Gently with the Ladies (19 page)

Gently grunted and looked at Reynolds without seeming to see him.

Mrs Bannister had abandoned the lounge but Albertine sat sniffing in a corner. Every so often she jumped up and ran to poke her head through the french windows. Then she came back to sob afresh; and each time Reynolds frowned at her.

‘I suppose she’s no good to us?’ he murmured.

‘Albertine?’

She heard her name. In a moment she was beside them and tearfully clutching Gently’s sleeve.

‘Oh Monsieur . . . let me help!’

‘What can you do, Albertine?’

‘I can talk to her, Monsieur, I can plead with her. Oh please, please let me do this.’

Gently looked at Reynolds. ‘How is Fairley doing?’

Reynolds shrugged. ‘She’s doing all right. But I can’t hear her getting any results, and she’s been at it now ten minutes.’

‘Monsieur, please – please!’ Albertine said.

‘No harm in trying her,’ Reynolds said.

Gently stared at Albertine for a space. Then he nodded. ‘Right,’ he said.

Policewoman Fairley was withdrawn and Albertine ran to take her place. Her first passionate appeals were so broken with sobbing that they were barely comprehensible. Policewoman Fairley had come in frowning, and for a while she listened carefully. Then she said to Reynolds:

‘I’m not certain, sir, that Merryn isn’t putting on an act.

‘Doing what?’ Reynolds gaped.

‘You know I’ve had some experience, sir. And the way Merryn is behaving suggests to me she isn’t serious.’

She gave Gently a little look.

‘It’s this way, sir,’ she said. ‘If they really mean it they want to talk to you about the rough deal they’ve had. They want people to know about that. They want to take it out of someone in pity. And Merryn just stands there smiling a bit and lapping up what you say to her.’

‘But hell – look where she’s standing!’ Reynolds said.

‘That doesn’t mean very much, sir,’ Fairley said. ‘I know it would do for you or me, but some people have a head for heights. My boyfriend has. He’d go out there. And there are lots of window-cleaners who would.’

‘You’re saying she’s doing all this for a kick?’

‘I don’t know why she’s doing it, sir. I imagine she wants to impress someone. But I don’t know all the circumstances.’

‘She wants to impress someone,’ Reynolds echoed. ‘Well, she’s doing a nice job with me.’

‘And if she doesn’t succeed in impressing them?’ Gently said.

Fairley looked aslant. ‘I don’t think she’ll jump.’

They were silent. Albertine was telling Brenda Merryn that she, Albertine, alone was to blame. The crowd below was making less noise, perhaps intrigued by Albertine’s colourful oratory. Mademoiselle must come in, Albertine was saying. It was a big mistake. Monsieur knew. She would be sorry, that Mademoiselle, if anything happened she would be sorry.

Reynolds gave a grunt of disgust. ‘So how’s it going to end?’ he demanded. ‘Is she just going to have her fling, then walk in here with a beautiful smile?’

‘Something like that, sir,’ Fairley said. ‘When she gets tired or hungry.’

‘And we still have to make it a big production.’

‘I’m afraid so, sir. In case she’s serious.’

Gently raised his hand. ‘Listen.’

Albertine had stopped talking and the crowd had gone quiet. All one could hear now was a scuffling sound and a series of frightened whines. Then there was a wail of terror from Albertine and suddenly Brenda Merryn’s voice was shouting and a shuddering sigh came from the crowd and Albertine was screaming.

‘You French imbecile,’ they heard Brenda Merryn shouting, ‘you haven’t the head for it. Get back on the veranda!’

They ran out. Albertine was on the ledge and had already advanced some steps along it. But she was almost petrified by her situation and was screaming like a terrified animal. She was shrinking against the wall and scrabbling at it while gingerly moving her feet, and with every step she screamed piercingly and jerked in a perilous manner. Yet she didn’t stop. By an act of will she was driving herself along the ledge. She couldn’t prevent her fear bursting nakedly from her, but she never faltered in her intention.

‘Some of you – grab her!’ Brenda Merryn cried. ‘Can’t you see she’s going to fall? She’s got no head, she’s stark raving. She’ll have us both off if she gets here.’

‘Back off to the window,’ Gently called.

‘Damn you, I won’t. I’m here to stay.’

‘If she has to turn she’ll probably fall.’

‘Then one of you big brave men come after her.’

‘Mademoiselle,’ Albertine screamed. ‘Mademoiselle! Come in now. Oh come in now!’

She was trembling and wobbling at the knees. But still she kept going forward.

Brenda Merryn swore. She looked towards the window, from which the head of a constable projected, then at the screaming, shuffling figure, which seemed about to collapse at any second. Her lips compressed. She began to move, quite coolly, towards Albertine, her hands, one advanced, one trailing, sliding lightly over the facing. Within a yard of her she stopped.

