D
aisy didn't have to display her talent for adhesive loquacity. She just had time to ring up a nurses' agency before Alec arrived.
Sergeant Mackinnon reported apologetically that his lordship was on the way. Alec frowned.
“It's not his fault,” said Daisy. “Lord Henry hung up without giving him a chance to say he mustn't come. But if you think about it, darling, it's really very convenient. You wanted to see him anyway. Now you won't have to chase after him. And if you want, you can see the two of them together.”
“True,” Alec grunted. His look conveyed that while she might be telling the truth and nothing but the truth, he didn't for a moment believe it was the whole truth. “I must go and talk to Mrs. Talmadge before he turns up.” He started towards the stairs.
Daisy caught his arm. “Hang on, darling. I have news for you.”
“Can't it wait, Daisy?”
“Not really. Daphne asked me to tell you before you go to her. And it's no good looking at me like that. She insisted on seeing me, and Dr. Curtis said she wasn't to be upset.”
“All right,” he sighed. “Let's have it.”
“She claims she told her husband about the babyâwhich she admitted is Lord Henry's, by the wayâand that heâTalmadge, that isâagreed to accept it as his own.”
“That seems excessively noble of him,” Alec said sceptically.
“No, quite reasonable actually, darling. They neither of them wanted the scandal of a divorce, for the sake of the child and his career. She says they intended to make a new start with their marriage, to try to patch it together. He was to break off with his mistressâ”
“Does she know who that was?”
“She didn't mention a name. She said his
current
mistress. No, his
latest
, I think. I didn't have Piper and his notebook with me, but I'd remember if she'd given a name. Though that doesn't mean she doesn't know, of course. I could hardly ask. Her part of the bargain was to tell Lord Henry she could never see him again, which she claims to have done.”
“She told him she's pregnant?”
“So she says.”
“And that it's his child?”
“So she says.”
Mackinnon looked as if he were bursting to speak. Alec raised an eyebrow at him.
“I'd've thought his lordship'd be delighted, sir, her not
wanting him to take responsibility for the bairn. Surely he wouldna go off and murder her husband!”
“So one would expect,” Alec agreed. “However, it's so obvious that he had only to claim that such was the case and all the world would believe him. I'd certainly be inclined to. Yet he didn't.”
“Chivalry,” Daisy suggested. “After all, it would have cast even more suspicion on Daphne if she could hope that Raymond's death would force Lord Henry to take care of her and his child. Did he say anything about her being pregnant?”
“No. He said nothing that could be construed as an admission that she was his mistress.”
“More chivalry. Or else he didn't know and she made up that story out of whole cloth.”
“I noticed that you said she âclaims' this and that, and âso she says.' You didn't believe her?”
“She was very convincing, darling, but I must admit I wouldn't be surprised if there was no reconciliation, or there was but she didn't tell Lord Henry about it, or that she didn't tell him the baby's his. I think your scepticism must be rubbing off on me.”
Alec laughed. “And vice versa. I'm inclined to believe most of what Creighton told me and to credit his reticence, and even his lies, to chivalry. I shan't let it influence me, of course. He's very high on my list.”
“Just below Daphne, I take it.”
“They're about equal, now you've told me about the reconciliation with Talmadge. If true, and if Creighton's passion for her is genuine, that vastly increases his motive.”
“Yes, I wondered if she realizes that.”
“I'd better go and see if I can find out, before he turns up breathing fire.”
“She'd like me to be with her,” Daisy said tentatively. She didn't want to ruin her present rapport with Alec.
He raised his eyes to heaven, but said, “Right-oh, if you'll take notes and keep your mouth shut. But only because I must leave Sergeant Mackinnon down here to stop Creighton barging up the stairs when he arrives.”
“I'll do my best, sir,” said the sergeant.
On the way upstairs, Daisy said, “Remember, darling, whether she's telling the truth or not, Daphne's been under heavy sedation followed by a medical emergency. She's pretty fragile.”
“I promise not to put her through the âthird degree.' But any questions I ask are bound to be upsetting. This is a murder investigation and she's one of the chief suspects.”
“And it's just possible that she's innocent, and that her lover has just murdered her husband, with whom she's just reconciled. Just be careful.”
“I'll be just,” he said with a grin. “I see I was not mistaken in thinking you'd taken her under your wing.”
She turned her head to wrinkle her nose at him. “Not exactly. I'm sorry for her, but ⦠Well, here we are.” She knocked on Daphne's bedroom door.
Nurse Hensted came to the door. She looked resigned when she saw Daisy, but the sight of Alec obviously dismayed her. “Mrs. Talmadge isn't fit,” she said fiercely.
“I know,” he said. “I'm sorry, but I can't put off interviewing her any longer. I'll disturb her as little as I possibly can.”
“Don't worry, I'll see to it,” said Daisy.
“I'd better stay.”
“I'm afraid that won't be possible,” Alec said firmly, and ushered the nurse out. He went over to the bed, where Daphne lay flat, only her head raised an inch or two by a single thin pillow. Daisy could tell he was trying to conceal his shock at Daphne's ravaged face. He hadn't seen her since the murder, had never seen her without her usual immaculate make-up. “I'm very sorry to trouble you at such a time, Mrs. Talmadge,” he said, his voice gentle. “I'm afraid I have to ask you a few questions.”
She gave him a pitiful smile. “I'll do my best to answer, Mr. Fletcher. Or should I call you Chief Inspector today?”
