Bright Young Things Page 11

  Henry drew up a chair opposite Malcolm’s and studied the young man thoughtfully. He was aware of Mickey hovering, no doubt making certain that his boss did not say anything too harsh. Henry knew that he was not always the most tactful or careful of men, but the look in Everson’s eyes established a kind of kinship, because Henry recognized what it meant. The deep and enduring sense of shock and dissociation and loss of self.

  ‘Tell me about that day,’ Henry said. ‘What you remember. What do you think happened?’

  ‘They say it wasn’t Faun. How can it not be Faun? Faun was in my car. I crashed my car, I … killed … her. They tell me I had been drinking. Heavily, but I don’t remember that. Truthfully I don’t remember much.’

  Mickey grabbed another chair and set it down close to Henry’s. ‘What do you remember about that day, not about the crash, but earlier than that? We’ve been told you arrived at the Belmonts’ house at about eleven o’clock in the morning?’

  ‘We arrived together,’ Pat said unexpectedly. ‘We had driven up together. I knew Faun was going to be at the party and I hadn’t seen her in a while, so when Mal said he was going up on the Saturday, I asked if I could tag along. Since Faun and Father fell out she’d not been home, though she’d come to stay with me a time or two when she ran short of money. Our father had cut off her allowance when she refused to “behave” as he put it, But what with one thing and another I’d not seen much of her lately.’

  ‘Your father had cut off her allowance, or threatened to, so—’

  ‘So what was she living on?’ Pat said flatly. ‘Oh dear, you may well ask. I helped out where I could, and she was sharing a place in London with two other girls, and Frank, that’s our brother, had done his best to persuade our father to at least pay her rent and give her a small allowance. Frank made him realize just how bad it would look if she ran up huge debts. But Faun would not have been able to manage just on that.’ She looked away, clearly embarrassed.

  Henry was about to press further but Mickey interrupted again and, looking at Mal, Henry realized that he was correct to do so. Mal Everson would not stand much questioning and already he was exhausted and becoming distressed. Some men, Henry thought, were just more fragile than others and that was no fault of theirs. All men had their breaking point and it seemed Mal Everson had met with his when his car had come off the road and crashed down the hill.

  ‘So you arrived at about eleven,’ Mickey said gently. ‘Tell me all you can. What happened after that?’

  ‘There was a buffet set out so we had a late breakfast or early lunch. I had one champagne cocktail. To be truthful I’m not that keen. I had coffee and I think, I think I ate eggs, perhaps some toast.’ He looked at Pat for confirmation and the woman nodded.

  ‘Not everyone was up – the party had apparently gone on till about four in the morning. Friday night there was a theme, Ancient Rome or some such, and some guests hadn’t gone to bed until the servants were starting their day. I suppose people started drifting down around one and others had lunch in their rooms.’

  ‘And you saw Faun, when?’

  ‘Oh, I asked one of the maids to tell her we’d arrived,’ Pat said, ‘and she came down, still in her dressing gown while we were eating.’

  Pat paused, a faint smile on her lips. ‘She was pleased to see us,’ she said. ‘She hugged me and gave Mal a kiss on the cheek and then we sat and ate and drank coffee for an hour and then when she went up to get dressed I went up and chatted to her while she got ready. She was happy,’ Pat added, before they could ask.

  ‘She seemed … excited,’ Mal Everson said.

  ‘Excited? About anything in particular?’

  Malcolm Everson and Pat exchanged a look as though each was trying to remember. Then Mal slumped back in his chair. ‘Just excited, happy. I don’t even remember what we talked about.’

  Henry did not press him. He could get the gist of the conversation from Pat later on. Instead he said, ‘And after that, what did you do?’

  ‘I remember going on to the terrace to smoke a cigarette. I sat on the steps and looked out over the lawn and I remember having a conversation with someone, with two or three people maybe, but I couldn’t tell you what about and I’m not even sure with who. It’s all confused, who I spoke to then, who I talked to later in the afternoon. It’s all kind of blurred and when I try and take hold of it, the harder I try the more confused it becomes and I know that’s not very useful to you and I know you must think it’s very convenient for me but it happens to be the truth.’

