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Authors: Dennis Wheatley

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On other days they went into the town, bathed below the villa and lay in hammocks in the garden. But wherever Fleur and Truss went Douglas went with them and, as time went on, Truss found it more and more difficult to continue being polite to him. It was not only that his presence prevented a tête-à-tête with Fleur but that it was the two of them who did most of the talking. Truss, being fresh from college, had little knowledge of the world. It was a passion for winter sports, acquired when young, that had led him to persuade his father to let him go to its Mecca for undergraduates, Dartmouth in New Hampshire. But his triumphs as a skier cut little ice with Fleur and apart from brief trips to England and the Caribbean he had never been outside the United States. Whereas Douglas, who was ten years older, not only knew London, Paris and Rome, but had visited India, Singapore, Rangoon, Bangkok and numerous other places in the East, and could talk most interestingly about them and their social problems, a subject to which Fleur never tired of listening.

Unhappily, but doggedly, Truss tagged along with them, inwardly seething with rage when Fleur placidly agreed to sightseeing that she had refused to do with him.

They spent one morning in the old Palace, where the Archaeological Museum was housed, looking at archaic Greek sculptures that had been dug up in the island, and the famous collection of Sino-Japanese art, upon which Douglas commented with interest and humour. Another morning Fleur, un-protesting, endured the long walk to the south of the town, along the peninsula of Kanoni, to catch a glimpse of Mon Repos, the present residence of the Greek Royal family when in Corfu.

Impatiently Truss waited till near the end of the week; then, by lying in wait for Fleur, he managed to corner her. With an eager grin he said, ‘How about it, sweetie? Is everything all right with you now?'

She shrugged, ‘I'm over the curse, if that's what you mean But I'm not feeling like romps at the moment. We'll see next week.'

‘Oh, come on, honey,' he protested. ‘I could soon make you feel——'

‘No!' She cut him short abruptly. ‘You must learn, Truss, that you'll get no fun from pressing a girl when she doesn't feel like it.'

Sulkily he turned away, mentally cursing Rajapakse; for, although it was inconceivable to him that Fleur might have fallen for a coloured man, it was his arrival and presence to which he attributed the break between himself and her.

Richard and Marie Lou had also observed with growing concern the new orientation in Fleur's interest. That same night when in bed they discussed it unhappily.

‘This fellow turning up when he did was the most lousy luck,' Richard declared. ‘It really looked as if Fleur and Truss were going to make a go of it; now she's scarcely civil to him.'

‘I know,' agreed Marie Lou. ‘But it's quite understandable. Truss is hardly out of the egg, whereas Douglas is so much older and, one must admit, a polished man of the world. One can't wonder that she is attracted to him.'

‘Attracted! God forbid! Surely you don't mean …?'

‘Of course not, stupid. Anything physical between them is unthinkable. It wouldn't even cross Fleur's mind, and I'm sure he's much too much of a gentleman to make a pass at her. But they are both interested in things that Truss knows nothing about; so it's only natural that they should enjoy talking together and tend to freeze him out.'

‘Well, it's got to be broken up somehow; so that Truss can pick things up from things up from where they started

‘What do you suggest?'

‘I've been thinking. Truss is due to do Italy. How about our cutting short our stay here, inviting him to join us, going to Rome, hiring a car and the four of us making a tour of Florence, Siena, Perugia, Urbino and all those other places?'

‘That's an excellent idea, and I'd love it. But it would be hard on Greyeyes.'

‘I know. But he's the most understanding person in the world; and we could come back for another stay here with him in the autumn.'

As a result of this midnight conversation, Richard put the matter to the Duke the following morning. The old man, whose principal amusement these days was watching other people's reactions to changing situations, was well aware of the rift that Rajapakse had created between Fleur and Truss; so he said:

‘My dear Richard, I sympathise with your hopes and fully appreciate your concern. In the circumstances the arrival here of our charming Sinhalese was most unfortunate. But having invited him to stay as long as he likes I cannot possibly get rid of him for you. Loath as I am to lose you and Marie Lou, your proposal at least offers a possibility of pulling the chestnuts out of the fire; so by all means adopt it.'

