The Sword in the Stone-Dead, page 4
part #1 of Great Vicari Mystery Series
“Does he love Margot, do you think?”
“Without a doubt. Unfortunately he tends to stray occasionally.”
“But he always goes back to her?”
“Thus far, yes.”
Eleanor thought about this for a moment, then: “Do you think a person can change, Mr. Vickery?”
“That is a question poets and philosophers have pondered for centuries.”
“With no hint of a conclusion?”
“Has Mr. Fulbright promised you that he will change?”
“Leo? I think that would be highly unlikely, don’t you? Unless he were to become possessed by an evil spirit.”
“Or dispossessed of one?”
“You said you wouldn’t,” she admonished.
“I do not always tell the truth.”
“Who does?”
“I thought perhaps Leo had promised that he would leave Margot and marry you,” Vickery said.
“I suppose everyone thinks that he and I are ‘an item,’” she said. “Leo said they would.”
“He is not exactly discouraging the idea,” Vickery said.
“He is flattered that people believe he has a younger woman for a lover. It is only natural.”
“For some men, perhaps,” Vickery said.
“To share your life with a younger partner, that must make you feel younger too, do you not think?”
“I do not know,” Vickery said. “It does not concern you if people are mistaken in their thinking about the relationship between Mr. Fulbright and yourself?”
“Not presently. It gives the magazines something to write about, and keeps our motion picture in the spotlight.”
“Or so Leo would have you believe?”
“My agent, actually.”
“And he has your best interests at heart, I am sure.”
“Hardly! He merely intends that he and I should profit from this as far as possible. It may be that this is my only motion picture. We need people to flock to the cinema to see the great Leo Fulbright and the mistress who is young enough to be his daughter.” She paused then. “Does that sound frightfully cynical?”
“It is difficult, I know, when our business requires that we must peddle some version of ourselves to the public,” Vickery said.
“Then you don’t think it is wrong to exploit Leo’s interest in me?”
“Leo Fulbright is old enough to look out for himself, Miss Trenton. But how does your Mr. Kimball feel about it?”
“He is no longer my Mr. Kimball,” she said frostily. “I have no interest in how he feels.”
“I think, perhaps, that is not quite the truth, if you would only admit—”
“I can assure you, Mr. Vickery, that the relationship between Teddy Kimball and myself is ended.”
“And yet you use Leo Fulbright’s infatuation with you to punish Mr. Kimball, which you would not do if you did not care about his feelings.”
“He has behaved like an absolute fool!”
“Sometimes people do that when they are in love. And then we must forgive them.”
“Must we?” She asked. “I do not see why. There must be a line. And if they overstep it, well, they are beyond forgiveness. That is my view.”
“No second chances?” Vickery asked.
“In this case—no.”
“Then you must let him go, Miss Trenton. To do otherwise will only confuse both him and yourself.”
“He knows how I feel. I have let him go.”
“But have you?”
“I did not come to you to discuss my private life, Mr. Vickery,” she said haughtily.
“Then why did you come to me, Miss Trenton?”
“I just came to ask you about—well, to see what you—”
“I am sorry that I wasn’t able to help you. But if ever I can be of service—” He gave a little bow, and left her to her thoughts.
“What?” Fulbright roared so loudly that the room fell silent and everyone turned towards him.
Fulbright’s driver, Malloy, was standing with an open film canister in his hands. It was empty, and it soon became clear that the footage from Arthur and Guinevere was missing.
For a moment it appeared that Fulbright was about to explode. Malloy took a step back, perhaps anticipating another blow from his employer’s fist.
Then Fulbright let out a loud sigh, like steam leaking from a pipe, and stomped out.
Chapter 3
“Hello, Linette.”
“Mr. Vickery, how are you?”
Linette Fulbright was leaning in the open doorway onto the terrace, looking out over the grounds at the back of the keep. She was smoking a cigarette, but didn’t seem to be enjoying it. In the darkness, trees were black shadows and the moon was glimmering on the water beyond.
“I’m not interrupting, I hope?” Vickery said.
“Oh, no, I just needed some air.” She threw away the half-smoked cigarette. “Did mother send you to find me? Does she want to go up to bed already?”
“No, no, she is currently enjoying the company of Mr. Bannister.”
“Enjoying?” Linette smiled.
“You do not find theatrical anecdotes entertaining?” Vickery asked, also smiling.
“If I hear another story that begins ‘I remember when we were playing Much Ado in Edinburgh,’ I swear I shall scream,” Linette said. “Is mummy being intolerably rude to everyone?”
“No, she seems almost cheerful since she learned that she would not have to sit through that reel of your father’s film.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if she was the one who took it, just to hack off my father. He’s downing brandy by the bucketful in an attempt to drown his sorrows. I can’t remember the last time I saw him this pissed,” Linette said. “Does my language shock you?”
“I am told that a sailor once visited the theatre backstage, and was offended by what he heard,” Vickery said.
