Murder at the Villa Byzantine

I?’

‘You didn’t. Don’t worry. I do tend to wake up awfully early. To tell you the truth I was not aware that she wasn’t in her room. I had no idea that she’d sneaked out last night either. Moon can be terribly argumentative, so I try not to appear prying or spying. Sometimes I find myself within an ace of giving her a clip on the ear, but of course that would never do.’ Julia Henderson shook her head. ‘She’d probably try to knock me down.’

‘Do you really think she would? Is she violent?’

‘I think she can be. Yes. She’s certainly thrown things at her late mother – and at poor James. Do help yourself to some coffee.’

‘Well, I intended to take a look at Brompton Oratory,’ Antonia elaborated untruthfully. The real reason for her visit was to try to learn more about Stella and the events of the fatal day. ‘I then suddenly realized I was standing in your road. So I decided to pay you a visit. Hope you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all. It’s a pleasure to have you,’ said Julia Henderson graciously and she urged Antonia to have a slice of Madeira cake.

Antonia glanced round the room. It was light, uncluttered and pleasantly furnished in a minimalist way. Julia Henderson looked a very pleasant kind of woman too – late forties, early fifties, unobtrusively smart in pastel-coloured cashmere, open weather-beaten face, short brown hair, next to no make-up, forthright, sensible, no-nonsense manner.

Did she play golf? Antonia had seen an array of golf clubs in the hall. They might have belonged to Julia’s late or former husband – Antonia was assuming Julia was either widowed or divorced. No, the clubs all looked as though they were in regular use.

Strong sunburnt wrist, Antonia thought as she watched her hostess pick up the coffee pot. Likes to spend time in the open. Julia’s handshake had been extremely firm. Yes, without doubt her hostess was the golfer.

Julia had been in the process of writing a cheque. She sighed, waving her gold-topped pen. ‘Bills! They expect me to subtract a thousand pounds from my little capital at a moment’s notice.’

‘I know the feeling,’ Antonia said with a smile.

‘I am sure you don’t. I am ready to bet you are much more prudent and disciplined than I shall ever be. I live at the top of my income, you see. I hate economizing. I am in constant dread of ruin. I keep borrowing money from poor James-’ Suddenly realizing she was talking to a perfect stranger, she broke off and apologized for being a bore.

She had mentioned a committee meeting she needed to attend, but that wasn’t till five in the afternoon, so Miss Darcy needn’t worry. She seemed a well-balanced, easygoing woman, with only the slightest hint that she might be formidable if she chose. Moon had suggested Julia was a prying dragon. She had called her a ‘bitch from hell’. Teenage angst, Antonia thought. Probably more than mere angst. Moon, she imagined, took drugs. Drugs made you paranoid.

Julia Henderson asked if Antonia’s interest in Brompton Oratory was purely aesthetic. The implied question was whether Antonia might not have been seeking some form of spiritual solace.

‘It’s a lovely place… Actually, I needed to make some notes for a book. I am thinking of setting a scene in a Catholic church.’

‘Murder in the cathedral? Of course. Murder mysteries. Moon said you were a writer. I didn’t quite believe it at first. She is a terrible liar, you know, but James confirmed it. I intend to order your books from the library. I never have any time for reading, I’m afraid – always too much to do – but I promise I will read your books. It always makes such a difference when one knows the author!’

‘Do you think so?’ Antonia wondered why knowing the author should make such a difference to one’s reading habits, but that seemed to be the generally held view. It was frequently suggested that readers felt inspired to buy a book or take it out of the library if they ‘knew’ the author. Something in that. Her publisher wouldn’t be so keen on her going on signing tours if they didn’t believe more copies would be shifted off the shelves that way…

‘It is a great relief to know that Moon was in safe hands,’ Julia was saying. ‘Otherwise, I’d have been wondering what she might have got up to. Who she’d been with and so on. So would poor James. Well, she is the kind of girl who could have been anywhere.’

Antonia smiled. ‘Wouldn’t you have believed her if she told you she had been with us?’

‘No, not really. She keeps doing things she shouldn’t. While her mother was alive, there was always some kind of trouble – including an attempt at joyriding in James’ car! James caught her moments after she had managed to pick the car door lock and he frog-marched her back to the flat. She hated him for that. She said some awful things to him. I believe she kicked him.’

Antonia asked if Moon could drive.

‘She says she can. It was her American boyfriend who taught her to drive, so heaven help us. No licence of course. She’s not old enough for a licence. Actually, I saw the A-Z in her room, so she might have gone to Hampstead last night in James’ old car,’ Julia said thoughtfully. ‘The “uncool” one. The one he intends to sell.’

‘She told us she hitched a lift from someone… We put her in a taxi this morning.’

‘That was extremely kind of you.’

‘You’d better check – or perhaps your brother – otherwise you may get a call from the police if the car is found abandoned somewhere.’

‘Yes. We will check.’ Julia took a sip of coffee. ‘I must say things aren’t as bad as they were. Not so long ago Moon was either openly hostile to poor James – or she made a big show of ignoring him. Rolling up her eyes each time he said something she deemed “dumb” and so on. He was clearly on the “enemy” side, you see – bracketed with her mother whom Moon seemed to regard as the ultimate foe!’

‘But the situation’s changed since her mother died?’

‘Oh, yes. There’s been a marked improvement. I believe in being fair. Moon’s become more manageable – more sociable – no question about it. A little more subdued, if that were possible – or should I say less exuberant? She’s started talking to James – mainly complaining about me.’

‘Where is she now?’

‘James took her to the zoo. Not my idea of a fun afternoon.’

‘You would rather be on the links, playing a round of golf, I suppose?’

‘Well, yes. How did you-? Oh, it’s the golf clubs in the hall – of course! I keep forgetting you are something of a detective. I suppose you’ve got to be observant to be able to write detective stories? I enjoy playing golf every now and then, but I am not what you’d call a lethal golfer. I must admit I am not terribly good at it… I thought Moon would sneer when James suggested the zoo, but she seemed quite excited. She said the zoo would be “crunk” – heaven knows what that means. She employs the most abstruse argot sometimes.’

One of Hugh’s portmanteau words, Antonia thought, and she ventured a guess. ‘Crazy and drunk?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Crunk – a blend of crazy and drunk. That’s what I imagine it is. I may be wrong of course.’ Must ask Hugh, Antonia thought.

‘It made James laugh. It was good to see them like that. They looked happy together, like father and daughter.’ Something about the way Julia Henderson said this made Antonia wonder whether she had really relished the sight. ‘They were laughing and joking – she was teasing him and he seemed to like it.’

‘Is she his daughter, do you think? I mean his real daughter? I hope you don’t mind my asking.’

‘Well, the idea did occur to me. I even persuaded myself there was a resemblance between them. Do you think there’s a resemblance? I imagined Moon’s nose was the same shape as James’.’

‘Does your brother have his own children?’

‘James has a son and a daughter. But they haven’t been in touch for the last few years. Some argument over money. James has a lot of money, you see-’ She broke off.

Her expression changed.

Julia depended on her brother financially, that much was clear to Antonia. Asecond marriage – the marriage to Stella – might have absorbed a fair amount of James Morland’s capital. Stella might have insisted on donating money to the Bulgarian Monarchist Party or the Bulgarian Poets’ Association or some other worthy cause. There wouldn’t have been much left for Julia…

Stella’s death must have come as a relief…

Julia-?

(Should one really suspect everybody?)