CHAPTER TWELVE

THE COFFEE WAS drunk and it was coffee which Albertine had insisted on making. She was surprising. Apparently a state of shock was no impediment to her. After sobbing and shaking and moaning and rather comically upbraiding Brenda Merryn she remembered the coffee and, without reference to Madame, went trembling to the kitchen to brew it. It was excellent, if not entirely the best coffee in Chelsea. Madame accepted a cup and drank it silently beside the Chippendale bureau-bookcase. Madame was saying very little. She watched the invaders with frigid eyes. She watched Albertine. Albertine went out of her way to avoid catching Madame’s eye. And so the excellent coffee was drunk in a curious and uneasy atmosphere.

Reynolds had gone to fetch Fazakerly but he had left the two policewomen with Gently. They accompanied him and the other three women up the stairs to the Fazakerly flat. The flat felt chilly. Stockbridge, probably, had decided to cut off the central heating, and though thin October sun slanted into the lounge it had small effect on the temperature.

Mrs Bannister shivered. ‘If we must come here I don’t see why we should freeze to death. Can’t we have some heat?’

‘If you wish.’

‘Albertine. Fetch a heater.’

Albertine hurried out and returned lugging a big Belling. She knew where the point was and carried the plug to it and the Belling glowed and creaked into life. Mrs Bannister took a chair and sat beside it, spreading her hands to the current of warm air. But she still seemed to feel the chill of the room and now and then gave another shiver.

Brenda Merryn had gone across to the settee. Her sharp eye noticed the stains. She glanced at Gently, who made no sign, and she gave a little shrug.

‘Poor Clytie.’

Mrs Bannister said fiercely: ‘I wish Miss Merryn would spare us her comments.’

‘Come off it Sybil,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘You’d better keep relaxed while you’re up here. George hasn’t brought us here for fun. He hopes this room is going to crack us. If you’ve any sense you’ll act curious and have a look at the settee.’

‘Thank you so much. But I’m not an actress. And perhaps you’re not a good one either.’

‘Miaow.’

‘I can guess about the settee.’

‘I couldn’t. And I find it oddly suggestive.’

Mrs Bannister lifted her head. ‘Is this woman working with you?’ she asked Gently. ‘I find her offensive. I don’t have to remain here and unless you put a curb on her I shall leave. I should have thought there was not much doubt of where she stood after her peculiar display this morning.’

‘Touché,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘First blood to me. And don’t forget your own standing has its points of interest.’

‘You are impertinent.’

‘I can’t help it. It’s your pose, Sybil. One has to bait you.’

‘Perhaps they will teach you different in Holloway.’

‘Yes. To me it wouldn’t come natural.’

The second policewoman smothered a giggle but unfortunately Mrs Bannister heard it. She sprang to her feet. She found Gently standing with his back to the door.

‘Sit down, Sybil,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘Doing the duchess isn’t good enough. It takes more than a repertory job to impress George. Sit down and think up some new insults.’

‘You coarse bitch.’

‘You charming parasite.’

‘You should be whipped.’

‘You should know.’

‘You are an envious and scheming and insolent person.’

‘Dear Sybil. You’ll shoot your bolt before we come to the big picture.’

Mrs Bannister swung round on Gently. ‘Superintendent, I insist on leaving. You have no right to keep me here and if you try I will sue you. Stand aside.’

‘You may go, Mrs Bannister.’

‘I certainly may. Let me through.’

‘But we shall have to fetch you again directly to identify a certain person for us.’

She halted, fronting him. ‘Oh. Who?’

‘I would sooner you told us that when you’ve seen the person.’

‘This is very mysterious. I suppose it isn’t an invention to keep me a prisoner in this room?’

Brenda Merryn chuckled. ‘I doubt it, Sybil. I think I can guess who George is bringing here. George is sharp. You’d better prepare yourself. He’s going to hit you, and it’s going to hurt.’

Mrs Bannister threw her a scorching look. ‘I repeat. Who is this person I am supposed to identify?’

‘A person connected with the case, Mrs Bannister.’

‘I wish to know more.’

‘I believe I hear them arriving.’

There was a sound of the outer door being unlocked and Albertine rose as though to attend to it. Gently motioned her to sit again. Mrs Bannister stood undecided and staring suspiciously. There came a tap on the lounge door. Reynolds entered, followed by Fazakerly. Then Sarah Johnson.

When Mrs Bannister saw her she gave a gasping cry and slithered to the floor in a faint.

‘You are Beryl Rogers?’

