Death in Zanzibar (31 page)

Dany got up and went over to the window, and stood with her back to the room, tugging nervously at the edge of the curtain and staring blindly out at the garden. Her first feeling of panic had subsided, and now she was only conscious of a lessening of tension and a certain degree of relief. Being Miss Kitchell was a strain, and it was going to be very restful to be Dany Ashton again, and to stop pretending — and being frightened. But she wished that Lorraine were here. Or Tyson, or Lash. Someone to advise her as to what she should say and how much she could say.

Had everyone seen through her? Had they all guessed? Not the passport officials at all events! and they were the only ones who really mattered — except for Larry Dowling, who must not guess.

She said: ‘Has Mrs Gordon told everyone?'

‘About Ada? Oh, I don't think so. She may have whispered something into Eduardo's lovely brown ear, but he won't be in the least interested; and I'm quite
sure
she wouldn't tell anyone else. Not Gussie anyway. And
certainly
not our intrusive Mr Dowling.'

Dany turned quickly. ‘Why do you say that? Are you sure?'

‘That she wouldn't have twittered to Larry? But my dear, of course not! the man writes for the newspapers, and if he got his predatory little pen on to this, Tyson and your lovely Mum would be distinctly testy, and Amalfi wouldn't like being shown the door at all. You're quite,
quite
safe there. At least, for the time being. I suppose it's all bound to come out sometime or other, but, with any luck, after our scribbling little friend has got his interview — and enough material to libel the lot of us — and left.'

The thought of Mr Larry Dowling appeared to divert Nigel's interest into other channels, for he frowned and said: ‘I simply cannot understand what Tyson is playing at. Why doesn't he give the man an interview and a basin full of facts, and send him off? Why ask him to the house and keep him hanging about? — putting him off, and putting him off. Really,
very
vexing. I wish you'd tell me what he's up to. I suppose you know?'

‘I don't know anything about Mr Dowling,' said Dany hastily, evading the question.

‘And how much do you know about Mr Holden, I wonder?' said Nigel, and gave a malicious, knowing little giggle. His face was both mocking and sly, and Dany said hotly: ‘What do you mean?'

Nigel looked at her with his head on one side like some large, sleek, wary bird — a secretary bird. Then he put a finger to his lips and rose swiftly and silently and went quickly and very quietly to the door that led into the hall, and jerked it open.

The whole manoeuvre bore such an exaggerated air of secrecy and stealth that Dany quite expected to see a crouching figure disclosed, kneeling with its ear to the keyhole. But the hall was empty, and having satisfied himself that there was no one there or in the courtyard, Nigel returned to his chair looking slightly self-conscious.

‘Forgive the amateur theatricals, but I would
so
much prefer not to be overheard. I take it that you don't really know much about the merry Mr Holden? apart from the usual things — the fact that he was head over heels about the bewitching Amalfi, and got pipped at the post by Eduardo (there ought to be a law against these Latins, don't you agree?). But otherwise, has he spilled the beans? Are you, in the distressing jargon of the age, “hep”?'

Dany said uncertainly: ‘I don't know what you mean.'

‘Don't you? Hasn't it ever struck you that there is something a little — odd about Lash Holden?'

‘No. Why “odd”?'

‘Well, “peculiar” if you prefer the word. And don't start jumping down my throat, I beg! As you see, I have been the
soul
of tact, and refrained from probing into
why
you feel it necessary to masquerade as his secretary. But hasn't it ever struck you as odd how
very
conveniently he always turns up at just exactly the right moment? Just like one of those
painfully
competent G-men. Or would it be more accurate to say, like some really expert card-sharp at work? It all looks
so
casual and simple; “Hey presto! — and here's the Ace of Spades; now how on
earth
did it turn up there?
What
an astounding piece of luck!” But is it?'

Dany came back to her chair, but she did not sit down: she held on to the back of it and stared at Nigel, white-faced:

‘What are you trying to say?'

