R Raichev - Murder at the Villa Byzantine

‘I have had enough of murder to last me at least a month, thank you very much. I am not starting on a new book till after Christmas.’

‘I am serious.’

‘So am I. No murder till after Christmas.’

‘A murder took place on Tuesday. At the Villa Byzantine.’

‘One thing is certain. In America they take murder mysteries much more seriously than they do here. Even if they call them “cozies”. I wish they didn’t. I believe the intention of whoever coined the phrase was to domesticate the genre, but what he, or she, succeeded in doing was to trivialize it. I strongly suspect it was a she.’

‘Remember Morland? The chap we met at Kinderhook. He’s asked me for assistance-’

‘Nobody mixes a gin and tonic quite like you.’ Antonia gave him a searching glance. ‘You look thinner. You haven’t been eating properly, have you? Omelettes, I suppose? Did your aunt have you over for dinner? She promised she would look after you.’

‘It was Stella Markoff who was murdered. Didn’t you see any English papers?’

‘No, thank God.’

Payne sat down in the chair opposite Antonia. ‘Stella was beheaded at the Villa Byzantine.’

‘Was she? By a republican, no doubt. Or perhaps it was someone who resented being bored by lectures on the future of the Bulgarian monarchy?’

‘The Villa Byzantine is in St John’s Wood. It is an architectural oddity. Faux oriental,’ Payne persisted. ‘My aunt actually went and took a peek at it. She thought it perfectly gruesome – singularly suited to a beheading.’

‘This is all terribly amusing, but I am not in the mood, Hugh.’

‘My aunt may prove to be a valuable spy. She’s quite thrilled at the prospect of doing a Mata Hari-’ Payne broke off. ‘Do I have the fatal knack of making everything I say sound a little preposterous?’

‘You do, rather. I must admit it’s part of your charm, but at the moment I happen to be tired, oh so tired. I believe I have jetlag. I can never sleep on planes. I watched a wonderful film. The Illusionist. I should have seen the twist at the end coming, only I didn’t.’

‘The Villa Byzantine belongs to a Tancred Vane who is a royal biographer. Stella showed us photos of both – at Melisande’s party. Remember?’

‘Melisande’s agent insisted I should go on stage. Do you think I should? He said I had something.’

‘At the moment Tancred Vane is engaged on a biography of Prince Cyril. Actually, this has nothing to do with the murder.’

‘There was a Prince Leopold in the film,’ Antonia said dreamily. ‘He was something of a sadist where his ladies were concerned… I see that you have been living it up in my absence.’ She had picked up a slip of paper from the little table beside her chair. ‘You stayed at the Corrida Hotel in Earls Court and drank a bottle of champagne and a can of Red Bull!’

‘What’s that?’

‘How appropriate – drinking Red Bull at the Corrida Hotel!’ Antonia laughed. ‘Though not with champagne. No gentleman of taste and discernment would do that sort of thing. Un peu plebeian, as you’d be the first to point out. It’s a bill, Hugh. A hotel bill.’

‘It’s not my bill.’ Payne sounded annoyed. ‘No idea how it got there.’

‘Are you sure you are not playing some exceedingly silly game with me?’

‘I am not playing a game.’

‘I refuse to believe that. It is a fact universally acknowledged that an Englishman of good breeding always plays the game whenever it offers. It is a national trait such as the rest of the world admires… And now I must go to bed.’ Antonia yawned. ‘Sleep, I need sleep.’ She rubbed her temples.

There was a pause.

‘Why are you sitting so still? And why are you looking at me so pitifully? Stella Markoff wasn’t really beheaded at the Villa Byzantine, was she?’

‘She was. And I’ve got the newspaper cuttings to prove it.’ Payne spoke in a weary voice. ‘I’ve been putting them aside for you.’

Antonia gazed at him with slightly unfocused eyes. She tried to collect her thoughts. No, Hugh wasn’t playing a game. He was not making things up. While she had been away, he had got involved in murder. Stella Markoff, the rather boring Bulgarian woman they had met at Kinderhook, had been beheaded… Antonia remembered the curious apprehension she had felt at Melisande’s party. Had she sensed something? A premonition… Perhaps she was still on the plane, perhaps at long last she had fallen asleep and was dreaming?

She said, ‘The police have no idea who the killer is?’

‘At the moment Stella’s daughter is their prime suspect.’

‘The bloodthirsty girl?’

‘The bloodthirsty girl.’

‘Hasn’t she got an alibi for the time of the murder?’

‘No. She was arrested, but then the police released her. They don’t seem to have enough evidence. I bumped into Melisande this morning and she called it an absolute outrage that the girl hadn’t been clapped in the cooler yet. Melisande is convinced Moon is the killer.’

‘That strikes me as the most logical assumption,’ said Antonia. ‘Moon couldn’t stand her mother. She made no attempt to conceal the fact. And didn’t she go on about blood and beheadings?’

‘She did. Yes. Well, maybe that’s all there is to it. Asordid case of domestic violence, which has been unduly glorified by its neo-Byzantine setting.’ Payne drew a thoughtful forefinger across his jaw. ‘I am ashamed to admit it, but deep down, I harbour the rather illogical suspicion that the elusive Miss Hope has something to do with Stella’s death.’

‘Who is Miss Hope?’

‘An owl-faced woman Vane was expecting on the day of the murder but who didn’t turn up. Vane seemed to think that Stella and Miss Hope knew one another.’

‘An owl-faced woman… Are you absolutely sure you are not making this whole thing up? I’ll be very cross if you are,’ Antonia warned. She sighed. ‘You might as well tell me the whole story. You are clearly dying to.’

Some ten minutes later Antonia said, ‘How utterly bizarre… You are right about the odd features… The scene of the crime in itself is rather unusual. Why at the Villa Byzantine? And why with a sword? Perhaps it was Tancred Vane who lured her to her death, wouldn’t you say? He phones her and asks her to pay him a visit-’

‘He claims he didn’t. He wasn’t at home at the time Stella was killed.’

‘Have the police checked Tancred Vane’s alibi?’

‘They must have done. Would be scandalous if they haven’t. Alibis of course can be faked. Shame I no longer know anyone at Scotland Yard. Not that I would want to, from what I hear. To think that at one time I had three Commissioners eating out of my hand.’ Payne sighed. ‘What would Tancred Vane’s motive be?’

‘The grandmother’s letters and diaries,’ Antonia said promptly. ‘Didn’t he covet them? I mean Stella’s grandmother. I believe he tried to buy the letters and the diaries for fifty pounds?’

‘Allegedly. That’s what Moon said… Royal biographers, I have no doubt, could be obsessive, cranky, ruthless and ultimately lethal. It did occur to me to ask Morland where the letters and the diaries were, yes, but he said he had no idea. In Stella’s suitcase, he imagined.’

‘Might be useful to know if they are still there.’

‘I keep wondering about Morland. He had a guilty air that day, you know, when he came to see me. I am sure of it. Though it may have had nothing to do with Stella’s death.’

‘He wouldn’t have come and asked you for help if he’d been guilty of Stella’s death, would he? That might have been a ruse of course. D’you see Morland as a likely sword wielder?’

‘No, I don’t. Unless I’ve completely misread him.’