Linette smiled, but her serious expression soon returned. “My old nurse used to say that actors are highly strung and need to unwind, though she wasn’t a stranger to the gin bottle herself. ‘You should avoid drink, dear,’ she said, ‘it makes grown-ups act like children.’ But actors do that anyway, don’t they? It’s all dressing up and ‘let’s pretend.’”
She looked down at her hand as if expecting the cigarette to be there, but her prop was gone. Her eyes turned toward the dark again, and Vickery saw in her profile how like her mother she had become.
“Nothing is real for them,” she said. “No wonder they all struggle to get on with their lives. They only really exist in that twilight world back stage. I want to have adventures—out in the real world. Have you ever flown in an aeroplane, Mr. Vickery?”
“Twice. It was very noisy. I imagine that airships are a much more peaceful way to travel.”
“I want to fly an aeroplane—like Amelia Earhart. But daddy won’t even let me drive a car. Perhaps I shall get a motorcycle—that must be like riding a bicycle, except that you have to start it and change gear and whatever. I’m sure Ollie would show me how.”
“Ah, to be young and full of enthusiasm for life,” Vickery said wistfully.
“You don’t need to be young to have enthusiasm, Mr. Vickery. You just have to have something to live for.”
“You are wise beyond your years, my dear.”
“Ollie says I’m too grown up sometimes. He doesn’t know what it was like growing up with parents like mine—the emotional ups and downs; the arguments; the need for attention...”
“Both you and Mr. Garvin had to grow up quickly, I think. He was without parents himself, and so you must make allowances for him.”
“How do you know that?” Linette asked.
“His aunt and I are old friends.”
“I see. Do you smoke?”
“No, I’ve seen what it does to kippers.”
Linette laughed. “I suppose I shouldn’t either; the smell gets in one’s hair and stinks up one’s clothes terribly. But at school we all thought it made us seem so much more sophisticated.”
“A common misconception amongst the young,” Vickery said.
Linette put her head on one side and stared at him, a half-smile on her lips.
“I think you do that on purpose,” she said.
“Do what, Miss Fulbright?”
“Pretend to be an old fuddy-duddy. I don’t believe it at all, you know. You do it so that people will underestimate you and let something slip. That’s what Monsieur Poirot does, isn’t it?”
“Mais oui, mon amie.” Vickery smoothed his moustache and winked.
“Daddy’s not very fond of Belgians. They didn’t like his Henry Vee.”
“Perhaps they would have taken to him more as Falstaff?” Vickery suggested.
“He has rather grown in stature in recent years, hasn’t he? I have no idea what the Snow Queen sees in him.”
“Some women are drawn to men they see as powerful and successful. Perhaps they feel such a man will protect and provide for them.”
“Doesn’t Mister Freud say that women seek to marry their own fathers? What an awful thought.” Linette gave a fake shiver.
“We hear many things that Mister Freud says,” Vickery said disapprovingly, “not all of them in context.”
“You aren’t interested in human psychology?”
“Not in the abstract. I much prefer empirical observation.”
“Er—?”
“I watch what people do and compare this to what they say they will do. This reveals much about them, I think.”
“So if I say that I want a life of adventure, but then fail to do anything daring...”
“But that is not so, is it, Miss Fulbright? Already you begin to spread your wings and prepare to fly the nest.”
“Well, I dream of it.”
“This young man of yours, do you love him? Or do you see him as a means of escaping from the shadow of your parents?”
“I love him, of course.”
“Of course. But will being with him provide the freedom that your heart seeks?”
“I don’t... He wants me to be happy, I know he does. To do what I want...”
“That is good. When a young person has their dreams, and discovers another who wishes to share those same dreams—that is a truly wonderful thing.”
“We do share the same dreams, Mr. Vickery. We have things we want to do together. We’ve talked about them.”
“And yet there are some things that each of you wish to accomplish that the other has no part in?”
“Oliver has ambitions for his career, all men do. And I—well, I—” She grew flustered. “Has my father put you up to this? Are you trying to discourage us? Is that what he’s paying you to do?”
“Your father is paying me to discover who is threatening his life. To do this, I must ask questions. Forgive me if my enquiries have offended you.”
“You were questioning me because... You don’t think I want to kill him?” Linette seemed shocked by the idea.
“Until I know for sure the identity of the letter-writer, I must suspect everyone. Including you and young Mr. Garvin.”
“Ollie? He wouldn’t harm a fly!” The idea seemed ludicrous to her, and she couldn’t help smiling.
“Your father has refused him permission to court you,” Vickery said.
Linette snorted. “These are the 1930s, Mr. Vickery, not the 1830s. Ollie asked my father’s permission out of courtesy, it’s how his aunt raised him. But you don’t think either of us has taken my father’s objections seriously, do you?”
“As I say, I ask questions in order to uncover the truth. If you tell me that your father’s opposition to your engagement does not provide a motive for wishing him ill—”
“Engagement? Who said anything about an engagement?” Linette asked.
“I listen to what people say, and I compare this with what they do,” Vickery said. He stared at her ring finger, which she was just now massaging furiously. Linette stopped herself when she saw where he was looking.