‘Nothing, darling. I'm merely trying to
hint.
So much safer I always think, don't you? You see, Lashmer Holden, Senior, is a very old friend of Tyson's — an intimate friend, one might say. There isn't anything about Tyson or his house or his affairs that he doesn't know, and he also has the reputation of being one of those forthright characters whose motto is “Never Give a Sucker an Even Break”.'

He saw Dany start, and said: ‘Why the surprise? What have I said?'

‘N-nothing,' stammered Dany. ‘It was just that
____
What were you saying about Lash's father?'

‘Only that Pop Holden is what is technically termed a tough egg. He sticks at nothing and he has of late been edging on to queer street.'

‘On to
____
?'

‘Queer Street, darling. Don't be all
ingénue.
I believe he only just squeezed out of being indicted before some committee on a charge of un-American activities. Toying with the Commies. Nothing was ever
proved
you know, so of course one is being
dangerously
libellous even to whisper it. But everyone knew; and I believe it cost him simply thousands of dollars in bribes and what-have-you to keep it out of the courts. We were over there just when it was boiling up, and I believe he tried to borrow off Tyson.
Most
embarrassing. That was why one couldn't help wondering if Tyson hadn't rather naughtily refused to play, and so Junior decided to put the screw on. Very filial, if he did.'

Dany frowned and looked bewildered: ‘I really don't know what you're talking about, Nigel, and I think you'd better stop.'

‘Blackmail, darling,' explained Nigel, ignoring the request. ‘Is that his little game? Has he involved the Daughter-of-the-House in some complicated piece of jiggery-pokery, and is he now telling Step-pop to pay up, or he spills it all to the Press? Tyson's really
very
well supplied with stocks and shares and lovely money, and quite
devoted
to your charming Mum. He'd probably pay and pay. Could it be that, I wonder?'

‘No, it couldn't!' said Dany stormily. ‘I've never heard such ridiculous nonsense! There isn't a word of truth in it!'

‘Now, now,
now,
darling
____
! Don't get so excitable. You're as bad as Eduardo. Oh well — it was just an idea. But one couldn't help wondering if he didn't have
some
little game on. One is sorry for him, of course. The family name teetering on the edge of the dustbin, the family fortune down the drain, and the glamorous girl-friend (who between you and me must have got wind of the cash deficiency!) abandoning ship for a coroneted Italian cutter. But what is he here for? Just what is he after? That's what I'd like to know. Call me inquisitive if you like — and how right you will be!'

Dany said stiffly: ‘You know quite well why he is here.'

‘Oh, but you're wrong. I don't. Has he joined the G-men or the F.B.I. perhaps? Is he, if one may be forgiven a winsome little pun, playing International M.I. Fives? Americans are becoming
painfully
Middle-East conscious these days. They can think of nothing else but Spheres of Influence and Rocket Bases. (And women of course — there's still simply
nothing
like a dame! Especially if she looks like Elf!) Or is he playing some sly little game of his own, and if so, what?'

Dany's hands tightened on the chair-back and she said furiously: ‘You know perfectly well why he came here! He came to discuss the publication of the Emory Frost papers — and — and for a honeymoon in Zanzibar.'

‘That's what
he
says. But the whole question of the Frost papers was discussed
ad nauseam
with his dear Papa less than six months ago in the States. Of course they hadn't been released from the lock-up then, and they might not have been worth publishing. But a couple of letters would have settled the matter. He wasn't invited here, you know. He suggested it himself. And who ever heard of anyone combining a honeymoon with business? Even the most dollar-adoring Yank would shy like a steer at that one. They may worship cash (and who doesn't!) but they are also simply
saturated
with sentiment about such things as Momma and Marriage Bells. That's what makes it all
so
intriguing. Surely you can see that?'

‘No!' said Dany stormily. ‘I can't. I think you've just got a — a fertile imagination.'

‘My dear,
too
right! And at the moment it is positively
fecund.
The wildest conjectures came sprouting out of the soil as soon as I saw the dear boy turning up here minus a honeymoon and plus the phoniest American secretary that it would be possible to conceive in a month of provincial repertory matinees! One was
instantly
reminded of Crippen.'

