‘It took me about twenty seconds to open the can,‘ Alice said, taking her place opposite him, ‘then about ten minutes to heat it up on the stove. And now you know the secret of my success in the kitchen.’
They both laughed, but the mood soon became somber as over the long, leisurely lunch, Philippe told her about his trip to Chamonix and his abortive attempt to get past Batard.
‘I couldn’t believe it when he said Louisa was gone,’ Philippe told her. ‘What do you think your husband intends to do with her?’
Alice thought for a moment then said, ‘He’ll probably have her buried in his family vault, that’s what he did with his first wife, and I know that’s what he intends for himself.’
‘His first wife?’ Philippe asked with surprise. ‘I didn’t know he was married before.’
‘Yes, it was a long time ago. She was much older than him and died not long after they were married.’
‘Oh… and this vault, where is it?’
‘In a churchyard in a village called Minster at Stone, but don’t worry,’ Alice said positively, ‘we’ll get her back long before he has a chance to bury her.’
‘I’m glad you mentioned that,’ Philippe said, ‘because I have been thinking very hard all the way home, and I think I have a plan that will get you your divorce without any demands from your husband, and get me Louisa’s body back.’
Alice became instantly alert. ‘Tell me about it,’ she said.
‘From what you have told me about your husband, there are only two things that he really fears; loss of his social position and loss of his freedom. You told me that many times he begged you to pay his debts so that he did not end up in the hands of the police or in the newspapers.’
‘That’s right, those were the debts he ran up by buying expensive goods on credit. I also had to save him from his gambling debts because those guys can’t go to the police, they have their own way of dealing with people who won’t pay.’
‘Okay, so now we know what he is afraid of, we use that to blackmail him. This is my plan. We slip quietly over to England and you go to see him privately. You tell him you were found in the mountains by a couple, a man and a woman, who took you home and nursed you back to health. You tell him that they took you to their lawyer, and that you have made a sworn statement about his attempt to murder you. You tell him that if he will give you a quick divorce with custody of Charles and no demands for a share of your company, you will say you got lost in the mountains and were helped by those people, and not mention what he did to you.’
Alice thought about it for a moment then said, ‘But that would mean him getting away scot-free with trying to kill me. I want to make him suffer for what he did to me… and for what he’s doing to you.’
‘Don’t you see,’ Philippe said, ‘if he loses your support and your money, he will suffer a great deal. He will have to sell what is left of his property and will very soon be bankrupt. That is the best punishment you can give him.’
‘You’ve got a point there,’ she said with a frown,’ but there’s a problem, he’s a professional gambler, remember. He’d see right through me in a second, he’d know I was bluffing. What if he tried to kill me again? I’m already officially dead, so he’d have nothing to lose, and he’s got a terrible temper.’
‘I thought of that, and it is very simple. You take with you a copy of the statement and show it to him. That way he must believe you. You also tell him that if you do not report back to your lawyer within twenty-four hours, he has instructions to take the statement to the police. And one last thing, I will be nearby, and I will not allow him to hurt you.’
‘Are you suggesting we go find a lawyer and actually make a statement?’ Alice asked incredulously. ‘What about this imaginary woman who has saved my honor? Where do we get her from?’
‘No, I am not suggesting we go to a lawyer,’ Philippe said. ‘Your husband can play dirty, so can we. I have a computer and all the necessary equipment here to make our own lawyer’s statement, complete with official looking stationary and photographs of your injuries. We forge the whole thing.’
Alice thought about it then said, ‘You know, it might just work, but how am I going to get into England? I don’t have a passport.’
Philippe got up from the table, disappeared into his bedroom for a few seconds, then came back and handed Alice a French passport. ‘We travel as man and wife,’ he said.
Alice opened the passport and saw Louisa’s face staring out at her. ‘It would never work,’ she said emphatically. ‘I don’t think I look anything like Louisa.’
‘That might not get you through immigration control at an international airport,’ he said confidently, ‘but at a small airport or on the ferry where they hardly ever check EEC passports, you could get through easily, you speak perfect French. The other thing is, your face is covered with bruises. If there is a problem over the photograph, we could say you have been in a car accident, they would accept that.’
Alice looked at the photograph again, then stood up and walked to the mirror hanging next to the kitchen door and examined her own face. After a few moments she turned to Philippe, a cunning smile tugging at her lips. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I think it might just work. How soon can we get over there? He’s probably started spending the money already.’
‘We can do the statement this afternoon and fly to England first thing in the morning if you want. There is a very good air taxi service based at a small aerodrome just a few kilometers from here, I have used them many times in the past for business. They can fly us directly to a small airport in England, then we can hire a car.’
‘That sounds great,’ Alice said. ‘You get started on making up a fake letterhead while I clear away the lunch things.’
Ross parked his Jaguar in the mews behind their London townhouse, then entered the house by the upper rear entrance which led directly into his study, where Alex was already waiting.
The townhouse, built in the eighteen-forties, was situated in a crescent, a quiet refuge of serenity and rural charm on the east side of Regent’s Park. On the front elevation, the beautifully restored Victorian façade stood behind a small garden wall and was protected from the prying eyes of the general public by a tall hedge. The front door was several feet above street level, up a set of steps whilst another set of steps led down to the servant’s quarters below. At the rear, doors from the kitchen and the floor above, led into a small, split level garden then on through a gate into a mews, where the former stables had been converted into garages for the residents.
‘How did it go?’ Ross asked, without even saying hello. ’Have you got her safely tucked up somewhere? Is the cremation booked up?’
‘I managed to get a slot at Northolt crematorium for one o’clock tomorrow afternoon,’ Alex replied. ‘She’s at an undertaker’s in Greenford at the moment, about two miles from the crematorium.’
‘Good work,’ Ross said, slapping him on the shoulder then walking to the drinks cabinet and pouring himself a large brandy. ‘Do you want a drink?’
‘No thank you,’ Alex replied. ‘I’ve still got work to do.’
‘What work? I thought you just said it was all set.’
‘Nearly, but before you can get a body cremated, you need an Authority to Cremate, which we don’t have.’
Ross stopped as he was about to take a gulp of his brandy and let his arm drop. ‘What, pray, is an Authority to Cremate?’
‘It’s a three-part form issued by the Home Office. It has to be signed by two doctors and the medical representative of the crematorium.’