Sweet Poison (21 page)

‘I’ve never said that,’ she broke in indignantly.

Pride ignored her: ‘. . . when you know it not to be true? Do you not think that a . . . a girl like you ought to know better?’

‘A girl like me, Inspector? What does that mean?’

‘A rich, middle-class girl with a flat in Knightsbridge, educated at the best schools – that’s what I mean,’ he said viciously.

‘I see you have gone to the trouble of finding out all about me, Inspector. Should I be flattered?’

Verity was now very angry – in part, at least, because she had said something of the same sort to herself.

‘Don’t be impertinent!’

She sat silent and sullen until, at last, Pride spoke again.

‘How unlikely are the alliances we find in public life today,’ he said with an attempt at the conversational. ‘A man like your father who ought to be working for his country and he allies himself with Reds, and his daughter – what did he make of her? It seems he made her despise what respectable people might call “morality” – I suppose you know about morality, do you, Miss Browne?’

Verity suddenly became very calm. How dare he bring her father into this? She was being baited. But why? It must be that Inspector Pride was nervous. Why else should he be insulting her in this way? He wanted – not to find out the truth – but to frighten her so she would slink away and cry in a corner. If the police were so anxious to keep General Craig’s death quiet, did not that mean they believed there was something to hide?

She must have smiled because suddenly the policeman was standing above her. She had never seen anyone actually spit with rage before and she was now interested, in a scientific way, to see that it really was something which happened.

‘I warn you, Miss Browne, if you do not desist from making allegations about some of the most distinguished men in public life – and I have said the same to your editor – you will get into very serious trouble. You are not to approach any person who was in the Duke’s house on the day of the General’s death and you are not to involve any member of the Duke’s family in your . . . in your “journalistic activities”. Do you understand me, Miss Browne? I mean what I say. I have very wide powers to close down this newspaper and I will not hesitate to use them if I need to.’

Verity got up and in doing so made the Inspector back away. ‘This is still a free country, Inspector, and you shall not intimidate me. You think it is people like me who are a danger to . . . to your “respectable” people. But it is not me, it is you and the people like you. You think I am just a girl to be frightened but I am not so easily frightened. I am a Communist and I am proud of it. You can harass me as much as you like but . . . but . . .’

Suddenly, to her consternation, she found tears welling up in her eyes, so she opened the door and left without saying another word – furious with herself for showing anything like weakness before the policeman. She vowed that she was going to take no notice whatever of anything the man had said to her and that she would say nothing to Edward of her ordeal. He was too decent not to be angry on her behalf and he would probably go and do something silly. No, her victory must be that Inspector Pride was ignored. That is what he would hate the most.

9

Edward’s Monday

After Verity had left him in the pub to go and see Lord Weaver, Edward found himself at a loose end. Thinking about Weaver made him think about Hermione. He decided he would swallow his pride and go round to Eaton Place to see if she was there and, if she were, whether she had any explanation for her behaviour of the previous Tuesday. He had telephoned the house two or three times but on each occasion he had got no further than a servant who had informed him that Miss Weaver was out. He had had to content himself with leaving messages which had not been returned. It seemed to him pretty clear that Hermione had got over her crush on him. He hailed a cab and had soon left the hustle and bustle of Fleet Street for the genteel tranquillity of that area between Hyde Park Corner and Elizabeth Street where the very rich lived. Their substantial houses presented a cold front to the stranger. Windows were curtained or even shuttered and there were no open front doors to facilitate gossip, the life blood of any neighbourhood and what made living in shabbier London boroughs tolerable and even to be preferred to the icy respectability of SW1.

Deposited on the doorstep of Lord Weaver’s mansion, even Edward was momentarily daunted by its air of not welcoming casual visitors. There were shutters on the windows and he noticed the servants had forgotten to water the geraniums in the window boxes. It almost seemed as though the house was in mourning, but that could not be true if Lord Weaver was working a normal day at the
New Gazette
. Telling himself not to be a fool, he rang the electric bell. A superior-looking manservant answered the door and Edward handed him his card. ‘Would you inquire if Miss Weaver can see me? She’s not expecting me, but as I was passing I thought I would see if she was at home.’

