The Imbroglio at the Villa Pozzi (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 6) (16 page)

‘Look here, this won’t do,’ she said breathlessly after a short interval.

‘Then why does it feel so awfully nice?’ he murmured into her hair.

Angela felt vaguely as though she ought to disentangle herself, but for some reason her arms were refusing to do as her brain instructed.

‘You’ve spoilt a perfectly good row,’ she said instead. ‘I’d just thought of a brilliantly devastating retort.’

‘We can start it again from the beginning, if you like,’ he said. ‘Who knows how it might end this time?’

‘Well, it
ought
to end with my storming off in a tremendous huff—which, incidentally, is what I still intend to do once you’ve let go of me.’

‘What makes you think I’m going to let go of you?’ he said, and gripped her even more tightly to him.

Another minute passed, after which Angela decided that she really ought to make an effort. One did not trade mortal insults with an enemy only to throw oneself immediately afterwards into his embrace. It made one look embarrassingly weak of purpose, to say the very least. She extricated herself with some difficulty, although he would not let go of her hand and kept it firmly imprisoned in his.

‘It really
won’t
do, you know,’ she said.

‘I dare say you’re right,’ he said, ‘but it’s such a dreadful pity. We do seem to go rather well together, don’t you think?’

Angela had no intention of answering that question. She had now fully returned to her senses, and although her attempts at maintaining a cool distance had admittedly proved a resounding, nay, spectacular failure, she was determined to end it now, if necessary by leaving Stresa herself that very night. She was about to say something suitably brisk and off-putting, despite the fact that he was at that moment distracting her by twirling a lock of her hair gently around his finger and smiling into her eyes, when she suddenly heard the sound of someone approaching along the path. He heard it too and they instantly sprang apart.

Whoever it was paused for a second before coming into view, and Angela was just about to take the opportunity to escape when to her surprise La Duchessa entered the clearing. She was dressed in a magnificent evening-gown that shimmered in the dim light, and as always she looked much too exotic for the simple, pretty surroundings of Stresa. Instead of saluting them politely and moving on, La Duchessa glanced briefly at Angela and then turned her attention to Valencourt, who suddenly looked not a little apprehensive. She snapped something at him in a language Angela did not recognize, and he replied to her politely in the same tongue. His answer seemed to displease La Duchessa, for she shook her head rapidly several times and tapped her watch sharply. He replied with a shake of the head, and she drew herself up with a little ‘Ha!’ of indignation and began to fumble in her evening-bag.

‘I am sorry,’ she said in English to Angela, as she finally found what she was looking for. At first Angela had no idea what she was talking about, but then to her astonishment she saw that La Duchessa was holding a pistol and pointing it directly at Valencourt, who had set his jaw.

‘Get out of the way,’ he said grimly to Angela, and she had barely a second to register his command before two shots rang out loudly and he fell to the ground. La Duchessa calmly replaced the gun in her bag and, without even stopping to look behind her, strode away and out of sight, leaving Angela standing there, stunned, with Valencourt lying at her feet.

Instantly Angela was on her knees and bending over the prostrate body of Edgar Valencourt. His eyes were closed and he was quite immobile. She patted his face gently and felt for a pulse, but her fingers were trembling and she could find none.

‘Oh, goodness me,’ she said in the greatest dismay. ‘Edgar! Edgar! Are you all right? Speak to me! Oh, what shall I do?’ She sat up and looked about her. ‘A doctor,’ she said. ‘Where can I find a doctor?’

‘Are you quite mad?’ he said, opening his eyes, and she gave a little gasp of shock.

‘I thought she’d killed you,’ she said.

‘I’m not certain she hasn’t,’ he said weakly.

‘Don’t move,’ she said. ‘Let me have a look. Where did she hit you?’

‘In my side,’ he said. ‘She only hit me once, I think.’

She pulled open his jacket and examined him as best she could in the dim light.

‘It’s difficult to tell,’ she said. ‘It might be just a graze, but I can’t see well enough to be sure. We must get you to a doctor—and we must call the police and tell them to arrest La Duchessa immediately.’

‘We can’t call the police, you idiot,’ he said.

‘Oh, but—’ she said, and paused, aghast. Of course the police must not be called. La Duchessa was safe. ‘But surely you can see a doctor?’

‘How can I explain what happened? If I turn up with a bullet wound he’s bound to ask questions, don’t you think?’

‘But then what shall I do?’ said Angela. ‘I can’t leave you here, bleeding all over the place. You’ll frighten the guests.’