‘All right. This is far enough, Albertine.’

‘Mademoiselle . . . you are coming in!’

‘Yes. Stop there. Don’t look down.’

‘But you must come in!’

‘Albertine. Do exactly as I say. Don’t try to grab me and don’t look down. Just look at me and rest a little.’

Then she smiled and kept smiling. And after a moment Albertine stopped screaming. The screams became a subdued wailing, like the keening of a child. Albertine clung with all her might, her nails edging at the cement, but she didn’t scream, and her hysterical breathing began to grow more regular.

‘Now Albertine, listen closely. You see I’m not frightened, Albertine?’

‘Mademoiselle—’

‘I’m not frightened because I don’t keep looking down. I’m standing on a ledge and it’s quite safe and I know it’s safe and I don’t think about it. In fact it’s rather grand up here. There’s a fine feeling of lots of space. Don’t you feel it too?’

‘Yes, Mademoiselle, but—’

‘Now we’re going back to the veranda. I’ll tell you how. Look at the wall, then turn your feet. First the right foot, then the left.’

‘I do not . . . cannot . . .’

‘Look at the wall. Let your feet take care of themselves. Are you ready?’

‘Mademoiselle.’

‘Now. Right foot . . . left foot.’

And Albertine turned. Quite easily. She faced the veranda, her eyes rolling. She stood, mouth open, fingers clutching, waiting to hear the next instruction.

‘Don’t press with your hands, Albertine. Don’t try to look at your feet. Look at Monsieur George on the veranda. Now shuffle along till you reach him.’

Albertine shuffled. In strict obedience she kept her eyes firmly on Gently, and though he wanted to glance over her shoulder at Brenda Merryn he dared not lose that fixed glare. She came on steadily. Her wild expression had a ghastly abstraction in it. She no longer trembled but seemed to function mechanically with her terrified mind at a distance.

‘Say something to Albertine, George,’ Brenda Merryn said.

‘Albertine,’ Gently said. ‘We could all use a cup of coffee.’

‘I know I could,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘A cup of strong French coffee, Albertine. The way you make it, hot and strong. I’m longing for a cup of your coffee.’

‘Is she good at coffee,’ Gently said.

‘You bet she is,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘If you haven’t tasted Albertine’s coffee you don’t know what coffee tastes like yet.’

‘I’m looking forward to it Albertine,’ Gently said. ‘I’ve a sudden thirst for some good coffee.’

‘She makes the best coffee in Chelsea,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘And she’ll rustle it up for you in five minutes.’

Albertine’s face made a frantic smile to which the eyes did not contribute. Her head was tilting further and further back as though in an effort to prevent her eyes slipping downwards. The gap decreased. It was just at the end she nearly came to disaster. She reached for Gently’s hand too soon, missed it and rocked for a second, fingers weaving.

‘There,’ Brenda Merryn said, ‘there. You two will never be sweethearts.’

And Albertine made the last step and was hauled over the iron railings of the veranda.

She collapsed in the arms of a policewoman and was half-led, half-carried inside. Below, the silence of the crowd erupted strangely into a gust of roaring, clapping and cheering. Brenda Merryn remained short of the veranda. Her hazel eyes faced Gently’s. She deliberately looked down at the scene beneath her, waved to the crowd, then looked back at Gently.

‘So you do have a head for it,’ Gently said.

Brenda Merryn’s chin lifted and she made a rude noise.

‘It’s a useful gift.’

‘Go to hell, George. And stand back from that railing. Or I’ll go down the short way.’

She swung herself into the veranda and prepared to stride past him. He caught her wrist.

‘Wait,’ he said. ‘If you go down there the press’ll murder you. And I want you here.’

‘You want me,’ she said. ‘That makes a change at all events. So I’d better stay.’

She snatched her wrist away and marched through the french windows.

Reynolds touched Gently’s elbow. ‘Chief, I’m in a daze,’ he said. ‘Ten minutes ago I’d have pinched Merryn. Now I’m foxed again. Give me a lead.’

Gently hunched. ‘You can pick up Fazakerly for a start.’

‘Fazakerly?’

‘Have him brought here. And Sarah Johnson, when she arrives. I want them all. We’re going upstairs. We’re going to do some hard talking. We’re going to show Sarah Johnson to Mrs Bannister. We’re going to beat their heads together.’

‘You think they’ll unclam?’

‘I think maybe. Something should come out in the wash.’

‘Right Chief. I’ll fix it.’

‘And something else.’

‘What?’

‘That coffee.’

T
HE 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.’