Sarah Johnson’s flattish face was pale and tight. She walked into the room and slowly across to the window and stood looking out with her back to them. The policewomen were attending to Mrs Bannister, who they had carried to the settee. She was groaning to herself, her eyelids flickering, her hand fluttering about her bosom. As still as Sarah Johnson stood John Fazakerly. His wide eyes were on her back.

‘Yes.’

‘My God!’

Fazakerly jerked and his eyes seemed to fade. In a taut, brittle voice she continued:

‘At least, I was until five years ago. Then I became Sarah Johnson. I’ve been Sarah Johnson ever since. It isn’t my name on the record. But it’s my name except to the family.’

‘Only you were involved in that incident with Mrs Fazakerly.’

‘Yes.’

‘There was no friend as you described.’

‘No. All invention.’

‘And you hid your true identity from John Fazakerly, knowing who he was.’

Her head nodded.

‘Can you add to that?’

‘Yes.’

Brenda Merryn said: ‘Don’t be a fool. It’s all right with me if you put your head in a noose, but there’s no need to make it so easy for George.’

‘You’re the woman who talked to me on Sunday,’ Sarah Johnson said, turning. ‘Yes, you followed me into the toilets and asked me for a light. And now you’re here. I’m beginning to see. Who are you – a policewoman in plain clothes?’

Fazakerly laughed harshly. ‘That might be a description, but Brenda didn’t make her report to the police.’

‘Who is she, Johnny?’

‘She’s Clytie’s step-sister.’

‘Clytie’s . . . oh.’

‘Has the penny dropped?’ He dug his hands savagely in his pockets. ‘She had the advantage of me,’ he said. ‘She knew what Beryl Rogers looked like. I just knew she was a bint of Sybil’s.’

‘That’s not fair, Johnny!’

‘It’s fair and it’s true – and just about the sort of bum’s luck I’d have. You were special. You were my one woman. For you I went overboard. Sybil’s bint.’

‘Oh, you’re so unfair! I love you, Johnny.’

‘You hated Clytie is more like it. I was some luck, a perfect innocent. I’d never have known but for Brenda.’

‘I love you. Believe it.’

‘I’d never have known. I’d have gone on living in my world of dreams. I’d have believed ever after I’d found the one exception among women, the one who saved all the rest, who redeemed the general rottenness. And Brenda’s saved me from that anyway. There’s no exception. Women are crap.’

‘Thank you so much, Siggy,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘I’d hate to leave you with romantic illusions.’

‘All I care about now,’ Fazakerly said, ‘is who is responsible for this bloody mess. I thought it was Brenda till a moment ago and it fits Brenda best. But Sybil’s bint would go after that necklace. And Sybil’s bint was here on Monday.’

‘Johnny, you can’t think—’

‘The necklace!’ he jeered. ‘The necklace you wanted to know so much about. It vanished on Monday, so I’m told, and I’m sure you’d think stealing it a fine revenge. But you should have hidden it or thrown it in the Thames. Because Monsieur has found it. And it probably has prints on it.’

‘Does it have prints on it?’ Brenda Merryn asked.

Gently met her glance stonily.

‘Of course it does,’ Fazakerly said. ‘It’ll have prints all over it. The prints of the thief. Of the killer.’

‘Which would let you out, would it?’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘I ask purely for information.’

‘Yes it would let me out.’

‘Isn’t that splendid. A pity everyone knows jewellery doesn’t take finger-prints.’

Sarah Johnson said: ‘Johnny, you’re angry. This isn’t really you speaking at all. You’re accusing me of this because I deceived you and not because you believe I’m guilty. And it’s terribly unfair. I’ve been trying to protect you. I love you sincerely whatever you think. I’m not the one who’s to blame for all this, I’m the one who’s suffering for it.’

‘How she talks!’ Fazakerly snarled. ‘A woman’s answer isn’t far to seek. I was your cat’s-paw, Sybil’s bint: try to talk that off the record.’

‘Johnny, I swear I was sincere!’

‘Yes, in the manner of women – for yourself. But you were here on Monday, that’s fact, and you didn’t tell me about it later.’

‘I didn’t have a chance, Johnny. You did all the talking. And I’d only been up to see an editor.’

‘Who else would pinch the necklace?’

‘Johnny, you’re angry. I swear this is all in your imagination!’

Reynolds said aside to Gently: ‘Johnson places Merryn for us as spying on her on Sunday. The maid places her here on Monday. Then the way she’s behaved. It keeps adding up.’

‘What about the necklace.’

‘Why shouldn’t she have pinched it?’

‘Too clever.’

‘I don’t know. Killing people is emotional. You wouldn’t be clever all the time.’

‘The killer and the thief may be two people.’

