‘Talked a lot to you, didn’t he?’

‘Probably because I didn’t want to know my motivation for putting on blusher.’

‘Women got very jealous he spent so much time with you,’ persisted Karen. ‘But he doesn’t seem to have wanted to sleep with any of them.’

‘He was too involved in the film,’ muttered Lucy. ‘Goodness, I’ve forgotten to make you those coffees.’ She switched on the kettle again. ‘He didn’t want to sleep with me or anyone else,’ she stammered, ‘because he’s in love with my friend, Tabitha, and felt he could talk to me about her.’

‘Could he have killed Rannaldini?’

‘Certainly not, he adored him,’ said Lucy, too quickly. ‘He put up with murder — oh, God — from him.’

‘Was he in love with him?’

‘What a horrible thing to say!’

‘You claim he adored your friend Tab, but the night he got off with her Rannaldini made him back off. Any idea why?’

‘No,’ squeaked Lucy, getting three cups out of the cupboard again with a terrific clatter. Had they found out about Maxim raping Delphine?

‘Could Rannaldini have threatened to out Tristan?’ asked Gablecross.

‘Tristan finds it hard to form close relationships.’ Lucy was having great difficulty in unscrewing the Gold Blend jar because her hands were shaking so much. ‘His mother died just after he was born, so did his brother Laurent. Tristan’s vile father never forgave Tristan for being the one who lived. He was brought up by a hoary old aunt who never praised him. He may have been deprived of love, but he’s the kindest, most thoughtful person in the world.’ Glancing down, Lucy saw she had emptied the kettle into the full jar of coffee and burst into tears.

‘I like my coffee strong,’ said Gablecross gently, relieving her of the jar before she scalded herself. The only reason Lucy might have killed Rannaldini, he thought regretfully, was because she was madly in love with Tristan de Montigny. But he still had to go for the jugular.

‘Did you know Rannaldini raped your friend Tabitha on Sunday night and killed her stepmother’s dog, Gertrude?’

‘No, I don’t believe it,’ gasped Lucy, shaking her head from side to side so the sudden cascade of tears flew around. ‘Oh, poor darling Tab. Oh, poor Gertrude and poor Taggie. No wonder Rupert was so upset and horrible last night. If only people knew the truth. That must be why Tab hasn’t answered my calls.’

‘Could she have led Rannaldini on?’ asked Gablecross.

‘God, no.’ Lucy fumbled for a piece of kitchen roll to mop her eyes. ‘She’s far too cool, and she simply doesn’t need to.’

‘We’re off to see Baby,’ said Gablecross, getting to his feet. ‘Any idea where he might have been on Sunday night?’

‘None.’

‘Why does Chloe loathe him so much?’

‘Because he’s walking away with the film, and because he, Granny, Flora and me are always giggling in corners. Chloe says we’re like a ladies’ doubles match and just as boring. I love Baby.’ Lucy’s voice broke again. ‘Beneath that flip exterior, he’s determined to become a great singer. He’d only have killed Rannaldini for twiddling the knobs on his recording.’

After they’d gone, Lucy dug out her Switch card — she still couldn’t find her passport — and dialled the flower shop in Rutminster.

‘Mrs Lovell’s a very popular young lady,’ sighed the florist. ‘A gorgeous-sounding foreign gentleman’s just spent a fortune on an arrangement.’

Lucy proceeded to bawl her eyes out, then felt bitterly ashamed. Why wasn’t she thinking of poor Tab, who deserved to get together with Tristan again?


54


The heatwave had returned. The catmint round the terrace swarmed with butterflies.

‘Red admirals, peacocks, painted ladies of both sexes,’ said Gablecross disapprovingly. ‘Sums up the lot of them.’

In the summer drawing room they found the biggest peacock of them all. Having abandoned any attempt to sleep during the day, Baby was reading Viz and already, at eleven thirty, half-way down a large gin and tonic. ‘The Grand Inquisitor,’ he sang, ‘and DC Needham.’ Nodding at Karen, he rose to his feet and fell back again. ‘This is the room’, he went on, ‘to which I am summoned from the polo field for a pep talk from my father. Plus ça change.’

Gablecross’s lips tightened. ‘OK, Mr Spinosissimo,’ getting out the word was like navigating a lorry round Hyde Park Corner, ‘put that magazine away and tell us what you were doing on Sunday.’

‘I went to Oxford. I drove my own car — a red Ferrari — then looked at Magdalen and Christchurch. I checked in at Le Manoir aux Quat’ Saisons around teatime. Learned my words for Act Two, Scene Two, which was scheduled for Monday night. I was rather far down a bottle of Krug when I realized I’d been stood up, so I attacked another one. Then I must have passed out.’

