Murder in oils 19

 

Chapter 19

 

“Isn’t it dangerous to push her like that, sir?” asked Gladys, who had been hovering within earshot.

“Like poking a bear with sticks,” said Alexander. “But while she’s livid with me, she’s not trying to set David off. Not that she tries to set him off, but it seems inevitable.”

“Mrs. Helen was gentle, let him make the decisions, and did what she wanted,” said Gladys. “I’m frightened, Mr. Armitage; I kind of feel as if there’s something simmering on the stove, but a little thing could make it up and boil over. And Andrew tells me not to worry, the major has it all under control, which  is just like a man, and not very helpful.”

“It’s part of the army training, Gladys, that the other ranks are trained to trust their officers, because they can’t always be told everything that’s going on. And it’s up to the officers to be worthy of that trust, which isn’t a given. You and Campbell know as much as anyone what’s going on, because I don’t believe in keeping vital subordinates in the dark. Your room – how easy is it to get out of, if she tries the gas trick again, or if her laboratory blows up because anger makes her careless?”

“I can go out of the window. Miss Ida used to climb out of her window until she discovered the access panels; but if I was trapped in my room, I couldn’t get to the bathroom where they are.”

“I’d be happier if you put together an overnight bag to sleep in the housekeeper’s room, which has an ensuite,” said Alexander. “And you can pack the rest of your kit and put in my car; I’ll be taking you to Ida hopefully tomorrow or the next day.”

“Thank you, sir. She can’t do nothing to your car, can she?”

“I doubt she knows enough, but you know what? I’m going to ask Campbell to check it regularly,” said Alexander.

He hurried off to do this, pretending not to see the voluptuously illustrated periodical which Campbell was perusing.

“Gladys raised the question that chummy might sabotage my car;  I’d be pleased if you made spot-checks on the brakes, steering, and looked for... unauthorised devices.”

“Gawdstroof!  I wouldn’t put it past the besom, if she knows ‘ow. I’ll run spot-checks, Major.”

“Thanks, Campbell.”

 

oOoOo

 

Alexander retired to the family room to read the newspapers. The Ottoman Empire having been dissolved, new institutions were being installed; Greece and Turkey were still banging away at each other, and the west was seeking a border agreement. In Bavaria, a new popular leader had arisen, a Herr Hitler, a ridiculous looking little man, but who seemed to sway crowds, and had his own army.

“I wouldn’t mind betting that fellow causes a bit of trouble in the future,” muttered Alexander.

“Who’s that?” asked Miss Truckle.

“This Hitler fellow in Bavaria,” said Alexander. “A natural orator.”

“Oh, it will come to nothing, I’m sure,” said Miss Truckle. “I read about him; so sadly nationalistic and trying to blame the Jews for everything; quite ridiculous. And he looks like Miss Christie’s Belgian detective, quite foolish-looking.”

“But Hercule Poirot has a brain in that egg-shaped head,” said Alexander, who was familiar with popular modern literature, even if only because his mother was a devotee of Agatha Christie, or Mary Westmacott, or whatever she was calling herself at the moment.”

“Hitler doesn’t look as if he has any brains at all,” said Miss Truckle. “Beetling brows and receding forehead under that awful haircut. And such an ugly moustache!”

“Well, hopefully you are right,” said Alexander. “We could do without Germany being stirred up to be martial again. But I think they are too poor to even consider it; France was harsh in her demands for reparations.”

“Oh, dear! Let us not think of war; for civilised countries to go to war again after the carnage of the world war is quite unthinkable!” said Miss Truckle.

 

oOoOo

 

Alexander decided to telephone home, to speak to Ida.  His father answered the phone, and Alexander heard a faint click. It might be his mother answering at the same time, but it was more likely to be Gloria listening in.

“Hello, Pater,” said Alexander.

“How are things going, son?” asked Simon.

“Oh, you remember your little affair in Wadi Djebel? A bit like that,” said Alexander. His father had complained of an eavesdropper.

“I see; but you hope it will resolve itself?”

“Probably not, but things are going as well as may be expected, which if said by the medicos mean the patient is going to die, and if said by a policeman means I’m not allowed to tell you,” said Alexander. “May I speak to Ida?”

“Certainly; hold the line, I’ll let her know,” said Simon.

There was a pause long enough for Simon to be apprising Ida that the line was being eavesdropped on. It might not be on a party line, but any other telephone in the house might do so.

“Hello, darling,” said Ida. “I miss you.”