‘Not likely, Chief. Too improbable.’

‘The necklace bothers me. So does the row. We may have been letting the row steal the show. Perhaps the motive is elsewhere. Maybe that’s what’s so puzzling.’

A cry from Mrs Bannister interrupted them. She had come to to find herself on the settee. The first thing her eyes had rested on had been the stains and she was squirming away from them with an expression of horror.

‘You did this deliberately, Superintendent!’

She pushed the policewomen aside and got up from the settee. Indignation brought colour surging back into her cheeks. She quivered, and her dark eyes flashed.

‘It was a low trick. You put me there deliberately to see what effect it would have on my nerves. You have descended to this. You are so incompetent you have sunk to trying to scare confessions out of people. But it won’t work, Superintendent. All this pantomime is to no purpose. You are fundamentally a very stupid man. You had better have left things to Inspector Reynolds.’

Brenda Merryn clapped. ‘Isn’t she fabulous? And she knits barbed wire and chews nails.’

‘Belt up, Sybil,’ Fazakerly said. ‘You cackle around like a wet hen.’

Mrs Bannister ignored them. Now she’d seen Sarah Johnson standing rigidly by the window. Her indignation leaked from her and her eyes hooded and softened.

‘Beryl!’ she exclaimed thrillingly.

‘Don’t talk to me,’ Sarah Johnson said.

‘Beryl, look at me. It’s been so long.’

‘I want nothing to do with you, Mrs Bannister.’

‘Beryl, I have a debt. I owe you so much. Now I’ve found you I want to pay it.’

‘Mrs Bannister—’

‘Sybil.’

‘All I want is to forget you. And the shame I feel. Please don’t say any more.’

‘Ah, you haven’t forgiven me,’ Mrs Bannister said, edging closer to the window. ‘I’ve suffered too, Beryl, so much, you’ll never know the pain I’ve endured because of you. I wronged you terribly. Yes, I know it. I should have stood by you come what may. It would have been best. You can never understand what a moment’s weakness cost me.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘You are bitter, Beryl. Perhaps I don’t deserve the right to repay. But I shall repay, yes, two for one, every bitter moment I’ve caused you. Come back to me, Beryl. Live with me again. You shall have a flat here if you want it. I’ll divide my foolish money with you and we’ll live together like two queens. Give me that happiness. To repay. I’ve suffered enough to deserve it.’

‘Are you listening carefully?’ Fazakerly said. ‘It’s a fair offer, Sybil’s bint. There’s money in it. Sybil’s loaded. You’ll scarcely get a higher bid.’

‘Johnny. Please don’t talk like that.’

‘Sorry. Of course you must save your face.’

‘You’re brutal, Johnny.’

‘I’m punch-drunk. But Sybil’s nice. Love Sybil.’

Sarah Johnson closed her eyes and tears brimmed over and down her cheeks. She ran to the far end of the lounge and threw herself in a chair.

‘Touching,’ Fazakerly said. ‘So touching. You press the button, you get the response. To her, Sybil.’

Mrs Bannister stalked up to him. For a moment it seemed she would strike him a blow. But immediately his hands shaped a boxing defence and he balanced himself on his toes. She turned malignantly to Reynolds.

‘You want to know who killed Clytemnestra! It’s simple. You need only know one fact and that is that he and his sister-in-law are conspirators. That’s the secret. They are in it together. When you know that, you know all.’

‘Ha, ha,’ Fazakerly said.

‘Oh, of course he’ll laugh,’ Mrs Bannister said. ‘They have kept it concealed with very great care, but they could not conceal it from me. She’s been his woman all along. She’s always been envious of Clytemnestra. The difficulty was how to replace her without saying goodbye to her money. And this was the plot. She was to be killed apparently in a row over poor Beryl, but with so many doubtful circumstances that Siggy would get off. He had this relative in the Yard, please remember, to come interfering on his behalf.’

‘Sybil, you’re slipping,’ Fazakerly said. ‘I used to admire your turn for fiction.’

Reynolds gave Gently an embarrassed look. ‘Have you any evidence of this, Mrs Bannister?’ he asked.

‘Plenty of evidence. You heard Beryl say how Merryn went to check her identity. That could only be to tell Clytemnestra to put Clytemnestra into a rage.’

‘But did it matter if she were really Beryl Rogers? For the purpose of telling Mrs Fazakerly?’

‘Check,’ Fazakerly said. ‘Check. Take your time, Sybil. You’re punching air.’

‘It did matter! It gave verisimilitude. It was a truth and not a lie. Clytemnestra could check it if she wanted: her husband was really pursuing Beryl.’

