The Death of Corinne

31

A Family Plot?

‘Ah, there you are,’ Lady Grylls said, entering the library. She was holding a glass of brandy in her hand. ‘I’ve been looking for you. We are going to have hot onion soup and ham sandwiches in the dining room. I’ve scrapped the original menu, for obvious reasons. All will be ready in about half an hour, I am told. Hortense is coping extremely well, all things considered. But there’s something else I meant to tell you – now what was it?’ She raised the brandy to her lips and took a swig.

Peverel said, ‘Really, darling, at your age, the consequences of a midday binge could be catastrophic.’

‘Oh yes.’ Lady Grylls turned to Antonia. ‘There’s been a rather sensational development, though I suppose you’ll disagree. I mean, it’s never the person who’s seen leaving the scene of the crime at the crucial time, is it?’

Antonia decided to humour her. ‘You don’t mean somebody’s been seen leaving the scene of the crime at the crucial time?’

‘Yes, my dear. A stranger. That makes the possibility of him being the murderer even more remote, doesn’t it? I can tell from your expressions that you’ve been juggling with conjectures, so you might as well consider this one as well.’ Lady Grylls paused. ‘The boy Nicholas – Provost’s son – is certain he’s seen the killer. Of course he didn’t know at the time it was the killer… He doesn’t want to talk to the police about it because, you see, he doesn’t trust the police.’

‘Nicholas believes he has seen the killer?’

‘That’s exactly what I said. Yes.’ Lady Grylls raised the brandy glass to her lips once more. ‘Man in a car. Looking bleached.’

Peverel said pointedly, ‘Conspicuous consumption.’ It wasn’t clear whether he meant Nicholas and drugs or his aunt and alcohol. Antonia suspected it was the latter.

‘Darling, shouldn’t you start at the beginning?’ Major Payne said gently.

‘Last night Nicholas left early. We hadn’t finished dinner yet. I didn’t mind. I thought Provost was perfectly capable of coping on his own. Anyhow, last night Nicholas said he was going to this disco in the village. It’s organized by the youth club, apparently. He went on his bike. As he was coming back, at about half past two, he saw a car coming out of the gates and he nearly crashed into it. He fell off his bike and the car slowed down but didn’t stop. There was a full moon. Nicholas saw the driver very clearly. The driver turned his head and gave him a look. It was a young man.’

‘A young man?’

‘That’s right. A pale thin young man, with short cropped hair that was very fair, almost bleached white. Ghostly pale. Liquid eyes that gleamed in the moonlight like a cat’s. Somewhat effeminate – “girlie” was the way Nicholas put it -’ Lady Grylls broke off. ‘I’m afraid I don’t feel frightfully well. It’s been a ghastly morning. Absolutely dreadful. Just a minute ago Bobo Markham phoned and said he’s got two new pigs and would we all like to go and see them!’

Payne suggested that she sit down. He led his aunt to one of the grandfather armchairs. ‘Her glass – take it away,’ Peverel whispered.

‘Thank you, Hughie… Well, it’s an extraordinary story, you’ve got to agree… No, leave the glass. I haven’t finished… Leave it, I said… At first I thought that Nicholas must have had a drug-induced mirage of some sort,’ Lady Grylls went on. ‘Heaven knows what substances he took last night. Now you wouldn’t believe this, but my second thought was that the young man was that American woman’s son. Eleanor’s son. She expected him to appear, didn’t she? That’s what she wrote in one of her letters.’

‘You thought the young man with the car was Griff?’

‘I imagined his ghost might have come back from the dead, yes.’ Lady Grylls shook her head. ‘This is all terribly embarrassing. Totally unlike me… Nicholas said he saw the car moving but he didn’t hear a sound… You see, Corinne and I talked about ghosts last night – Cynthia Drake and so on – that’s what must have put ghosts into my head… Incidentally, who was Cynthia Drake?’

‘The Hon. Cynthia Drake? The social editor of Weekend Whirlwind – a magazine now defunct,’ Payne said. ‘Back in the ’50s, I think.’

‘All those satin chairs… How peculiar. I wonder whether Rory – Anyhow. There are no ghosts. It’s obvious what happened. He – that young man, whoever he is – must have turned off the engine. The drive slopes – from the house to the gates, what’s left of them, it’s all downhill. He clearly didn’t want anyone in the house to hear him, so he pushed the car and jumped in.’

‘That makes perfect sense,’ Antonia agreed. ‘ Who could this young man be?’

Payne had gone to the window and was standing beside it, looking out. ‘Jonson’s car is gone. Do you know where it is? He’s still here, isn’t he?’

‘Andrew? He is here, yes,’ Lady Grylls said. ‘Saw him a minute ago, in the hall, talking to someone on his mobile. He was looking terribly worried, poor boy.’

Payne turned round slowly. ‘Terribly worried, eh?’

