I could and did, but I didn"t want to switch off the fountain.
"And then," he said, "like you guessed, I inveigled you into Grev"s garden, and Jason had been waiting ages there getting furious you took so long. He let his anger out on the house, he said."
"He made a mess there too, yes."
"Then you woke up and set the alarms off and Jason said he was getting right nervous by then and he wasn"t going to wait around for the handcuffs. So Grev had beaten us again . . . and he"s beaten you too, hasn"t he?"
He looked at me shrewdly. "You haven"t found the diamonds either*."
I didn"t answer him. I said, "When did Jason break into Greville"s car?"
"Well . . . when he finally found it in Greville"s road.
I"d looked for it at the hotel and round about in Ipswich, but Grev must have hired a car to drive there because his own car won"t start."
"When did you discover that?"
"Sat.u.r.day. If the diamonds had been in it, we wouldn"t have needed to search the house."
"He wouldn"t have left a fortune in the street," I said.
Pross shook his head resignedly. "You"d already looked there, I suppose."
"I had." l considered him. "Why Ipswich?" I said.
"What?"
Why the Orwell Hotel at Ipswich, particularly? Why did he want you to go there?"
"No idea." he said blankly. "He didn"t say. He"d often ask me to meet him in odd places. It was usually because he d found some heirloom or other and wanted to know if the stones would be of use to me. An ugly old tiara once, with a boring yellow diamond centrepiece filthy from neglect. I had the stone recut and set it as the crest of a rock crystal hird and hung it in a golden cage . . . it"s in Florida, in the sun."
I was shaken with the pity of it. So much soaring priceless imagination and such grubby, perfidious greed.
I said, "Had he found you a stone in Ipswich?"
No. He told me he"d asked me to come there because he didn"t want us to be interrupted. Somewhere quiet, he said. I suppose it was because he was going to Harwich.
I nodded. I supposed so also, though it wasn"t on the most direct route which was further south, through Colchester. But Ipswich was where Greville had chosen, by freak mischance.
I thought of all Pross had told me, and was: struck by one unexplored and dreadful possibility.
When the scaffolding fell," I said slowly, "when you ran across the road and found Greville lethally injured. . . when he was lying there bleeding with the metal bar in him . . . did you steal his wallet?"
Pross"s little-boy face crumpled and he put up his hands to cover it as if he would weep. I didn"t believe in the tears and the remorse. I couldn"t bear him any longer. I stood up to go.
"You thought he might have diamonds in his wallet," I said bitterly. "And then, even then, when he was dying, you were ready to rob him."
He said nothing. He in no way denied it.
I felt such anger on Greville"s behalf that I wanted suddenly to hurt and punish the man before me with a ferocity I wouldn"t have expected in myself, and I stood there trembling with the self-knowledge and the essential restraint, and felt my throat close over any more words.
Without thinking, I put my left foot down to walk out and felt the pain as an irrelevance, but then after three steps used the crutches to make my way to his doorway and round the screen into the shop and through there out onto the pavement, and I wanted to yell and scream at the b.l.o.o.d.y injustice of Greville"s death and the wickedness of the world and call down the rage of angels.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
I stood blindly on the pavement oblivious to the pa.s.sers- by finding me an obstacle in their way. The swamping tidal wave of fury and desolation swelled and broke and gradually ebbed, leaving me still shaking from its force, a tornado in the spirit.
I loosened a jaw I hadn"t realized was clamped tight shut and went on feeling wretched, A grandmotherly woman touched my arm and said, "Do you need help?" and I shook my head at her kindness because the help I needed wasn"t anyone"s to give.
One had to heal from the inside: to knit like bones.
"Are you all right?" she asked again, her eyes concerned.
Yes." I made an effort. "Thank you."
She looked at me uncertainly, but finally moved on, and I took a few sketchy breaths and remembered with bathos that I needed a telephone if I were ever to move from that spot.
A hairdressing salon having (for a consideration) let me use their instrument, Brad came within five minutes to pick me up. I shoved the crutches into the back and climbed wearily in beside him, and he said, "Where to?"
giving me a repeat of the grandmotherly solicitude in his face if not his words "Uh," I said. "I don"t know."
"Home?"
"No . . ."I gave it a bit of thought. I had intended to go to Greville"s house to change into my suit that was hanging in his wardrobe before meeting Clarissa at seven, and it still seemed perhaps the best thing to do, even if my energy for the project had evaporated.
Accordingly we made our way there, which wasn"t far, and when Brad stopped outside the door, I said, "I think I"ll sleep here tonight. This house is as safe as anywhere. So you can go on to Hungerford now, if you like."
He didn"t look as if he liked, but all he said was, "I come back tomorrow?"
"Yes, please," I agreed.
"Pick you up. Take you to the office?"
"Yes, please."
He nodded, seemingly rea.s.sured that I still needed him. He got out of the car with me and opened the gate, brought my overnight bag and came in with me to see, upstairs and down, that the house was safely empty of murderers and thieves When he"d departed I checked that all the alarms were switched on and went up to Greville"s room to change.
I borrowed another of his shirts and a navy silk tie, and shaved with his electric razor which was among the things I"d picked up from the floor and had put on his white chest of drawers, and brushed my hair with his brushes for the same reason, and thought with an odd frisson that all of these things were mine now, that I was in his house, in his room, in his clothes . . . in his life.