  Violet came over and perched on the windowsill and took her brother’s hand. She glanced anxiously at Henry as though warning him off. ‘You told me that when you got in the car you felt ill,’ she said.

  Slowly, Malcolm Everson nodded. ‘I truly don’t believe I’d had much to drink,’ he said. ‘I drank the champagne cocktail, more to be polite than anything, and then I think I had a couple of whiskey and sodas in the afternoon. The butler, I think, brought me one, and I think Faun gave me the other.’

  ‘We’ve asked around,’ Violet said, ‘and as near as we can find out Mal is remembering right. He hadn’t been drinking heavily, three drinks since about eleven o’clock that morning, the last about an hour before they went out, or maybe a little less than an hour. But he wasn’t drunk, no matter what everyone assumed.’

  ‘So you felt ill.’ Mickey returned to what had also seemed to Henry to be the important factor. ‘Can you tell us all you can remember after Miss Moran suggested you go for a drive?’

  Malcolm Everson closed his eyes and leaned back. His sister gripped his hand hard and Pat Moran took the other one. These three were evidently close, Henry thought, and also clearly dissatisfied with the official verdict.

  ‘She gave me a Scotch and soda and said how about going for a spin. I said that I’d be happy to take her and where did she want to go. She told me she didn’t care, she just wanted to get out and about for a bit, that she had something to tell me and because we’ve been friends for such a long time she wanted me to be the first to know.

  ‘I remember laughing at that because although we had known each other for a long time it’s not like we’d been particular friends. I liked her but we were just part of the same crowd. She was always like the little sister, you know. Pat and Frank and I were always closer, I suppose, because we’re that bit closer in age. But she seemed so happy that I thought I’d humour her, I do kind of remember that. I finished my drink while she got herself ready and I remember speaking to someone in the hall and Faun was dancing around me – that girl never walked anywhere.’ His smile was sad, his eyes still closed as though it was easier to remember that way.

  ‘Do you remember collecting the car?’

  ‘Not really. I’d parked in the stable yard. I think we went out the front way and I vaguely recall speaking to someone on the way out. Faun … I think Faun had mislaid her coat and thought it might be hanging in the hall. It can get cold in the car. Next thing I really do remember was being out on the road and feeling so sick. Dizzy, hazy, you know. Faun said there was a farm gate, at least I think that’s what she said. She said to pull over and she would drive. She joked I must have had too much to drink but I know I hadn’t. Violet and Pat know. They’ve asked everybody that was there, everybody that could know anything and everybody knows I don’t drink much.’

  ‘And do you remember pulling over? We drove that road a few days ago, from what we noticed there were not many spots where you could have pulled the car in.’

  Mal Everson screwed up his eyes as though that might help and then shook his head. ‘I’ve tried, believe me I have tried. The last thing I remember clearly is feeling ill and Faun saying that we should pull over so she could drive and then there is nothing. It’s like there’s a blank space in my brain and I cannot, I cannot remember.’

  ‘The doctors say he’s blocking things out,’ Violet said coldly.

  ‘You don’t believe that?’ Henry asked.

  ‘No.
I don’t. I believe something happened. What if she put something in his drink? What if someone else did?’

  The same thought had crossed Henry’s mind. He glanced at Pat, wondering if Faun’s sister had a similar perspective on the matter or if she was less sympathetic of Malcolm Everson’s position, but Pat nodded. ‘Malcolm is right. My sister did seem happy, she did seem excited, and she said she’d have some news for me later. I assumed she’d just fallen in love again. Faun was always falling in love and falling out again just as quickly. And I’ve known Mal since we were all children, and I know he doesn’t drink to excess. He’d never drive if he had more than say three drinks. He’s not like some, convinced that the more alcohol they imbibe the better drivers they become.’

  Henry looked keenly at Malcolm Everson. The young man was even paler, his skin pasty and grey, and a sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead. Despite this, he looked cold. ‘What’s the first thing you remember afterwards?’ he asked.

