Gently with the Ladies (20 page)

‘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.