Peverel cleared his throat. ‘The “girlie” young man Nicholas saw last night was in fact a girl. It was Monique. She was in Andrew’s car. Andrew let her use it. Monique’s hair is very fair and she’s had it closely cropped, she told me. It makes it easier to put on the wig. Without her make-up and wig she’d be unrecognizable. She looks bleached, almost. Not unlike Jean Seberg in Bout de Souffle. Remember her?’ He smiled. ‘I imagine she’d look like a delicate boy in the moonlight. And I believe she was crying – that’s why her eyes “gleamed”.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Lady Grylls asked. ‘Who is Monique? I believe that was the name of the person Andrew was talking to on the phone. He walked into the drawing room as soon as he saw me. Didn’t want me to overhear, clearly.’

Payne was looking at his cousin. ‘Where did she go?’

‘To London. To Andrew’s Maida Vale flat.’

‘In the middle of the night?’

‘She couldn’t face the police, I told you.’

‘Who is Monique?’ Lady Grylls asked.

There was a pause. Major Payne said, ‘It’s been assumed that the Merchant shot Maginot in her panic, having no idea who she was, but what if she killed her because she somehow knew that Maginot was Corinne? What if she did manage to take her revenge? Could somebody have told her? Somebody who knew -’

‘Jonson knew,’ Antonia said.

‘What d’you mean, Maginot was Corinne? Is this some game?’ Lady Grylls said, looking round. ‘Or have all of you lost your marbles?’

‘Jonson was well aware of the impersonation,’ Antonia said. ‘I personally don’t think Eleanor killed anybody… How did Monique know that her mother had been killed?’ Antonia turned to Peverel. ‘You said she phoned you in the small hours of the morning… Was she perhaps in the greenhouse, when it happened? Or did her husband-to-be tell her about it?’

‘She wasn’t in the greenhouse -’ Peverel broke off. There was a silence.

‘Does Monique inherit her mother’s fabulous fortune?’ Payne asked his cousin.

‘I have no idea,’ Peverel said. ‘What business is it of yours?’

‘Corinne Coreille was an extremely rich woman… A fabulous fortune, yes… An outlandish wallop,’ Payne went on in a thoughtful voice, ‘to be shared by Monique and her husband-to-be. Do forgive me the old cliche, old boy, but people have killed for less.’

‘You are being a bore, Hugh,’ Peverel drawled. ‘Are you suggesting that Monique killed her mother?’

‘She might have – or he might have. I mean Jonson. They had a good motive. I mean, they both stand to gain by her death. It isn’t as though either of them was particularly fond of the good Maitre.’

‘You are being a terrible bore, Hugh.’

‘Eleanor Merchant brought a knife with her,’ Antonia said slowly. ‘I doubt if she ever had a gun in her bag -’

‘So much like Cluedo, isn’t it?’ Peverel interrupted in mocking tones. ‘Mrs Merchant, the mad American widow, with a knife.’

‘On the other hand,’ Payne said, ‘Mr Jonson, the English private detective, could easily have obtained a gun and brought it with him from London. One with a silencer.’

‘Andrew has nothing to do with the murder. Nothing at all. Better get that notion out of your thick head. Andrew is a good and decent man.’ Peverel sounded exasperated.

‘He knew about the impersonation. He was well aware of Corinne and Monique’s secret, and yet he kept it carefully. He colluded with them.’ Payne paused. ‘Why didn’t he expose them as frauds? If he is indeed, as you say, a good and decent man?’

‘He is in love with my daughter, that’s why he kept her secret. Why are you acting like an oaf, Hugh? Didn’t you hear what I said?’ Peverel raised his voice. ‘They are getting married. Andrew knew it would cause Monique great distress if their secret became known. He was afraid that it might get her into trouble.’

Payne nodded. ‘I can certainly see why he should have her interests at heart… What about Corinne? Are you suggesting she wasn’t aware that he knew their secret?’

‘Corinne had no idea that he knew their secret -’ As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Peverel looked as though he regretted having uttered them.

‘Corinne didn’t know that he knew?’ Antonia said. ‘So Jonson and Monique -’

Lady Grylls cut her short. ‘I don’t know what this is all about – it all sounds totally potty to me, but you seem to be trying to cook up some ridiculous rigmarole against Andrew! Now then, if you’ve got it into your heads that he is a killer – that he shot that American woman in my greenhouse, and then shot Maginot, who, you say, is Corinne – you couldn’t be more wrong.’ She glared at Payne and Antonia. ‘For once I am on Peverel’s side… Peverel, you can have that damned Pugin stool, if you still want it… You only have to look at Andrew. He is not a killer. I think you should go and talk to him. Put a straight question to him and I am sure you will get a straight answer. Don’t give me such condescending looks, Hughie. I am not drunk.’ Pushing her glasses up her nose, she started heaving herself out of the armchair. ‘No, I don’t need any help… Let’s go and find him.’