Дик Фрэнсис - Bolt

She looked at him defensively.‘It’s because of him,’ she meant me,‘that Roland hasn’t agreed to Henri’s plans. Roland told me so. So did he.’ She jerked her head in my direction.‘He said it straight out at dinner... you heard him... that while he was here, Roland wouldn’t sign. He has so much power... you all do what he says... If he hadn’t been here, Henri said, it would all have been settled on the very first day, even before I got here. Everything’s his fault. It was he who drove Henri to do all those awful things. It’s because of him that I probably won’t get my money. So when Henri asked me if I could find out when and where the jockey would be alone... well... I said I would... and I was glad to!’

‘Aunt Beatrice!’ Danielle exclaimed.‘How could you?’

‘He has my room,’ Beatrice said explosively.‘My room!’

There was a small intense silence. Then I said mildly,‘If you’d tell us what you told Henri Nanterre, then I wouldn’t go there... wherever.’

‘You must tell us,’ the princess said vehemently.‘If any harm comes to Kit because of you, Beatrice, you will never be received again either in this house or in the château.’

Beatrice looked stunned by this direst of threats.

‘Moreover,’ Litsi said in a tone loaded with strength,‘you are not my sister, my sister-in-law or my aunt. I have no family feeling for you. You gave information which might have led to my death. If you’ve done the same regarding Kit, which it appears you have, and Nanterre succeeds in killing him, you’ll be guilty of conspiracy to murder, and I shall inform the police to that effect.’

Beatrice crumbled totally inside. It was all far more than she’d meant to involve herself in, and Litsi’s threat sounded like the heavy tread of an unthinkable future of penal reckoning.

Beatrice said to Litsi with a touch of sullenness,‘I told Henri where he keeps his car, while he’s here. This evening I told Henri that he’ll be fetching Danielle for the last time tomorrow... that he goes round to his car at one-thirty in the morning... Henri said that was excellent... but then he talked about you at Bradbury... and the horses dying... and he started shouting, and I realised... how he’d used me.’ Her face crumpled as if she would cry again but, perhaps sensing a universal lack of sympathy, she smothered the impulse and looked from one to the other of us, searching for pity.

Litsi was looking quietly triumphant, much as I was feeling myself. The princess however was shocked and wide-eyed.

‘That dark mews!’ she said, horrified.‘Kit, don’t go down there.’

‘No’ I assured her.‘I’ll park somewhere else.’ She relaxed, clearly satisfied by the simple solution, and Danielle looked at me broodingly, knowing I wouldn’t.

I winked at her.

She almost laughed.‘How can you?’ she said.‘How can you joke? Don’t say it, don’t say it... easily.’

The princess and Beatrice looked mystified but paid not much attention.

‘Are you absolutely certain,’ I said to Beatrice,‘that you can’t get in touch with Nanterre again?’

‘Yes, I am,’ she said uncertainly, and looked nervously at Litsi.‘But... but...’

‘But what, Beatrice?’

‘He’s going to telephone here this evening. He wanted me to tell Roland about your accident and about Col being shot, and then he would find out if Roland was ready to sign... and if not...’ She squirmed.‘I couldn’t let him hurt Danielle. I couldn’t!’

Her eyes seemed to focus on her untouched drink. She stretched out a scarlet-nailed much be-ringed hand and gave a good imitation of one fresh from the desert. The princess, hardly able to look at her sister-in-law, headed for the door, motioning with her hand for me to go with her.

I followed. She went into the dining room where dinner was laid and asked me to close the door, which I did.

She said, with intense worry,‘Nothing has changed, has it, because of what Beatrice has told us?’

‘No,’ I said, with a thankfulness she didn’t hear.

‘We can’t go on and on. We can’t risk Danielle’s face. You can’t risk that.’ The dilemma was dreadful, as Nanterre had meant.

‘No,’ I said,‘I can’t risk that. But give me until Tuesday. Don’t let Monsieur know of the threats until then. We have a plan. We have a lever, but we need a stronger one. We’ll get rid of Nanterre,’ I promised,‘if you’ll give us that time.’

‘You and Litsi?’

‘Yes.’

‘Litsi was the man who fell from the balcony,’ she said, wanting confirmation.

I nodded, and told her of the decoy message but not about finding the messenger.

‘Dear heaven. Surely we must tell the police‘

‘Wait until Tuesday,’ I begged.‘We will then, if we have to.’

She agreed easily enough because police enquiries could lead to publicity; and I hoped for John Smith Arnold Vincent Hodges’ sake that we wouldn’t have to drop him into hot water with his wife.

I asked the princess if I could have ten minutes’ private conversation with her husband that evening, and without more ado she whisked us both up in the lift and arranged it on the spot, saying it was a convenient time as he would not be coming down to dinner.

She saw me in and left us, and I took the red leather armchair as indicated by Roland.

‘How can I help you?’ he said civilly, his head supported by the high-backed wheelchair.‘More guards? I have met Sammy,’ he smiled faintly.‘He’s amusing.’

‘No, monsieur, not more guards. I wondered if I could go to see your lawyer, Gerald Greening, early tomorrow morning. Would you mind if I made an appointment?’

‘is this to do with Henri Nanterre?’

‘Yes, monsieur.’

‘Could you say why you want Gerald?’

I explained. He said wearily that he saw no prospect of success, but that I needn’t go to Gerald’s office, Gerald would come to the house. The world, I saw in amusement, was divided between those who went to lawyers’ offices, and those to whom lawyers came.

Roland said that if I would look up Gerald’s home number and get through to it, he would speak to Gerald himself, if he were in, and in a short time the appointment was made.

‘He will come here on his way to his office,’ Roland said, handing me the receiver to replace.‘Eight-thirty. Give him breakfast.’

‘Yes, monsieur.’

He nodded a fraction.‘Goodnight, Kit.’

I went down to dinner, which took place in more silence than ever, and later, as he’d threatened, Nanterre telephoned.

When I heard his voice, I pressed the record button, but again not that for conference.

‘I’ll talk to anyone but you,’ he said.

‘Then no one.’

He shouted,‘I want to talk to Casilia.’

‘No.’

‘I will talk to Roland.’

‘No.’

‘To Beatrice.’

‘No.’

‘You’ll regret it,’ he yelled, and crashed down the receiver.

Litsi and I entertained Gerald Greening in the morning room, where he ate copiously of kippers followed by eggs and bacon, all furnished by Dawson, forewarned.

‘Mm, mm,’ Greening grunted as we explained what we wanted.‘Mm... no problem at all. Would you pass me the butter?’

He was rounded and jovial, patting his stomach.‘Is there any toast?’

From his briefcase, he produced a large pad of white paper upon which he made notes.‘Yes, yes,’ he said busily, writing away.‘I get the gist, absolutely. You want your intentions cast into foolproof legal language, is that right?’

We said it was.

‘And you want this typed up properly this morning and furnished with seals?’