Barbara Cleverly - The Damascened Blade

‘You were about to tell us before we came to the durbar hall,’ Iskander reminded her, ‘at what time you estimate Zeman died.’

‘Ah, yes, I was saying… the state of digestion of the food matter, the advance of bodily rigor, and the temperature of the corpse all point to the same time. I would say about one o’clock in the morning.’

Betty looked up sharply. ‘Oh, no! You’re saying that when you were attending me at three o’clock poor Zeman was lying there on the stairs? Dead or dying? It’s too horrible to think of!’

‘Already dead,’ said Grace. ‘Whatever else, we all saw that he did not linger for long once he embarked on the stairs.’

Iskander was looking at Grace keenly. ‘At one o’clock?’ he said. ‘Are you quite certain of that, Dr Holbrook?’

Grace hesitated for a moment. She always weighed her statements carefully and was for a moment put out by having her decision questioned. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘At about one o’clock.’ She added reluctantly, ‘It could have been earlier, I suppose, but not much. Between half-past twelve and one. Why do you ask, Iskander? Is there perhaps something you want us to know? Any further evidence you can supply to throw light on this tragedy?’

Iskander shook his head and remained silent. Collecting himself, he gracefully thanked her for all she had done, made further kind comments to Betty and Lily and announced that he would now withdraw with his men to make arrangements for the burial of Zeman.

Distinctly subdued, the company dispersed to the officers’ mess. As they trailed away, Fred Moore-Simpson was heard to say, ‘Damn sad. And damn mysterious too! But I think I speak for all and would say – I need my breakfast!’

Joe, who was bringing up the rear, found himself face to face with Lily who shut the door quietly behind the last to leave and rounded on him.

‘Commander,’ she said, ‘I have to talk to you where we may not be overheard by anyone. Anyone. I will come to your room in ten minutes’ time. Can you be there?’

She entered silently in her soft riding boots, took a quick look around his room and settled down on the only chair. Joe sat on the bed close to her but not so close as to intimidate her. Perhaps she had come, needing a shoulder to cry on; perhaps she was to reiterate her guilt but he didn’t think that was what she had in mind. There was something apprehensive and even furtive in her behaviour. It disturbed him.

She sat quietly for a few moments, chewing her bottom lip. She opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it and closed it again. She tried to meet his eye and could not. Her gaze constantly slid away from his and focused on her hands knotted with tension in her lap.

‘Oh, Lord!’ thought Joe. ‘I recognize these signs! She’s about to make a confession! We’ve got it all wrong and she’s come to tell me she killed him! But how? Poison? In so short a time? Not possible. Not her style either – she’d have put a bullet in him perhaps or climbed on a stool and hit him in the nose, but I really can’t see Lily – didn’t see Lily salting his sherbet with a mysterious white powder. No, calm down, Sandilands! Too much imagination! She’s decided that life on the frontier is a little too raw and she’s come to ask you to take her back to the safety of Simla. That’s it!’

‘I have the most terrible confession to make, Commander,’ she finally managed to say. ‘I can’t imagine what you’re going to think of me!’

‘Is this to do with Zeman’s death?’ he asked.

‘Well, of course it is! What else would it have to do with?’

‘Well, you could be owning up to putting that dead mouse in my bed yesterday,’ said Joe, determined to keep the exchange light.

An unwilling smile broke out and she began to relax a little. ‘Wish I’d thought of that. I say – did someone? Oh, no. Sorry. Just teasing, I suppose. No. It is about Zeman.’

Joe just smiled and listened and let her take her time.

‘There’s only you in the whole fort I can trust and I mean that – only you. Promise you won’t reveal a word of what I’m going to tell you to anyone – not James, not Betty, not Grace, really not anyone.’

Joe nodded his agreement.

‘It didn’t happen like that at all,’ she said rapidly.

‘I mean Zeman’s death. It couldn’t have. You see, at that time – between half-past twelve and one o’clock – Zeman was alive and well and having a, oh, what shall I say? – a riotous time in the swimming pool in the officers’ garden.’

‘Can’t have been a very riotous time!’ said Joe gently. ‘I heard no sounds from downstairs and I’m a champion light sleeper. A riotous time down there would have woken me up. Are you sure about this? And what do you mean by “riotous”?’

‘You don’t make it easy for a girl, do you? No, you’re right. Bad choice of word because it wasn’t noisy at all. Not at all. It was rather subdued but energetic, um, sexual congress.’ She finished with a rush, blushing hotly.

Taken completely by surprise, Joe looked at her in horror and then said carefully, ‘I think it might be better if you took me through this step by step from the ending of the dinner party, Lily.’

‘Yes, it would. It’ll be a lot easier to talk about now I’ve said those words. From now on I shall refer to the activity as s.c. Is that all right?’

‘Quite all right,’ said Joe.

‘You saw the appalling Rathmore bundle me out of the room, lest I should fall victim to silken oriental seduction?’

Joe nodded and remained silent. ‘Prescient old Rathmore!’ he was thinking. ‘More sense than the rest of us apparently!’

‘Well, it was clearly his idea that I should fall victim to his own Western style of courtship. Not subtle! Oh, don’t look concerned – I can handle unsubtle! He’s suffering this morning from a dented ego and a bruised foot! Did you notice he was limping this morning?’ she said, a flash of good humour returning. ‘He marched me round the garden and pointed out that a nightingale was singing and the moon was shining. He reminded me that he was a lord, twirled his moustache and fell on me. Well, on where I would have been were I not such a fast mover! I escaped and went to my room and he hobbled off back to his room, cursing me no doubt. Must have been at about half-past ten.’

‘I made my rounds at eleven and everyone was in their own room. You locked your door when I asked you to.’

Lily gave him a scathing look. ‘You were taken in by that old girls’ boarding school trick? I locked and unlocked it again straight away.’

‘But why didn’t you complain about Rathmore’s behaviour to you? I would have dealt with him. It would have given me quite a lot of pleasure in fact!’

She said what he knew she’d say. ‘I can take care of myself. No need to involve anyone else. Everything went very quiet, Joe, when you finished padding about and I sat and waited.’

‘Waited? Waited for what?’

‘Do you remember the Persian poem Zeman said to me towards the end of dinner? About the moonlight on the pool and “I wait to see your shadow fall on the garden’s midnight wall” – all that? I sort of, well, took it literally. I took it as an invitation to meet him by the pool at midnight.’ She blushed but looked at Joe defiantly. ‘Ridiculous, I know and I’m ashamed of myself but it was so romantic! Oh, I was imagining telling my friends! I thought at the very least he would try to kiss me and I’d decided that at the very least I would let him. No one I know has kissed a Pathan before! And this guy could out-smoulder Rudolph Valentino! If you know who he is?’

‘I am aware of the gentleman and have even seen some of his moving pictures,’ said Joe. ‘And, yes, Lily, I can see what the attraction was! But, tell me – what time did you go out to the garden?’