What Lot's Wife Saw (14 page)

Bera had surprised us all when he’d excluded him from the circle of his courtiers, and his Personal Secretary had never forgiven him. His privileges are unique; he’s the only one with an Administrative Level of A1 and for this he’s doubly humiliated. He lives in a flat outside Hesperides, he pays for his ticket to the Opera and at receptions he sits with the domestic staff of the Palace. The incongruity between his highly responsible position and his low social status maddened him. The conspicuous display of ingratitude and contempt on behalf of his immediate superior had steeped him in poison and shrunken him until he looked like a wizened rat whose beady little eyes oozed hate.

Dr Fabrizio, on the other hand, has never forgiven me for rejecting his boorish sexual flirting (neglecting the fact that he is unkempt and as round as a balloon) and was further incensed when I chose Montenegro over him. The latter is, if nothing else, the most handsome man in the Colony, with a sharp wit that can enliven even the dreariest hymns of Lent. The Doctor had pursued me so indiscreetly and relentlessly that he’d aroused even Bera’s contempt to the extent that he’d insist that I dance with the buffoon every time the orchestra struck up the Waltz of Unrequited Hopes. I really had begun to wonder whether Fabrizio was being so obvious in his advances in the hope that the Governor would take pity on him and instruct me to look charitably on him, on the assumption that Bera picked my lovers. In this he wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t able to comprehend that the criterion Bera employed rather than being the extent of the candidate’s desires was the quality of misery that the affair would inflict on me. Montenegro’s bed had been judged to be so much more bitter and thorny that he authorised it.

That these two sick minds had joined their frustrations and conspired to commit a crime seemed to me more and more certain. They had the motive and the means to achieve their aims. Fabrizio was the only person with access to poisons and, as the Governor’s physician, could have administered any concoction imaginable. Indeed, he’d be the person summoned to determine the cause of death, and which of us could challenge his diagnosis? He’d declared that the death was due to natural causes and had added some muttered, incomprehensible medical terminologies … so that was that, end of story. He certainly hadn’t demanded the transportation of the body to the Infirmary for a proper examination, ostensibly to avoid arousing the colonists’ suspicions.

The absence of the key from around Bera’s neck proves Siccouane’s involvement, since he was the only one to be intimate with the Green Box. No other colonist was permitted to be at such close quarters to Bera, not even me, his wife. Siccouane held the keys of the Governor’s office, mapped out his daily agenda and even followed him into the bathroom whenever Bera immersed himself in his vast marble bathtub to escape the stifling heat of the Colony, while he signed the official documents. Fabrizio had arranged the murder and Siccouane the utilisation of the key, and that was why they’d needed each other and had cooperated despite their mutual antipathy, and that was why they now displayed such an unnatural common front.

Suddenly it dawned on me why Siccouane kept repeating the story about seeing the Governor on the veranda last night, wearing his pyjamas and playing with the key around his neck. He’d wished to emphasise the fact that he’d left him alive, whereas at that time Bera could easily have been breathing his last with the key having already changed hands.

“Do you know, Bateau, what I find really hard to swallow?” I said conversationally as we descended the stairs. “Siccouane’s claim that he could clearly see the Governor last night as he was leaving the Palace when the veranda must be twenty metres from the path and yesterday’s fog had cut visibility to fifty centimetres. He not only identified the Governor, but could state that he was wearing pyjamas and even that the keychain was around his neck. Siccouane must possess extraordinary vision.”

“We’ll ask him when we go back upstairs, but let’s get on with it now and get rid of the servants first,” Drake interrupted, shoving me violently.

“While we’re evicting the servants, Captain, I would like you to give some thought to how Dr Fabrizio was discovered sitting on his veranda this morning, claiming not to have abandoned it even momentarily yesterday, reading July’s issue of the
Amateur Gardener
. If you care to calculate the dates, July’s edition could only have arrived yesterday, on last night’s Correspondence Ship. So either the
Amateur Gardener
reaches him a week before it’s published or the Doctor’s lying and definitely left his villa during the night. Was it just his desire for the latest issue of his magazine that caused him to venture out in those conditions?

