Death with Blue Ribbon (7 page)

‘Fee? Do you think I'm talking about fees? I have several important cases in the hospital, people who need attention, and you bring me down to see a hysterical woman with a small bilious attack, and
that
induced by her own self-pity.'

‘Oh, Sir Glynn! How can you speak like that? Miss Marvell is seriously ill. You haven't even prescribed anything for her!'

‘I'll prescribe. One mile's walk a day to be increased, by extending it daily, to five miles. Cut out all animal fats, all farinaceous food and all sugar. Give her a dose of castor oil immediately. And never call me down on what I can only describe as a wild GOOSE chase!'

He nodded briskly and went out. His car was chauffeur-driven and carried him away smoothly. Miss Trudge was in tears.

‘I was told he was the
best
specialist for this trouble,' she appealed to Carolus. ‘You heard him? How could he speak like that?'

‘I don't imagine Miss Marvell will be very pleased with his advice.'

‘I should not dream of telling her,' said Miss Trudge, with an anxious glance upward towards the room in which The Invalid lay.

But she must have given Imogen some indication of the specialist's advice for as Carolus passed her door later he heard a scream of fury.

He paused there for a moment—it could scarcely be called eavesdropping because Imogen's voice rang through the house.

‘I shall expose him!' she cried. ‘Exercise! No sugar! Castor oil! The man must be a charlatan. Trudge! Do you hear? I shall expose him. Is there no one I can depend on? Where's my sister? Gone in to
lunch?
How dare she when I can eat nothing. Fetch her at once. At once, do you hear? And Rolland! And get another doctor! Phone immediately. Say that Imogen Marvell needs attention. Move, woman! The man's a scoundrel. Five miles a day! No animal fats! He must be mad. It's a conspiracy! I'm surrounded with jealousy. If you don't move, Trudge, I shall get out of bed and shake you!'

Miss Trudge came out, a strange pallor taking the place of her usual crimson. She bolted downstairs. It was in fact pleasant for Carolus to observe at lunch-time the tranquil calm with which Imogen's self-effacing husband, Dudley Smithers, ate his way through several courses. Perhaps he knew Imogen better than any of them.

Then at something past four in the afternoon, Carolus did that thing dear to the heart of English hotel residents, he ‘had tea in the lounge'.

Miss Trudge was there swallowing a hasty cuppa because she had not been able to come down to lunch. Carolus asked earnestly after Imogen Marvell.

‘She is very brave,' said Miss Trudge somewhat
ambiguously. ‘But unfortunately she insists on looking at the daily newspapers. I have kept them from her till now but as soon as she finishes her nap she is determined to see them. I'm afraid it will cause a relapse.'

‘What form is that likely to take?'

‘She is so sensitive. She will be deeply hurt by the way the story has been interpreted. It will send her temperature up, I'm afraid. It's so bad for her to become excited. I think I'll run and see if she has woken up.'

She meant it literally. Her exit was at the double.

Half an hour later Grace Marvell walked in chuckling.

‘She's screaming blue murder,' she said. ‘She's been looking at her press.'

‘Not very comforting, I'm afraid,' said Carolus.

Grace smiled.

‘She's in hysterics. What's more she can keep this up till tomorrow morning. I've known her scream her head off for hours at a stretch if things go against her. It's frustrating, of course. She'll have to be given an injection presently to make her sleep, otherwise the whole hotel will be disturbed.'

‘You seem to know her very well.'

‘I ought to. I was brought up with her. She was the only girl at school who could get her way with the headmistress—one of those granite women—by simply screaming till she did.'

Miss Trudge dashed in.

‘She wants Mr Smithers!' she cried. ‘We shall have to get another doctor for her!'

She hurried off.

‘She means Imogen's husband,' explained Grace.

‘Surely he has a calming effect?'

‘Oh, no. His coolness drives her insane. He doesn't blink an
eyelid while she abuses him with every insult under the sun. It's harrowing to see them together.'

‘Why does he put up with it?'

‘Imogen's enormously rich,' Grace explained adequately. ‘Though I don't see what
he
can hope for.'

