –
and
an all-night sitting.”

“Tell that to the inspector. He'll understand.” I smiled reassuringly to her as she went out the door.

Then I became aware that Gerry was signalling to me urgently. I, too, felt that a corridor conference was strongly indicated and nodded. We gave our MP time enough to clear the stairs and be out of our way, then wandered out of the waiting room with a vague indifference which probably fooled no one.

Certainly not Morgana Fane. She was watching us with a curious expression, and for a nasty moment, I thought she was going to follow us out and declare herself in on whatever we were doing. Fortunately, she had second thoughts – if she'd ever had the first thought – and we found ourselves alone in the corridor.

“Well,” I said, “wait until Rennolds hears the rest of the tales of the lovelorn. That ought to change his mind about Zayle.” I couldn't help gloating a bit. I'm as law-abiding as the next one, but I felt that Rennolds deserved any problems he got.

“Mm-hmm.” Gerry was still bemused, trying to follow the workings of a mind he was beginning to admire. “It's a pity we did our trading with the wrong partner. That Meredith was a genius. Do you see how perfectly he planned things? The Honourable Edytha's money, backing a political career handed to him on a platter by the Right Honourable MP, and with Adele in the background for a spot of luscious crumpet when he felt like a pastry.”

There was no mistaking it, Gerry's tone was openly envious.

“Do you realize Tyler Meredith was on the verge of pioneering new frontiers in bigamy?”

“He didn't get away with it,” I reminded Gerry, bringing him down to earth sharply.

“No, he didn't, did he?” He brightened slightly. “I guess I'd better stick to the love 'em and leave 'em routine. It has its drawbacks, but –”

“But it's healthier,” I finished for him.

“True, only too true.” He shook his head sadly. “Birds get very upset about little things. Each one likes to think she's the only one in the nest – let alone wearing the wedding ring. Whichever one of Meredith's birds found out about the other two –”

“The hot-tempered Adele.” I cast my vote promptly, unable to forget the way she had tried to push her husband into the path of the oncoming train. “That woman would do anything.”

“On impulse, yes,” Gerry said. “But I'm not so sure about long-distance planning. Remember, she has an alibi for the past week. She was with friends at the seaside.”

“Alibis can be staged,” I argued, “and any true friend would do a bit of lying in a good cause.”

“A good cause?” Gerry raised his eyebrows.

“If the friend was another woman – who also didn't approve of bigamy.”

“Only too true again,” Gerry admitted sadly. “The best of birds is likely to have a very wonky view of morality.”

“I suppose you can't really blame them,” I said. “They just see things differently from us.”

“Now my money,” Gerry said, “is on the Honourable Edytha. It's always those tall, thin, high-strung ones you've got to watch. They're overbred, or something, like horses. One minute they're perfectly all right, the next minute they're trying to knock your head off charging under a low branch, or trying to break your leg brushing you off against a fence. If I'd ever had a horse,” he added thoughtfully, “that showed as much white to its eye as the Honourable Edytha, I'd have shot it before it got a chance to do any damage. Some creatures you just can't trust.”