Murder at the Villa Byzantine

8

Hide My Eyes

It was the following day.

Tancred Vane sat at the desk in his study, writing.

When a monarchy is gone, there is a sudden emptiness, an eerie silence – as the crowned head rests on the sandy ground of the executioner’s pit – or on a Cote d’Azur beach.

The Cote d’Azur had at one time been the favoured exile destination of deposed kings. Well, he reflected, modern readers seemed to like it when royalty were treated with irreverent flippancy.

His phone rang.

‘Tancred?’

‘Oh, Miss Hope – Catherine! At last! Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!’

‘Have you? My dear boy!’

‘Why didn’t you come yesterday? What happened?’

‘I am so sorry. Something cropped up. I got a phone call from my niece – no, you don’t want to know! Too tedious for words!’

‘I tried phoning you – several times!’

‘Didn’t charge the damned object – mislaid the – what do you call that thing? The charger. Goodness. Mobile phones indeed. Whatever next? I am afraid I am hopelessly old-fashioned. I am quite the wrong age for that sort of nonsense. Lamentably behind the times! So sorry. The truth of the matter is I have been extremely preoccupied.’

‘Why – what happened?’

‘My niece – no, you don’t want to know! A calamity! Young people nowadays! I must admit I find young people impossible to understand. A closed book, as they say. Nothing compared to your calamity, of course.’

‘I suppose you saw the newspapers?’

‘I did. It’s on page three of The Times. I couldn’t believe my eyes! Murder at the Villa Byzantine. Are you all right?’

‘I am fine. I am fine now. I didn’t sleep too well last night. I lay awake till five in the morning…’

‘Yes? Go on, go on. I want every single detail!’

‘I couldn’t stop thinking about the murder. Then – then a great weight of numbness began to pull me down. I believe I fell asleep because I had a dream – a terrible dream! It all seemed so real. I saw her – Madame Markoff – Stella – pale and haggard-looking, her hand stretched out before her in an imploring gesture – no – accusingly!’

‘Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair… Sorry, Tancred – most tasteless – couldn’t resist it!’

‘She was stiff and immobile – her eyes were wide open, glazed and staring. Suddenly I realized she was not real. She was made of wax. It gave me such a jolt that I woke up. I felt awful, really ill. My heart was pounding-’

‘My poor boy!’

‘I read somewhere that – that dreams are misleading because they make life seem real. That’s a paradox I don’t understand but for some reason I felt chilled thinking about it. Does it make sense?’

‘No, it doesn’t,’ she said robustly. ‘Paradox – bah! You must take your temperature. I don’t suppose you slept in your house?’

‘No. I was with a friend… I came back about an hour ago.’

He expected her to ask which friend he meant exactly, she seemed to take an interest in everything he did, but all she said was, ‘I am glad. A friend in need is a friend indeed. What are you doing now?’

‘Writing. Working on the biography.’

‘That’s the spirit! Work is the best remedy for a troubled mind. Work and more work and then more work! That was the splendidly Puritan ethic of my dear late father. The police have gone now, of course? Did they leave a mess behind?’

‘I don’t think they bothered to wipe their shoes,’ he said in a rueful voice.

‘Pigs! Who do they imagine they are? The Pope? I think you should complain,’ Miss Hope said firmly. ‘Don’t let them get away with it. They didn’t break anything, did they? None of the Chinamen? I’ve been worried about the Chinamen.’

‘No, nothing’s broken. The Chinamen are intact.’

‘I am so glad. Rivers of blood everywhere?’

‘No. It wasn’t too bad, actually. Still, it was pretty horrible. I never thought – I never imagined I’d come back and find-’

‘No, of course not! You poor thing! You have had the curtains changed, of course? All that magnificent brocade!’

‘How did you know there was blood on the curtains?’

‘Mere guesswork. I am notorious for my morbid imagination. Sometimes I see things – my Scottish ancestry, you know. But I shouldn’t keep nattering away at a time like this. I do believe you need a little rest? How about a nap?’

‘Actually – Miss Hope – I was wondering whether you-’

‘Catherine,’ she reminded him. ‘Catherine. We agreed, didn’t we? You promised! You gave me your word of honour! You want me to come? Are you sure you don’t feel like taking a nap?’

‘No. I don’t feel at all sleepy at the moment.’

‘In that case I will come. And we’ll talk. About the murder, yes! I want you to get the whole thing out of your system. It will release the tension. It will exorcize the demons. You must tell me everything – how you found her, where the body lay and so on. It was you who found her, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes… You won’t be bored?’

‘Not at all. I must confess to a certain degree of vulgar curiosity. I lead such a drab life.’ Miss Hope sighed. ‘I hope you’d be able to elucidate at least one of the mysteries surrounding Mrs Markoff’s dreadful demise. How on earth did the woman manage to gain entry into the Villa Byzantine? You didn’t by any chance give her a key, did you?’