I put on my own suit, because his anyway were too long, and came across the tube of the baster, still there in an inner breast pocket. Removing it, I left it among the jumble on the dressing chest and checked in the looking gla.s.s on the wall that Franklin, Mark II, wouldn"t entirely disgrace Franklin, Mark I. He had looked in that mirror every day for three months, I supposed. Now his reflection was my reflection and the man that was both of us had dark marks of tiredness under the eyes and a taut thinness in the cheeks, and looked as if he could do with a week"s lying in the sun. I gave him a rueful smile and phoned for a taxi, which took me to Luigi"s with ten minutes to spare.
She was there before me all the same, sitting at a small table in the bar area to one side of the restaurant, with an emptyish gla.s.s looking like vodka on a prim mat in front of her. She stood up when I went in and offered me a cool cheek for a polite social greeting, inviting me with a gesture to sit down.
"What will you drink?" she asked formally, but battling, I thought, with an undercurrent of diffidence.
I said I would pay for our drinks and she said no, no, this was her suggestion. She called the waiter and said, "Double water?" to me with a small smile and when I nodded ordered Perrier with ice and fresh limejuice for both of us.
I was down by then to only two or three Distalgesics a day and would soon have stopped taking them, though the one I"d just swallowed in Greville"s house was still an inhibitor for the evening. I wondered too late which would have made me feel better, a damper for the ankle or a large scotch everywhere else.
Clarissa was wearing a blue silk dress with a doublestrand pearl necklace, pearl, sapphire and diamond earrings and a sapphire and diamond ring. I doubted if I would have ttoticed those, in the simple old jockey days Her hair, smooth as always curved in the expensive cut and her shoes and handbag were quiet black calf. She looked as she was, a polished, well-bred woman of forty or so, nearly beautiful, slender, with generous eyes "What have you been doing since Sat.u.r.day?" she asked, making conversation.
"Peering into the jaws of death. What have you?"
"We went to . . ." She broke off. "What did you say?"
"Martha and Harley Ostermeyer and I were in a car crash on Sunday. They"re OK, they went back to America today, I believe. And I, as you see, am here in one piece. Well . . . almost one piece."
She was predictably horrified and wanted to hear all the details, and the telling at least helped to evaporate any awkwardness either of us had been feeling at the meeting.
STRA IGHT.
"Simms was shot?"
"Yes"
"But . . . do the police know who did it?"
I shook my head. "Someone in a large grey Volvo, they think, and there are thousands of those."
Good heavens" She paused. "I didn"t like to comment, but you look . . ." She hesitated, searching for the word.
"Frazzled?" I suggested.
"Smooth." She smiled. "Frazzled underneath."
"It"ll pa.s.s."
The waiter came to ask if we would be having dinner and I said yes, and no argument, the dinner was mine.
She accepted without fuss and we read the menus The fare was chiefly Italian, the decor cosmopolitan, the ambience faintly European tamed by London. A lot of dark red, lamps with gla.s.s shades, no wallpaper music. A comfortable place, nothing dynamic. Few diners yet, as the hour was early.
It was not, I was interested to note, a habitual rendezvous place for Clarissa and Greville: none of the waiters treated her as a regular. I asked her about it and, startled, she said they had been there only two or three times, always for lunch.
"We never went to the same place often," she said. "It wouldn"t have been wise."
"No."
She gave me a slightly embarra.s.sed look. "Do you disapprove of me and Greville?"
"No," I said again. "You gave him joy."
"Oh." She was comforted and pleased. She said with a certain shyness, "It was the first time I"d fallen in love. I suppose you"ll think that silly. But it was the first time for him, too, he said. It was... truly wonderful. We were like . . . as if twenty years younger . . . I don"t know if I can explain. Laughing. Lit up."
"As far as I can see," I said, "the thunderbolt strikes at any age. You don"t have to be teenagers."
"Has it . . . struck you?"
"Not since I was seventeen and fell like a ton of bricks for a trainer"s daughter."
"What happened?"
"Nothing much. We laughed a lot. Slept together, a bit clumsily at first. She married an old man of twentyeight.
I went to college."
"I met Henry when I was eighteen. He fell in love with me... pursued me... I was flattered... and he was so very good looking . . . and kind."
"He still is," I said.
"He"d already inherited his t.i.tle. My mother was ecstatic . . . she said the age difference didn"t matter. . .
so I married him." She paused. "We had a son and a daughter, both grown up now. It hasn"t been a bad life, but before Greville, incomplete."
"A better life than most," I said, aiming to comfort.
"You"re very like Greville," she said unexpectedly.
"You look at things straight, in the same way. You"ve his sense of proportion."
"We had realistic parents."
"He didn"t speak about them much, only that he became interested in gemstones because of the museums his mother took him to. But he lived in the present and he looked outward, not inward, and I loved him to distraction and in a way I didn"t know him . . ." She stopped and swallowed and seemed determined not to let emotion intrude further.
"He was like that with me tog," I said. "With everyone, I think. It didn"t occur to him to give running commentaries on his actions and feelings. He found everything else more interesting."
"I do miss trim," she said.
"What will you eat?" I asked.
She gave me a flick of a look and read the menu without seeing it for quite a long time. In the end she said with a sigh, "You decide."
"Did GreviUe?"
"Yes."
"If I order fried zucchini as a starter, then fillet steak in pepper sauce with linguine tossed in olive oil with garlic, will that do?"
"I don"t like garlic. I like everything else. Unusual.
Nice."