The Bee's Kiss (12 page)

Audrey was studying Westhorpe with more than usual interest. Finally she said, ‘What’s that mean – “on this occasion”? Do you mean to say you’re
personally
involved in some way, dear? Were you one of . . . Did you know Beatrice?’

‘Constable Westhorpe discovered the body,’ said Joe, firmly taking back the threads of the conversation, ‘so I suppose you could say that.’

‘Ah. I see. So you were actually in the hotel when she died? You were in her room? You saw her body?’

Westhorpe was growing uncomfortable under the scrutiny and looked to Joe for help.

‘You can leave the questioning to us, Miss Blount. Shall we all sit down?’

He looked around. They were in a small sitting room, an open door of which gave a glimpse of a further bedroom. An empty suitcase lay open on top of the bed. A dressing table, its top crowded with bottles and jars, was surmounted by a large mirror flamboyantly lit by a row of electric light bulbs. Audrey fetched a chair from the bedroom and positioned it alongside two others in the sitting room and with a gesture invited them to sit in a row. She settled on a sofa opposite, awaiting their questions. Joe had a sudden illusion they were occupying the front seats in the stalls.

‘You were Dame Beatrice’s companion, I understand? This must have entailed an intimate knowledge of her life?’ Joe began.

‘Of her domestic life, yes. I was not encouraged to take an interest in her professional life. I was paid to be here when she got back from London, to listen to her complaints and rantings, to run her bath, to massage the bits of her that needed massaging and tell her she was wonderful. You know the sort of thing . . . most people would call it being a “wife”, Commander. I expect yours would recognize the job requirements.’

‘When did your employment commence?’

‘About half an hour after we met. She came backstage after a performance – the last night as luck would have it – of a revival of
Florodora
at the Gaiety – oh, it must be eight years ago. At the time I was glad to be offered any employment. Though I’ve regretted it every day since then.’

She jumped to her feet and went into the bedroom, returning with a framed photograph. ‘There we are – the chorines. That’s me second from the right. We were all five foot four and weighed 130 pounds. And we could all sing and dance, of course. The six girls in the original production all married millionaires, they say . . . I know for a fact that three of this line-up,’ she pointed to the photograph, ‘did very well for themselves. This one, Phoebe, my special friend, married a lord.’ She sighed. ‘Should have waited. Something would have come along.’

Joe looked with interest at the smiling line of chorus girls arm in arm with their six matching, top-hatted escorts. All young, innocent and lovely. The opening line of the musical floated into his mind.
Tell me pretty maiden, are there any more at home like you?
He remembered the girls’ reply delivered in a teasing Mayfair accent. Phoebe and, next to her, Audrey. Indistinguishable one from the other. Eight years ago. He briefly wondered what Phoebe was doing now.

‘And what are you intending to do in the immediate future, Miss Blount?’

She sighed and bit her lip, her confidence ebbing away at the stark question. ‘I’m leaving this place tomorrow. I’m going back to London. I’ve a sister in Wimbledon. I can stay with her for a bit. Not that she will want to put me up for long. I don’t get on with the fool she married. I’m too old for the stage now, though I’ve kept fit – I can still dance – and I still have my figure. I shall have to look for work in a shop . . . do a bit of waitressing . . . Nippy in a Joe Lyons? How about that? They say the tips aren’t bad. Who knows?’

‘I’d be obliged if you would leave a forwarding address at which we may contact you if necessary.’

Audrey nodded and gave the information to Armitage who noted it down.

‘And now, will you tell us what happened yesterday? Perhaps you could start with the quarrel it is reported that you had with your employer?’

‘I can’t recall what it was all about now,’ she said doubtfully. ‘I mean, what triggered it. What it was about was we couldn’t stand any more of each other’s company. I’d had enough of her bad temper and her vicious tongue. She wanted to get rid of me. “Whining, demanding and dreary,” she said. Told me to pack and clear off. I think she meant it this time. She delivered her ultimatum and swept off up to London in her Chrysler.’

‘And what were your feelings on hearing this?’

‘I was popping with rage. I expect there are witnesses in the house who’ll delight in telling you I stormed about swearing and yelling and breaking things. I’m not denying it. I did. And then when I calmed down a bit I decided I’d get the old Ford out and go to London myself. She gave me use of it when she got the new car . . . I say – do you suppose I’ll still be allowed to . . .? Oh, never mind! I followed her. I knew where she’d gone. While she was booking into a suite at the Ritz, I was being chucked out on the street. Eight years, Commander! Eight years of persecution with nothing to show for it and too late to start my life up again. I decided to kill her.’