Reynolds looked doubtful. ‘It doesn’t seem to prove anything, Mrs Bannister.’

‘Sybil,’ Brenda Merryn said, ‘you’ve had a shock. You’re not your old ingenious self.’

Mrs Bannister scythed her with a glance. ‘This woman is a psychopathic liar,’ she said. ‘She is unhinged, as her behaviour has shown, and she has delusions to match her effrontery. Believe nothing she says without proof. She will doubtless deny having been here on Monday.’

‘That’s my Sybil,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘And I could deny it if I wanted.’

‘You were seen.’ The dark eyes flickered. ‘Deny it if you will. You won’t be believed.’

‘Oh, but I wasn’t seen.’

Mrs Bannister nodded. ‘Didn’t I tell you? A compulsive liar. You have only to allege against her the most obvious of truths and she will start up with a denial.’

‘You didn’t see me here, Sybil.’

‘I have never claimed to. But you were seen.’

‘Yet you are the only person who could have seen me.’

‘Oh no. That is your blunder.’

‘Who did see me then?’

‘Albertine.’

Brenda Merryn laughed. ‘It was her day off. She wouldn’t have been within a mile of the place. You’re too handy at finding her jobs, Sybil.’

‘Yes,’ Mrs Bannister said, ‘that may be, Merryn. But on Monday afternoon she came back here. You were unlucky, weren’t you? It was very unlikely. But back here she came. And she saw you.’

‘Oh Mademoiselle, I am sorry!’ Albertine burst out. ‘I did not mean any harm to you. It is to help Mr Johnny, this understand. I am sorry, so sorry.’

Brenda Merryn gazed at her. For once she seemed nonplussed. She turned to catch Gently’s eye.

‘George,’ she said. ‘There’s something funny about this and I’m not certain what it is.’

‘Mademoiselle, you were here,’ Albertine wailed.

‘Yes. But where was it you saw me?’

‘It is when I am on the landing downstairs, Mademoiselle. I see you through the doors, going up.’

‘You were on the landing outside Madame’s flat.’

‘Yes, Mademoiselle. It is true.’

Brenda Merryn shook her head. ‘That’s just the point. It isn’t true. You didn’t see me.’

‘She’s lying, of course,’ Mrs Bannister sneered. ‘Why wouldn’t she lie in this situation? It is her word against Albertine’s; but I assure you Albertine is commonly truthful.’

‘Yes, but I can prove it,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘Or rather, you can prove it for me, Sybil. Because though you didn’t see me on Monday I saw you. I was careful to check I wasn’t seen from your landing.’

‘You would not have seen me on the landing.’

Brenda Merryn nodded. ‘And what you were doing.’

‘Well?’

‘You were feeding crumbs from the table to the goldfish in the illuminated basin. And you were alone.’

Mrs Bannister’s eyes flicked wider. ‘I . . . yes, I did feed the goldfish.’

‘Alone.’

‘Yes. I was alone.’

‘Which is what is so funny,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘Albertine didn’t see me. You didn’t see me. I’ll take my oath nobody else saw me. Yet Albertine knew I was here.

‘Albertine . . .’

Mrs Bannister turned sharply. Albertine’s hand had flown to her mouth. The staring look she’d had on the ledge had come again into her eyes.

‘But if she didn’t see me, and still knew, then she must have heard me,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘And she couldn’t have heard me from below, so she must have been up here. Mustn’t she?’

Albertine whimpered. It was the only sound to be heard in the lounge which, in spite of the labouring Belling, seemed of a sudden extra chilly. Everyone looked at her. She stood shaking, her hand still near her mouth, her eyes rolling like an idiot’s, her bosom heaving silently. She made no effort to say anything. The little whimper was all. She stood defenceless and as it were naked, under the weight of their eyes. Then Mrs Bannister snapped something in French. And Albertine began blurting her head off.

She was using French, and it was much too fast and idiomatic for Gently to follow. She had fallen on her knees before Mrs Bannister and was passionately wringing her hands as the words poured from her. Mrs Bannister apparently understood. She interposed short stabbing questions. She was very pale. At one moment she closed her eyes as though in pain.

Gently looked at Reynolds, who was staring furiously, but he only shook his head. Fazakerly however was straining forward and seemed to be gathering a little of what was said. He was frowning and clenching and unclenching his fists. At last he flung himself on the settee.

‘The poor bloody bitch!’ he exclaimed. ‘No, no, you can’t send the poor whore up for that.’

‘For what?’ Gently said.

‘Sybil’ll tell you. Oh hell. It breaks your heart.’

He sat punching his fists together and scowling at the carpet.