At lunch that day with kind but slightly cynical amusement de Richleau listened while Richard, with somewhat forced gaiety, put forward his plan for Marie Lou, Fleur and himself to tour central Italy, then invited Truss to join them.

Truss accepted with alacrity, but Fleur remained silent for a moment, her full mouth taking on a sulky line. Then she said, ‘If you all want to go and stare at a hundred and ten Madonnas suckling an overweight infant, by all means do. But Grandpa Greyeyes invited us for a month and I'm staying here.'

5
It Could Have Been Murder

At Fleur's unequivocal declaration one of those silences that can be felt descended on those round the table. Marie Lou had long since given up the unequal struggle of arguing with her daughter and Richard, equally aware of the futility of endeavouring to persuade her to change her mind, forbore to comment. She was their only child, and for her he had the great fondness of a naturally affectionate man, but at times she drove him to a frenzy. With difficulty he suppressed an angry retort and concentrated viciously on the contents of his plate. And there, with the old Duke having difficulty in suppressing mild mirth at their discomfiture, the matter was dropped.

That evening Truss again managed to get Fleur on her own for a few minutes, and he said, ‘Look, honey. I appreciate your not rating Italian Masters all that interesting, but how about us? Surely you must be feeling pretty good again by now, and I'm just aching to do this and that with you again. How about tonight?'

She shook her head. ‘I'm sorry, Truss. Really, I am not in the mood. And, after all, you have no reason to complain even if we never do again. In fact you owe me quite a lot. I've initiated you into what are called the “mysteries of sex”, and next time you feel like going to bed with a girl you'll be able to put up a good performance.'

‘Do you… d'you mean,' he gasped, ‘that you don't mean to let me again, ever?'

‘I didn't say that,' she hedged. ‘And we had great fun while it lasted, but … Well, at the moment my mind is on other things.'

‘It's on Douglas,' he snapped, seizing her by the shoulders. ‘That's the truth, isn't it? You've fallen for that slick Douglas. Oh God, Fleur! How could you! Surely you wouldn't——'

‘Of course not!' She broke away and glared at him angrily. ‘But he's got a brain ten times the size of yours. And since you insist on the truth, you've become an unwanted third as far as going about with us is concerned. I want to find out much more about him; things he wouldn't tell me in front of you. Tomorrow I thought we'd hire a boat and go sailing. If you've any gratitude for what I've given you, you'll make some excuse to stay in the town and let us go off on our own.'

‘Very well,' he said dully. ‘If that's the way you want it. The sooner you've gotten over swapping life-stories with that so-and-so, the better I'll be pleased.' By mutual consent they turned and walked back in silence to join the others.

Next morning Fleur carried out her plan. With the best grace Truss could muster he said he wanted to have another look round the Museum, and the other two put off in a small boat into the blue bay. For a couple of hours he strolled listlessly about the galleries, regarding with unseeing eyes primitive stone carvings of lions and human torsos, broken pottery and beautiful Byzantine mosaics, while brooding about Fleur and wondering moodily whether the absorbed interest she showed in Douglas could really be explained in any other way than that she had fallen for him.

Admittedly they had said that the time of their return must be governed by wind and tide, but as it was a day of light breezes Truss expected them to be back for lunch; so from a little before one o'clock he began to haunt the water front. Half past and two o'clock came, but there was still no sign of them, so he bought a big punnet of strawberries from a vendor and ate them disconsolately without sugar while leaning against a bollard.

As the afternoon wore on his thoughts grew bleaker. He convinced himself that no girl like Fleur would want to go off
on her own with a man for a whole day just to hear about his upbringing and to talk sociology. Mental pictures began to form in his mind of the two of them, having beached the boat in some lonely bay, lying in it necking. The thought was unbearable. He tried to thrust it from his mind but could not and, for the first time in his young life, he was seized with the pangs of a hideous jealousy.

