‘Tristan?’ asked Gablecross innocently.
‘Oh yes,’ Lucy’s voice softened, ‘James adores Tristan, but it couldn’t have been Tristan, he was in France.’
‘Mikhail says he saw him.’
‘He’d have seen him in quadruple, he was so drunk.’
Gablecross liked Lucy. She looked so reassuringly normal. Her voice after the initial screaming was so soft, he liked her large sludgy green eyes, and her turned-up nose and big generous mouth, plenty of openings in an open face.
‘Rozzy Pringle adores Tristan, doesn’t she?’
‘Not difficult,’ said Lucy quickly. ‘He’s been so kind to her, and I don’t know what we’d have done without her. She sewed up Flora’s puppet fox when some fiend cut it to pieces.
‘A lot of unpleasant things have been happening,’ she went on.
As the kettle boiled and switched itself off, she told them about the slug pellets, and the champagne that burnt a hole in the tablecloth.
‘What happened to the glass?’
‘It shattered as Rannaldini took a sip out of it. Dame Hermione sang a top note. Rannaldini doesn’t normally drink before conducting, maybe Hermione meant it for me and launched into song when she realized he’d picked up the glass. Oh, God.’
‘Who brought the glass in?’ asked Karen.
‘I don’t remember,’ lied Lucy. ‘We were so busy that night. I’d always assumed it was Rannaldini, or Clive on his instructions doing these horrible things, but now…’ Her voice trailed off.
‘People talk to you,’ said Karen admiringly.
‘Like they talk to minicab drivers and hairdressers,’ said Lucy, with a shrug. ‘There’s no eye-contact. They tend to babble things out because they’re nervous of going on the set, and you’re not likely to meet them socially after the movie,’ she added, with a trace of bitterness, ‘so they feel they can let their hair down.’
‘Does Rozzy Pringle’s husband know she’s got cancer?’
‘Oh, no,’ whispered Lucy in horror. ‘Who told you that?’
‘We’re not free to reveal our sources,’ said Gablecross sententiously.
‘Oh, goodness.’ Lucy collapsed on the bench seat, too close to James, triggering off a low growl and a flash of long fangs. ‘Oh, poor Rozzy, she’s frantic for people not to know. It could finish her career. I have to cover for her each time she goes for treatment. Oh, please don’t tell anyone.’ With frantically trembling hands she gathered up the empty blue mugs she’d put in front of Gablecross and Karen and shoved them back in the cupboard.
‘Who else knows?’
‘Only Tristan. I shouldn’t have told him, Rozzy would kill me, but I was so upset. Tristan was wonderful, he offered her a part in
‘Tristan de Montigny has admitted he was in England on Sunday night,’ said Karen, noticing Lucy’s eyes darting in terror. ‘Said he was looking for locations in the Forest of Dean.’
‘That’s utterly logical,’ gabbled Lucy. ‘He hadn’t slept for weeks, keeping the whole show on the road.’
‘Talked a lot to you, didn’t he?’
‘Probably because I didn’t want to know my motivation for putting on blusher.’
‘Women got very jealous he spent so much time with you,’ persisted Karen. ‘But he doesn’t seem to have wanted to sleep with any of them.’
‘He was too involved in the film,’ muttered Lucy. ‘Goodness, I’ve forgotten to make you those coffees.’ She switched on the kettle again. ‘He didn’t want to sleep with me or anyone else,’ she stammered, ‘because he’s in love with my friend, Tabitha, and felt he could talk to me about her.’
‘Could he have killed Rannaldini?’
‘Certainly not, he adored him,’ said Lucy, too quickly. ‘He put up with murder — oh, God — from him.’
‘Was he in love with him?’
‘What a horrible thing to say!’
‘You claim he adored your friend Tab, but the night he got off with her Rannaldini made him back off. Any idea why?’
‘No,’ squeaked Lucy, getting three cups out of the cupboard again with a terrific clatter. Had they found out about Maxim raping Delphine?
‘Could Rannaldini have threatened to out Tristan?’ asked Gablecross.
‘Tristan finds it hard to form close relationships.’ Lucy was having great difficulty in unscrewing the Gold Blend jar because her hands were shaking so much. ‘His mother died just after he was born, so did his brother Laurent. Tristan’s vile father never forgave Tristan for being the one who lived. He was brought up by a hoary old aunt who never praised him. He may have been deprived of love, but he’s the kindest, most thoughtful person in the world.’ Glancing down, Lucy saw she had emptied the kettle into the full jar of coffee and burst into tears.
‘I like my coffee strong,’ said Gablecross gently, relieving her of the jar before she scalded herself. The only reason Lucy might have killed Rannaldini, he thought regretfully, was because she was madly in love with Tristan de Montigny. But he still had to go for the jugular.
‘Did you know Rannaldini raped your friend Tabitha on Sunday night and killed her stepmother’s dog, Gertrude?’
‘No, I don’t believe it,’ gasped Lucy, shaking her head from side to side so the sudden cascade of tears flew around. ‘Oh, poor darling Tab. Oh, poor Gertrude and poor Taggie. No wonder Rupert was so upset and horrible last night. If only people knew the truth. That must be why Tab hasn’t answered my calls.’
‘Could she have led Rannaldini on?’ asked Gablecross.
‘God, no.’ Lucy fumbled for a piece of kitchen roll to mop her eyes. ‘She’s far too cool, and she simply doesn’t need to.’
‘We’re off to see Baby,’ said Gablecross, getting to his feet. ‘Any idea where he might have been on Sunday night?’
‘None.’
‘Why does Chloe loathe him so much?’
‘Because he’s walking away with the film, and because he, Granny, Flora and me are always giggling in corners. Chloe says we’re like a ladies’ doubles match and just as boring. I love Baby.’ Lucy’s voice broke again. ‘Beneath that flip exterior, he’s determined to become a great singer. He’d only have killed Rannaldini for twiddling the knobs on his recording.’
After they’d gone, Lucy dug out her Switch card — she still couldn’t find her passport — and dialled the flower shop in Rutminster.
‘Mrs Lovell’s a very popular young lady,’ sighed the florist. ‘A gorgeous-sounding foreign gentleman’s just spent a fortune on an arrangement.’
Lucy proceeded to bawl her eyes out, then felt bitterly ashamed. Why wasn’t she thinking of poor Tab, who deserved to get together with Tristan again?
54
The heatwave had returned. The catmint round the terrace swarmed with butterflies.
‘Red admirals, peacocks, painted ladies of both sexes,’ said Gablecross disapprovingly. ‘Sums up the lot of them.’
In the summer drawing room they found the biggest peacock of them all. Having abandoned any attempt to sleep during the day, Baby was reading