Albertine finished. She sank on the floor, moaning and giving little shudders. Mrs Bannister, her face white, found a chair and sat. She looked pitifully at Gently.

‘Did you understand?’ she asked.

‘No.’

‘I suppose I must tell you. Though it isn’t very pretty.’

‘I understood,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘If you like I’ll tell him, Sybil.’

Mrs Bannister looked at Brenda Merryn. Her hand lifted and fell.

‘I think I’ve got it right,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘Albertine had a weakness for jewellery, isn’t that so?’

Mrs Bannister nodded. ‘She sometimes borrows it. She doesn’t steal it, it always comes back.’

‘She knew Clytie was lunching with you on Monday and that Clytie never locked her door, so she made an excuse to her friend and slipped back to borrow some ear-rings for a dance they were going to. Then she saw the necklace and thought she’d have that. But Clytie came back and she had to hide. She had to stay there while I was with Clytie and until after the row, when Siggy had left. Then she tried to slip out and Clytie caught her. Clytie knew about Albertine’s weakness. She made Albertine turn out her bag and there were the necklace and the ear-rings. She threatened Albertine; either Albertine did what she wanted, or Clytie would have her arrested. She forced Albertine down on the settee with her. Albertine saw the pin. She got it. She hit Clytie.’

‘I couldn’t stand her dirty tricks,’ Albertine wailed. ‘I am decent, Monsieur. I pulled down the little silver rolling-pin and I made her a good woman.’

Brenda Merryn nodded. ‘That’s about it. She made Clytie a good woman.’

Half-an-hour later they had everything: the ear-rings, also recovered from the dustbin; a dress, blood-spotted on the front and sleeves; and a pair of blood-spotted gloves. The dress and gloves were found stuffed into a shoe-box and hidden behind Albertine’s wardrobe. She had intended putting them in the furnace downstairs but had been prevented by the presence of Dobson. The ear-rings were paste and of small value. Because they were wrapped in tissue Dobson had missed them.

‘What’ll happen to her?’ Fazakerly asked Gently, as they watched Albertine being taken to the lift.

Gently shrugged massively. ‘Probably not much. Nobody’ll want to throw the book at her.’

‘Would it help if I briefed a top counsel.’

‘It might help you feel better. It’s not necessary.’

‘You’re a cynical so-and-so, Monsieur.’

‘Just answering a question,’ Gently grunted.

Fazakerly went. Sarah Johnson went after him, though he pretended not to notice her. Mrs Bannister, still looking ghostlike, retired into her flat and bolted the door. Brenda Merryn was left. She came up to Gently. They were on the landing outside the Bannister flat. She stood in front of him, looking up, her face slack, her eyes weary.

She gave a little sigh. ‘All over, George.’

Gently didn’t say anything. Her face was ugly with blotched make-up and there was grime on her chin.

‘Is it always like this at the end – just feeling empty and dragged to death?’

‘Is that how you feel?’

‘Don’t you? As though none of it mattered a damn anyway.’ She let her head lean to one side. ‘But perhaps it’s different for you,’ she said. ‘You see it professionally. It’s a job done. You don’t let your feelings get involved with it. You’re like a surgeon who amputates then washes his hands and goes to tea.’

‘Do you know how a surgeon feels?’ Gently said.

‘No George. Only how I feel. Empty, hopeless and lost. Ready to get on the ledge again. Because that wasn’t entirely a fake George, I don’t have a lot to keep me here. I didn’t before, and I’ve less now, and I’ll be forty next year. Clytie’s gone. Siggy. Sybil. And here’s the surgeon removing his gloves.’

Her eyes filmed and her mouth trembled. Her blotchy face swam close to his. Then the sharp sound of a slap rang out and she stumbled backwards, holding her cheek.

‘You devil! What was that for?’

Gently smiled at her. ‘Surgery.’

‘My God, you’re brutal!’

‘Did you say your car was here? We left mine at the station.’

They went down together in the lift. Reynolds had drawn off the reporters in his departing. Bland Street was empty again; nothing of the tumult remained except a coil of rope lying by the steps.

Brenda Merryn unlocked the 1100 and they climbed in. Gently opened the glove-box. It contained no letter. Brenda Merryn looked straight ahead and started the engine and waited.

‘Where to?’

‘Somewhere quiet for lunch.’

She trilled the engine once or twice.

‘And after that?’

‘I work for a living. And you’ll make your apologies and take the evening surgery.’

‘And after that?’

‘When do you finish?’

‘This is Friday. Say seven.’

‘I’ll pick you up for a bite in town. Will that do?’

She sighed. ‘Perhaps.’