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Authors: Alan Hunter

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BOOK: Gently French
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I looped
Frolic III’s
painter over a post and climbed out on the stage. A footpath led from it across the meadow and disappeared between high, flowering hawthorn hedges. I followed it. It led to a stile beyond which was a narrow lane. On each side of the lane were fields of green crops, bounded by hedgerows and mature woodlands. Here and there were glimpses of pantile; a long way off stood a sad church-tower. It all basked sleepily in afternoon sunlight and whiffs of fragrance from the hawthorns.

But where was Mimi?

I mounted the stile, intending to continue down the lane. Not necessary. As I straddled the stile, a figure came into view ahead. It had to be Mimi. At a hundred yards range you could feel the vibrations beginning. Seeing me, she hesitated, but then came on. I settled on the stile and waited.

‘Madame Deslauriers?’

‘Yes, okay?’

The sun wasn’t sunnier than the smile she gave me. She had come swinging up to the stile, her bag dangling, and had halted in a playful, swayed stance. Her hair was a warm straw blonde and her eyes a startling emerald green; her features had that majestic, sleeping, symmetry one sometimes finds in Greek marbles.

‘Who are you – shall I guess?’

‘I’m a policeman.’

‘Oh yes, but there are policemen and policemen, huh?’

‘My name is Gently. Chief Superintendent.’

‘A famous one, yes. That is what I was guessing.’

She dredged up a throaty little laugh. To describe her voice as husky was a simplification. It had an ecstatic, caressing quality that seemed to go straight to the base of your spine.

‘You are famous, aren’t you?’

‘You seem to have heard of me.’

‘But no, it is just guessing. Poor Freddy now, he would have heard of you. But the policemen were in his line of business.’

‘Is business how you thought of it?’

She made a mouth, and dimpled. ‘That’s the way it goes, my friend. Cops and robbers. Freddy was a robber. At least you must agree he had talent for it.’

‘That didn’t help him in the end.’

‘No. But I think poor Freddy had got careless. Going out to meet a little rat like Rampant, and at such a place. It wasn’t wise.’

‘Didn’t you try to dissuade him?’

‘How could I? Freddy didn’t tell me his affairs.’

‘Not that Rampant was making trouble?’

Her eyes widened. ‘But no! He told me nothing at all. Freddy was a lawyer, you understand? Perhaps that was why he was such a good crook. He told people only what they needed to know, then the policemen can get nothing out of them. And I, what did I need to know? I am just his woman, that’s all. He would say, It has been a good week, we have cleared so-and-so, you can read about it in this paper. Okay?’

‘And you didn’t want to know more?’

‘Ha, ha. Why should I be interested in crookery? Do you think I am a crook?’

‘You have been associating with one.’

‘No, Monsieur. Just with a man.’

Well, it was believable. I eyed her clinically. Not only the face was borrowed from Praxiteles. With a body as regal as that one might not feel the need for additional excitements.

‘Were you fond of Quarles?’

She swirled her hair. ‘He was a man of great
savoir faire
, Freddy. He could talk about this, about that. It did not matter what company he was in.’

‘But you were fond of him.’

‘He was fun to be with.’

‘That isn’t really answering the question.’

She warmed her smile for me. ‘Perhaps I don’t like the question. So perhaps I’m not going to give you an answer.’

‘Then I’ll draw my own conclusion. You weren’t fond of him.’

She pouted prettily. ‘Perhaps, I said. Maybe I don’t know myself, exactly. That sometimes happens to one, huh?’

‘At least, you’re not grief-stricken.’

‘I am sad, oh yes. After all, we had been together three years. But grief-stricken, no. I have had one big grief, and after that—’ She gestured. ‘So say I am sad.’

‘Or even less than that?’

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Then she thrust her bag at me.

‘Here – hold this! It is time I permitted myself a cigarette.’

Which brought us closer: I sitting on the stile, Mimi extracting a cigarette from the bag I was holding. Then, strangely, she couldn’t find her matches, had to beg a light from me: and steady my hand. Fingers of character. Not anonymously feminine, but made to do something more than caress. And I caught that scent which Hanson had likened to honey, and which I immediately qualified: heather honey.

‘I am told you wish to go back to London.’

‘Oh, perhaps. It is not important.’

‘Some business was mentioned.’

‘Not true. Just some parties, a first night.’

‘Then you won’t mind staying here a little longer.’

