Ngaio Marsh - Artists in Crime

There was an uneasy silence, broken at last by Troy.

“You mean my portrait of Miss Seacliff. Sonia did that.”

“The model?” exclaimed Alleyn.

“I believe so. I said we have all felt like murdering her. That was my motive, Mr. Alleyn.”

Alleyn lifted a hand as if in protest. He checked himself and, after a moment’s pause, went on with his customary air of polite diffidence.

“The model defaced your painting. Why did she do this?”

“Because she was livid with me ,” said Valmai Seacliff. “You see, it was rather a marvelous painting. Troy was going to exhibit it. Sonia hated that. Besides, Basil wanted to buy it.”

“When did she commit this — outrage?” asked Alleyn.

“A week ago,” said Troy. “Miss Seacliff gave me the final sitting last Monday morning. The class came down to the studio to see the thing. Sonia came too. She’d been in a pretty foul frame of mind for some days. It’s perfectly true what they all say. She was an extraordinary little animal and, as Ormerin has told you, extremely jealous. They all talked about the portrait. She was left outside the circle. Then Pilgrim asked me if he might buy it before it went away. Perhaps I should tell you that I have also done a portrait of Sonia which has been been sold. Sonia took that as a sort of personal slight on her beauty. It’s hard to believe, but she did. She seemed to think I’d painted Miss Seacliff because I was dissatisfied with her own charms as a model. Then, when they all came down and looked at the thing and liked it, and Pilgrim said he wanted it, I suppose that upset her still more. Several of these people said in front of her, they thought the thing of Miss Seacliff was the best portrait I have done.”

“It was all worms and gallwood to her,” said Ormerin.

“Well,” Troy went on, “we came away, and I suppose she stayed behind. When I went down to the studio later on that day, I found—” she caught her breath. “I found — what you saw.”

“Did you tackle her?”

“Not at first. I — felt sick. You see, once in a painter’s lifetime he, or she, does something that’s extra.”

“I know.”

“Something that they look at afterwards and say to themselves: ‘How did the stumbling ninny that is me, do this?’ It happened with the head in Valmai’s portrait. So when I saw — I just felt sick.”

“Bloody little swine,” said Miss Bostock.

“Oh, well,” said Troy, “I did tackle her that evening. She admitted she’d done it. She said all sorts of things about Valmai and Pilgrim, and indeed everybody in the class. She stormed and howled.”

“You didn’t sack her?” asked Alleyn.

“I felt like it, of course. But I couldn’t quite do that. You see, they’d all got going on these other things, and there was Katti’s big thing, too. I think she was honestly sorry she’d done it. She really rather liked me. She simply went through life doing the first thing that came into her head. This business had been done in a blind fury with Valmai. She only thought of me afterwards. She fetched up by having hysterics and offering to pose for nothing for the rest of her life.” Troy smiled crookedly. “The stable-door idea,” she said.

“Basil and I were frightfully upset,” said Valmai Seacliff. “Weren’t we, Basil?”

Alleyn looked to see how Pilgrim would take this remark. He thought that for a moment he saw a look of reluctant surprise.

“Darling!” said Pilgrim, “of course we were.” And then in his eyes appeared the reflection of her beauty, and he stared at her with the solemn alarm of a man very deeply in love.

“Were there any more upheavals after this?” asked Alleyn after a pause.

“Not exactly,” answered Troy. “She was chastened a bit. The others let her see that they thought she’d — she’d— ”

“I went crook at her,” announced Hatchett. “I told her I reckoned she was— ”

“Pipe down, Hatchett.”

“Good-oh, Miss Troy.”

“We were all livid,” said Katti Bostock hotly. “I could have mur—” She stopped short. “Well, there you are, you see.” she said doggedly. “I could have murdered her but I didn’t. She knew how I felt, and she took it out in the sittings she gave me.”

“It was sacrilege,” squeaked Phillida Lee. “That exquisite thing. To see it with that obscene— ”

“Shut up, Lee, for God’s sake,” said Katti Bostock.

“Oddly enough,” murmured Malmsley, “Garcia seemed to take it as heavily as anybody. Worse if anything. Do you know, he was actually ill, Troy? I found him in the garden, a most distressing sight.”

“How extraordinary!” said Valmai Seacliff vaguely. “I always thought he was entirely without emotion. Oh, but of course— ”

“Of course — what?” asked Alleyn.

“Well, it was a portrait of me, wasn’t it? I attracted him tremendously in the physical sense. I suppose that was why he was sick.”

“Oh, bilge and bosh!” said Katti Bostock.

“Think so?” said Seacliff quite amiably.

“Can any of you tell me on what sort of footing the model and Mr. Garcia were during the last week?” asked Alleyn.

“Well, I told you she’d been his mistress,” said Malmsley. “He said that himself during Friday afternoon.”

“Not while they were here, I hope,” said Troy. “I told him I wouldn’t have anything like that.”

“He said so. He was very pained and hurt at your attitude, I gathered.”

“Well, I know there was something going on, anyway,” said Phillida Lee, with a triumphant squeak. “I’ve been waiting to tell the superintendent this, but you were all so busy talking, I didn’t get a chance . I know Sonia wanted him to marry her.”

“Why, Miss Lee?”

“Well, they were always whispering together, and I went to the studio one day, about a week ago, I think, and there they were having a session — I mean, they were talking — nothing else.”

“You seem to have had a good many lucky dips in the studio, Lee,” said Katti Bostock. “What did you overhear this time?”

“You needn’t be so acid. It may turn out a mercy I did hear them. Mayn’t it, Superintendent?” She appealed to Alleyn.

“I haven’t risen to superintendent heights, Miss Lee. But please do tell me what you heard.”

“As a matter of fact, it wasn’t very much, but it was exciting. Garcia said: ‘All right — on Friday night, then.’ And Sonia said:‘Yes, if it’s possible.’ Then there was quite a long pause and she said: ‘I won’t stand for any funny business with her , you know.‘ And Garcia said: ‘Who?’ and she said — I’m sorry, Mr. Alleyn — but she said: ‘The Seacliff bitch, of course.’ ” Miss Lee turned pink. “I am sorry, Mr. Alleyn.”

“Miss Seacliff will understand the exigencies of a verbatim report,” said Alleyn with the faintest possible twinkle.

“Oh, I’ve heard all about it. She knew what he was up to, of course,” said Valmai Seacliff. She produced a lipstick and mirror and, with absorbed attention, made up her lovely mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell me the swine was pestering you?” Pilgrim asked her.

“My sweet — I could manage Garcia perfectly well,” said Seacliff with a little chuckle.

“Anything more, Miss Lee?” asked Alleyn.

“Well, yes. Sonia suddenly began to cry and say Garcia ought to marry her. He said nothing. She said something about Friday evening again, and she said if he let her down after that she’d go to Troy and tell her the whole story. Garcia just said — Mr. Alleyn, he just sort of grunted it, but honestly it sounded frightful . Truly. And she didn’t say another thing . I think she was terrified — really!”