“And that would explain why, the night before, Siccouane, after completing the delivery of the Green Box, waited stubbornly in the foyer, shouting that he had to see the Governor until Bianca burst into tears and I was forced to intervene. It’s obvious that Fabrizio was already in Bera’s room committing the murder while Siccouane was creating his diversion downstairs in the lobby, forcing me to come down and making sure that I wouldn’t hear the slightest suspicious noise.”

“Then it doesn’t make any sense to insist on seeing the Governor, does it? What would’ve happened if Bianca had gone to look for him and found Fabrizio in his room?” Bateau countered sarcastically.

“Bianca would never have disobeyed my orders. Siccouane was not risking anything by insisting, quite the opposite in fact; he was producing a shining halo of innocence for himself and a powerful alibi.”

“I would rather you explained why you were so adamant in refusing everyone’s access to your husband who, after the arrival of the Green Box, usually comes out to exchange a few words with Cortez.”

“He’d told me himself that he wasn’t to be disturbed.”

“It’s a pity he isn’t alive to confirm that.”

“All of you have much explaining to do when we return to the room,” Drake said brusquely.

At that moment, a thought struck me that the two conspirators had managed to remove me from the room, along with my dim-witted companions, and were now alone with the corpse and a feeble-minded Montenegro, who’s been wandering in a delusional world haunted by sabre-toothed tigers, oblivious to what’s going on around him. I began to dread what they could be getting up to in there.

I ran down to the staff dining area while my escorts watched hidden from the corridor. I found the dishevelled servants lounging about, laughing, smoking and generally enjoying themselves. I ordered all who lived in homes of their own to go back to them at once and to take in any who lived in the Palace servants’ quarters.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this working day has just finished. There’s a high-level conference taking place right now in the Palace and my husband demands absolute silence. You’ve half an hour to gather up your things and empty the rooms. You’ll return here only when I send for you.”

They didn’t need to be told twice and vanished in all directions. I started a tour of inspection to make sure that they were packing to leave. Having satisfied myself that no one was delaying, I returned to the corridor to rejoin my two companions, only to find that they’d moved on to the kitchens. The Judge had clambered onto a shelf in the wine cellar, while Drake was going through the larders.

“Everything okay with the servants?” Bateau asked when he saw me.

“Yes, the Palace has been evacuated. What are you doing up there?”

The Judge showed me two bottles of brandy that he’d stashed under his torn gown.

“The stress is killing me,” he admitted, “my throat is dry.”

Drake, on the other hand, was hungry. Looking in the cold storage, he’d located some ham and cheese. He’d spread a tablecloth and thrown them in, along with some olives, tomatoes and four loaves of bread, and had then tied the four corners together and slung the lot over his shoulder. He ordered us to return to the room. I looked at him with contempt. He was so thick-skinned that he was planning to stuff himself next to Bera’s body.

“We must keep up our strength and keep our minds keen and clear. Hunger wouldn’t be our best counsellor,” he explained flatly.

As soon as he’d taken a huge bite out of the bread, Drake remembered Bianca. We shouldn’t allow her to leave – Bianca knew that the Governor had died and we were worried that she could easily let it slip, or some clever valet could weasel it out of her. We decided that it would be wiser to keep her in the Palace under our scrutiny.

We went to her room and found her packing her bag. “You’re not going anywhere!” Drake told her, removing her hand from her suitcase. “We need your services. Go to the kitchen and prepare six coffees and leave the tray outside the Governor’s bedroom door.”

CAPTAIN DRAKE

… Thus, my Excellencies, my suspicions for the murder focused on Judge Bateau, because in all the Colony there is no person more depraved. He had no qualms about using his own daughter as a bargaining chip for his own advancement. He shows up drunk in Court, he openly derides Bera, he entraps innocent people for fun and buries them with fictitious accusations, and he is immoral and ruthless. Imagine that, when the Judge informed me of the Governor’s death, he was brazen enough to add, “What can I say, Drake? Thank God, or heaven help us?”