She blew me a tender stream of smoke. ‘No. It will not be so boring. It is the small men I find tiresome.’

‘After all, you seem able to amuse yourself.’

‘Aha. So you have noticed.’

‘Picking water-lilies. Where did you put them?’

‘They have horrible stems, my friend. No good.’

‘Yet you found them so intriguing that they made you miss lunch.’

‘Is that why my tummy feels empty?’

‘Did you miss lunch?’

She blew smoke pettishly. ‘This is a foolish conversation.’

‘But did you miss it?’

She took the bag. ‘I must have done. I am suddenly bored. So now I go straight back to have a meal. Au r’voir, my friend. Enjoy the daisies.’

CHAPTER SIX

S
HE MOUNTED THE
stile with quick grace and jumped down lightly into the meadow.

‘Wait,’ I said.

‘Why should I wait?’

‘I have some more questions to ask you.’

She slitted her eyes. ‘And if I am not in the mood? If I do not choose to be pestered?’

I shook my head. ‘You are too intelligent. You would never take up a foolish attitude.’

‘Foof!’ But her mouth twitched. ‘You know that you have no right to detain me. And I am not very pleased to be harassed like this, to be chased by a policeman when I stretch my legs.’

‘Is that what you were doing?’

‘Of course. Do you doubt it?’

‘I don’t doubt you could find a way to be more helpful.’

‘Huh-huh. And why should I?’

‘Because it would amuse you. And I make a change from the clientele at the Barge-House.’

She drew herself up. ‘Monsieur, what vanity!’

‘Also, you’re not yet sure if I admire you.’

She gave a throbbing chuckle. ‘I think you are a devil. What a good thing I find you unattractive.’

We stared at each other. She was smiling now.

‘Okay, okay, we will play the game. I find I am not hungry after all. It must be the scent of so many flowers.’

‘Shall we go back to the launch?’

‘I prefer not. It will be more comfortable out of the sun.’ She glanced around casually. ‘Perhaps beneath that hawthorn. It seems unlikely that we shall be disturbed.’

She stubbed her cigarette and made for the hawthorn. It was the most spreading of several that fringed the meadow; a handsome pyramid of milky blossom, throwing broken shade on the grass beneath. Mimi selected her spot and sat down; I selected mine, leaving turf between us. From there you saw a steely slice of the Broad with distant sails moving slowly upon it. Mimi plucked a stalk of plantain and chewed it appreciatively. She had turned towards me and was leaning on her elbow. Two harnessless breasts were moulding themselves sweetly, one drooping, one pouted by its neighbour.

‘Are you married, my friend?’

‘Not entirely.’

‘Hah. Such wisdom in two words. Is she so beautiful?’

‘I don’t carry her photograph.’

‘Then she is either very beautiful or very plain. I wonder which.’

I let her wonder. ‘How did you come to take up with Quarles?’

‘Oh, I was unhappy. It was after my trouble. Two million Frenchmen wanted to marry me.’

‘And you didn’t want to marry?’

She bit off some stalk. ‘I am rich too, that is the trouble. My late husband was an industrialist. If he had been poor there would have been no trial. La Famille. His poisonous mother. No doubt you are provided with the details. Afterwards, who cares about marrying Mimi? The bride is so many million francs.’

‘And Quarles was so different?’

‘Oh, but yes. I think you do not understand. Freddy also was rich, very rich. It is all tucked away in a little Swiss bank. So what did Freddy care about marrying rich girls? No, my friend, this was love. He picked me up one night in Montparnasse. He was a thief. I let him steal me.’

‘Did you know he was a thief?’

‘Not that first night. But he didn’t know I was a rich girl, either. Then it was too late. We make these grand discoveries when it would be disagreeable to let them interfere. So, we ignore them. He doesn’t want my money, nor do I wish to reform Freddy. After all, he is brilliant in his line. What chance has he ever given you to catch him?’

‘Somebody did catch him.’

‘Aha. But that somebody was not a policeman. In the end perhaps he catches himself. Or it is just that the little crooks grow envious.’

‘Which little crooks?’

‘Why not Rampant?’

‘It wasn’t Rampant who tipped the police.’

‘No, you are sure?’

I popped the head of a daisy. ‘So if not Rampant, who would it be?’

She drew her stalk through her teeth. ‘Well, it wasn’t me. I had no reason to shop Freddy. Was it a woman’s voice?’

