Murder at the Villa Byzantine

13

Three Sisters?

‘You would never believe this, my love,’ Major Payne said, handing Antonia a gin and tonic, ‘but while you’ve been away, I got myself embroiled in murder.’

‘I have had enough of murder to last me at least a month, thank you very much. I am not starting on a new book till after Christmas.’

‘I am serious.’

‘So am I. No murder till after Christmas.’

‘A murder took place on Tuesday. At the Villa Byzantine.’

‘One thing is certain. In America they take murder mysteries much more seriously than they do here. Even if they call them “cozies”. I wish they didn’t. I believe the intention of whoever coined the phrase was to domesticate the genre, but what he, or she, succeeded in doing was to trivialize it. I strongly suspect it was a she.’

‘Remember Morland? The chap we met at Kinderhook. He’s asked me for assistance-’

‘Nobody mixes a gin and tonic quite like you.’ Antonia gave him a searching glance. ‘You look thinner. You haven’t been eating properly, have you? Omelettes, I suppose? Did your aunt have you over for dinner? She promised she would look after you.’

‘It was Stella Markoff who was murdered. Didn’t you see any English papers?’

‘No, thank God.’

Payne sat down in the chair opposite Antonia. ‘Stella was beheaded at the Villa Byzantine.’

‘Was she? By a republican, no doubt. Or perhaps it was someone who resented being bored by lectures on the future of the Bulgarian monarchy?’

‘The Villa Byzantine is in St John’s Wood. It is an architectural oddity. Faux oriental,’ Payne persisted. ‘My aunt actually went and took a peek at it. She thought it perfectly gruesome – singularly suited to a beheading.’

‘This is all terribly amusing, but I am not in the mood, Hugh.’

‘My aunt may prove to be a valuable spy. She’s quite thrilled at the prospect of doing a Mata Hari-’ Payne broke off. ‘Do I have the fatal knack of making everything I say sound a little preposterous?’

‘You do, rather. I must admit it’s part of your charm, but at the moment I happen to be tired, oh so tired. I believe I have jetlag. I can never sleep on planes. I watched a wonderful film. The Illusionist. I should have seen the twist at the end coming, only I didn’t.’

‘The Villa Byzantine belongs to a Tancred Vane who is a royal biographer. Stella showed us photos of both – at Melisande’s party. Remember?’

‘Melisande’s agent insisted I should go on stage. Do you think I should? He said I had something.’

‘At the moment Tancred Vane is engaged on a biography of Prince Cyril. Actually, this has nothing to do with the murder.’

‘There was a Prince Leopold in the film,’ Antonia said dreamily. ‘He was something of a sadist where his ladies were concerned… I see that you have been living it up in my absence.’ She had picked up a slip of paper from the little table beside her chair. ‘You stayed at the Corrida Hotel in Earls Court and drank a bottle of champagne and a can of Red Bull!’

‘What’s that?’

‘How appropriate – drinking Red Bull at the Corrida Hotel!’ Antonia laughed. ‘Though not with champagne. No gentleman of taste and discernment would do that sort of thing. Un peu plebeian, as you’d be the first to point out. It’s a bill, Hugh. A hotel bill.’

‘It’s not my bill.’ Payne sounded annoyed. ‘No idea how it got there.’

‘Are you sure you are not playing some exceedingly silly game with me?’

‘I am not playing a game.’

‘I refuse to believe that. It is a fact universally acknowledged that an Englishman of good breeding always plays the game whenever it offers. It is a national trait such as the rest of the world admires… And now I must go to bed.’ Antonia yawned. ‘Sleep, I need sleep.’ She rubbed her temples.

There was a pause.

‘Why are you sitting so still? And why are you looking at me so pitifully? Stella Markoff wasn’t really beheaded at the Villa Byzantine, was she?’

‘She was. And I’ve got the newspaper cuttings to prove it.’ Payne spoke in a weary voice. ‘I’ve been putting them aside for you.’

Antonia gazed at him with slightly unfocused eyes. She tried to collect her thoughts. No, Hugh wasn’t playing a game. He was not making things up. While she had been away, he had got involved in murder. Stella Markoff, the rather boring Bulgarian woman they had met at Kinderhook, had been beheaded… Antonia remembered the curious apprehension she had felt at Melisande’s party. Had she sensed something? A premonition… Perhaps she was still on the plane, perhaps at long last she had fallen asleep and was dreaming?

She said, ‘The police have no idea who the killer is?’

‘At the moment Stella’s daughter is their prime suspect.’

‘The bloodthirsty girl?’

‘The bloodthirsty girl.’

‘Hasn’t she got an alibi for the time of the murder?’

‘No. She was arrested, but then the police released her. They don’t seem to have enough evidence. I bumped into Melisande this morning and she called it an absolute outrage that the girl hadn’t been clapped in the cooler yet. Melisande is convinced Moon is the killer.’

‘That strikes me as the most logical assumption,’ said Antonia. ‘Moon couldn’t stand her mother. She made no attempt to conceal the fact. And didn’t she go on about blood and beheadings?’

‘She did. Yes. Well, maybe that’s all there is to it. Asordid case of domestic violence, which has been unduly glorified by its neo-Byzantine setting.’ Payne drew a thoughtful forefinger across his jaw. ‘I am ashamed to admit it, but deep down, I harbour the rather illogical suspicion that the elusive Miss Hope has something to do with Stella’s death.’

‘Who is Miss Hope?’

‘An owl-faced woman Vane was expecting on the day of the murder but who didn’t turn up. Vane seemed to think that Stella and Miss Hope knew one another.’

