The Riddle at Gipsy's Mile (An Angela Marchmont Mystery 4) (9 page)

‘
No, you
’
re right,
’
said Jameson.
‘
Her clothes are recognizably English. I shall put the men onto tracing them, if possible, although I don
’
t suppose they
’
ll have much luck. This is all
the sort of stuff one can find in any cheap dress-shop in England.
’

‘
True enough,
’
said Willis.

‘
And have a look at the missing persons reports. We may find our woman on there. If not, we shall have to advertise in the newspapers. Someone must surely be m
issing a young, blonde woman in a blue coat. Young women tend to have friends. Somebody must know who she is.
’

‘
It
’
s a queer story,
’
said the sergeant.
‘
At first glance I
’
d
’
ve said it was straightforward
—
chap rows with his girl then bangs her on the head a
nd dumps her in a panic. We get three or four cases like that every year. But this is something different.
’

‘
Yes,
’
agreed Jameson.
‘
We
’
ll know more in the next few days, of course, once our medical man has made his report, but there
’
s no reason to suppose
the Littlechurch surgeon has made a mistake.
’

‘
Arsenic, wasn
’
t it?
’

‘
That
’
s what he seems to think.
’

Willis shook his head.

‘
That
’
s premeditation, that is. Strangling, now, or a blow to the head: either of those might have happened on the spur of the momen
t. But arsenic is a different matter.
’

‘
It certainly is,
’
said the inspector.
‘
And if somebody did poison her it makes things that much more complicated.
’

The sun was sinking low when the Gipsy
’
s Mile party returned home. This time Mrs. Marchmont tra
velled with Herbert Pilkington-Soames, since Cynthia wanted to go with Freddy
—
in order to pump him about what he and Angela had been talking about, Angela suspected.

Herbert was a stout, hearty man of forty-five whose lack of hair on his shining pate was m
ore than made up for by a luxuriant moustache. He both admired and was terrified of his wife, despite his size, and freely admitted that he did whatever she told him to.

‘
The woman
’
s a menace,
’
he said as they drove.
‘
Since she took up cards she
’
s been run
ning through money as though it were water. I don
’
t mind telling you that it
’
s been a close thing once or twice, and I have had to put my foot down. “
Cynthia,”
I said, “
if you really must gamble then why on earth can
’
t you do it with sixpences instead of
g
uineas? No,”
I said, “
this must stop.”
To her credit, she had the wit to see that we were plunging towards disaster, and so she promised to find a way of bringing some money in. That
’
s how she ended up doing this scribbling business at the
Clarion
. Of cour
se, it
’
s all a heap of nonsense
—
Bickerstaffe only took her on because she swore to him that she had the telephone-number of every aristocrat who had ever been caught with someone they shouldn
’
t be, and could get the low-down on all the latest scandals. I
t
hink he
’
s regretting it now, though
—
why, the woman can barely spell her own name, for heaven
’
s sake!
’

He paused to navigate around a difficult bend. Angela, who was enjoying his indiscretions immensely, given the badgering she had had to put up with from C
ynthia, said:

‘
Does it pay well, then?
’

‘
It depends on what she produces,
’
he replied.
‘
She might get anything from fourpence a word to ninepence, depending on the story. I rather think you
’
re ninepence, I
’
m afraid.
’

‘
I feared as much,
’
said Angela.
‘
It
’
s
a pity
—
if I were cheaper, I might be able to get out of it. In spite of appearances, I am not exactly keen on having my name in the newspapers.
’

‘
I can believe it,
’
Herbert assured her.
‘
You
’
re not the type to seek attention
—
why, anyone can see that. But t
hat won
’
t stop Cynthia. If I were you, I should probably tell her a pack of lies. I do that all the time. It makes life so much easier.
’

Angela laughed at his shameless confession.

‘
It had crossed my mind,
’
she admitted.

‘
I sometimes think things would be
easier if we left London,
’
he went on, returning to his original train of thought.
‘
Town is so expensive, and of course all her friends are there
—
that awful Nancy Beasley in particular. Do you know her?
’

‘
No.
’

‘
Ghastly old harpy,
’
he said.
‘
She
’
d sell her
grandmother to pay for one more night at the tables. Cynthia has never been the same since she fell into her company. If we lived down here, now, things would be so much quieter and there
’
d be fewer temptations.
’

‘
And you
’
d be able to see Miles and Marguer
ite much more often. And Gil.
’

‘
Yes, I should like that very much. I rather miss my pals,
’
he said.

Angela was curious.

‘
Isn
’
t Gil much younger than you and Miles? Doesn
’
t it ever seem like rather an odd friendship?
’

Herbert nodded.