Edward was a little annoyed with himself. He sounded as if he were apologizing. However, it was said.

The servant read the card carefully and was obviously reassured. He unbent a little and directed at Edward a wintry smile. ‘My lord, I am afraid Miss Weaver is not at home. Would you wish me to see if Lady Weaver is engaged?’

Edward was just about to say that he had no wish to disturb Lady Weaver when he heard her voice in the hall. ‘Who is it, Wilkins?’

The butler stood back, opening the door wide. ‘It is Lord Edward Corinth, my lady.’

‘Lord Edward, is that really you? Please do come in. Were you looking for Hermione? I am afraid she is not here.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Lady Weaver. I apologize for disturbing you. I was just passing and I thought I would see if Hermione was here. We parted rather abruptly after . . . after I had taken her to the Savoy last week and I had no opportunity of . . .’

‘Do come in, Lord Edward. I wanted to talk to you in any case and if you have five minutes . . .’

Seated in the drawing-room on an ornate but uncomfortable gilt sofa, Edward, who had refused an offer of refreshment, said, ‘I say, Lady Weaver . . .’

Speaking at the same time, her voice high with nervous energy, Blanche said, ‘I’m so worried . . .’

They apologized, laughed a little, and the atmosphere lightened. ‘Please go on, Lady Weaver.’

‘“Blanche”, please, Lord Edward. I need to talk to you about Hermione and I cannot do so with you calling me Lady Weaver.’

‘Blanche, then,’ said Edward smiling. He liked this woman. Underneath a rather fey, almost distrait manner he sensed a sensible, sensitive soul whom he would like to help if he could. How she had ended up with a child as tiresome as Hermione he really could not think.

‘You say, Lord Edward –’

‘Edward, please,’ he interjected, smiling.

‘You say, Edward, that you and Hermione parted abruptly last Tuesday. Can you tell me what happened, or would that be breaking confidences?’

‘No, I don’t think so. We had dinner at the Savoy and then we went on, at your daughter’s request, to the Cocoanut Grove. Do you know it?’

‘I have never heard of it. It’s a night-club? Like the Four Hundred?’

‘Yes. Hermione said it was all the rage at the moment so that was where I took her. Anyway, we had hardly got there – I think we had had one dance – when she was agitating to go. I had not particularly wanted to come so that was all right by me. To tell the truth it was rather a gruesome place with a sort of jungle décor and the champagne was disgusting so I was quite ready to depart. However, at that moment the cabaret started and I must confess I was very taken with the girl who came on to sing. I believe she was called Amy Pageant.’ Edward tried to see if Lady Weaver had ever heard the name before but if she had she disguised it.

‘This girl sang Cole Porter and Gershwin better than . . . well, better than anyone I have heard – at least, this side of the Atlantic. I was bowled over, I have to admit, and I did not take my eyes off her until she had taken her bow. Then, when I looked round for Hermione, she had vanished. I went to find her of course and eventually the doorman gave me a pencilled note from her saying she was sorry but she had had to go. The doorman said she had left in a taxi with Charlie Lomax.’

‘I see,’ said Blanche thoughtfully. ‘That was very rude of her. I don’t know what has come over her recently. At Mersham Castle both I and Lord Weaver got the impression that she was . . . well, please forgive me for being frank . . . that she was very . . . she was all over you. I don’t suppose you even noticed. Joe and I were so pleased. You see – I know I can speak in complete confidence to you – she has got into rather a bad crowd. I mean, she is not a child any more. There’s nothing really I can do except – you know – keep an eye on her. This young man, Charles Lomax, I thought maybe he had thrown her over but . . .’

Edward felt he was behaving shabbily, discussing Hermione behind her back, but he certainly did not consider her to be a friend and she had behaved badly to him. ‘Now you mention it, Lady Weaver, Blanche, I remember her in the club being a bit on edge. The manager chappie, Captain Gordon he called himself, came up to her while we were dancing and told her “a friend” was coming in later and wanted to see her. He meant Lomax but no name was mentioned. Hermione acted as though she didn’t want me to know who her “friend” was.