‘You must get me to my car,’ he said. ‘I shall go home and see what I can do for myself.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said. ‘You can’t possibly drive in that state. I’ll take you. Do you think you can stand up?’

He tried to protest but she cut him short, and indeed he was not entirely reluctant for he was in some pain. With difficulty she raised him to a sitting position, where he remained for a minute or two to fetch his breath, and then helped him get to his feet.

‘Can you walk?’ she said.

‘Of course I can,’ he said. He took a few steps but then his legs buckled under him and she only just managed to prevent him from falling.

‘You’re most likely in shock,’ she said. ‘We’d better get you home and into bed. Where’s your car?’

‘On the road outside,’ he said. ‘It’s quite near.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now, put your arm around my shoulders. If we meet anyone we’ll say you’re dead drunk.’

‘Splendid,’ he said dryly, but did as she said, and they walked slowly in the direction of the road.

They reached the car without incident, and although they met one or two people on the way nobody gave them more than a glance of curiosity. Angela helped him in carefully and got in herself.

‘Don’t fall asleep,’ she said, for he was beginning to look a little groggy. ‘I have no idea where you live.’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘It’s up in the hills, just outside Stresa. Just follow this road and I’ll tell you when to turn.’

Outside the town it was pitch dark and Angela had to take great care not to drive off the road.

‘Can’t you go a little slower?’ said Valencourt, grimacing as she hurtled around a bend at breakneck speed.

‘Sorry,’ she said, glancing at him in concern. ‘How far is it now?’

‘Just here,’ he said, indicating a side-road that led up through the trees. It was bumpy, and Angela drove as slowly as she could to avoid causing him further pain, but still he looked rather pale when they finally drew up outside the little villa in which he lived.

‘Is this your house?’ she said.

‘It belongs to my family,’ he said. ‘We used it as a holiday home many years ago.’

‘Do they know you’re here?’ she said curiously.

‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘They have more houses than they can possibly use, and they’ve probably forgotten about this one.’

He looked as though he were about to say more, but then changed his mind.

‘Let’s get you inside,’ she said.

Here in the hills and among the trees the air was cooler, which was something of a relief after the closeness of Stresa. She helped him into the house, then found a lamp and turned it on. They were in a little sitting-room which was sparsely furnished—so much so that it looked almost as though no-one lived there at all. He sat down in sudden exhaustion on the nearest chair.

‘Better have a look at you, I suppose,’ said Angela, and helped him remove his jacket. His shirt was torn to shreds at the left side and soaked with blood, and she grimaced. He saw it and attempted a smile.

‘How long do you suppose I have left?’ he said.

‘I’ll be able to tell better when we’ve got that shirt and tie off you,’ she said. She saw his look, and said tartly, ‘Let’s imagine for the purposes of this examination that I’m your mother.’

‘What a horrible thought,’ he said, but sat obediently as she briskly removed the articles in question. She knelt down and peered dispassionately at the wound.

‘Hmm,’ she said a minute or two later, frowning. She sat back on her heels. ‘Well, it doesn’t look as though you’re in any immediate danger, at least. I think it’s probably just a graze, as there’s no bullet in you as far as I can see, although you’ve bled rather a lot and I shouldn’t be at all surprised if it splintered a bit of rib as it passed. Have you any water? The wound ought to be cleaned immediately.’

‘In the kitchen,’ he said.

‘I’ll need some bandages too,’ she said. ‘Or sheets will do just as well, if you don’t happen to have any. And I think you could probably do with a drink,’ she added.

She found some whisky and poured him a stiff measure, then busied herself about in the kitchen. When she returned carrying water and bandages she found that the whisky had revived him slightly, for some of the colour had returned to his face. She put down her burden and poured him some more.

‘Drink that,’ she said as she knelt down again. ‘This is probably going to hurt a bit.’

‘Try not to enjoy it too much,’ said Valencourt, and she glanced up at him.

‘I think the patient will do very well,’ was all she said, and set to work. He bore it stoically, with only the occasional wince, and it was all done sooner than might have been expected. Angela examined her handiwork and then straightened up.

‘There,’ she said. ‘That’s the best I can do in the circumstances, I’m afraid.’

‘I’d like to say it feels better,’ he said, ‘but it doesn’t, much. Still, I’m sure you’ve done a fine job. Thank you, nurse.’