“Mr. Fletcher will do nicely. I gather you asked Daisy to be present at this interview? I am not at this time taking an official statement which you would be asked to sign, but if you don't mind she will take notes for me.”
“Not at all. I'd much rather her than anyone else.”
“Thank you.” He sat down, and Daisy perched with her notebook on the dressing-table stool. “Will you tell me, please, exactly what you did yesterday from about nine o'clock in the morning on?”
“Nine? That's when I got up. I usually have breakfast in bed while I open the post, but I've been feeling rather unwell first thing in the morning. I went downstairs after my bath, and Hilda brought me some tea and toast. I was too upset to eat, though.”
“Why was that? No,” he went on as she cast a pleading glance at Daisy, “I need you to tell me yourself.”
“I ⦠You see, the day before, I went to see a doctor, because of feeling sick in the morning and ⦠and other things.”
“Dr. Curtis?”
“No, a friend of my father's. He practises in Harley Street.”
“His name, please.”
“Pettibone. Arthur Pettibone. When I was a child, I used to call him Uncle Arthur. He told me I was expecting a baby, and he said my father would have been delighted to have a grandchild. My father died several years ago, you see. Only, of course, Father wouldn't have been pleased at all, because ⦠because it's not my husband's child.”
“You're quite certain of that?”
“Absolutely. We've had separate bedrooms for years and ⦠and each gone our own way. Believe me, if I could have claimed it as Raymond's child, I would have.”
“So the next morning you were still so upset about the news as to be unable to eat.”
“No, it wasn't that. I ⦠in spite of everything, I was happy that I was going to have a baby. I've always wanted children, more than one. I was an only child, you see.”
“I see. Then what upset you?”
“It was the night before. I ⦠I told Raymond about the baby.” Daphne's voice was so faint Daisy had to lean forward to hear her. “He asked if I wanted a divorce. I said no, for the baby's sake, and he said that was lucky because a divorce would ruin him. He said ⦠he said he'd accept the baby as his own, as long as I promised never to see Harry again.”
“Harry?” Alec asked, for the record.
“Lord Henry Creighton,” Daphne whispered. “I agreed.” Then her voice grew stronger as she went on, “But only on condition that he also would be true to his vows.”
What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander
, Daisy
thought, scribbling away in her own idiosyncratic version of Pitman's shorthand.
“You're quite certain he wasn't faithful?” Alec asked.
“Quite certain. He wasn't even faithful to one mistress, but he swore never to start a new liaison and to tell his present lover it was all over between them.”
“His present loverâdo you know who she was?”
“I didn't, and I'm not sure now. But he sat down at the escritoire in the drawing room and wrote to her right then and thereâit wasn't too late to catch the last post at the post office in the High Street. He left the letter on the table in the hall while he went to put on his coat to go out and post it. I didn't pick up the envelope and read it, but I glanced at it from a little distance and I think it was addressed to Mrs. Francis Walker.”
Major Francis Walker? Daisy wondered. She didn't think she'd ever heard the major's christian name. The coincidence of surname was too great to be pure chance, though. It must be Gwen Walker. Besides, Alec looked satisfied, insofar as his impassive-policeman face allowed such an emotion.
“Thank you,” he said. “It was your interview with your husband, then, that made you lose your appetite for breakfast yesterday?”
“Yes. Well, not exactly. It was the p-prospect of saying g-good-bye to Harry.” Daphne sounded on the edge of tears, as if she had a lump in her throat.
Alec handed her a handkerchief. He went through vast numbers of hankies, as weeping suspects rarely laundered and returned them to him. She sniffed into it and dabbed her eyes.
“You already had an appointment with Lord Henry?” Alec asked.
“Yes. There was a preview at Sotheby's, the auction house, of Sarah Bernhardt's effects. She collected the most marvellously exotic objets d'art, and they had some of her own paintings, too, and the manuscripts of her plays. She wrote and painted, as well as acting. Did you ever see her on the stage?”
“Yes, in France during the War. She came to entertain the troops, though by then she was over seventy and missing a leg. You enjoyed the preview, then, Mrs. Talmadge?”
Daphne's enthusiasm vanished. “Harry did. He couldn't help it, though he saw that I was unhappy. It's just the sort of stuff he likes best. I didn't want to spoil it for him so I paid attention and I suppose I found it impossible not to appreciate such wonderful things. I couldn't tell him there, anyway. About the baby. It wasn't busy, but there were always people around.”
“How long were you at Sotheby's?”
“I took a taxi and got there just at eleven, which was when we'd arranged to meet. I think it was about noon when we left.”
“And then?”
“Oh, we walked for a bit, while I ⦠while I told him everything.”
“Everything?” Alec asked sharply.
“That ⦠that I was going to have his baby, and that Raymond and I were going to patch things up and try to make a go of it. And that I couldn't see him again. He was devastated. He wanted me to go abroad with him, to let Raymond divorce me and then we'd be married. Perhaps
I'm a coward, but I couldn't face the scandal, not just for my own sake but for his, and our child's. I know lots of people don't snub divorcees the way they did even ten years ago, but plenty still do. We'd live under a cloud for the rest of our lives.”
Daisy wondered whether Daphne was deliberately making a play for Alec's sympathy, or just wallowing in her own self-justification. And the question recurred: Was she deceiving herself or attempting to deceive Alec? Did she or did she not realize that the more desperate she painted Lord Henry, the more suspicion must fall on him?
“I'm doing my best to stay calm now,” Daphne went on, “but I was as upset as Harry then. We had intended to lunch together but neither of us felt like eating. We went ⦔