‘
Yes, it
’
s true
—
I am th
e oldest of the three. I already had a wife and son when I was called up, while Miles wasn
’
t married and Gil was practically a boy. But war does funny things to people
—
it can drive them apart or it can bring them together, and in our case it did the latte
r
. I owe my life to Gil, and Miles was a good friend too. He bucked me up once or twice when I was in a funk
—
I don
’
t mind telling you that we were all terribly afraid at times. But it wasn
’
t all hard work. We had fun together too.
’

Angela smiled sympathetic
ally at Herbert
’
s sincerity. Despite his slightly crass exterior she found him rather likeable.

‘
Ah, yes,
’
she said.
‘
Your famous weekends in Paris.
’

Herbert shifted uncomfortably, but underneath his moustache his mouth twitched in a smile.

‘
I should like
to be young again,
’
he said.
‘
Youth lasts such a short time, and one is far too busy doing things to enjoy them
—
if you see what I mean.
’

‘
I think I do,
’
said Angela,
‘
But sometimes I think the memory of a thing is better than the thing itself: we forget th
e worst bits and hold on to the good bits.
’

‘
I wish I could forget the worst bits,
’
said Herbert gruffly.
‘
Here we are,
’
he said in a more cheerful tone as they arrived back at Gipsy
’
s Mile.
‘
Poor Gil. I
’
ll bet he wishes he could have left those two women
fighting over him in that draughty mausoleum of his, and come back with us. I wouldn
’
t change places with him for all the world, in spite of his money.
’

Angela was inclined to agree. The simple, eager Gilbert Blakeney had looked somewhat incongruous set ag
ainst the grand surroundings of the house that was his birthright and his destiny. Even Lucy, who had no business there yet, had looked far more at home in the place.

Miles
’
s car was standing in front of the house; presumably the Harrisons had already arri
ved back home. Angela wanted something from her room, so went upstairs to fetch it. As she returned downstairs she thought she saw a flash of orange and gold disappearing round a corner. In the hall she found William waiting respectfully for her, slightly
pink in the face.

‘
What is it?
’
she said.

‘
Mr. Turner sent a message to say that the Bentley has been fixed, ma
’
am. They
’
re going to bring it over tomorrow.
’

‘
Oh, good!
’
said Angela.
‘
That
’
s a relief, at any rate. We shan
’
t have to buy a new one after all.
’

‘
No, ma
’
am,
’
agreed William, although he looked slightly wistful. Angela laughed.

‘
Come now, we don
’
t want to waste money unnecessarily, do we?
’
she said.
‘
Don
’
t be so downcast! Perhaps we shall have a new one next year instead. Wasn
’
t it a Rolls-Royce y
ou had your eye on the other week?
’

‘
Why yes, it was, as a matter of fact,
’
said William, cheering up.

‘
Well, we shall see,
’
said Angela, and was about to move away when a thought struck her and she turned back to him.
‘
William,
’
she said, then stopped.

‘
Y
es, ma
’
am?
’

She moved a little closer in order to speak more quietly.

‘
Is everything quite all right?
’
she said. There was nothing in the words themselves, but her expression gave them meaning. William went pink again.

‘
Why, yes, thank you, ma
’
am,
’
he said.

Angela looked across to where she had seen the flash of orange.

‘
I think you know what I am referring to,
’
she said kindly.
‘
Naturally, I shouldn
’
t dream of interfering in your personal affairs, but you will let me know if there is anything you
’
d
like me to help with, won
’
t you? I won
’
t stand by if anybody is
—
bothering you in any way.
’

William had quite recovered his self-possession.

‘
Thank you, ma
’
am,
’
he said.
‘
I understand. Nobody is
—
bothering me.
’

Angela glanced at him sideways. They exchanged
a knowing look. She smiled and went off. Well, she had done her best. What William got up to now was his own affair.

She went and joined the party in the sitting-room. The atmosphere was a little frosty and the men were all looking wary and uncomfortable,
so she deduced that Marguerite and Cynthia had had one of their regular little blow-ups. These never amounted to more than a pointed remark or two, and the two ladies were invariably the best of friends again immediately afterwards.

‘
Darling, there you ar
e!
’
said Marguerite.
‘
What
did
you think of Lady Alice?
’

‘
She seemed pleasant enough,
’
replied Angela,
‘
although I see what you mean about her and Lucy. They do seem to clash, rather, don
’
t they?
’

‘
Oh, you simply can
’
t imagine!
’
said Marguerite.

‘
Are you q
uite certain that Lady Alice encouraged the engagement?
’
asked Angela.
‘
I can
’
t see it myself.
’

‘
Oh yes, there
’
s no doubt about it at all,
’
said Marguerite.
‘
All three of them swear it.
’

Angela said nothing but thought that Lady Alice must be a remarkable
character if she could encourage her son to marry a woman whom she herself strongly disliked, purely for the sake of carrying on the family name and assuring the future of their landed estate.

‘
Now, Angela,
’
said Cynthia, and Angela saw to her dismay that
she had taken a dainty little notebook and pencil from her bag.
‘
We
’
ve just time to do this before dinner. Shall we go into the parlour?
’