‘I’m sorry about the sheets,’ she said, looking at the damp and bloodied rags that lay about the floor. ‘I think they were rather good ones, unfortunately, but I couldn’t find anything else. They do make excellent bandages, though.’

‘No matter,’ he said. ‘Sheets can be replaced. I say, you’re rather efficient at this sort of thing, aren’t you?’

‘“Efficient” is the word, yes,’ she said. ‘I can patch up a wound but I’m not very good at the sympathy bit. And think yourself lucky I didn’t have to give you any stitches. My competence with a needle is limited, to say the least. Now, it’s getting late and what you need is some sleep. You must be exhausted.’

‘I am, rather,’ he said, stifling a yawn.

He stood up and she helped him into his bedroom, which was furnished just as sparsely as the sitting-room. Angela glanced around. Since he spent so much of his time on the run presumably he had no opportunity to make the place comfortable.

‘Well, this has been a most interesting evening,’ he said as he lowered himself gingerly onto the bed.

‘You were very lucky she didn’t kill you,’ said Angela.

‘Should you have come to my funeral if she had?’ he said.

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘I look dreadful in black.’

‘I’m quite sure you look delightful in any colour,’ he said, and winced. ‘Damn the woman! Why on earth did she have to shoot me?’

‘I’m sorry you got hurt, but I think she may have done me a good turn,’ said Angela.

‘That’s hardly kind, when we were getting along so well,’ he said.

‘A little
too
well, I think,’ she said. ‘Why
did
she shoot you, by the way? What did you do to upset her so much?’

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘Assume immediately it was my fault, why don’t you?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, trying not to laugh, ‘but it’s an easy assumption to make. I have found myself at the wrong end of a gun once or twice in my life too, and each time it’s because I have offended in some way, however unwittingly.’

‘I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow,’ he said. His eyes were growing heavy but suddenly they snapped open. ‘You’re not going, are you? Please say you’re not.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ll sleep in one of the other rooms.’

He fumbled for her hand and raised it to his lips.

‘Thank you,’ was all he said.

‘Try and get some sleep,’ she said, and went out.

When Angela went in the next morning, carrying a tray with a bowl of water and a pot of coffee, she found Edgar Valencourt, looking tired and drawn but slightly more like his usual self, sitting on the edge of the bed and flexing his left arm experimentally.

‘You ought to be lying down,’ she said.

‘I’m just testing to see how much my side hurts when I do this,’ he said. ‘The answer is quite a lot.’

‘Yes, it’s probably going to be pretty sore for a good while yet,’ she said, ‘and waving your arm about won’t help. Now, get back into bed. I’ve brought you some coffee, for which I apologize in advance.’

‘Why, what have you put in it?’ he said, sitting back reluctantly against the pillows. ‘Arsenic?’

‘For all I know it tastes like it,’ she said, regarding it doubtfully. ‘I haven’t made coffee for such a long time, you see. Normally I have Marthe to do it for me, and I’m afraid I’ve been quite spoilt. I’m sure I used to be very capable, but one forgets such a lot when one is constantly looked after.’

‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘I know all about you society women with your rich husbands and hordes of servants. Your hands grow soft and weak. A nice long spell of scrubbing dishes or picking blackberries would do you no end of good.’

‘I have precisely
two
servants, and I’ve never taken so much as a penny off my husband,’ she said haughtily. ‘Even supposing he had a penny, which I very much doubt.’

‘Don’t tell me you live on the proceeds of a life of crime,’ he said. ‘If that’s the case then we are clearly meant for one another.’

‘Of course not,’ she said, laughing. ‘My money is my own, and was honestly come by. If you must know, I am a business-woman, and a rather successful one at that.’

‘Good Lord,’ he said, entertained. ‘How very modern. What is it? A shop of some sort?’

‘Not exactly,’ she said. ‘More in the way of an office. Now, if you’ve finished that coffee and you’re quite sure I haven’t poisoned you, I’ll take a look at your wound and change the bandage, and you can tell me about La Duchessa. I confess I don’t like to think of her out there on the loose, since she’s evidently very dangerous.’

‘I don’t think there’s much to be done,’ he said. ‘She’ll be miles away by now. I’d like very much to know how she managed to follow me all the way here, though.’

‘Where did she follow you from?’

‘Antwerp,’ he said. ‘That’s where I know her from, at any rate.’

‘Were you—’ she began, and hesitated, embarrassed.

‘Goodness me, no,’ he said in surprise. ‘It’s nothing of that sort. No,’ he went on, ‘I’m afraid she holds me responsible for her husband’s presently being in gaol.’

‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘Who is her husband? And
were
you responsible?’

‘Of course not,’ he said indignantly. ‘He made a promise he couldn’t keep and he paid for it.’

‘This is all very mysterious,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I oughtn’t to have asked.’

‘No, I suppose it’s only fair to tell you,’ he said, ‘since you’re indirectly involved yourself.’

‘I
?’ she said, glancing up from her work in astonishment.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I dare say you remember a little holiday you took in Cornwall last July?’

‘Of course I do,’ she said.

‘And no doubt you also remember that I happened to be there at the same time, and that we were both searching for a certain item.’

‘A diamond necklace, yes,’ she said. ‘And we found it and I handed it in to the police like the good girl I am, and everybody was happy except you—at least, I seem to recall that’s how it went.’

‘An admirably concise summary,’ he said. ‘The only thing was, I’d rather promised it to this fellow, er—’

‘Mr. La Duchessa,’ put in Angela helpfully.

‘—who lives in Antwerp and makes his money by helping people such as myself who need to get rid of things in a hurry.’

‘A fence, you mean,’ said Angela.

‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘Now, as it happens, Mr.—er—La Duchessa had in turn quite rashly promised the necklace to someone else, an immensely wealthy private collector of important paintings and works of art and jewellery, who is very well known in the less reputable circles as a buyer of dishonestly-obtained goods. I have no idea who he is—I don’t think anyone does, as a matter of fact—but I do know that he is prepared to pay quite enormous sums of money to get his hands on these things. To those who deliver the goods he is incredibly generous, but he can also be rather vengeful if his expectations are not met.’

‘I see,’ said Angela. ‘And Mr. La Duchessa couldn’t deliver the goods because he didn’t have them.’

‘Exactly.’

‘You might have had the necklace, you know,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t have stopped you from taking it from me if you’d wanted to.’

‘I know,’ he said, ‘but I won’t use violence against a woman. And besides, you rather shamed me into letting you have it.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ she said.

‘At any rate, this fence had to explain that the necklace would not be forthcoming. The news was not well received, threats were made and the next I heard the fellow had been clapped in irons.’

‘Dear me,’ said Angela. ‘Do you think this collector was responsible for giving him away to the police?’

‘I’ve no doubt of it,’ said Valencourt. ‘He’s done it before. He doesn’t take kindly to being crossed, you see.’

‘And now presumably La Duchessa blames you for it.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She turned up the other day, and said now that her husband was in prison she wanted money.’

‘Couldn’t you have given her some?’ said Angela. ‘Presumably even criminals’ wives have to eat.’

‘It’s hardly my job to support another man’s wife,’ he said. ‘And besides, it wasn’t money to feed herself she wanted—it was reparation. She wanted me to pay her the value her husband would have got for the necklace had he sold it on. I was hardly going to do that, since firstly I didn’t have that sort of sum and secondly it wasn’t my fault he’d made a rash promise to someone else, was it? At any rate, she gave me until last night to come up with the money, on pain of unspecified action on her part.’

‘Well, now you know what she meant, anyhow,’ said Angela.

‘Yes,’ he said with a grimace. ‘Next time I shall take her more seriously.’

‘There, we’re all done,’ said Angela, and straightened up. ‘Well, it’s a pretty story, I suppose.’ She was in two minds as to whether or not to believe a word of it, since he had told her similar stories in the past which had turned out to be misleading, to say the least. She did not like him very much when he talked so carelessly of these things, and at that moment was glad that they had been interrupted in the garden, even though she would not herself have chosen that particular sort of interruption.

‘You’ve gone all cool again,’ he observed. ‘I’m sorry it offends you, Angela.’

‘I’m afraid it does,’ she said. ‘I can’t help it.’

‘I suppose you think I ought to retire,’ he said.

‘It’s nothing to do with me.’

‘Oh, but it has everything to do with you.’

‘I told you before,’ she said. ‘Your conscience is your own affair. I won’t be held responsible for it.’

‘Then you’re very unusual,’ he said. ‘Most women would jump at the chance to reform a sinner.’

‘Not I,’ said Angela emphatically. ‘I know to my own cost that it’s a waste of time even to try.’

She saw him regarding her curiously and looked away.

‘Did your husband make you
very
unhappy?’ he said at last.

