‘New directions like South America, the Costa Del Sol, that kind of place…?’
‘Your perception is very acute, Mrs Pargeter. Those destinations were particularly popular… though many of my clients returned, after an interval, to this country and have had very successful careers here. In fact, one gentleman who at the time I worked on him would, if he’d been spotted, have had to return to prison to complete a twelve-year sentence for aggravated assault, was only a couple of weeks ago elected a Tory MP at a by-election. And…’
He was prepared to extend his catalogue of successes, but the look in Mrs Pargeter’s eye discouraged him. She was waiting for the ‘but’, which would tell what had caused a souring of the surgeon’s relationship with her late husband.
‘But…’ he began, as anticipated, ‘I regret to say that the harmonious state of affairs between myself and the late Mr Pargeter was not destined to continue.’ For the first time in the conversation, he looked awkward, his urbanity weakened by indecision. ‘I, er… the fact is, Mrs Pargeter, your late husband was involved in a business venture in Streatham…’
‘Oh yes?’ she said softly, chilled as ever by the mention of the word.
‘We are all guilty of backing wrong horses from time to time, of joining the wrong side and, I’m afraid, in your husband’s view, that was what I did after Streatham.’
Mrs Pargeter was not enjoying the direction of the conversation, but said nothing.
‘You may have heard of a business associate of your husband called Julian Embridge…?’
‘I’ve heard of him.’
‘The fact is that Julian Embridge was a very plausible — not to say charismatic — young man.’
‘He certainly could be.’
‘I was not myself involved in the action at Streatham. My services, by their very nature, tended to be required after the more active part of such a venture was concluded. And when Julian Embridge came to me after Streatham and asked if I would help him, I had no hesitation in saying yes.’
Mrs Pargeter’s only response to this bald statement of betrayal was a non-committal ‘Oh.’
‘At Julian’s request, I totally altered his appearance. I transformed him, as the cliche goes, “so that his own mother wouldn’t recognize him”. And, by doing so, I fear that I incurred your husband’s enduring enmity.’
‘I would think that was quite likely.’
‘Yes. Yes.’ Jack the Knife steepled his fingers together and pressed them against his lips.
‘So Julian Embridge is probably still around somewhere, totally unrecognizable to his former acquaintances?’ Mrs Pargeter suggested.
‘Quite possibly.’
‘And would you be able to recognize him if you bumped into him?’
‘Probably not. I would if I got close enough — I’d recognize my stitchwork — but at a casual glance, assuming he’s dyed his hair and all that kind of stuff… no, I probably wouldn’t know him. Though of course I’d recognize his shape.’
‘Oh?’
‘That’s the most difficult thing to change. I can fiddle around with people’s features, I can tighten their buttocks, I can even remove the odd rib to emphasize their waist, but it is very difficult to make a chubby person into a thin person. Julian Embridge, you may recall, was extremely chubby.’
‘Yes.’
‘That would be hard to change.’
‘He could presumably diet.’
‘Oh yes, but he couldn’t change his basic body type… whether he was an endomorph or an ectomorph — you are familiar with these expressions…?’
Mrs Pargeter, a lifelong and contented endomorph, nodded.
‘So Julian could have starved himself ever since the surgery, but he would still remain an endomorph — just a thinner endomorph. If someone could ever develop a medication that would change body type.. well, he’d clean up. The slimming industry would hail him as the new Messiah.’
‘Hm. So, Jack, have you seen much of Julian Embridge since Streatham?’
The surgeon shook his head. ‘Nothing, since I completed the surgery on him.’
Mrs Pargeter wasn’t sure where their interview was leading, though the suspicions she had on the subject were not encouraging, but she didn’t see any reason to cease investigation. She was in the presence of someone who knew about her husband’s betrayal; she would jolly well get all the information she could from him.
‘There was another man involved in the Streatham business… dumb bloke called Stan the Stapler…’
Jack the Knife nodded, acknowledging the name.
‘Do you know if he was on Julian Embridge’s side?’
‘I’m not sure, but the evidence did rather point in that direction.’
‘Hm,’ said Mrs Pargeter grimly. Then, deciding that the evil hour could be put off no longer, she looked straight into Jack the Knife’s blue eyes and demanded, ‘All right, why did you really call me in here?’
He paused before replying and when the words came, they struggled out with difficulty. ‘The fact is… that I have a feeling of unfinished business… between myself and your late husband… or now, in his absence, between myself and you. The fact is… no one believed me at the time, and I doubt if anyone will believe me now
… but what I did for Julian Embridge was the result of a ghastly misunder-standing.’
‘Oh?’
‘When he came to me, I didn’t know anything about what’d happened at Streatham. He told me he needed the plastic surgery — under the tight security conditions that I was used to — and he implied that it was to be done with your husband’s blessing. Indeed, he even said that your husband was going to pay for my services. That was not an uncommon state of affairs — your husband was a very generous man, Mrs Pargeter — and so I took Julian at his word, and did as he requested.
‘It was only after I had completed the surgery — one of the best pieces of work I’ve ever done, though I say it myself — that I heard the truth. And by then, I’m afraid, your husband was firmly of the impression — and I can’t blame him, all the evidence pointed in that direction — that I was one of Julian Embridge’s accomplices.
‘Worse than that, all of your husband’s associates thought I was a traitor and, since he himself was, er, off the scene for a few years, my life was rather under threat. I therefore disappeared for a while, had some cosmetic work done by a friend in Venezuela, and reappeared in England five years ago to pursue the career in which you now find me.
‘By that time, of course, your husband was dead, and so I never got the opportunity to clear my name with him. Mrs Pargeter…’ There were tears in Jack the Knife’s eyes as he appealed to her. ‘I’m going to carry that guilt with me to the end of my days. I loved your husband — everyone who worked for him loved the man — and all I want to say is: If there’s ever anything I can do for you, anything at all, please remember — you have only to say the word.’
‘Oh. Oh.’ Mrs Pargeter beamed. ‘Well, that’s very sweet of you, Jack.’
‘Thank you,’ he sobbed in relief. ‘But I mean it. I’ll only really feel whole when I’ve done something for you that repays the debt I feel to your husband.’
‘So let me get this right — what makes you feel bad is the fact that my husband never knew you were innocent and never forgave you for the mistake that you inadvertently made with Julian Embridge?’
‘That’s it, Mrs Pargeter. That’s exactly it.’
‘And would it help if I was to say that I forgive you on my husband’s behalf?’
Jack the Knife seized her hands in his and mumbled, tremulous with gratitude, ‘Oh, Mrs Pargeter, you’ve no idea how much that would help!’
Chapter Thirty-Two
Truffler Mason was waiting for her in the foyer when Mrs Pargeter got back to Greene’s Hotel, and he had on his face that expression of incurable apathy which meant he was really excited about something.
‘What is it?’ she asked, instantly alert.