‘That’s not important. It wouldn’t exclude a woman’s having been behind it.’

‘Ah, ah, it was a man, then. The rest is guessing. You are just trying it on, my friend. I think you had better stick to this little pig, Rampant. Because, after all, who is going to believe him?’

She elevated a knee, and admired it. The action slid her hem down her thigh. She had a strong, distinctive leg that flowered from an athletic foot and ankle. She smiled and let the knee slowly unflex: leaving the hem where it was.

‘You think I was tired of Freddy, huh?’

‘Were you ever really in love with him?’

She made a small mouth. ‘I think so, at first. Those first few weeks were formidable. It was like bubbles up my nose, I could scarcely get my breath. Better than my husband, oh yes. It is a shame to kill a man like Freddy.’

‘But you were through with him by Friday.’

‘You are right.’ She sighed. ‘So then it may not really have been love. I am swept off my feet, as you say. Freddy took me on the bounce. But still I am fond of him, huh? He was such an interesting man to live with. Such a wide acquaintance. They knew he was a crook, but it didn’t matter. He was always welcome.’

‘He was jealous of you.’

She gave her gurgling chuckle. ‘All men are jealous, more or less.’

‘Perhaps you’d given him cause.’

‘But why not? We are only young for you once, my friend.’

‘Then he resented it.’

‘And I killed him?’

‘Well?’

She rolled on her stomach and squirmed closer to me. ‘No.’ It was spoken as though to a child. ‘You are trying so hard, petit. So hard.’

I thrummed another daisy-head at the meadow. Mimi picked daisies and thrummed one, too. Hers landed squarely on my chin. She giggled and lined up another. Two bull’s-eyes. I shifted further off; Mimi squirmed after me like a seal. She rested her chin in her hands and stared up at me, her breasts pendant among the daisies.

‘Forget it,’ she said. ‘I didn’t kill him. Even though he was so stupidly jealous. Even though he threatened me with violence. There he was weak. And he knew I knew it.’

‘And you, of course, weren’t jealous of him.’

‘Shall I tell you the truth?’

‘If it isn’t being old-fashioned.’

‘Yes, I was jealous. Isn’t that strange? I couldn’t bear him eyeing another woman.’

‘Which sometimes he did?’

She nodded. ‘Sometimes. And that made me so angry. Perhaps I am thinking I am much the most beautiful, so why does he insult me like that, huh?’

‘Was there any particular woman?’

‘Oh no. I would have left him on the spot.’

‘Please think carefully. It could be important.’

‘I tell you for certain. No particular woman.’

‘Just you.’

‘Wouldn’t you say I was enough? I never grew stale with poor Freddy. And I didn’t need to kill him, that’s certain too: if I had grown tired of him, I could have left.’ She let fly with a daisy. ‘So you had better believe me, instead of thinking up such useless questions.’

‘I believe anything I can prove.’

‘Oh, foof.’ She plucked and loaded a fresh daisy.

I grabbed her firing-hand. She liked that, and let the daisy fall to the grass. The hand had a cool, consenting feel; it moved lazily under mine. But I dropped it. She lay still, leaving the hand where it fell.

‘Tell me about your stay here.’

‘Must you waste our time, my friend?’

‘Did you know that Freddy had come on a job?’

She sighed expressively. ‘He didn’t tell me.’

‘But you knew?’

‘Okay, I knew. Freddy would not have come here just for pleasure. A bourgeois inn wasn’t his style. It isn’t my style, either.’

‘How did he propose it?’

‘Oh, very politely. He is thinking we would like a week out of town.’

‘It didn’t arise from some . . . earlier circumstance?’

She stared. ‘Of course, he had the tip from Rampant.’

‘But nothing else?’

‘What should there be?’

I shrugged. ‘The Bryanston job wasn’t a grand one. I would like to know why Freddy bothered with it. Whether there was something else in the wind.’

She gazed for a while. ‘You are subtle,’ she said. ‘This is why they make you top man.’

‘Have you any suggestions?’

‘None, my friend. Unless it is that this Rampant misleads Freddy.’

I shook my head. ‘Freddy was a specialist. He could cost a job like an accountant. He would have checked the size of the Bryanston labour-force and multiplied it by the average wage-rate. Add a percentage for over-time and N.H.I., deduct a percentage for the sick and absent. The result would give him a minimum figure, probably accurate within a few thousands.’

‘Freddy did all that?’

BOOK: Gently French
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