Quest for Alexis (31 page)

“I don’t mind, Brett—if it helps.”

And so once again, right from the beginning to the
end. To the final moment when Brett, after guiding his
father back to a secure position, had come climbing
over the rooftops to me, ripping out tiles to give him
footholds on the timber framework beneath.

He held me for a moment, murmuring reassurances.
Then slowly we made our way back along the gully
and through the skylight into the house.

“Brett, what was it made you turn back home?” I
asked him breathlessly. “However did you guess?”

“Leave it now, Gail. I’ll explain later.”

Freda Aiken and Rudi were both dead. Killed in
stantly, just as Madeleine had been.

“Rudi did it to save my life, Brett,” I said with an
aching sadness. “He didn’t have to—if he’d let Freda
kill me, nobody would have known for sure how it
happened. Your father couldn’t see.”

“Perhaps,” said Brett quietly, “the poor devil knew
he’d reached the end of the road and was trying to
square the account. Besides, Rudi was in love with you.
I’ve always known that.”

Again I asked Brett what had made him turn around and come back to Deer’s Leap.

“Something was niggling at the back of my mind—
all the time I was driving. I knew there was some in
consistency somewhere. And then it suddenly hit me.
Do you remember Rudi telling us that when Belle first
came to work here, back in April, he was bogged
down with the indexing of Alexis’s book?”

“Yes, but what ... ?”

“He was lying, Gail. He was trying to cover up for
not being able to give us the details about Belle, and in
doing so he said too much. I suddenly remembered a
conversation I’d had with Alexis one time. He was
talking about Rudi, praising him to the skies, and he mentioned how Rudi had even given up his holiday in
order to do the indexing. His holiday in
August.
That
was enough for me. I knew then that Rudi was delib
erately concealing something, that somehow or other
he was involved in all this. At once I turned the car
around and headed back to Deer’s Leap. Even so, I’d still not have been in time if Rudi hadn’t ...”

* * * *

In the morning Alexis’s body was raised by divers
from the bottom of the lake. Brett and I stood watch
ing silently from the bank. When we returned to the
house, Elspeth had left, which was a great relief to me.
Brett explained that she had gone back to do some
work on the film, and that he wanted to drive me to
London next afternoon to see a run-through.

“Of course, there will have to be some final editing and polishing,” he said, “but I’ve decided, after all, to
show it in an unfinished state—without any additional
material except the commentary. Everyone will under
stand just why the film was never finished—because
Alexis Karel was murdered in a Communist plot to discredit his name.”

In the private projection suite at the TV studios a
small group was gathered. Elspeth was there with the
rest of Brett’s team, and a few other people I hadn’t
met before.

It was a deeply moving experience to see my uncle
on the screen against the familiar background of Deer’s Leap, to hear again his vibrant, living voice. Madeleine appeared, too, looking frailly beautiful, and their devo
tion to one another came across unmistakably. The
final sequence of the film showed Alexis at his desk in the Oak Room, reminiscing about his homeland. There
was no bitterness in his words, and his last message
was one of optimism and hope.

When it was over, I felt in no mood to stay around
and chat. Brett understood. We left the studio at once,
and he took me up in the lift to the roof of the build
ing, where we stood leaning against the balustrade, staring out across the hazy expanse of London on a
winter afternoon.

“It was a wonderful film,” I said at length, my voice still tight with emotion. “A wonderful tribute to Alexis.
Thank you, Brett.”

He nodded. “I’m glad you liked it.” There was si
lence again, then Brett went on, “Gail, I ... I want to
explain about Elspeth and me.”

“I know about Elspeth and you,” I said bleakly.

“But you don’t, darling. You never have under
stood. That night, the night you phoned me at the hotel
in Manchester and she answered—it wasn’t what you thought. Elspeth was in my room for no other reason
than to discuss the film we were working on.”

“Was she?” I heard myself saying. “I wonder if
Elspeth would agree with that.”

Brett caught his breath impatiently. “Gail, I know
this isn’t the moment to be rough with you, but will you
please accept once and for all that it’s you I care about. Just you. And now, for God’s sake, let’s forget about Elspeth.”

“I’ll try, Brett,” I murmured. And suddenly it struck me that it wasn’t going to take all that much effort to
forget her. I hadn’t anything to fear now from Elspeth
Vane. Perhaps I never had.

Copyright © 1973 by Nancy Buckingham

Originally published by Dell

Electronically published in 2013 by Belgrave House

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.