Joe stirred uneasily. ‘And
did
you kill her?’

He was taken aback by a blast of astonishment. ‘Eh? What is all this? Course I didn’t! How can you ask that? Wasn’t it
you
who told her mother it was a
burglar
that got her?’

‘We’re keeping an open mind on that at the moment. It’s very likely that she was indeed attacked by an intruder gaining access through a window – but continue, please. Tell us what happened after you got up to London.’

‘It wasn’t difficult to get into the Ritz and track her down.’ She looked slyly at Joe and went on with something like pride in her tone, ‘I can still act a bit, you know! Easy to get past people if you use the right accent. I got her room number and hung about wondering what to do while she was at the party downstairs. And then I saw one of the chambermaids was going about turning down the sheets in the rooms, freshening the flowers and checking things while the guests were living it up down below. They have these little trolleys piled up with towels and linen and they push them about the corridors. I watched when one of them hung up her uniform and parked her trolley and scarpered. It only took me a minute or two to slip on the gear – shapeless overall and fancy cap – and waddle about as though my feet were killing me. Nobody notices the hired help. Everybody looked through me. You can go anywhere!’

She gave a dry laugh. ‘Even her bloody ladyship didn’t recognize me! She came hurrying back to her room . . . it must have been about ten past twelve . . . I was getting a bit fed up by then, temper cooled, feet beginning to ache for real and wondering what on earth I thought I was doing in this farcical get-up when madam comes rocketing along the corridor from the lift, peeling off her gloves. She saw me lurking about near her door and yelled at me. “You there! I hope you’re not expecting to gain admittance to my room at this late hour. What has happened to the schedule? I shall have a word with the manager. Go away! And don’t think of disturbing me.”

‘She paused at the door to her suite and kept looking back at the lift. Waiting. Expecting someone to follow her, I thought. Well, by that time I’d lost all enthusiasm for topping her anyway. Never had thought through
how
I would do it and seeing her suddenly again like that, on her high horse, well . . . she was a big, strong woman, Commander! You’d have needed to take a crowbar to her to make any impression. And if my attempt was about to be witnessed by some drunken sot she’d managed to lure up from the ballroom . . . well . . . I thought, “Blow this for a game of soldiers!” She went in and shut the door and I grabbed my trolley and meandered off down the corridor, feeling silly. I hung about a bit, just out of curiosity. I wouldn’t have minded casting an eye over her date for the evening!’

‘And while you were lurking along the corridor, did you hear any sound from the Dame’s suite?’

Audrey thought carefully. ‘Not a sound. No one came up. No one went down. Nothing.’ She laughed. ‘I’d love to be able to say I saw So-and-So or What’s-His-Name nipping in but my memory’s a total blank on that one. But give me time to think, will you? There may be details that didn’t register as important at the time that come back to me now I know what you’re looking for. Tell me, Commander – how did she die?’

‘A poker. Not a crowbar but a solid Ritz poker,’ said Joe. ‘About five blows to the skull.’

‘Did she suffer? Oh, daft question! Of course she must have suffered.’ Audrey’s eyes were glazed with tears and she fumbled in her sleeve for a handkerchief.

‘She defended herself bravely. I think she died more in rage than in pain,’ said Joe.

Audrey nodded. ‘Sounds like Bea.’

‘Perhaps a good moment to establish something of the nature of the Dame’s relationships,’ said Joe. ‘I’m sure there must be much you can tell us about whom she was close to and so on.’

Audrey looked from one to the other uncertainly. ‘Look, it’s a bit delicate. Her love life was chaotic as I’m sure you’ve guessed and there are . . . um . . . certain . . . things . . . you really ought to know about her if you’re to get a clear picture of her. But, I say, I don’t really think I could . . .’ She faltered, blushed and then came to a decision. ‘Would you mind very much if I talked to the lady policeman? Miss Westhorpe, did you say? I feel I could talk more easily to a woman. Would you mind, miss?’

