Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 11: Photo-Finish, Light Thickens, Black Beech and Honeydew. Ngaio Marsh

      He took the tablet, drank the water and leant back, staring in front of him. ‘Extraordinary!’ he said and closed his eyes.

      Alleyn and Carmichael waited for a minute or two. Rupert opened his eyes and turned off the bedside lamp. Disconcerted, they moved to the door.

      ‘Thank you,’ said Rupert in the dark. ‘Good night.’

      When they were in the passage Carmichael said: ‘That was a very odd little conversation.’

      ‘It was, rather.’

      ‘You’d have almost said – well, I mean –’

      ‘What?’

      ‘That he was relieved. Don’t get me wrong. He’s had a shock – I mean, that extraordinary apology for his opera which I must say I didn’t find very impressive and his faint. His pulse is still a bit erratic. But the reaction,’ Carmichael repeated, ‘was odd, didn’t you think?’

      ‘People do tend to behave oddly when they hear of death. I’m sure you’ve found that, haven’t you? In this case I rather think there has actually been a sense of release.’

      ‘A release? From what?’

      ‘Oh,’ said Alleyn, ‘from a tricky situation. From extreme anxiety. High tension. Didn’t somebody say – was it Shaw? – that after the death of even one’s closest and dearest, there is always a sensation of release. And relief.’

      Carmichael made the noise that is written ‘Humph.’ He gave Alleyn a speculative look. ‘You didn’t,’ he said, ‘tell him it was murder.’

      ‘No. Time enough in the morning. He may as well enjoy the benefit of the Lattienzo pill.’

      Dr Carmichael said ‘Humph,’ again.

      Alleyn returned to Troy who had the camera, brush and talc powder ready for him.

      ‘How is that boy?’ she asked. ‘How has he taken it?’

      ‘On the whole, very well. Remarkably well.’

      ‘Perhaps he’s run out of emotional reactions,’ said Troy. ‘He’s been fully extended in that department.’

      ‘Perhaps he has. You’re the wisest of downy owls and had better go to roost. I’m off, and it looks like being one of those nights.’

      ‘Oh, for Br’er Fox and Thompson and Bailey?’

      ‘You can say that again. And oh, for you to be in your London nest thirteen thousand miles away, which sounds like the burden of a ballad,’ said Alleyn. ‘But as you’re here you’d better turn the key in your lock when you go to bed.’

      ‘Me!’ said Troy incredulously. ‘Why?’

      ‘So that I’ll be obliged to wake you up,’ said Alleyn and left her.

      He asked Bert to continue his vigil, while he himself and Dr Carmichael went down to the drawing room.

      Dr Carmichael said: ‘But I don’t quite see – I mean you’ve got the key.’

      ‘There may be other keys and other people may have them. Maria, for instance. If Bert sits behind that screen he can see anyone who tries to effect an entry.’

      ‘I can’t imagine anyone wanting to go back. Not even her murderer.’

      ‘Can’t you?’ said Alleyn. ‘I can.’

      He and Dr Carmichael went downstairs to the drawing room.

      A wan little trio of leftovers was there: Hilda Dancy, Sylvia Parry, Lattienzo. Mr Reece, Alleyn gathered, was closeted with Ben Ruby and Hanley in the study. The drawingroom had only been half-tidied of its preprandial litter when the news broke. It was tarnished with used champagne glasses, full ashtrays and buckets of melted ice. The fire had burnt down to embers and when Alleyn came in Signor Lattienzo was gingerly dropping a small log on them.

      Miss Dancy at once tackled Alleyn. Was it, she boomed, true that he was in charge? If so, would he tell them exactly what had happened? Had the Sommita really been done away with? Did this mean there was a murderer at large in the house? How had she been done away with?

      Signor Lattienzo had by this time stationed himself behind Miss Dancy in order to make deprecating faces at Alleyn.

      ‘We have a right to be told,’ said the masterful Miss Dancy.

      ‘And told you shall be,’ Alleyn replied. ‘Between one and two hours ago Madame Sommita was murdered in her bedroom. That is all that any of us knows. I have been asked by Mr Reece to take charge until such time as the local police can be informed. I’m going to organize a search of the premises. There are routine questions that should be asked of everybody who was in the house after the last launch trip. If you would prefer to go to your rooms, please do so but with the knowledge that I may be obliged to knock you up when the search is completed. I’m sure Signor Lattienzo will be pleased to escort you to your rooms.’

      Signor Lattienzo gave slightly incoherent assurances that he was theirs, dear ladies, to command.

      ‘I’m staying where I am,’ Miss Dancy decided. ‘What about you, dear?’

      ‘Yes. Yes, so am I,’ Sylvia Parry decided: and to Alleyn: ‘Does Rupert know? About Madame Sommita?’

      ‘Dr Carmichael and I told him.’

      Dr Carmichael made diffident noises.

      ‘It will have been a terrible shock for Rupert,’ said Sylvia. ‘For everybody, of course, but specially for Rupert. After – what happened.’ And with an air of defiance she added: ‘I think Rupert did a very brave thing. It took an awful lot of guts.’

      ‘We all know that, dear,’ said Miss Dancy with a kind of gloomy cosiness.

      Alleyn said, ‘Before I go I wonder if you’d tell me exactly what happened after Bartholomew fainted.’

      Their account was put together like a sort of unrehearsed duet with occasional stoppages when they disagreed about details and called upon Signor Lattienzo. It seemed that as soon as Rupert fell, Hanley, who was standing by, said ‘Curtains’ and closed them himself. Sylvia Parry knelt down by Rupert and loosened his collar and tie. Rodolfo Romano said something about fresh air and fanned Rupert with his biblical skirt. The Sommita, it appeared, after letting out an abortive shriek, stifled herself with her own hand, looked frantically round the assembly and then flung herself upon the still unconscious Rupert with such abandon that it was impossible to decide whether she was moved by remorse or fury. It was at this point that Signor Lattienzo arrived, followed in turn by Mr Reece and Ben Ruby.

      As far as Alleyn could make out these three men lost no time in tackling the diva in a very businesslike manner, detaching her from Rupert and suggesting strongly that she go to her room. From here the narrative followed, more or less, the accounts already given by Signor Lattienzo and the doctor. Mr Reece accompanied the Sommita out of the concert hall, which was by this time emptied of its audience and was understood to conduct her to her room. Hanley fetched Dr Carmichael and Sylvia Parry fetched water. Rupert when sufficiently recovered was removed to his room by the doctor and Signor Lattienzo, who fetched the sleeping tablet and placed it on the bedside table. Rupert refused all offers to help him undress and get into bed so they left him and went down to dinner. The ladies and the rest of the cast were already at table.

      ‘After Hanley had fetched Dr Carmichael, what did he do?’ Alleyn asked.

      Nobody had noticed. Miss Dancy said that he ‘seemed to be all over the shop’ and Sylvia thought it had been he who urged them into the dining room.

      On this vague note Alleyn left them.

      In the hall he ran into the ubiquitous Hanley, who said that the entire staff was assembled in their sitting room awaiting instructions.