  ‘Waking up in hospital, feeling confused and in pain and not knowing what had happened. At some time, I don’t know how much later, someone told me Faun was dead, that we had crashed off the road and I think I must have gone a little mad for a time. I think I must still be a little mad. They brought me here, and here I’ve stayed ever since.’

  ‘I think he’s had enough, Inspector,’ Violet said.

  Henry nodded. ‘There is just one more thing. Did you intend to stop for a picnic? Can you remember anything being said about that?’

  Malcolm Everson looked surprised and shook his head, but then he nodded slowly. ‘She said it might be fun, that we could talk, and there was a picnic basket in the car. I assumed she must have packed it and … I just don’t remember her taking it to the car. Just her saying that there was a picnic basket in the car.’

  They had brought the suitcase and Gladstone bag and when they had entered the room Mickey had parked them by the door. He fetched them now and set them down on the floor at Malcolm Everson’s feet. ‘Do you remember these bags also being in the car?’

  Malcolm Everson’s face was a picture of disbelief and confusion. ‘Why would they be in the car?’

  ‘Do you recognize the bags?’ The question was put to all three of the young people.

  ‘The bag is mine,’ Malcolm said. ‘We were only staying one night, so I didn’t bring a lot. But I had unpacked my bag and put it in the bottom of the wardrobe. I don’t know why it was there.’

  ‘I don’t recognize the other one,’ Pat said. ‘I don’t think it was Faun’s.’

  ‘Both bags were found at the scene, along with the items that were inside them. They were presumably gathered up by those at the scene and put back in the car when it was removed. Since then both car and its contents have been left in a barn on the estate and no one seems to have looked at them until we came along. Perhaps you could look inside and tell me if you recognize anything.’

  Mal Everson recognized shirts and the cufflinks. The clothes were his own, ones he had packed for the weekend.

  ‘But I’d swear these are not Faun’s,’ Pat said. ‘For one thing she rarely wore slacks, and for another the quality is poor. I think too that the waist is larger. I doubt these would have fitted Faun.’ She intercepted the glance between Henry and Mickey. ‘What?’

  ‘When she was left on the beach, the clothes she wore were not her own,’ Henry told her. ‘But I’d be grateful if that goes no further than this room.’

  ‘Do you think these clothes belong to the poor dead woman in the car?’ Violet asked.

  ‘We think that’s possible. We also found a compact, a cheap little brass thing,’ Mickey said. ‘Though,’ he added, the thought just occurring to him, ‘if the compact was hers then that does not fit with the quality of clothing Faun was wearing when she was left on the beach.’

  ‘Faun had a silver compact. I suppose she could have sold it, but I think that’s unlikely. Our mother gave it to her for her fifteenth birthday, so it was very precious. My mother died a few months later and Faun … Well, Faun was never the same again.’

  They left very soon after. They had moved Malcolm to a chair close to the fire, covered him with a blanket and he had instantly fallen asleep.

  Once outside Pat Moran eyed the suitcase warily as though it might bite. ‘There is a tearoom down the road in the next village, and I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m hungry. And I also think, gentlemen, that we have more to talk about.’

  Henry readily agreed and they followed Pat Moran’s car as she and Violet drove back to the village.

  ‘This is a pretty pickle,’ Mickey observed. ‘But it seems in this the younger members of the family have more sense than their elders and more of a sense of justice too.’

  ‘And it is through them that we shall reach the truth, I think,’ Henry agreed. ‘But Mickey, I have the strangest feeling that this truth is going to be one that no one will welcome. There will be nothing clean and simple about it.’

  The tearoom was picturesque, Henry supposed. He noted Mickey looking around with satisfaction. Sometimes his sergeant had a disturbing liking for twee. China teapots decorated high shelves alongside rose-patterned plates and the walls were covered with pictures by local artists, or so the signage told him. He assumed that in the summer season this place would be very busy, but at this time of year, still cold and chill, there were only a handful of people. They were shown to a table for six in the corner and a neatly dressed waitress took their order. Henry was aware that she looked askance at these two impeccably dressed women accompanied by two not so impeccably dressed older males and a young male in the uniform of the police driver (Constable Burton having been invited in for warmth and refreshments) and wondered what conclusion she was drawing.