‘He did, rather,’ she replied, busying herself with the discarded bandages so he would not see her face. ‘Still, I suppose it was partly my own fault: I married the man after all—no-one forced me to do it. I can’t even claim I wasn’t in my right mind at the time, as I knew perfectly well what I was doing.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You don’t deserve to be treated badly.’

She waved his words away and turned to put the bandages on a nearby table, on which one or two letters and bits of paper lay.

‘Oh!’ she said in surprise, as she saw what was on top of the pile. It was the little sketch of her done by Jack Lomax.

‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘I got that off him and I was going to get it framed for you, but I haven’t had the opportunity yet.’

She picked up the drawing and looked at it thoughtfully for some time without speaking.

‘What is it?’ he said.

‘It’s very nice,’ she said after a pause, ‘but I should say it flatters me.’

‘Do you think so?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He’s given me much too pretty a nose. It ought to be longer—all the better for sticking into other people’s business.’

She glanced at him slyly.

‘Did I say that?’ he said. ‘I do apologize. I was very angry with you, wasn’t I?’

‘Yes, well,’ she said. ‘I was angry enough myself. Perhaps it’s better for all concerned that we forget what happened last night.’

‘I’ll forget the row with pleasure,’ he said, ‘but I won’t forget the rest. Please say you won’t either.’

She met his gaze.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Of course I won’t.’

There was a short pause.

‘Can’t we try again, Angela?’ he said. ‘You could leave the hotel and hide with me up here until you go back to England. No-one would ever know. It would be our little secret.’

She could not help laughing.

‘I must say, I have to admire the sheer impudence of a man who can attempt seduction from his sick-bed shortly after taking a bullet in the side,’ she said. ‘And in return for that I won’t put on a display of outraged modesty at the suggestion.’

‘Thank heavens for that,’ he said. ‘But I take it the answer is no.’

‘It is,’ she said. ‘I am going back to Stresa shortly, and this time I should like you to keep your promise to stay away until I leave. It ought to be easy enough, since you’re not exactly in the fittest state at present.’

He looked down at the bedclothes.

‘Very well,’ he said after a moment. ‘You have my word. I won’t bother you any more. I’ll keep away from you and you’ll go back to England and we’ll never see each other again.’

Angela’s heart gave a treacherous thump at this, but she ignored it.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It’s for the best.’

‘I expect it is,’ he said. He glanced at her. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I’ve always been in the habit of seeing what I want and taking it, but I can’t do that with you, can I?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Some things are not for the taking.’

‘And yet I’ve never wanted anything more,’ he said softly.

Angela stared determinedly at the floor. She would not look into his eyes, for she was afraid of the effect they might have on her.

‘Very well, then,’ he went on at last, in much more like his usual manner. ‘I shall leave you to return home and no doubt be claimed by a better and a duller man.’

‘No fear of that,’ she said. ‘No, I shall be perfectly happy on my own. As you have no doubt deduced, I seem to be afflicted with a constitutional weakness for men who are very bad for me, and so I’ve rather sworn off all that kind of thing. Last night you caught me off guard, but I won’t be taken like that again.’

‘You talk as though it were a deliberate move on my part,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t, I assure you. You took me by surprise just as much as I did you.’

‘Well, no matter,’ she said, for she wanted to bring an end to the subject. ‘Now,’ she went on briskly, ‘I shall have to take your car, I’m afraid. You can have the people at the hotel return it to you later. You won’t be needing it for a few days anyway.’

‘You’re going to cut quite a dash, strolling into the place wearing a blood-stained evening-dress first thing on a Sunday morning,’ he remarked.

She looked down at herself in dismay.

‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘You’re right—look at the state of me. I shall probably attract all kinds of unpleasant attention. But it’s still early, so with any luck things will be quiet when I get there. Otherwise I expect I shall have to climb in through a window or hide until nightfall.’

‘I’d lend you something, but I don’t tend to keep a supply of women’s clothes here,’ he said. ‘I shall know better in future, naturally.’

‘No need for that,’ she said. ‘Unless you’re planning to get shot again, of course.’

‘I’ll try most things once,’ he said, ‘but I think once was quite enough in this case.’

She cleared the old bandages away and returned to find him looking tired again.

‘You’d better get some more sleep,’ she said. ‘In fact, I should advise you to stay in bed for a few days at least. You were lucky enough this time, but bullet wounds are not to be taken lightly—even minor ones.’

‘So you really are leaving me,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I am.’

‘Then shake hands before you go,’ he said.

They did so, formally.

‘Goodbye, Angela,’ he said.