‘
Crippen?
Why? How…' Dany suddenly discovered that the chair-back was an inadequate support, and releasing it, sat down in the chair instead with a feeling that her legs were made of something that closely resembled half-cooked macaroni.

‘
Surely
you've heard of Dr Crippen, dear? He brought off quite a tidy little murder, and then lost his head and skipped out of the country with his secretary, who was faintly disguised as a boy. It popped into my head almost as soon as I saw you. Well, perhaps not
quite
as soon as that, but as soon as I began to feel curious. I confess I was
thrilled.
Delicious shivers all up and down the spine! I said to myself “Now is he escaping from the law, and
where
has he buried the body of poor Ada — the real one?” But that of course was before I'd read the papers.'

Dany said in a brittle, breathless voice: ‘What do you mean by that?'

Nigel gave his little tittering laugh and looked down at the newspaper that lay on the floor beside his chair, and then up again at Dany:

‘Suppose you tell me that one?'

Dany said jerkily: ‘I don't see why I should, but — but I will. If you want to know, Mr Holden happened to be staying at the same hotel as I was in London
____
'

‘So convenient,' murmured Nigel.

‘Do you want me to go on?'

‘But of course, darling. I am
enthralled.
And I promise I won't interrupt again.'

‘His secretary, Miss Kitchell, had developed mumps, and I had — had lost my passport, and hadn't time to get another before the plane left. So he suggested I should use hers. For — for a lark.'

‘“Ha-ha”!' said Nigel. ‘
What
a cut-up the boy is! He must have lots in common with those Northern 'varsity students who think up all the sparkling and sophisticated pranks for the installation of a new Rector. But seriously, darling —
did
she have mumps? Or was it just sleight of hand?'

‘I don't
____
' began Dany.

‘The Ace of Spades,' explained Mr Ponting with a trace of impatience.
‘“Hey presto — why,
what
a bit of luck!”
That sort of trick. So simple really; if you know how it's done.'

‘But there wasn't any trick about it,' protested Dany. ‘Of course she had mumps.'

‘How do you know? Because you are a nice, unsophisticated Innocent who believes everything she is told?'

The words were an echo of something else that Dany had heard that day. Lorraine had said almost the same thing. And she too had been talking about Lash
____

Nigel said: ‘So easy to
say
something like that. And almost as easy, one imagines, to see that you lose your passport! You did say that you'd lost it, didn't you? How — if one may ask another intrusive little question? It isn't a thing one just casually drops on the nearest counter, or leaves in the loo.'

‘Well, it was — I mean, I…'

Nigel tittered again. ‘You seem confused. But it was probably all
too
simple. Like the card trick. You palm one passport, and Hey presto! — here's another!
What
a happy coincidence. See?'

‘No, I don't! And I don't believe a word of it. And anyway, why should Lash — Mr Holden — do anything like that? Why bother to bring me here when I was coming anyway?'

Nigel shrugged his shoulders and flung out his hands in an affected gesture: ‘Well, darling — I
did
advance a little theory about that, didn't I? But as you trampled on the poor thing
most
harshly, I won't risk making it again. Perhaps he just wanted to keep you under his eye. And why not, indeed? Though I must admit that as the honeymoon was off it was perhaps a
teeny
bit tactless of him to tag along after his ex-love and the new Italian model, and one would have imagined that he would cancel the trip. Oh, well, I expect it will all be as clear as Vichy water one of these days — and equally innocuous. It's much more fun wondering, isn't it? I
adore
mysteries! Have another cup of tea?'

He peered into the tea-pot, clicked his tongue regretfully and announced that there wasn't any and that the hot water was cold. ‘Just as well, really, as it's almost drinking time. I'd no
idea
it was so late and I'm dining out tonight with some enchanting Parsees. They serve the most delicious curries, which one can never resist but which play havoc with the digestive juices. Still, better that than eating a picnic meal by moonlight, which is sheer hell. Sandy sausages and mosquito-repellent getting into every glass. I
do
pity you all.'