Carolus was glad to escape from this atmosphere when he made for the bar soon after six o'clock.

He thought Gloria looked a little sulky at first and mentioned that he had written a note to his friend Alex Foss which seemed to cheer her up.

‘Have you really?' she said. ‘That's ever so nice of you.'

For a few minutes she was absent-minded as though away in a dream world of her own. But she returned to give him some surprising news.

‘Who do you think booked in just now? Staying the night.'

‘Who?' asked Carolus obligingly.

‘The man I told you about! The one who made the scene about food poisoning the
other
time. You remember? I said he came in here and had quate a chet with me.'

‘Yes, indeed.'

‘Well, he's come back. I shouldn't have thought he would after what happened, would you?'

They were interrupted by the entrance of an individual of sanguine complexion in a check suit. Behind his back Gloria made excited signals to Carolus to indicate that it was the man they had been discussing. He ordered vodka-and-tonic and sat beside Carolus. He seemed anxious for conversation so having agreed that it was a dirty night and the Government was hell, Carolus asked him if he often came here.

‘Not more than I can help. Last time I was here I got food poisoning. I'm deciding whether to bring an action for
damages, or not. Since I read of the same thing happening to this cookbook woman, I feel something should be done.'

Carolus thought Imogen's health might not improve if she heard herself called ‘this cookbook woman.'

‘So you're going to try the food again? That's very courageous of you.'

‘I'm going to see the proprietor, or whatever he is.'

Carolus studied the man narrowly. Was he or was he not connected with Rivers and the rest?

‘Live in London?' Carolus queried in a tone of idle chatter.

‘Yes. I'd move out myself but the wife won't live anywhere else. Do you?'

‘Bayswater,' said Carolus quickly.

Yes. It had struck home. With tremendous casualness the man asked: ‘What part of Bayswater?'

‘Wilsey Place,' said Carolus. He did not mean to commit himself too far.

So pointedly lacking in interest was the man that Carolus felt fairly certain of him.

‘Hm? Don't know that part. Live in Chelsea myself. Have a drink?'

‘Thanks.'

‘Must have been quite a
thing,
this diet expert passing out.'

‘It was. Hope you had nothing like that?'

‘It was very unpleasant. Very unpleasant. Ought to be more careful in a restaurant like this.'

Rolland entered.

‘Ah, there you are, Rolland,' said the stranger, his manner becoming rather aggressive. ‘I wanted a word with you.'

Rolland's attempt at dignity was pitiable. His nerve had evidently broken down.

‘I've nothing to say to you,' he said. ‘You had better get in touch with my solicitors.'

‘I
get in touch with
your
solicitors? That's a laugh. I'll sue you for every penny you've got. I came here to speak to you in private on this matter before going for you with the utmost rigour of the law.'

Rolland hesitated.

‘I suppose you had better come to my office,' he said wearily and the two men went out.

‘Poor Mr Rolland,' said Gloria. ‘He must be out of his mind with all this happening and Her upstairs. You'd think Antoine could tell good
scampi
from bad, wouldn't you? It's beyond me, I must say.'

Miss Trudge rushed in.

‘Is Mr Smithers here?' she asked.

It was perfectly obvious that he was not, but Miss Trudge looked about her rather wildly.

‘May I offer you a drink, Miss Trudge?' asked Carolus.

Miss Trudge stopped fidgeting sufficiently to give Carolus a hurried smile.

‘Oh, I couldn't possibly,' she said with emphasis. ‘It would not be … With Imogen in bed … It's very kind … It might be perceptible when I am near her, you see … It has been rather a trying day … So kind of you to think … Perhaps a teeny brandy then, but I must get back…'

She sipped gratefully but as she raised her arm Carolus saw that there was blood at her wrist. She tried to cover this, and he felt it better to say nothing.

Just then Grace Marvell came in.

‘You're smothered in blood,' she said to Miss Trudge. ‘Whatever's the matter? Look at your arm! Wait—let me look.'

Her examination revealed a long scratch from near the elbow.