“I want to kiss you all up, my beloved,” said Alexander. “I want to kiss your dear little nose, and your beautiful eyes, and your blushing cheeks...”

“How do you know they are blushing?”

“I know you very well,” said Alexander. “And then I want to feather kisses all along the corners of your sweet mouth, and then devour and ravish it with my lips and tongue.”

“Alexander, the telephone is smoking from your passion!” laughed Ida, breathing heavily.

“Well, let it smoke, it’s old enough,” said Alexander. “Papa had it installed as soon as there was a line. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I want to kiss your shell-like ears and down your neck...” There was an exasperated click.  “Good. It’s going as well as can be expected and I hope to be back with you in a day or two; just waiting to pinch the courier.”

“Take care, Alex.”

“I will, love.”

 

 

The telephone rang just after Alexander rang off.

“Hello?” he answered it.

“This is Arthur Falconer Poulton,” said the voice on the other end. “May I speak to Inspector Armitage?”

“Good grief!  I mean, good morning, sir, this is me,” said Alexander, recognising the name of the Chief Constable of Oxfordshire. “I think this may be a party line, sir,” he said, hastily.

“Ah? Then I won’t go into details, but I wanted to thank you for the little business you helped out with last night. A very good bag indeed, I think we have them all.”

“Oh, I’m delighted I could be of use,” said Alexander. “I imagine you are in liaison with all other districts involved?”

“Yes, and I got the word.  Hope this will be all over soon.”

“Me too, sir,” said Alexander. “Thanks for letting me know you closed the case on all of them; that’s heartening.”

“Well, I won’t keep you.”

Alexander rang off, hoping that Gloria had not been listening, or that she had not correctly interpreted it. He went into the living room area.

“Good news,” he said. “I accidentally helped round up a gang of thieves last night when doing my experiments! Still, it’s how to get promotion, being in the right place at the right time, even if only by accident.”

“How did you do that?” asked Gloria.

“Oh, I saw suspicious activity, and called in a few bobbies to help make an arrest; turns out they’ve been working the district, a man takes a fainting woman to the door of a house, distracting the occupants, whilst their confederates strip the joint.”

It was, in fact, a case he had solved earlier that year, so the details were fresh in his mind, and he spoke about it easily.

Gloria was listening avidly.

“No closer to making an arrest here, then,” she said.

“I still like Keller for it,” said Alexander. “But he appears to have fled. I have people chasing him on the continent.”

“You’ll be lucky; he’s a slippery bastard,” said Gloria. “I need to make a phone call.”

She got up and went out abruptly. Alexander ran upstairs to David’s room, and picked up the receiver there, which was the master telephone, and pulling out the wire from its socket to break the connection. Plugging it back in, and with his handkerchief over the speaker, he did his best to imitate Jonathon’s plummy tones.

“Hellow?” he said.

“Jon! I’m sorry to call you...”

“It had better be important.” Alexander introduced the slight nasal whine Jonathon had displayed.

“That damned flatfoot thinks Keller killed Helen and Basil, and he has coppers out to nick him. You know he’ll squeal if he thinks himself seriously in danger.”

“Leave it to me, Gloria. You bungled that whole affair very badly.”

“It’s all bad luck, that Basil had contacted Scotland Yard already,” grumbled Gloria. “I wish I’d killed him long since.”

“Hindsight is no help,” said Alexander. “Now, get off the line, in case he listens in.”

“I love you,” said Gloria, and rang off. Alexander was ready, getting his fingers down on the cradle so he could ease down the handset without any suspicious ‘ding!’ to alert her.

He ran quickly downstairs again to be back in his seat as Gloria came in.

Miss Truckle opened her mouth.

“Well, I hope you got through, I was having trouble with talking to Ida earlier,” said Alexander.

Miss Truckle’s face suddenly cleared, and she glanced down at her knitting, counting out loud to hide the look of sudden, blazing hatred.

“I didn’t have any trouble with the ‘phone,” said Anna. “I phoned about a situation vacant, in Devon, near the seaside. I am hoping that David will give me a good reference.”

“I’m sure he will,” said Alexander, certain that David would give a glowing reference to any of this ‘Monstrous regiment of women’ if he could be sure that it would get rid of them.

                        

David walked in on this domestic scene.

“David!” Gloria cried. “I’ve been so worried! That horrid man, Armitage, wouldn’t tell me where you were, and I’ve been terrified they were trying to pin Helen’s death on you.”

“I didn’t feel your private affairs were any business of the menials,” said Alexander.