‘I think that would be a good idea,’ said Westhorpe helpfully. ‘Sir – there’s a door to the garden and I notice a particularly fine example of a Dutch garden out there. If you and the sergeant would like to take a stroll while I talk to Miss Blount, I think everyone’s sensibilities would be served.’

Amused and intrigued, Joe nodded his acceptance of the scheme. He got to his feet and handed Audrey a card. ‘This is where you may contact me, Miss Blount. At any time. Should you recall something of relevance to the enquiry.’ He nodded to Armitage and they walked together through the french window into the garden.

‘Perhaps Sir Nevil knows what he’s doing,’ said Armitage. ‘I begin to see some real advantages in employing these women. Save our blushes, like you said, sir. Wonder what on earth she’s telling her? Er . . . is there any guarantee that the constable will understand what she’s hearing?’

‘I hardly know the constable but I think I can guarantee that if anything she is told is unclear she will insist on a clarification,’ said Joe. ‘Let’s go and admire those tulips in the sunken garden. Then if we follow the flower walk and take a turn around the monticule over there I’d guess by then they should have finished.’

‘Unless the Dame’s catalogue of excesses is longer than we have any suspicions of,’ said Armitage, raising a salacious eyebrow.

‘Perhaps Audrey thinks she’s auditioning for the part of Leporello? Reciting a list of Donna Bea’s indiscretions?’

‘Perhaps, sir. Not really fond of the opera, myself,’ sniffed Armitage. ‘All that murder and mayhem . . . get enough of that on the job, I’d say. Give me a good musical any day. Now what you ought to go and see is that
Lady Be Good
. Opened last week at the Empire. Usual silly story but the dancing’s good. Fred and Adèle Astaire.’ He started to hum ‘Fascinating Rhythm’ under his breath, turning back repeatedly to look over his shoulder. Strung up, Joe thought. Bill had never been happy with inactivity.

Joe noticed that his sergeant’s attention was continually drifting back from the soldierly ranks of bright tulips to the two pretty heads, one fair, one dark, leaning close together, side by side on the sofa. They strolled on and had discovered the Japanese water garden, the thatched summer house on stilts over a pond and the sunken rose garden before the watchful Armitage announced, ‘There she is, sir. That’s the constable waving to us at the window.’

The fifteen minutes’ tête-à-tête had quenched Westhorpe. Pale and thoughtful, she made no attempt to relay her conversation. ‘I’ve rung for Reid to take us on to our next interview. Orlando lives over there in the oldest part of the house, the west wing. Here comes Reid now . . . Later, sir! Later!’

Reid emerged into the sunshine, head on one side, smiling slightly. ‘If you would come this way, gentlemen. Miss. We can cross the lawn and enter Mr Orlando’s quarters at the rear.’

Before they could start off, a small figure detached itself from the woodwork of the open verandah which linked the new wing with the central part of the house and stood firmly blocking their way.

‘Thank you, Reid. You may dismiss. I shall conduct our guests to the west wing.’

‘Certainly, Miss Dorcas,’ said Reid gravely. ‘That is very considerate. Will there be anything further?’

The girl gave him a dazzling smile. ‘Well, if you could sneak some of that fruit cake along for later, that would be good. We’ve got nothing to offer these people otherwise.’ She looked up at Joe and added, confidingly, ‘Mel can’t cook. Well, apart from stews. She’s quite good at stews.’

‘I’ll see what I can do, Miss Dorcas.’ Reid bowed his head and left them with their new guide.

Joe looked with surprise and concern at the child. In appearance she was little different from any of the waifs you saw by the roadside playing hopscotch in the dust. Her feet were bare and dirty, her ragged dress trailed about somewhere between her knees and ankles and her thin shoulders were concealed under a much-darned brown woolly cardigan. But her face, Joe thought, was quite exceptional. It was thin and brown but lit by the intelligence of two large dark eyes. Joe knew he had seen something very similar and quite recently. She turned her head to look at Armitage and Westhorpe with the intensity of a child examining exotic creatures at the zoo and he had it. Her profile, neat nose and almond eye framed by an abundance of glossy black hair, could have inspired a painter of ancient Crete. Armitage and Westhorpe shuffled their feet uncomfortably and looked back for assistance from the retreating Reid but Joe held the child’s gaze. ‘It’s very thoughtful of you to undertake escort duties,’ he said lightly but formally, ‘and we look forward to meeting your brothers and sisters.’