‘What’s gone?’ said Lazlo sharply. ‘Pull yourself together!’
‘The Evening Star. I was upstairs. Someone put their hands round my neck and the next moment the diamond was gone. Oh! What will Mummy say?’
Bust a gut, thought Bella, and winked at Steve. But he didn’t smile. He looked the picture of concern.
‘Don’t panic. I guess someone’s playing a joke.’
‘Bloody silly joke, whoever’s playing it!’ snapped Lazlo.
‘I’m going to call the police,’ said Chrissie.
‘Don’t be crazy,’ said Lazlo. ‘Come on, let’s look for it.’
But although they searched all the passages and rooms, no-one could find any trace of the stone.
Lazlo looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got to catch that plane. I must go. I’ll ring you tomorrow,’ he said, as he kissed Chrissie. ‘And whatever you do, don’t get the police in.’
And that, thought Bella, looking at Lazlo’s broad departing back, is the last I’ll ever see of that snake.
‘I’m going to call Aunt Constance,’ said Chrissie, going upstairs. But when she came back, ten minutes later, her eyes were glittering. ‘I’ve rung the police,’ she said defiantly. ‘They’ll be round any moment.’
Rupert frowned. ‘That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?’
Angora giggled. ‘How exciting,’ she said, starting to re-paint her lips a brilliant scarlet. ‘Do you think they’ll search me?’
‘Sure to,’ said Steve, rumpling her hair.
They smiled into each other’s eyes.
Can’t he let up even now, thought Bella; then she relented. Let him have his little game of taunting her; he’d be hers as soon as she broke it off with Rupert.
All the same, she felt twitchy. She hated the police. She hoped they wouldn’t ask too many awkward questions. If they found out about her background, they might suspect her. Thank goodness she’d been with Steve all the time, and had a proper alibi.
When the police arrived, Chrissie talked to them first, then Steve, who stayed in there a long time, then Angora, Rupert, Lazlo’s various racing cronies and, finally, Bella.
The CID man had a smooth, pink, deceptively homely face. After a few enquiries, he said politely, ‘Your real name’s Mabel Figge, isn’t it, Miss Parkinson?’
She caught her breath. ‘Yes — yes, that’s right.’
‘And your father died in prison, doing time for murder and robbery.’
‘Yes.’ She clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking.
After a few more questions it was quite obvious they knew all the appalling details of her past.
Who could have told them? Steve? No. Steve loved her. It must have been Angora or Chrissie, probably clued up by Lazlo.
‘Where were you when the theft took place?’
Now she was on safe ground. ‘I went up the main staircase and turned left towards the servants’ quarters, and slipped into a room along that passage. Mr Benedict followed me.’ She blushed under the detective’s scrutiny. ‘We — er — spent the rest of the time together.’
‘That’s odd. Mr Benedict says he was with Miss Fairfax, all the time, and she bears this out.’
Bella gave a gasp of horror. ‘He’s lying! He was with me.’
‘He claims he was with Miss Fairfax in Miss Fairfax’s bedroom. There was a lot of Miss Fairfax’s lipstick on the shirt he was wearing.’
‘It must be mine!’
‘You don’t wear bright scarlet lipstick, Miss Parkinson.’
‘He’s lying!’ her voice rose.
‘I’ve also got to warn you Miss Henriques claims that the person who put their hands round her neck and stole the diamond wore bracelets that jangled.’ He looked at the three heavy gold rings on Bella’s wrist.
‘But that’s absurd! Other people were wearing bracelets.’
‘Not ones that jangled.’
‘She’s trying to frame me,’ Bella whispered. ‘She’s madly in love with Rupert and he’s engaged to me. They all hate me! They’d kill me rather than let me marry their darling Rupert. Oh, God!’ She clasped her clenched fists to her mouth. She was badly out of control, on the verge of tears.
The pink-faced detective looked at her. Then, to her amazement, he said, ‘All right, Miss Parkinson, you can go now.’
It was two o’clock in the morning, but she still made Rupert drive her straight back to London. She couldn’t bear another moment under that roof. She didn’t know what Steve was up to, but she knew the only way to get the Furies off her back was to break it off with Rupert.
As they were driving down the Bayswater Road, she took a deep breath and said, ‘I’m sorry, Rupert. I know this sounds totally ridiculous and insane, but I can’t marry you. I really can’t. I’m afraid I’m in love with someone else.’
She had no idea how he took this because she was staring down at her hands.
‘How long have you known this other chap?’
‘Ages — but, well, he only came back into my life about a fortnight ago — the night, in fact, I was late for dinner, the first time I met your parents, I was with him.’
‘And you still felt it was all right to get engaged to me?’
‘I thought what I felt for you was the real thing, and that I was just infatuated by him, but now I know I can’t live without him. I don’t like him very much, but it’s driving me out of my mind! I’m sorry, darling, I’ve not been thinking of you at all. I know I’ve been a bitch. I just thought I might grow to love you. .’ Her voice ran out in a thin line of drivel.
The car slowed down outside her flat. The pale green trees were lit up by the street lamps. Rupert looked quite calm, but he was as white as a sheet.
‘We’d better talk about it upstairs.’
Outside Bella’s flat, however, stood two men. ‘Miss Parkinson?’ said one of them.
‘Yes!’ snapped Bella. ‘What do you want?’
‘We’re police officers, sir. We have a warrant to search Miss Parkinson’s luggage.’
‘Don’t be bloody stupid!’ said Rupert.
‘It’s all right,’ said Bella. ‘There’s nothing in there. You’re quite welcome to search it.’
But in the pocket of the smaller suitcase, wrapped in one of Bella’s petticoats, they discovered the Evening Star.
‘Someone put it there!’ Bella screamed. ‘I’ve been framed! I didn’t take it!’
‘I’m sorry, Miss Parkinson,’ said the policeman imperturbably. ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to take you into custody.’
Chapter Thirteen
Bella, when she looked back later, could recall very little about her spell in prison. She remembered Rupert making the most appalling scene when the police arrested her and, later, beating her fists against the door of her cell. She remembered appearing in court the following morning, nearly fainting with horror when the magistrate refused her bail, and finally being gripped by hysterical panic at finding herself locked in a cell in Holloway.
One of the wardresses had brought her some revolting stew, and a sardonic doctor with rimless glasses had asked her endless questions about herself. Afterwards, she lay on a hard, narrow bed trying to control her mounting desperation. Why had Steve denied being with her during the murder game? Who had betrayed her to the police? Was it Chrissie, Angora or Steve? Who had planted the diamond in her suitcase? Would the papers get all the details of her past? If they did, her career was finished. At intervals, the thought of Lazlo rose, black and churning, choking her like a wave of nausea. He’s behind this, she thought, he’s the one who cooked my goose.