‘Shortly after, as I say, Hermione said she did not like the place after all and wanted to leave but just then the cabaret started and I told her I wanted to stay until it finished. I blame myself; perhaps if I had taken her away when she asked me to she might never have met Lomax. When I think back, I get the feeling that she half wanted to meet him and half didn’t. Do you think he has some sort of hold over her?’

‘You mean like drugs?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose I do,’ said Edward awkwardly.

‘I think he must have. Oh God, Edward, I’m so worried. I have been worried about her for a long time. She has never got on with her stepfather and she seemed to be drifting into a thoroughly bad set almost as if she wanted to annoy him. Then, when your brother invited us to Mersham, she insisted I ask the Duke to invite Mr Lomax. I suppose I should just have said no and not brought her with me but, to be honest, I wanted to keep her under my eye and I thought if she mingled with good people . . . I thought . . . oh, I don’t know what I thought. If I am being really truthful, when I heard you were coming, I thought she might . . . I thought you and she . . .’

Edward coloured. ‘And I did not turn up until late.’

‘Yes, but you must have noticed how, when you did come, she was so pleased to see you. I was delighted.’

‘Why do you think she so wanted Lomax to be at the castle? Was she in love with him or was it that he had promised to bring her . . . you know – what she needed?’

‘I don’t know. She had been very nervous and irritable and I thought that was because Mr Lomax seemed to be avoiding her. Then . . . may I speak in complete confidence, Edward? I haven’t even told Joe this and I tell him everything.’

‘Of course, you have my word.’

‘Well, I went into her room at Mersham while she was dressing for dinner. She did not hear me come in and I . . . when she turned I saw . . . Oh, I can’t say it!’ Blanche buried her face in her hands.

‘She was injecting herself?’ said Edward gently.

Blanche nodded, avoiding his eye.

‘When we were dancing at the night-club she put her head on my shoulder and I saw her arm and I could not help seeing . . . the marks. And you think she was counting on Lomax being unable to resist an invitation to Mersham Castle and if he came he would supply her with the dope she wanted?’

‘Yes. For some reason he must have been avoiding her, otherwise, I suppose, she would have met him at the night-club you mentioned – the Cocoanut Grove – or some other place like that. Oh God! What is there to do? When I caught her . . . when I saw her . . . she said such terrible things to me.’

Edward put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Please, Blanche, don’t give way. She may not have gone too far. She seemed quite normal at Gerald’s dinner after all.’

‘Oh yes, but then she would if she had taken what she needed beforehand, but when we got back to London she . . . I ought to have talked to her about it but I was afraid . . . I ought to . . . And then she wouldn’t stay here. She said it was too dead. She went back to her flat.’

‘Her flat?’ said Edward surprised. ‘I didn’t know she had a flat. On Tuesday I picked her up from here.’

‘Yes, she has a flat in Beauchamp Place. Joe bought it for her on her twenty-first. To begin with she didn’t live there very much but . . .’

Edward could imagine that Weaver had tried everything to get Hermione out of his house and the flat was a carrot to get her to stand on her own feet.

‘So how is she now?’

‘That’s just why I am so anxious – I don’t know. She telephoned on Wednesday, the day after you saw her, to say she was going to stay at her flat. I was out when she called and she left a message with Wilkins. I tried to ring her several times but there was never any answer. So on Friday and then again on Saturday I went round to Beauchamp Place and rang the doorbell and knocked but there was no answer.’

‘She doesn’t have a servant?’

‘No. She said a maid would “queer her pitch”, whatever that means. I think she was afraid that if she had a servant she would be spied on and I would be told what she was up to.’

‘I see. Do you have a key to her flat?’

‘Well, yes, I do. Hermione doesn’t know I have one and she would kill me if she found out I had been prying on her.’

‘You didn’t use it then, when you went round on Saturday?’

‘I didn’t dare.’

‘Did you try ringing Mr Lomax?’

‘Yes. I got his number out of the telephone book but there was no answer. The operator said he had been cut off. I don’t know why.’

‘Look, Blanche, I think you have reason to be worried. Give me the key to Hermione’s flat and I will go and see if . . . if there is anything wrong.’