‘You're an idiot, really you are. This might turn to blood-poisoning. You deserve it for the way you allow that sister of
mine to walk over you. But we can't have any more scandal. I'll have to do it up. Is there a chemist's near here?'

‘Mr Fulbright,' said Gloria. ‘Just down the road. You remember. You bought the eau-de-cologne there this afternoon.'

‘Oh, yes. I'll go and get some plaster. You're a nuisance but that could be serious if it's not attended to. Imogen's fingers must be tipped with poison. Stay here.'

She went out by the street entrance of the bar.

‘It's a nasty scratch,' said Gloria. ‘However did you get it?'

Not tactful, Carolus thought. Miss Trudge writhed.

‘It's nothing, really. Just a little … scratch. Miss Marvell needn't have bothered. Must have been my brooch …'

‘Your brooch? But how …' began Gloria till she caught Carolus's discouraging eye.

Grace returned.

‘Come on,' she said briskly to Miss Trudge. ‘The chemist was just closing but I managed to get some alcohol and plaster.' They went out.

‘She's really very kind,' commented Gloria. ‘Only it's her manner. I'm sorry for Miss Trudge, though. I suppose it was that Imogen who scratched her arm?'

Presently Miss Trudge returned.

‘I don't think I quite finished my …' She blushed violently. ‘No, there it is… So kind…'

‘Have another?' said Carolus.

‘You
are
kind … I wonder whether … just for once … it's not as though I … She told me not to come back for half an hour…'

Evidently the brandy was what is called ‘doing her good'.

But Grace Marvell when she came in was in a very downright mood.

‘We must phone the local doctor,' she said. ‘He'll have to give her a shot of something to put her out for a few hours. She'll have convulsions if he doesn't. I don't mind her yelling at me but this has gone past all bounds. You know the doctor's number, Trudge. Get him round here as soon as possible.'

‘You really think?'

‘Certain. It's the only thing to do. She'll burst a blood vessel.'

‘She may not like having an injection…'

‘I don't suppose she will. But it's for her own good. You don't know what she's like in this condition.'

‘If you're sure it's the right thing,' Miss Trudge said dubiously.

‘Go and phone!' retorted Grace and Miss Trudge went. A few minutes later Grace followed her out.

‘It's not the first time,' said Gloria. ‘Dickie Biskett was telling me they had the same thing with her about three months ago. Then it was about a recipe she had written in a newspaper. She'd said
two hours
in the oven by mistake and people were writing in from everywhere saying it was burnt to a cinder. They had her London doctor then and he put her to sleep.'

‘Your friend's very informative. You seem to get on with him.'

Gloria jerked her head back.

‘He thinks too much of himself,' she said. ‘I don't like anyone who presumes.'

Carolus went into the dining-room for dinner and looked about him. There was plenty to observe. The florid man was dining alone and apparently enjoying his food. He made no attempt to disturb the other diners of whom there were
perhaps two dozen. At the table occupied previously by Imogen Marvell, her sister and husband sat facing one another and eating in silence. Stefan seemed sober and there was no sign of Miss Trudge.

He was surprised at the quiet behaviour of the florid man, who had almost finished his dinner. Had Rolland capitulated?

Miss Trudge came in and spoke to Grace Marvell.

‘The doctor's coming at nine o'clock,' she said.

‘Good.'

‘I must get back to her.'

Mr Smithers gave no sign of interest, but continued to masticate complacently.

Looking back on that evening and the night that followed Carolus thought that events moved with a certain crescendo from the arrival of Miss Trudge with a scratched arm to the moment when death was discovered.

There was first of all the appearance of Dr Jyves. Carolus was sitting alone in the Residents' Lounge when Grace Marvell came in with a small dusty-looking man in a soiled raincoat. He carried a bag and his face twitched at intervals. Cocaine, Carolus decided.

Either the two of them did not know Carolus was there, or their business was so urgent that they decided to ignore him.

‘She needs an injection. If she's not put to sleep at once she'll drive us all mad. Miss Trudge, her secretary, is nearly out of her mind already.'

‘I'll see her at once,' said the doctor, twitching violently.

‘What will you give her? Dormodina?'