He had the obscenity of a dog making public his amours: he couldn’t be reticent, he had to talk about it too.
Yet Rachel had been attracted by him… or amused, was it that? Had she been curious to make a trial of his superabundant amorousness? That would account for her provocations. She was probing him, trying him out. Maurice had amused her and she was deliberately applying the stimuli.
‘All right — let’s get to Tuesday.’
Maurice winked and shrugged his slim shoulders.
‘It wasn’t the way you think, but as a matter of fact I earned that fiver.’
‘You went to bed with her again?’
‘And that’s just where you’re wrong! She was upset about something and not in the right mood.’
They had come in late to tea, had Mixer and Rachel, and it was apparent to everyone that they had had a row. Rachel was looking sulky and sat very stiff and apart. Mixer’s face was flushed and he growled ill temperedly at Rosie.
Throughout the meal they hadn’t addressed a word to each other.
‘After tea they both went upstairs, and Rosie heard them carrying on in here. She hadn’t time to listen but she says they were proper angry. Mr Mixer was laying the law down and Rachel getting in a word now and then. Half an hour later he came into the bar. I was just getting things straight for Jimmy Simpson, my relief.
“‘I want a word with you,” he says, and opens his hand to show me a five-pound note. “They tell me you’re off-duty, and I’ve got a little job for you. It won’t give you a lot of trouble and it’s worth what I’ve got here.”
‘I nearly had a fit when he told me what it was. It was all I could do to stop giving myself away. You might think it was a bit off, taking his money into the bargain; but then, I was a member of the union already. And if Rachel was with me she couldn’t be somewhere else, could she?’
Fortunately or unfortunately, Maurice had been disappointed. Rachel’s sulkiness had not diminished by the time she came down to supper. He no longer amused her. She had satisfied her curiosity about him. After the meal she fetched a book and went to sit with it in the lounge.
Then, at half past nine, she had a drink and went to her room. Maurice, following behind her, heard the bolt shot on her door.
‘This was at half past nine, you say?’
‘Give her ten minutes in the bar. I dare say it was closer to a quarter to ten.’
‘And what did you do after that?’
‘The best I could. I’m not one to pine.’
The best in this case happened to be Rosie, who had just finished in the kitchen. With a little persuasion she went into his room with him. There they entertained themselves till an early hour in the morning — which, exactly, Maurice wasn’t able to say.
‘Whereabouts is your room?’
‘The one next to yours.’
‘You wouldn’t have heard Miss Campion go down again?’
‘Not unless she wore hobnail boots.’
Gently smoked and brooded in silence. This was where the trail ended, at a quarter to ten. After that it was all surmise with very little to go on. She might equally well have gone out or stopped in her room… unless the presence of her bag weighted the scales in the latter direction. If it did, who had persuaded her to unbolt that door?
‘Did she have her bag with her when she went down to supper?’
‘Can’t say I noticed. It wasn’t where my eyes were.’
‘Did she usually have it with her?’
‘Women don’t go far without one.’
‘All right. You can go now. Send Rosie up here, will you?’
Was there a tinge of uneasiness in those insolent grey eyes? Gently had deliberately hooked on the order to provoke some. But Maurice would hardly have given Rosie for an alibi unless he could depend on her: he rose jauntily from his seat, clicking his heels before he departed.
Rosie came in some five minutes later. She had had time to repowder and to dab on some scent. Closing the door, she favoured Gently with a truly blonde smile, and in sitting down she crossed her legs and leaned intimately towards him.
‘What did Maurice say when he asked you to come up?’
‘Maurice? He just said you wanted me in the bedroom.’
‘What else did he say?’
She flickered her eyes coyly.
‘He said you were a bit of all right, and that I needn’t be afraid of you.’
‘Just as long as I know!’ Gently eased himself back a little. Rosie’s perfume was oppressive and so was her person. She wasn’t uncomely but there seemed to be a lot of her: when she talked she found it necessary to move a little closer.
‘You remember last Tuesday, do you?’
‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t.’
‘Were you serving tea in the lounge?’
‘Me and Betty were, between us.’
‘Did you serve Mr Mixer?’
‘Yes — he got on to me for spilling some tea.’
‘What was his attitude towards Miss Campion?’
‘Right-down nasty. You can take it from me.’
Gently’s pipe was dead but he was obliged to get it going again. It was necessary protection against Rosie’s affectionate incursions. Her face kept swimming up to him like a cheap-scented flower, and each time, by sensible degrees, she dragged her chair forward.
‘How did you spend the evening?’
‘Like one usually does here. After tea there was the supper to get, and then there’s the washing-up. It isn’t a rest-cure, I can tell you. We deserve our bit of fun.’
‘You served Miss Campion at supper?’
‘They sit at one of my tables.’
‘What sort of mood would you say she was in?’
‘She’d got a book with her but she didn’t read much. Thoughtful, I’d say she was. Kept staring out of the window.’
‘What did she do after supper?’
‘I really wouldn’t know. She went off out of the dining room and that’s the last I saw of her. As it was I didn’t finish up much before ten.’
‘When you finished, what did you do?’
Rosie’s face loomed up to within inches. She had painted her lips a pillar-box red, but a fine dew of perspiration had beaten the powder on her nose.
‘Didn’t Maurice tell you that?’
‘I’d rather you told me.’
‘You don’t want a girl to give details, do you?’
‘The facts and the times will do, I think.’
‘Well!’ Her lids sank modestly. ‘I did spend a bit of time with him. You have to take your fun where you can get it, cooped up in a guest house. But you needn’t think that just anyone… on the whole, I’m very particular! Only sometimes you get fed up with it, day-in, day-out.’
‘Where did you meet Maurice?’
‘He came into the kitchen looking for me.’
‘At what time, did you say?’
‘As near to ten as makes no difference.’
‘And then?’
‘Well, I had a wash — don’t say I did a lot to myself! Then I went along with him, just like he told you. He was hanging about while I was having my wash — our rooms are next door, you see. They’ve put you in mine.’