Gloria went scarlet.

“You know I’m almost a part of the family, Armitage,” she hissed. “Poor dear Helen relied on me totally! And of course, David knows he could not manage without me.”

“I am beginning to get more sanguine about trying,” said David.  “Ida sorted me out some paintings of Helen, so I can look at her sweet face without having yours in the corner as well.  Alex, do you know anyone who could paint Gloria out?”

“Ida’s actually very able,” said Alexander. “It would be easier to replace her face with Ida’s; in those drapy robes, it wouldn’t be at all apparent that Gloria....”

“Is running to fat,” said David.

“I was going to say, has a fuller figure,” said Alexander, mildly.

“Well, I could live with Ida in the picture,” said David.

“David, you are so unfair! I am not sure I can live without you!” cried Gloria.

“I don’t care. I’m having trouble living without Helen, and the last thing I need is someone who I now realise was the cause of me behaving so badly to my dear little sister, with you whispering poison all the time. I treated you as a second sister, and you betrayed that, and you know what? You can work to the end of the month, and I’ll pay you a month in lieu of notice because you get on my nerves,” said David.  “I forgot to take the medicine you gave me for my nerves this morning, in my excitement to go up to town to have the pictures mounted and framed, and you know what? I feel better for it already. Calm me down! It calmed me down to the point of being half asleep half the time.”

“Is it a bad time to ask for a reference?” put in Anna, timidly.

“Bad time? Hell, yes, it’s a terrible time, but I’ll give you a good reference just to get rid of you, too, with your vacuous platitudes, self-opinionated nursey-knows-bestery, and your horrible skin. It puts me off eating to see you at the table, and I want to be shut of the lot of you,” said David.

“David... you cannot mean to throw me out into the cold, hard, world,” said Gloria, her voice trembling.

“Why not?” said David. “You aren’t real family, and you’ve done your best to sully Helen’s memory by poking your tits at me and making cow-eyes. I don’t suppose Miss Truckle, who has at least the ability of silence and restfulness, will mind being housekeeper for a while, even if only as a stopgap. It’s not exactly as if I’m giving you your congé for the morning; it’s the twenty second, so you have a week to get yourself out of my house, and your stinky herbal messes too. And anything you don’t take with you, I’ll burn.”

“You will regret your actions, David,” said Gloria. “I hope you will look back with remorse.”

“It’s a foreign emotion to me,” said David. “Go into the servants’ hall; you can eat there, too.”

“I’ll take over in the kitchen, to give Gloria more time to get her things together,” said Miss Truckle, brightly. “I may not be as good at it as Ida, but I can manage good, plain cooking.” She muttered under her breath so that Alexander heard, “And I don’t put it past you to poison us all, my fine lady.”

Alexander had to admit that he did not put it past Gloria either.

There were high words in the kitchen, the sound of a slap, and then the sound of another, louder, and rather damp slap. Alexander strolled out.

Miss Truckle had the mark of a hand on her face, and Gloria was backing away from her, her hands to her face.  Miss Truckle had a salmon in her hand.

“Oh, splendid,” said Alexander. “A piscine solution.  We’d rather you didn’t cause problems with indifferent cooking, until you leave, Wandsworth. I suggest you stay to your room.”

“It’s you; you’ve set David against me!” cried Gloria.

“I doubt it; I don’t think he liked you to begin with and only put up with you for Helen’s sake,” said Alexander. “And I can see why; tact like a rhinocerous! Who is stupid enough to pester a bereaved man with the concept of remarriage when he is still deep in grieving!”

“David never really cared for her! He never showed her one iota of affection!” cried Gloria.

“You are unobservant, aren’t you?” said Alexander. “I’ve only been here a few days, and I can see that David virtually worshipped the ground Helen walked on. He just isn’t very demonstrative. And he doesn’t admire your rather lush looks.”

Gloria stared at him in horror, and rushed up the back stairs.

“Oh, dear,” said Miss Truckle.

“I hope you can cook,” said Alexander. “If you can, and if you bide your time, and make yourself quietly indispensible, you might just end up with security for life.”

“What are you up to, young man?” demanded Miss Truckle.

“No younger than  David,” said Alexander. “And I’m avoiding having him use moral blackmail on my Ida to come back and take care of him. I’m throwing you to the wolves, as you might say.”

Miss Truckle bristled.

“You cannot call Mr. Henderson a wolf!  He can be a little abrupt,  but....”

Alexander grinned.