R Raichev - The hunt for Sonya Dufrette

They had to strain to make out what she was saying now, the slurring had become so bad. Her eyes were almost entirely out of focus. She couldn’t last much longer, Payne knew. Besides he had heard someone enter the bar.

He asked, ‘Why did you say Sonya’s ghost couldn’t have been coming from the direction of the river?’ Antonia saw him reach out towards the letter.

“Strordinary question. Because -‘ Lena put up her forefinger -’she was never in the river in the first place. That’s why.‘

‘Where is she? Where’s the body?’

Antonia was to think later that had Lena answered the question, their quest would have been over, there and then, anticlimactically, rather flatly, in fact, beside the bar at the Elsnor hotel. She would never have gone to Twiston – and then the murder would never have been discovered.

Only Lena didn’t answer the question. As she emitted a gurgling sound and her heavy shoulders started heaving, Payne quickly walked away from her and joined Antonia. Lena’s eyes nearly popped out of her head and her mouth opened wide. The retching noises, when they came, were quite appalling. Lena’s head wobbled up and down. Suddenly lurching to the left she was violently sick. Then again – and again. Mercifully the bar stood between her and them.

‘Badmouthing as usual – in more ways than one,’ a voice said behind them. ‘How unfortunate that it should have happened now, but then that’s Lena for you. Unpredictable, to say the least.’

They turned round. A tall elderly man with very light blue eyes, a high-bridged nose and a mane of silvery white hair brushed back stood in front of them. He was clad very correctly in a blue-and-white striped serge suit and was holding a Panama hat in his right hand and a black Malacca cane in his left. There was something of the grand seigneur about him. At the moment his long face was cadaverously pale and twisted in a squeamish grimace. He raised his neck as if his shirt collar was too tight and he looked away from the bar.

Antonia drew in her breath. This was the man who had visited her at the club library the other day, and asked about books on the Himalayas. The man she had taken for -

‘Dufrette!’ Major Payne exclaimed.

The Sanity of Lawrence Dufrette

Lawrence Dufrette addressed himself to Antonia exclusively. ‘Odd thing, bumping into you again, or maybe not so odd?’ He dabbed at his brow with the silk handkerchief from his breast pocket. The handkerchief bore the initials L.D., embroidered in blue silk, so there was no doubt it was him. ‘Mrs Rushton, isn’t it? Antonia Rushton? At the Military Club the other day they told me to ask for Miss Darcy.’

She nodded. ‘My maiden name.’

‘I see. Divorced? Then we do have something in common.’ He gave a Mephistophelean grin and patted his pocket. ‘My decree absolute. That was the purpose of my visit, to tell Lena in person, lest there be any misunderstanding. Communicating with Lena has always been a nightmare. She never answers any letters or faxes. Not even when they are from my solicitor. Especially when they are from my solicitor. She pretends she has never received anything. It is invariably a long and laborious process getting her on the phone and when I do manage to speak to her, she is either too drunk or too hung-over to make any sense.’

They had turned their backs on the dreadful scene in the bar and were walking briskly through the hall towards the exit. ‘Just a moment,’ Antonia said. They saw her walk up to the reception desk.

‘As a matter of fact we’ve met before. I used to work in the department that was next to yours,’ Payne said. ‘You’ve probably forgotten.’

‘I am afraid so. I am cursed with an appalling memory.’

‘My name is Payne. Major Payne.’

At the word ‘Major’, Lawrence Dufrette gave a little histrionic shudder. ‘I can’t say I remember your name. Not at all.’ He dabbed at his brow. ‘So hot, so damnably hot… Oh there you are, Mrs Rushton. Is anything the matter?’

‘No. I told the receptionists that their barmaid was feeling rather unwell and would they see if she needed any assistance.’

‘You are too kind. What Lena needs is a – No, I won’t say it. You don’t deserve to be shocked. You are a good woman, Mrs Rushton. I remember how sweet you were to Sonya.’

‘Have you been to the Elsnor before?’

‘Unfortunately, yes. Once… Lena wasn’t always like that, you know. There was a time when she was beautiful – spirited – exciting – fun. I was mad about her. We were that jousting couple, Benedick and Beatrice. I adored her. I couldn’t bear to be parted from her. I never for a moment imagined that my marriage would end up with the lethal conspiracies of – of -’ He broke off unable to find another theatrical metaphor.

‘Edward Albee’s Martha and George?’ Major Payne suggested.

Dufrette shot him a sidelong glance. They were now standing outside the hotel. It was a balmy evening. ‘I’d like to offer you a drink,’ Dufrette told Antonia and he took her arm. ‘May I? We need to talk. Somehow I don’t think your presence at the Elsnor was entirely accidental. Something is going on, isn’t it?’

‘You may put it that way,’ Antonia said. ‘By the way, Major Payne is a friend of mine. I understand you used to work together -’

‘That Italian bar over there isn’t too bad.’ Dufrette pointed with his cane. The place was called Papa Rodari. ‘We need to talk, Mrs Rushton.’

They walked across the road and entered the bar. There weren’t many people. They sat at a table beside the window. Payne had tagged along. As far as Dufrette was concerned, he might not have existed, but although he hadn’t been included in Dufrette’s invitation, he hadn’t been excluded either.

‘What will you have?’ Dufrette asked Antonia.

Again she plumped for a gin and tonic. For himself Dufrette ordered a vermouth. So he and Lena did have at least one taste in common, Antonia thought, amused. Major Payne told the waiter he wanted a scotch with lots of ice. After the waiter had gone, Dufrette turned to Antonia. ‘Now then. Why did you look terrified when I spoke to you in the library?’

‘It was the anniversary of Sonya’s death.’ Antonia decided to be as truthful as possible. After all, he had been behaving impeccably towards her. ‘I envisaged some unpleasant confrontation. I thought you had sought me out-’

‘I hadn’t the least notion that you would turn out to be the librarian! It was one of those extraordinary coincidences.’

‘I thought you might blame me for Sonya’s death.’

His brows went up. ‘Blame you for Sonya’s death? My good woman. How could you think such a thing? That’s absolutely terrible.’

Antonia smiled faintly. ‘I was in a highly neurotic state. I wasn’t thinking rationally -’

‘I felt so sorry for you that day on the river bank,’ Dufrette said. ‘Lena making a scene, screaming at you. I should have intervened – put an end to her mendacious caterwauling – told her to shut up. I wanted to, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think of anything but Sonya. What she would look like when the body was eventually fished out of the water. In a way I was glad that it was never found… I loved her so!’

‘I know.’ Antonia touched his arm.

The words of ‘Lavender’s Blue’ floated into her head. If you love me, Dilly, Dilly, I will love you… She remembered the heavy hints Lena had dropped. I didn’t like the way he kissed her. Was there anything in that? Could Lena be trusted? Antonia decided not. Like serenading a lover, Lena had said. Lolita love. That had been Lady Mortlock’s way of putting it.

The next moment Antonia recalled that she had heard ‘Lavender’s Blue’ not such a long time ago – only where? She frowned. She had the feeling that it was extremely important that she should remember. When she did remember the place where she had heard the song, she told herself, she would know why it had been important… Was she being irrational again?