Her amusement seemed quite genuine. Carol said, “Might it be possible that Mr. Raeburn was telling you one story and Corinne Jawalski another?”
Still smiling, Alanna said, “No. I’d had it out with Collis and he’d agreed to ring Corinne and tell her she had no hope of replacing me.” Carol’s skeptical expression made her add, “I knew Collis very well, Inspector. When he said he would do something, he did.” She smiled wryly. “Of course, the trick was to get him to commit himself. He could be slippery as an eel, but once he’d promised, he’d carry it through.”
“You knew him when you were both starting your careers.”
Carol’s statement brought a sudden stillness. “We knew each other when we were young.” She smiled in self-derision. “He was rather younger than me, actually.”
“You were lovers?”
Alanna Brooks cocked her head. “Just what are you getting at, Inspector? That’s old news. I hate to tell you how many years ago it was.”
“I’ve been told that rather recently you renewed the relationship.”
The diva made a derisive sound. “Sure, for publicity reasons. It always titillates the public to think we might be lovers off-stage as well as on. There was nothing in it at all. We both hammed it up for the media, not that they took that much notice, anyway.”
“So,” said Carol, “if your leading man had been Lloyd Clancy instead of Collis Raeburn, you would have been quite happy to play lovers for publicity with him?”
Alanna took a deep breath. “Not Lloyd Clancy, no.”
“What would be the difference? Publicity is publicity.”
“This doesn’t seem at all relevant.”
Carol let the steel show. “I’ll decide that, Ms Brooks. Am I to take it that you don’t like Lloyd Clancy?”
“Like him? I despise him.” She put up a hand. “All right, you’re going to ask me why. It’s a personality clash, nothing more than that.” Carol waited. Alanna went on reluctantly, her pale skin flushed, “I can see I’ll have to be frank, although it’s embarrassing for me. The fact is, I took a romantic interest in Lloyd that he didn’t return. He was quite brutal about it and…” She shrugged. “There you have it.”
Carol asked a few more questions about the relationship which Alanna parried with increasing composure. Carol said, “Have you read The Euthanasia Handbook?”
“No, but I was with Collis when he bought a copy.”
Anne’s head came up. Carol said, “When would that be?”
“About two weeks ago, I think. We were shopping together in the city and we went into several bookshops. I’m not sure which one it was, but Collis bought a copy. He said he was interested because of the court case.”
“Have you read it?”
Alanna looked puzzled. “Me? Of course not. Why would I be interested?” Her expression changed. “It’s strange, but Kenneth Raeburn asked me the same thing.”
“Why was that?”
“He came to see me before the performance tonight.” She moved her shoulders irritably. “Can’t stand the way he whispers, can you?”
Carol smiled faintly at this attempt to find common ground and so forge an ephemeral friendship, a tack familiar from many interviews. “Go on,” she said.
“He told me it was becoming quite clear that Collis had accidentally killed himself, but the fact that there was a copy of the handbook in the room was a problem. Asked me if I’d read it, and when I asked why, he said he thought it might have been mine, and I’d lent it to Collis to read.”
“Do you think he really meant that?”
“No,” said Alanna decisively, “he was telling me indirectly that he wanted me to say it was my book, Collis hadn’t gone out and bought it for himself. You see, Inspector, as soon as he’d made the comment, he began to talk about my career-how it could be helped or hindered.”
Carol was intrigued. “What did you read into that?”
“Why,” said Alanna, “that he was telling me if I cooperated it would be to my advantage, and if I didn’t, I’d be very sorry.”
“Did you take it seriously?”
“Of course,” said Alanna. “Kenneth Raeburn loves to pull strings… it’s Napoleonic, I think. If he’d been born taller, it’d have been easier for everyone.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Saturday morning was deceptively sunny, the brisk wind having enough bite to be unpleasant. Carol had got up early, gone for a run with Olga, her neighbor’s German shepherd, and come back to breakfast and The Euthanasia Handbook. She had just finished it when a car horn indicated Justin had arrived. Carol had always hated the way he’d sit in his car and imperiously summon people with long blasts from the horn. Swearing to herself, she put down the book and strode outside. David and Aunt Sarah had arrived at almost the same time, David leaping out of his father’s Mercedes, Aunt Sarah scrambling from a taxi.
As Carol saw her son, she was filled with an intensity of love that was almost terrifying. Away from him, thinking of him, made her gentle with affection, but when she actually saw David, she was always aware that she had no control over her feelings, and that she could-and would-sacrifice anything for him.
She hugged him and Aunt Sarah, gave the requisite wishes for a good trip to Justin and Eleanor, who were running late and so did not linger, and took her son and aunt inside out of the wind. David immediately went out onto the huge back deck to annoy Sinker and Jeffrey, who had found the only sunny sheltered spots available and were snoozing.
“Where’s Sybil?” asked Aunt Sarah, taking off a red cardigan to reveal a blindingly bright purple top.
Carol felt her throat tighten. She said unemotionally, “She moved back to her house. I would have called you, but I thought it was better to tell you in person.”
Aunt Sarah, short, plump and formidably energetic, snatched up the two fat bags she had insisted on carrying into the house. “Right, Carol. I’ll put these in my room while you make me a cup of tea-you’ve neglected to offer it, I might mention-and you can tell me all about it.”
Carol watched her aunt stride down the hall, her short white hair standing on end from the wind. With her tanned, wrinkled face and its mobile expressions, she was a beloved if sometimes exasperating person who had more affectionate power over Carol than she cared to permit to anyone else.
Carol had just finished pouring the mugs of tea when her aunt reappeared. “Before David comes in from teasing the cats-he shouldn’t be allowed to do that-you’d better tell me all about it.” She glared. “Don’t sigh, Carol. Just talk.”
Feeling uncertain how to broach the subject, Carol said, “Aunt, I’ve never spelled it out, but Sybil and I…”
“Are lovers. Or is it were lovers?”
She winced. “Are, I think. I’m not sure.”
Her aunt stirred sugar into her tea as though punishing the beverage. “Not like you to be unsure. If there’s one thing you are, my dear, it’s definite.”
She realized what an enormous relief it was to share this part of herself with someone she trusted, whose love was secure. “Sybil says we’ve grown apart. That I won’t keep up with her, won’t try. She wants me to change-and I can’t.” She could hear the echo of resentment in her voice.
Aunt Sarah marched over to the sliding door. “David, cats don’t want to play when they’re trying to sleep. That’s teasing. Don’t let me see you do it again.” Back at the kitchen bench, she said, “Is there someone else?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.”
“Your work has a lot to do with it,” said Aunt Sarah shrewdly.
Carol told her about the wedding invitation. “It only precipitated it, of course. Sybil won’t accept that I have to stay in the closet. It isn’t a matter of choice. If I want to do my job well, that’s just one of the ground rules.”
“Where’s Sybil?” asked David, coming into the room with a blast of cold air.