John Gardner - Never send flowers

`Memory loss?" `Yes, a fugue is a period of time lost in the memory. Often a blanking-off of the mind. She had lost the odd hour, but more recently days were missing. During her penultimate visit to this place, she admitted to losing almost an entire day, and she later regained a portion of that lost time. She said it was like a half-remembered dream, in which I had become her brother, and Hort was her mother. Laura was terrified convinced that she had begun a descent into abnormality." `And you could not risk having children with her?" `James, there is a little madness in all old families. The Dragonpols have experienced their share of it. To have gone on and produced children with Laura would have tempted fate. We decided to end it.

That's all there is to it. We were not about to play Russian roulette with the future." `Okay." He gave the impression of having accepted Dragonpol `5 explanation. `Forgive me, David, but I have to ask other q~~~~ `Go ahead.

`Where were you on the day Laura was murdered?" `Then you really believe she was murdered?" `Take my word for it." He gave a long shudder. `Where was I? You're not going to like the answer, James. I was in the air. I was flying from Washington to Zurich.

Bond looked up sharply, as if he had been stung.

`You were in Washington?" `For one night, yes. The Thursday night. I saw an eminent Professor of English. We met at the Folger Library and dined at the Willard Hotel. I took a flight direct from Dulles. It was slightly delayed, and I got into Zurich at around ten on the Friday night. You can check it if you want.

`You flew from here to Washington? I mean from Germany?" `No.

No, I went in from Paris. There were some papers-letters of the great Sarah Bernhardt-that I had purchased from a dealer. I did not want to risk having them sent by any normal means. So, as I was travelling.

`How long had you been travelling?" Dragonpol made some calculations, counting on his fingers. `I was away from here for almost a week. It was a quick and short trip. I arrived in Rome on the Sunday night, saw a collector of theatrical memorabilia, and bought some beautiful commedia dell'arte prints from him. On the Monday I flew to London..

`What time of day?" `The afternoon. I got into Heathrow, let me see, around six in the evening. Had dinner with a dealer and arranged for him to bid for me certain items of interest were coming up for sale at Sotheby's.

`You're sure it was on the Monday night?" `I'm positive. I have all the necessary information. I keep a very good filing system.

Every penny of my expenses is noted for tax purposes, because I can offset them against the museum as business. I have tickets, itineraries, everything. Yes, I arrived in London on the Monday night early evening.

`And from London?" `Paris." `When?" Already, Bond was doing agitated sums. David Dragonpol, it seemed, had followed the route of the killer, the assassin responsible for the deaths in Rome, London, Paris and Washington then, Switzerland.

`The Tuesday evening. Just for one night. In Paris I saw one of the directors of the Come die Francaise.

`Then you left for Washington?" `I arrived very late on the Wednesday. On Thursday night I met with my friend at the Folger, and from there we went out to dinner.

`And you were back in Zurich on the Friday night?" `About ten, yes. You wish to see my records?" `I think, David, the police might just want to see them." * `He was in all four cities, Flick. He made no bones about it. Rome, London, Paris, Washington. All the sites of those four assassinations. He was there.

`But a day late, yes? And why do you keep calling me Flick?" `Because Fredericka was a horse." `A horse?" `My Friend Fredericka a movie horse." `Oh my God, then call me Freddie." `I prefer Flick, Flick." She gave a resigned sigh. `But I am right, yes?

He was in all four cities, but a day late?" `Mainly only hours late. Hours after the assassinations. If he's telling the truth, he followed those murders as if he was chasing them." It was past midnight, and he had just been through Dragonpol's schedule with Fredericka, sitting close to her on the couch in the East Turret.

`You looked like a ghost when you came out of the dining-room,' she had said as soon as they were alone, and had as a precaution-checked that the elevator was now working. He had even joked about it with Dragonpol when the actor had shown the couple back to the elevator to wish them goodnight. Hort had disappeared a little earlier, making the excuse that she had some household duties to which she had to attend.

Once in their suite she had immediately asked what was wrong, and Bond sketched in the entire conversation with Dragonpol.

`It can't be coincidence. The roses are hers. His European jaunt. His presence in every city. He says that he has all the paperwork, but that kind of thing could be fiddled." `You think it's safe for us to stay here?" And risk being the next recipients of the Bleeding Heart award?" `It had crossed my mind." `He was very open about everything. I didn't really have to jog his memory. He just told me.

Even said I wouldn't like it when I heard where he was at the time of Laura's death. Though I fail to see his point, because, if he's telling the truth, he got to Zurich after she died and Interlaken's quite a trek from Zurich. No, if his schedule turns out to be exactly as he's told me, he arrived everywhere just after the deaths. But he did visit each city, which is quite extraordinary." `As though he followed a trail of blood?" `Exactly. Did you get anything more from Hort?" `She talked roses and the family. Boring to say the least, though there was one thing `Yes?" `The little tough, what's his name, Charles?" `What about him?" `He served the coffee and made a great show of having to speak privately with her. She excused herself and went out of the room with him. They had quite a long conversation. `Which you listened to.

`Not all. It wasn't safe, though she left the door open a little.

They spoke in almost whispers until she seemed to lose her temper.

Anyway, she raised her voice. Just for a moment.

`And said?" `Something to the effect that Charles was a buffoon.

That he should know better. I heard bits of that. Then she said, quite clearly, "They'll be gone by tomorrow night, but for God's sake, don't make that kind of mistake again. The telephone's only there to keep him from fussing. You don't let him use it, and you make sure it's cut off when nobody's with him. You know all this. Pray heaven he hasn't used it." That's pretty much word for word." `Perhaps they were talking about me us." He indicated the white, reproduction antique telephone which sat on one of the marble tables.

`We haven't tried to use it, but maybe we should." He rose and crossed to the telephone. Picking up the instrument he put it to his ear, then pulled a face. `Dead. Disconnected. I guess that's what the conversation was about." Fredericka bit her lip.

`Scared?" `Just a lot, James dear. Just bloody petrified." `Then maybe you're right. Maybe we should get out while the going's good-or at least in the small hours." They spent an hour getting themselves ready, dressing warmly in jeans, rollnecks and light shoes: packing their remaining clothes with care, Bond cursing from time to time that he had not come armed; but neither had Fredericka. After all, she was temporarily suspended from duty. `It's like the Dirty Harry movies,' she said in the one moment of humour. `You have to turn in your gun and badge.

At almost two in the morning, they had everything prepared, their two cases stood beside the elevator, and Bond was just about to press the button to summon the cage, when Fredericka touched his arm. `Sorry, James. I have to use the bathroom again." `Well, for heaven's sake hurry." She disappeared, and a few seconds later he heard her voice calling, agitated: `James, quickly.