‘An owl-faced woman… Are you absolutely sure you are not making this whole thing up? I’ll be very cross if you are,’ Antonia warned. She sighed. ‘You might as well tell me the whole story. You are clearly dying to.’

Some ten minutes later Antonia said, ‘How utterly bizarre… You are right about the odd features… The scene of the crime in itself is rather unusual. Why at the Villa Byzantine? And why with a sword? Perhaps it was Tancred Vane who lured her to her death, wouldn’t you say? He phones her and asks her to pay him a visit-’

‘He claims he didn’t. He wasn’t at home at the time Stella was killed.’

‘Have the police checked Tancred Vane’s alibi?’

‘They must have done. Would be scandalous if they haven’t. Alibis of course can be faked. Shame I no longer know anyone at Scotland Yard. Not that I would want to, from what I hear. To think that at one time I had three Commissioners eating out of my hand.’ Payne sighed. ‘What would Tancred Vane’s motive be?’

‘The grandmother’s letters and diaries,’ Antonia said promptly. ‘Didn’t he covet them? I mean Stella’s grandmother. I believe he tried to buy the letters and the diaries for fifty pounds?’

‘Allegedly. That’s what Moon said… Royal biographers, I have no doubt, could be obsessive, cranky, ruthless and ultimately lethal. It did occur to me to ask Morland where the letters and the diaries were, yes, but he said he had no idea. In Stella’s suitcase, he imagined.’

‘Might be useful to know if they are still there.’

‘I keep wondering about Morland. He had a guilty air that day, you know, when he came to see me. I am sure of it. Though it may have had nothing to do with Stella’s death.’

‘He wouldn’t have come and asked you for help if he’d been guilty of Stella’s death, would he? That might have been a ruse of course. D’you see Morland as a likely sword wielder?’

‘No, I don’t. Unless I’ve completely misread him.’

‘Morland might turn out to be the high priest of some unspeakable suburban cult.’ Antonia couldn’t believe she’d said that. She was extremely tired. She couldn’t think straight. She was suffering the effects of a bad jetlag.

She bit her lip but it was too late. She saw her husband nod gravely. Hugh needed so little encouragement.

‘Why didn’t I think of it? Morland’s real intention was to have Stella immolated on the altar of the bloodthirsty pagan deity he happens to worship. Or rather he and Vane happen to worship. Stella possessed some unique characteristic that made her the perfect sacrificial victim, according to their book of magic lore. Stella had a sixth toe or an oyster-shaped birthmark on her-’

‘You said Morland was determined to prove Moon’s innocence, didn’t you?’

‘Determined is correct… You don’t want to hear about Stella’s birthmark?’

‘No,’ Antonia said firmly. ‘I don’t think it’s funny, Hugh.’

‘You are right. It isn’t. Gratuitous flippancy was something I used to disapprove of. Well, Morland keeps phoning, asking what progress I’ve made. He’s become something of a pest. The other night he rang as the clock was chiming midnight. He just goes on and on. Morland seems terribly keen on doing the right thing. He’s considering adopting Moon. He says he owes it to Stella. In my opinion, he’s bidden adieu to good sense. I can’t see any such adoption being a success, can you? He’ll rue the day.’

‘I agree. Moon will drive him mad.’

‘Shall I mix you another g amp;t?’

‘Yes, please. And then I must go to bed… Perhaps Moon is Morland’s biological daughter, that would explain his keenness. Morland and Stella might have known each other for much longer than they made out,’ Antonia mused. ‘Their affair might have started years ago. He said he had been going on regular business trips to Bulgaria since 1993.’

‘It seems more than likely that Moon was set up,’ Payne said as he handed Antonia a glass.

‘It’s possible. No one drops monogrammed handkerchiefs made of fine silk beside dead bodies… Silly, really… Unless that was a double bluff,’ Antonia said thoughtfully. ‘Moon might have killed her mother and then planted the handkerchief, implicating herself in a deliberately absurd manner, knowing perfectly well she would be exonerated in due course. Do you think she’s clever?’

‘As clever as a bagful of monkeys. Is there anyone else we should consider?’

‘Melisande has the best motive. Stella was her love rival. Melisande is an adroit sword wielder. She was Joan of Arc.’ Antonia raised the glass to her lips. ‘You noticed how expertly she handled the sword in those photos.’

As they were getting into bed, Antonia remembered something.

‘Hugh, is there a third sister at Kinderhook? I saw a woman who looked very much like an older version of Melisande and Winifred.’

‘You saw her too? So I didn’t imagine her! I saw her a couple of days ago. When did you see her?’

‘As we were coming back from the airport. We drove past Kinderhook. I pointed her out to you, but you didn’t want to miss the cricket score on the radio. She was standing outside Kinderhook. She seemed on the point of going in. I believe she was unlocking the front door. She looked about eighty – stiff white hair – slightly stooped – long skirt – glasses?’

‘Yes! Melisande was adamant that I was mistaken when I mentioned the woman. They did have an older sister once, but she’s dead. Died a long time ago, apparently.’

‘How very odd. Perhaps the third sister isn’t dead…’

‘The third sister may have escaped from some lunatic asylum and Melisande and Winifred may be hiding her. They would be reluctant to admit her existence. Like the brother in The Cocktail Party. I am sure you know your Eliot?’

‘I don’t.’ Antonia yawned.

‘Three of them, but they kept the third one very quiet.’ Payne turned off the light. ‘Wonder if it has anything to do with Stella’s murder. What do you think?’

‘Don’t see how,’ said Antonia. ‘But it’s very odd.’

‘It’s creepy. Goodnight, my love.’

‘Goodnight.’