It was nearly five o'clock before he sighted their boat and another twenty minutes before they landed. His stomach gave a nasty twinge as he saw that Fleur's hair was in disorder, but he tried to rid himself of his suspicions with the thought that it might have been blown about by the wind.

Stepping ashore, she greeted him gaily, ‘Hullo! What have you been doing with yourself all day?'

‘From one o'clock I've been waiting here,' he replied surlily. ‘I'd expected you back for lunch.'

‘Oh dear!' She hitched up her slacks, then ran a hand over her hair. ‘I'm so sorry. I thought I said we'd get lunch somewhere. We landed at the end of the peninsula and had ours at the Kanoni Tourist Pavilion. It was heavenly on the water; we had a lovely day.'

Douglas had been busy tying up the boat. Joining them he, too, apologised with apparent sincerity, but Truss felt sure the real explanation for their lateness in getting back was because they had been enjoying themselves so much that they had decided to leave him in the lurch.

That evening he decided that he could not bear the sight of them dancing together so after dinner he said he did not feel well, and they set off on their own. As it was again a Saturday, it was extension night at the Corfu Palace, which meant that they would not be back before about half past one.

Having got to bed, Truss settled down to read but, after a while, he found that his mind was not taking in the story; so he put out the light and attempted to get to sleep. That proved equally useless. In vain he counted sheep or tried to make his mind a blank. Pictures of Fleur constantly floated into it; Fleur that first night in the moonlight suggesting that he should
come to her room; Fleur naked, the nipples of her young breasts standing up hard from desire, the roundness of her hips a sight to make any man crazy; Fleur dancing with that damnable, good-looking, coffee-skinned Douglas. Then other imagined pictures of them that made Truss writhe.

At long last he heard footsteps outside in the corridor. As Douglas's room was opposite his, that meant they had returned. A glance at the luminous dial of his bedside travelling clock showed Truss that it was only twenty past one; so they would not have lingered on the way home for a necking session in the car. With a sigh of relief he turned over for the hundredth time and resettled himself with new hope of at last getting off to sleep.

He was just on the point of doing so when he became suddenly wide awake. The sound of a door closed gently had roused him. Then there came footsteps again.

With his heart hammering furiously, he sat up in bed. Those footsteps could mean only one thing. Douglas had changed into a dressing gown and was now on his way to Fleur's room.

For ten agonised minutes Truss wrestled with his chaotic thoughts. Fleur was free, white and twenty-one; those long-honoured qualifications in the United States for doing what one liked. If she wanted to give herself to Douglas she had the right to do so; and he, Truss, had no possible excuse for trying to prevent her. But hadn't he? Douglas was free and twenty-one, but he was not white. This could not be allowed to happen. However strong her infatuation for him, she must be protected against herself. If it did happen, Truss felt convinced that she would bitterly regret it afterwards. Sooner or later it seemed certain that she would marry, and Truss had been brought up in the belief that before marrying all decent couples told one another the truth about themselves. To admit to having premarital affaires was all right. Everyone had them these days. But how could she confess to a fiancé that she had allowed a coloured man to have her? And if she didn't she would always have it on her conscience, with the fear that, somehow or other, her husband would find out.

Suddenly throwing back the bedclothes Truss jumped out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown. He had convinced himself that it was no less than his duty to intervene before it was too late.

Shuffling into his soft shoes he pulled open the door and began to stride along the corridor. It then crossed his mind that Douglas might not be with Fleur, but had gone to the dining room to get himself a last drink. Changing his pace to an almost noiseless tiptoe he went ahead, but Douglas was not in the dining room. His worst forebodings renewed, the powerful young American, now seized with a fierce desire to get his big hands on the Sinhalese, proceeded quietly down the further corridor.

When he reached the door of Fleur's room he paused to listen. No sound of subdued laughter or muffled exclamations of endearment, such as he had expected to hear, came to him. Controlling his heavy breathing, he knelt down and put his ear to the keyhole. Still silence. In so short a time it seemed hardly possible that Fleur had undressed, made her toilette for the night and was already in bed dropping off to sleep; yet no streak of light came from beneath the door.

BOOK: Dangerous Inheritance
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