Ngaio Marsh - A Wreath for Rivera

“Nothing much, Mr. Fox. Very worried about the deceased, he seems to be. Says he doesn’t know what he’s going to do without him.”

“ That makes sense at all events,” Fox grunted. “Shall we go in, sir?”

It was an expensive and rather characterless flat, only remarkable for its high content of framed and signed photographs and its considerable disorder. Breezy, wearing a dressing gown of unbelievable sumptuousness, sat in a deep chair into which he seemed to shrink a little further, as they came in. His face was the colour of an uncooked fowl and as flabby. As soon as he saw Dr. Curtis he raised a lamentable wail.

“Doc,” he whined, “I’m all shot to heaps. Doc, for petesake take a look at me and tell them.”

Curtis picked up his wrist.

“Listen,” Breezy implored him, “you know a sick man when you see one — listen — ”

“Don’t talk.”

Breezy pulled at his lower lip, blinked at Alleyn and with the inconsequence of a ventriloquist’s doll flashed his celebrated smile.

“Excuse us,” he said.

Curtis tested his reflexes, turned up his eyelid and looked at his tongue.

“You’re a bit of a mess,” he said, “but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t answer any questions these gentlemen like to put to you.” He glanced at Fox. “He’s quite able to take in the usual warning,” he said.

Fox administered it and drew up a chair, facing Breezy, who shot out a quavering finger at Alleyn.

“What’s the idea,” he said, “shooing this chap on to me? What’s wrong with talking to me yourself?”

“Inspector Fox,” Alleyn said, “is concerned with investigations about the illicit drug trade. He wants some information from you.”

He turned away and Fox went into action.

“Well, now, Mr. Bellairs,” Fox said, “I think it’s only fair to tell you what we’ve ascertained so far. Save quite a bit of time, won’t it?”

“I can’t tell you a thing. I don’t know a thing.”

“We’re aware that you’re in the unfortunate position,” Fox said, “of having formed the taste for one of these drugs. Gets a real hold on you, doesn’t it, that sort of thing?”

Breezy said: “It’s only because I’m overworked. Give me a break and I’ll cut it out. I swear I will. But gradually. You have to make it gradual. That’s right, isn’t it, Doc?”

“I believe,” Fox said comfortably, “that’s the case. That’s what I understand. Now, about the supply. We’ve learnt on good authority that the deceased, in this instance, was the source of supply. Would you care to add anything to that statement, Mr. Bellairs?”

“Was it the old bee told you?” Breezy demanded. “I bet it was the old bee. Or Syd. Syd knew. Syd’s had it in for me. Dirty bolshevikl Was it Syd Skelton?”

Fox said that the information had come from more than one source and asked how Lord Pastern knew Rivera had provided the drugs.

Breezy replied that Lord Pastern nosed out all sorts of things. He refused to be drawn further.

“I understand,” Fox went on, “that his lordship tackled you in the matter last evening.”

Breezy at once became hysterical. “He’d ruin me! That’s what he’d do. Look! Whatever happens don’t let him do it. He’s crazy enough to do it. Honest. Honest he is.”

“Do what?”

“Like what he said. Write to that bloody paper about me.”

“ Harmony ?” Fox asked, at a venture. “Would that be the paper?”

“That’s right. He said he knew someone — God, he’s got a thing about it. You know — the stuff. Damn and blast him,” Breezy screamed out, “he’ll kill me. He killed Carlos and now what’ll I do, where’ll I get it? Everybody watching and spying and I don’t know . Carlos never told me. I don’t know .”

“Never told you?” Fox said peacefully. “Fancy that now! Never let on how he got it! And I bet he made it pretty hot when it came to paying up. Um?”

“God, you’re telling me !”

“And no reduction made, for instance, if you helped him out?”

Breezy shrank back in his chair. “I don’t know anything about that. I don’t get you at all.”

“Well, I mean to say,” Fox explained, “there’d be opportunities, wouldn’t there? Ladies, or it might be their partners, asking the band leader for a special number. A note changes hands and it might be a tip or it might be payment in advance, and the goods delivered next time. We’ve come across instances. I wondered if he got you to oblige him. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, mind. We’ve the names and addresses of all the guests last night and we’ve got our records. People that are known to like it, you know. So I won’t press it. Don’t let it worry you. But I thought that he might have had some arrangement with you. Out of gratitude as you might put it — ”

“Gratitude!” Breezy laughed shrilly. “You think you know too much,” he said profoundly, and drew in his breath. He was short of breath and had broken into a sallow profuse sweat. “I don’t know what I’ll do without Carlos,” he whispered. “Someone’ll have to help me. It’s all the old bee’s fault. Him and the girl. If I could just have a smoke — ” He appealed to Dr. Curtis. “Not a prick. I know you won’t give me a prick. Just one little smoke. I don’t usually in the mornings but this is exceptional, Doc. Doc, couldn’t you — ”

“You’ll have to hang on a bit longer,” Dr. Curtis said, not unkindly. “Wait a bit. We won’t let it go longer than you can manage. Hang on.”

Suddenly and inanely Breezy yawned, a face-splitting yawn that bared his gums and showed his coated tongue. He rubbed his arms and neck. “I keep feeling as if there’s something under my skin. Worms or something,” he said fretfully.

“About the weapon,” Fox began. Breezy leant forward, his hands on his knees, aping Fox. “About the weapon?” he mimicked savagely. “You mind your business about the weapon. Coming here tormenting a chap. Whose gun was it? Whose bloody sunshade was it? Whose bloody stepdaughter was it? Whose bloody business is it? Get out!” He threw himself back in the chair, panting. “Get out. I’m within my rights. Get out.”

“Why not?” Fox agreed. “We’ll leave you to yourself. Unless Mr. Alleyn…?”

“No,” Alleyn said.

Dr. Curtis turned at the door. “Who’s your doctor, Breezy?” he asked.

“I haven’t got a doctor,” Breezy whispered. “Nothing ever used to be wrong with me. Not a thing.”

“We’ll find someone to look after you.”

“Can’t you ? Can’t you look after me, Doc?”

“Well,” Dr. Curtis said. “I might.”

“Come on,” said Alleyn and they went out.

One end of Materfamilias Lane had suffered a bomb and virtually disappeared but the other stood intact, a narrow City street with ancient buildings, a watery smell, dark entries and impenitent charm.

The Harmony offices were in a tall building at a corner where Materfamilias Lane dived downhill and a cul-de-sac called Journeyman’s Steps led off to the right. Both were deserted on this Sunday afternoon. Alleyn’s and Fox’s feet rang loudly on the pavement as they walked down Materfamilias Lane. Before they reached the corner they came upon Nigel Bathgate standing in the arched entry to a brewer’s yard.

“In me,” Nigel said, “you see the detective’s ready-reckoner and pocket guide to the City.”

“I hope you’re right. What have you got for us?”

“His room’s on the ground floor with the window on this street. The nearest entrance is round the corner. If he’s there the door to his office’ll be latched on the inside with an ‘Engaged’ notice displayed. He locks himself in.”