And that was all he had to say about his patron’s death, he who, more than any other, had been favoured by Bera. I got the impression that the Judge meant that he’d finally got what he deserved and that, although we medal bearers might lose our Stars, he was satisfied that justice had been served. Perhaps then it had been served by his own hand since he was the only one who didn’t fear the law as it was he who presided in court.

I was thinking of this all the time the six of us were sitting on the flooded floor, eating so as not to pass out from all the stress. I swallowed each bite with difficulty, looking guiltily at the dead Governor, who was turning black in spite of being soaked in ice. I was wracking my brain to figure out how Bateau had managed to commit the crime without arousing the Palace staff’s suspicions.

I asked the Judge to tell us what he had been doing on the previous night and why he was not in his villa, as the regulations specifically require in cases of such thick fog. Why hadn’t he observed the curfew?

“It was due entirely to the idiotic curfew that I was forced to remain in the vicinity of the Palace, Drake, after we had delivered the Green Box here. You should know, you ordered the curfew yourself.”

“Where exactly were you?”

“In that wine cellar nearby, listening to the ramblings of young Lieutenant Richmond. We spent the whole night together. If you don’t believe me, you can ask him yourself. Cortez’s ship is still in port.”

Siccouane’s face twisted mockingly, as the witness cited by Bateau was unreliable. He would have described Richmond as at the very least sick, whereas Cortez would have called him something worse – unbalanced. The young Lieutenant had suffered delusions during the whole voyage, he’d seen youths with piratical earrings jumping into the sea – madness indeed.

Suddenly the colour drained from Priest Montenegro’s face and he grabbed Bateau’s arm. He demanded more details of the Lieutenant’s fantasies. Did Richmond actually see a young man in a red shirt and a pirate’s earring jump into the sea and swim towards the Colony?

“What nonsense, no one can swim in this sea,” I reminded them.

“Bateau, I saw him too in the firelight of the cyclists, just as you describe. Just as if he’d materialised from a dream, not from this world at all.” He smacked his forehead with his palms. “In heaven’s name, what’s happening to us?”

I couldn’t imagine what the Priest was playing at, but he wasn’t going to fool me. He obviously was feigning insanity to avoid the consequences when the time came to face the accusations. I made it quite clear to him that his act had taken no one in. I for one knew perfectly well that all those present in this room were in complete possession of their sanity, that they would be forced to give a full account of their actions to the New Governor and that there were no mitigating circumstances.

Siccouane, tracing circles with his finger on the wet floor, pretended to be deep in thought; Bateau was drinking greedily from the two bottles he’d brought up from the kitchen; Lady Regina, eyes shut, was leaning against the wall, complaining of migraines; Dr Fabrizio was eating like a pig next to me; and they all seemed very suspicious. I decided to take matters into my own hands. Since I was in charge of the Colony’s security, I would give the orders from now on.

“By just sitting around we’re making our position that much worse. We’ll inform Captain Cortez at once about the death of the Governor so that he may carry the news to Paris, then I shall deploy the guards throughout the Colony and I’ll order the colonists to carry on as normal, as if the Governor were still alive.”

“Are you quite sure that the Seventy-Five would wish us to act in such an irresponsible fashion, sowing the seeds of panic?” Siccouane interrupted. “Would you not prefer that they apprise us of what they would have us do?”

“That’s impossible and you know it.”

“Not entirely. The Green Box is still in the Palace.”

Siccouane continued to draw circles on the wet floor, pretending not to be aware of the blasphemy that had just passed his lips. The Lady opened her eyes and Fabrizio ceased his chewing. For a few seconds all that could be heard was the squeaky sound of Siccouane’s fingertip being dragged along the floor.

Montenegro leant in the Secretary’s direction and asked him softly whether he meant that we should open the Green Box. Siccouane distinctly answered that he could see no other way. The Lady reminded us that to open it we needed Bera’s key and the key hadn’t been found.

“Then we must break into the Box!” Siccouane responded with a gleam in his eyes.

A new silence fell upon us, as if we were all trying to convince ourselves that we hadn’t heard correctly.

The first to recover was Dr Fabrizio. He wiped a few crumbs from his chin and declared, “I agree.”