‘Which room were you staying in?’ asked Karen, who was feeling really sorry for him.

‘It was called Hydrangea. You’ll find it booked under Alpheus Shaw. There’s so much press interest in this film, one cannot be too careful.’ Then, seeing the disapproval on Gablecross’s square face, ‘It’s a joke, Detective Sergeant.’

‘Not a very funny one. How did you pay?’

‘With huge difficulty — sorry, another joke, falling even flatter. I paid in cash. I had a win at Ascot on Road Test.’

‘A good horse,’ said Gablecross, remembering the peace interview technique. ‘Did anyone see you arrive?’

‘Of course — and leave around two o’clock. I’d sobered enough to drive home. I patted the night porter on the head.’

‘Did you stop on the way back?’

‘For petrol, I don’t remember where.’

‘Did you keep the receipt?’

‘I guess not. My ambition is to be so rich it doesn’t matter if I do.’

‘Was there a balcony outside your room?’

‘Yes, I went out and practised a bit. Act Two, Scene Two changed Carlos’s life — and mine, too, for that matter.’ Getting to his feet, Baby poured another gin and tonic for himself, then long glasses of iced orange juice for the others.

‘Presumably there was a fire escape by which you could have left and come back,’ said Gablecross.

‘I didn’t check.’

‘Did anyone see you during those’, Gablecross counted on his fingers, ‘nine hours?’

‘A waiter brought me the second bottle of Krug — Raymondo, I think his name was. I’d have delayed him if he’d been prettier.’

‘What was the name of the lady who stood you up?’ snapped Gablecross.

Baby was ashen beneath his suntan, his jaw rigid with pain, but still he joked, ‘Even for those eyelashes — really, you must dye them for full impact, Sergeant — I am not going to tell you.’

‘You need an alibi,’ pleaded Karen.

‘I don’t care.’

Out in the park, Baby could see a black horse rolling, its back legs whisking from side to side like a bottom-slimming exercise. When it struggled to its feet, grey with dust, much bigger than the horses around it, Baby recognized The Prince of Darkness.

‘It was a guy,’ he said flatly, ‘married, very high profile, wouldn’t do either of our careers any good and would create a frightful scandal, which would break his very straight family’s hearts.’ Then, seeing Gablecross frowning and perplexed, Baby laughed. ‘No, it’s not Alpheus.’

‘You need this other gentleman’s corroboration, even if he didn’t show up,’ said Gablecross mulishly. ‘Two bottles of Krug don’t constitute an alibi.’

‘And a bar of chocolate and some jellybeans?’

‘Don’t upset the detective,’ said Gablecross angrily. ‘If you play ball with us, we won’t shop you.’

‘I can’t.’

Seeing the hurt in his eyes, Karen said, ‘Were you very close?’

‘The closeness, I guess, was on my side. He pleases himself. What pisses me off is I’ve been had — or, rather, wasn’t had on Sunday night.’

‘Did you know Rannaldini had two-way mirrors and bugs in every room, even Lucy’s caravan?’

‘Really?’ Baby cheered up instantly. ‘No wonder he was so vindictive, after hearing the terrible things people said about him.’

‘Any idea who might have killed him?’

‘Harder to think who might not — question of bottle.’

‘What about Tabitha?’

‘Only thing she’d kill for is cruelty to animals, although I gather that Rannaldini killed her stepmother’s dog. My money’d be on…’ Baby looked furtively round the room ‘… our hostess. She’d been cut out of the will. According to Clive, there was a horrific photograph of her in the memoirs.’

Gablecross returned to the attack. ‘You weren’t meeting Tristan de Montigny?’

‘I wish,’ sighed Baby. ‘Tristan’s definitely not gay. He asked me to the cinema and didn’t put his hand on my crotch once.’

Karen burst out laughing. Gablecross snorted in disapproval. ‘The man you went to meet, does his wife know he’s gay?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘You’re lying,’ snapped Gablecross. ‘It was Flora Seymour stood you up, wasn’t it? Because Rannaldini showed her these.’

‘Shit.’ As Baby gazed at the photographs, he looked shocked for the first time. ‘Where did you find those?’

‘In the pockets of the dressing-gown Rannaldini was wearing when he was murdered.’

‘Does Flora know where you found them?’

‘I told her on Monday.’

‘Oh, hell, she told me Rannaldini had pictures of us. But she’d shoved off to London by the time I’d come off the set on Monday night. I suppose George Hungerford’s seen them by now.’

‘Two witnesses saw George in Paradise around ten thirty.’

‘Well, there’s your murderer.’ Baby had regained control of himself. ‘They’re very good.’ He picked up the pictures. ‘I must have lost ten pounds and my double chin’s gone.’