“I said it was a mistake to underestimate you,” she conceded. “It’s awful having to take it off. I wish we could just let people know.”
“Perhaps your father will accept the idea in time,” Vickery said. “And then you will be able to have a proper engagement party, instead of this—”
“It’s like a pantomime, isn’t it?”
“Gilbert and Sullivan without the songs, perhaps,” Vickery conceded.
“Oh, there’ll be singing later, without a doubt,” Linette said.
“If you marry against your father’s wishes, will he disinherit you?”
“Almost certainly,” Linette said. “But he will have nothing to bestow on me anyway, this moving picture of his will see to that. It is my mother’s wishes that I had better take heed of, she’s the one with the money.”
“She does not object to your Mr. Garvin?”
“Why should she?”
“Perhaps she would be unhappy to lose the person she relies on for her care?”
“Ha! My mother isn’t nearly as frail as she pretends to be. She could manage quite well without me.”
“But would she wish to? If you are her only companion...”
“Is that what she told you? She is a lonely invalid, and no one ever calls on her? I’m afraid you haven’t been asking the right questions, Mr. Vickery. My mother has a staff of four in her house in London, and rarely a day passes when she does not receive calls. Some of them from gentlemen, and some very definitely not.”
“I had been led to believe that, since her accident, your mother rather relied on you for companionship.”
“That is what my father would prefer to believe. The alternative is to accept that my mother’s eye wanders just as much as his own.”
“You do not approve of your parents’ behaviour?”
“I don’t look to either of them for moral guidance, if that’s what you mean.”
“I’m sorry...”
“Don’t be. I’m not. For most people it takes years for their illusions to be dispelled. I should be grateful.”
“Your parents loved one another once, and I’m sure they still do in their way. And they both love you.”
“My parents shared a passion for the theatre. And—very briefly—a passion for each other. I was the result of the latter. My mother was married to someone else at the time of my conception. Margot McCrae married Leo Fulbright because she wanted to avoid any hint of scandal surrounding my arrival. A calendar and some basic arithmetic provide the facts in the matter.”
“If your father didn’t care for you, he would not seek to meddle in your affairs of the heart, would he?” Vickery asked.
“My father prefers it when people take direction well. He must always be the one in control.”
“And your mother?”
“He seeks to control her too. And he’s a fool for trying.”
“I meant, does your mother seek influence over your life? Does she object to your relationship with Oliver Garvin?”
“Of course she doesn’t. She prefers that I make my own choices. I think she’s just relieved I’m not engaged to an actor.”
“She knows of the engagement?”
“Her mother is usually the first person that a girl tells of such things,” Linette said.
“Forgive me, I had formed the impression that your mother did not know.”
“Then again, you have asked the wrong questions, Mr. Vickery. My mother gave Ollie the ring, it belonged to my grandmother.”
“Indeed?”
“I don’t claim that her actions were entirely altruistic. I’m sure she encouraged us because she knew it would seriously vex my father.”
Margot took Artie Delancey by the arm, startling him, and turned him to face her.
“Mr. Vicary thinks I was rude to you earlier. He wants me to apologise,” she said.
“Oh, that really isn’t—”
“I know,” Margot said. “But try and look as if I’m being nice to you, seeing as it means so much to him.”
Artie smiled weakly and tried to look grateful.
“Eleanor, wait! Please...”
Eleanor Trenton looked around, for a means of escape, or a saviour, but for the moment she was beyond rescue.
“Teddy, I said I didn’t want to speak to you.”
“But you didn’t give me a chance to explain.”
“What is there to explain?”
“It was all a silly mistake. Artie and I were just there for a drink. We weren’t, you know...” He made a pumping moment with his elbow. When Eleanor laughed, he thought for a moment she was laughing with him.
“Is that why you think I was upset?”
“I thought that—”
“Teddy, you hit someone. You were drunk. You knocked them down. Kicked them...”
“It was just some lousy photographer.”
“And who will it be next time? What happens when you’re drunk and angry at me?”
“Eleanor, I would never want to hurt—”
“Don’t! Don’t say that! Not ever. That’s what my father used to say.”
“Eleanor—”
“You’re just like him.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“Eleanor, that’s not fair. I—”
“No, it isn’t. It’s not fair, Teddy. I trusted you. You told me you would stop. Said that you would find someone to help you.”
“I did. Artie was—”
“Artie?” She laughed bitterly. “What sort of help was he?”
“He told me about a place—somewhere they help people like me. But you have to stop. Forever. Not even one drink after that.”
“I know all about it, Teddy. My father, remember?”
“But I was going to do it. I was. I wanted to do it. For us. That night, with Artie, that was going to be my last night. One final binge, from dusk until dawn, then never again. You believe me, don’t you?”
Eleanor was silent for a moment. Looking into his eyes, as if she hoped to find the answer there.
“I want to believe you, Teddy.”
“Then you should. I would do whatever—”
She placed a hand on his chest to hold him back.
“Teddy, I can’t. I’m sorry. If you knew what it was like for me growing up, you would understand.”