  ‘I’ll be mother, shall I?’ Pat Moran said. She had shed her winter coat and beneath it she was wearing a beautifully tailored suit in blue wool with a crisp, cream, silk blouse. She was a very self-possessed young woman, Henry thought, now mistress of her own household and with two children, apparently. Both these women, Pat and Violet, would have been at home in Cynthia’s company and that set him somewhat at his ease.

  Constable Burton looked less so, he was clearly out of his depth and not quite sure whether he should be speaking or sitting in a corner like a child, there to be seen and not heard.

  Afternoon tea distributed, Pat said, ‘So, do you think he was drugged? Did she slip him a Mickey Finn or something?’

  ‘It does seem possible,’ Henry agreed. ‘Of course, the doctors could also be right and he is blocking much of this out. I don’t mean to suggest that he is doing so deliberately, but sometimes the mind cannot cope and so chooses to forget.’

  Violet was watching him cautiously and now said, ‘I have heard of such things happening to those who have been in the war, but the circumstances are different here.’

  ‘Not so different,’ Henry assured her. ‘When something happens that cannot be dealt with, sometimes the mind simply puts it aside until it can and it could be that your brother will remember more, given time. But now we do not have time and so we must work without his memory and focus simply on the evidence that we have.’

  Violet nodded, picked up a fork and prodded at her cake. ‘You may have gathered that our families would not approve of our continuing friendship, and certainly would not approve of the fact that we were complicit in your visit to Mal.’

  ‘We had gathered that,’ Mickey told her. ‘And you may be sure we are grateful.’

  ‘We spoke of this between ourselves and decided what we really needed was to know the truth,’ Pat told him. ‘We may not like the truth when we see it, but at least we will know what happened. And there is more to my sister’s death than originally met the eye. I was certain of that from the beginning, and so was Vi. We know our siblings, their weaknesses included. I know that Faun was by all ways of accounting wild, ill-disciplined and extremely foolish. She was also loving and so very alive. Alive in ways I have never been abl
e to be. I cared deeply about my little sister and I continue to care even though she is now dead. Twice dead. That is what hurts so much. We had just come to terms with our loss when suddenly we are to lose her all over again. It is beyond bearing, Inspector, I’m sure you can see that. So the truth must out, however painful it is, however disagreeable it might be to our fathers.’

  ‘Are you not worried about their anger?’ Mickey asked.

  ‘Violet has more to lose than I do, but Violet will come into her own money in a year’s time and there is nothing her father can do about that. As for me, I am already an independent woman, married and no longer answerable to my father. As it happens, my husband agrees with my actions. He hopes that there will be no scandal attached, of course, but he can hardly be held responsible even if there is. And as a man of independent means, he does not have to listen to anyone, even if they do drag his wife’s family through the mire. Sometimes there are advantages to marrying an arrogant man.’ She said this last with a small smile and fondness in her voice that Henry found intriguing.

  ‘And is your older brother in agreement?’ Mickey asked Violet Everson.

  She shrugged. ‘My father and my brother Ford and I rarely see eye to eye on anything much. My father has taken all steps to avoid the issue and he will be away from home until all of this trouble has died down. My brother thinks I should keep out of things that don’t concern me, both as his sister and as a woman, which means just about anything of importance. I don’t mean to give the impression that he’s a bad sort, only that he’s a little traditional when it comes to the place of women. But I no longer care what Ford thinks, or my father for that matter. As Pat says, a year from now, none of it will matter. I will be able to do as I please and if that means that this year will be difficult, so be it. I am not a woman to be ruled by the menfolk in my family, Sergeant Hitchens, you may be sure of that.’

  Mickey nodded thoughtfully. Henry, glancing at Constable Burton, saw that the young man looked stunned, sitting open-mouthed, staring at these two young viragos. ‘Drink your tea, Constable,’ Henry said sternly. Constable Burton closed his mouth and lifted his cup obediently to his lips. His gaze, however, never left Violet.