Ngaio Marsh - Spinsters in Jeopardy

“ Je t’adore !” she crooned.

“Oh, gosh!” said Ricky and shut his eyes.

“All the same,” Alleyn said, “we’ll have to call a halt to her raptures.” He leaned forward. “Raoul, shall we stop for a moment? If Teresa misses her bus you may drive her back from Roqueville.”

“Monsieur, may I suggest that we drive direct to Roqueville where, if Monsieur and Madame please, my parents will be enchanted to invite them to an apéritif or, if preferred, a glass of good wine, and perhaps an early but well-considered dinner. The afternoon has been fatiguing. Monsieur has not eaten, I think, since morning and Madam and Monsieur Ricky may be glad to dine early. Teresa is, no doubt, not expected at the house of infamy, being, as they will suppose, engaged in the abduction of Ricky and in any case I do not permit her to return.”

Teresa made a complicated noise, partly protesting but mostly acquiescent. She essayed to tuck one of Raoul’s curls under his cap.

Ricky, with his eyes still shut, said: “Is Raoul asking us to tea. Daddy? May we go? Just us however,” he added pointedly.

“We shall all go,” Alleyn said, “including Teresa. Unless, Troy darling, you’d rather take Ricky straight to the hotel.”

Ricky opened his eyes. “Please not, Mummy. Please let’s go with Raoul.”

“All right, my mammet. How kind of Raoul.”

So Alleyn thanked Raoul and accepted his invitation, and as they had arrived at the only stretch of straight road on their journey Raoul passed his right arm round Teresa and broke into song.

They drove on through an evening drenched in a sunset that dyed their faces and hands crimson and closely resembled the coloured postcards that are sold on the Mediterranean coast. Two police-cars passed them with a great sounding of horns and Alleyn told Troy that M. Dupont had sent for extra men to effect a search of the factory. “It was too good an opening to miss,” he said. “He’ll certainly find enough evidence to throw a spanner through the plate glass and thanks for the greater part, let’s face it, to young Rick.”

“What have I done, Daddy?”

“Well, you mustn’t buck too much about it but by being a good boy and not making a fuss when you were a bit frightened you’ve helped us to shut up that factory back there and stop everybody’s nonsense.”

“Lavish!” said Ricky.

“Not bad. And now you can pipe down for a bit while I talk to Mummy.”

Ricky looked thoughtfully at his father, got down from his seat and placed himself between Alleyn’s knees. He then aimed a blow with his fist at Alleyn’s chest and followed it up with a tackle. Alleyn picked him up. “Pipe down, now,” he said, and Ricky, suddenly quiescent, lay against his father and tried to hide his goat from the light in the hope that it would illuminate itself.

“The next thing,” Alleyn said to Troy, “is to tackle our acquaintance of this morning. And from this point onwards, my girl, you fade, graciously but inexorabley, out . You succour your young, reside in your classy pub, and if your muse grows exigent you go out with Raoul and your young and paint pretty peeps of the bay, glimpsed between sprays of bougainvillea.”

“And do we get any pretty peeps of you?”

“I expect to be busyish. Would you rather move on to St. Céleste or back to St. Christophe? Does this place stink for you, after today?”

“I don’t think so. We know the real kidnappers are in jug, don’t we? And I imagine the last thing Oberon and Co. will try on is another shot at the same game.”

“The very last. After tomorrow night,” Alleyn said, “I hope they will have no chance of trying anything on except the fruitless contemplation of their past infamies and whatever garments they are allowed to wear in the local lock-up.”

“Really? A coup in the offing?”

“With any luck. But see here, Troy, if you’re going to feel at all jumpy we’ll pack you both off to — well, home, if necessary.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Ricky said from inside Alleyn’s jacket. “I think Goat’s beginning to illumine himself, Daddy.”

“Good. What about Troy?”

“I’d rather stay, Rory. Indeed, if it wasn’t for the young, and yet I suppose because of him, I’d rather muck in on the job. I’m getting a first hand look at the criminal classes and it’s surprising how uncivilized it makes one feel.”

Alleyn glanced at the now hazardously entwined couple in the front seat. He adjusted Ricky and flung an arm round Troy.

“A fat lot they know about it,” he muttered.

As the car slipped down the familiar entry into Roqueville he said: “And how would you muck in, may I ask?”

“I might say I wanted to do a portrait of Oberon in the lotus bud position and thus by easy degrees become a Daughter of the Sun.”

“Like hell, you might.”

“Anyway, let’s stay if only to meet Cousin Garbel.”

She felt Alleyn’s arm harden. Like Teresa, she turned to look at her man.

“Rory,” she said, “did you believe Baradi’s story about the charades?”

“Did you?”

“I thought I did. I wanted to. Now, I don’t think I do.”

“Nor do I,” Alleyn said.

“ On arrive ,” said Raoul, turning into a narrow street. “ Voici L’Escargot Bienvenu .”

ii

It was, as Raoul had said, an unpretentious restaurant. They entered through a portière of wooden beads into a white-washed room with fresh window curtains and nine tables. A serving counter ran along one side and on it stood baskets of fresh fruit, of bread and of langoustes bedded in water-cress. Bottles of wine and polished glasses filled the shelves behind the counter and an open door led into an inner room where a voice was announcing the weather forecast in French. There were no customers in the restaurant, and Raoul, having drawn out three chairs and seated his guests, placed his arm about Teresa’s waist and led her into the inner room.

“Maman! Papa!” he shouted.

An excited babble broke out in the background.

“Come to think of it,” Alleyn said, “I’m damned hungry. Raoul told me his papa was particularly good with steak. Filet mignon ? What do you think?”

“Are we going to be allowed to pay?”

“No. Which means that good or bad we’ll have to come back for more. But my bet is, it’ll be good.”

The hubbub in the background came closer, and Raoul reappeared accompanied by a magnificent Italian father and a plump French mother, both of whom he introduced with ceremony. Everybody was very polite, Ricky was made much of and a bottle of extremely good sherry was opened. Ricky was given grenadine. Healths were drunk, Teresa giggled modestly in the background. M. Milano made a short but succinct speech in which he said he understood that Monsieur and Madame Ahlaine had been instrumental in saving Teresa from a fate that was worse than death and had thus preserved the honour of both families and made possible an alliance that was the dearest wish of their hearts. It was also, other things being equal, a desirable match from the practical point of view. Teresa and Raoul listened without embarrassment and with the detachment of connoisseurs. M. Milano then begged that he and Madame might be excused as they believed they were to have the great pleasure of serving an early dinner and must therefore make a little preparation with which Teresa would no doubt be pleased to assist. They withdrew. Teresa embraced Raoul with passionate enthusiasm and followed them.

Alleyn said: “Bring a chair, Raoul. We have much to say to each other.”

“Monsieur,” Raoul said without moving, “no mention has been made of my neglect of duty this afternoon. I mean, Monsieur, my failure, which was deliberate, to identify Teresa.”