‘So Doctor Faustus discovered,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘And then?’
‘Nothing. We got married. But when I got the chance of this cheap trip to Paris, she went to stay with her aunt. Only —she didn’t, according to you. She went to this holiday camp at Bracklesea. Well, we know what’s happened to her since then!’
‘How much did her father leave her?’ Gavin enquired. Coles shook his head.
‘Her mother kept a tight fist on it while Norah stayed at college. I don’t think Norah herself knew how much it was.’
‘I really think she did.’
‘Then,’ said Coles, ‘there’s only one thing for you to do if you want to find the killer. You’d better lay off me and find out what that swine Biancini was doing between August eighteenth and August twenty-fifth this summer. There’s your murderer for you, and you can tell him I said so! Mrs Biancini dotes on him, and anything Norah had to leave will come to him in the end. You see if it doesn’t!’
chapter eleven
Identification of a Lady-Killer
‘“What do you call that horrid beast?” asked James, “It is,” replied I, “the cocoa crab. I doubt if you would have succeeded in overcoming your antagonist without that lucky thought, for the cocoa crab has as much courage as cunning, and he may be a dangerous adversary for a child.”’
Ibid.
« ^ »
Our guest,’ observed Laura, when Coles had been conveyed back to London, ‘spoke quite a piece when he suggested that there might have been naughtiness going on between the porcine Biancini and that girl.’
‘Don’t jump to conclusions,’ said her husband. ‘All the same, it won’t do any harm to check up on the Wop. I can drop a hint in the right quarter and make a slight unmeritorious police job of it, if you like.’
‘What sort of hint?’
‘To begin with, a hint to suggest that he may not be a naturalised British subject. If he hasn’t taken out naturalisation papers he is an alien, and if he’s an alien he may turn out to be an undesirable one. And so forth, until we’ve collected his dossier.’
‘While I am no critic of sexual indiscretions,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘it does seem to me that if Biancini did stay at that holiday camp with Mrs Coles and not with Mrs Biancini, it would do no harm to investigate further. Your scheme, my dear Robert, although ethically undesirable, sounds neat and practical. How soon may we expect results, I wonder?’
‘We shan’t be long,’ said Gavin, grinning. ‘We may not be as well documented in certain respects as the Sûreté, but we can soon get the tabs on people when it’s necessary. On the face of it, this murder of Mrs Coles looks like one of those messy little “got the girl into trouble and had better shut her mouth” crimes, and, if it is, then this holiday at the camp could bear investigation, especially if the Mrs Palliser of the register was indeed Mrs Coles.’
‘But that’s the odd thing,’ said Laura. ‘Ask Dame B.’
‘The autopsy revealed that the girl was a virgin,’ said Dame Beatrice.
‘Un mariage blanc? Good Lord! Then I don’t see where Biancini fits in. If he did take the girl away, it could only have been for one reason. I’m all the more determined to probe into this camp holiday. Of course, there’s strong presumptive evidence that the Mr and Mrs N. Palliser of the camp register were not verily and indeed the Mr and Mrs Coles of whom we know, if Coles did indeed spend that week in Paris, but that doesn’t necessarily involve Biancini.’
‘Of Calladale House, near Garchester, don’t forget,’ said Laura. Gavin wrinkled his nose.
‘Curious, that,’ he admitted. ‘Must have been the girl’s idea, I should think. Anyway, I don’t suppose she dreamed that anybody except the camp staff would ever bother about what was written in the book. I should imagine that the “Calladale House” business was sheer stupid snobbery, put on for the benefit of the camp officials.’
‘Well, what’s our next move?’ asked Laura.
‘I shall visit Mrs Biancini to find out what, if anything, she knew about the marriage,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘I find it difficult to believe that she had no inkling at all, although I do realise that family relationships are anything but what they used to be. What did you make of Mr Coles?’ She was addressing Gavin, who nodded.
‘He may be a cunning young fox, of course,’ he said.
‘Sometimes the truth has the effect of pepper in the eyes. It leads to temporary blindness.’
‘I see that you understand me.’
‘Dashed if I do,’ said Laura.
‘Well, if he wasn’t foxing,’ her husband explained, ‘he more than ever laid himself open to being offered the position of Suspect Number One when he admitted that he married the girl for her money.’
‘Oh, that! But, to me, he’s always been the most likely person to have killed her.’
‘The choice of that coach as a hiding-place for the body?’
‘He would have heard from her about the Highpepper rag. It made quite an impression on the Calladale students, you know, and it’s become a legend in Garchester.’
‘Yes, I see. Oh, well, suspect him, by all means, but I think you’re barking up the wrong tree. What says Dame B.?’
‘She must speak for herself,’ said Laura, ‘but I am under the impression that she agrees with you. If only the body had been identified with more certainty! I expect the unfortunate mum took one quick, shuddering glance and felt sick. Rats! Ugh!’
‘Quite,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘That cellar, or warehouse, or whatever it is, is being diligently sought for by the police. I wonder how Carey’s predecessor is getting along?’ she added suddenly. ‘I must find out from Miss McKay which hospital he is in, and send him a bunch of grapes. It is only fitting that one who has been the means of putting a fat salary, albeit a temporary one, into my nephew’s pockets, should be the recipient of tangible benefits. Not that grapes are everybody’s choice, of course.’
‘That’s one thing about broken limbs. You can still eat what you like,’ said Laura. ‘When do we visit Mrs Biancini? And how can we be sure that Biancini will be out of the way?’
‘That, of course, is the problem. I think we must take our chance. It seems unsporting to decoy him away, since some amount of suspicion appears to be attaching itself to him. I shall not attempt it. We must not lower our standards of fair play. It would be un-English. The English are now the keepers of the world’s conscience, having, in some respects, lost their own.’
The visit to Mrs Biancini was paid by Dame Beatrice alone. Laura had been prepared for this decision and was in no mood to contest it. For several weeks her baby son had been with her own parents in Scotland, so, as Gavin had secured some leave, Dame Beatrice suggested that Laura should spend it with him and the baby boy. She saw them off at King’s Cross and from there was driven to the Biancinis’ unpretentious home. Knowing how unpopular Coles was likely to be with his mother-in-law, she was ready with a question which she felt would not be resented.