The Blue Last

“Miss Croft.” He held out his hand. He had called from London and arranged to see her. “First, I’m very sorry about your brother.”

It was obvious she had been crying, but the Tynedales and Crofts were a resilient sort and he knew there would be little breaking down here.

She smiled. “Superintendent Jury,” she said, taking his hand.

“I really like your dress.” He rather blurted this out, realizing its in-aptness after he’d said it.

She laughed as if the compliment were unexpected. “Thank you. Let’s go out here to the sunporch.” She extended her arm to indicate a glassed-in sunporch and led the way. “Please sit down.”

The furniture was white wicker, the carpet sisal. It was more relaxed out here, and with the sun slanting in, far more cheerful. A better background for a yellow dress.

“You came about Simon’s death.”

“I’m very sorry about your brother, I truly am.”

“So am I, so am I.” Her voice wavered and she looked out to the sea, which the sun brightened momentarily. She cleared her throat. “Simon was a stolid person, but a good one. And very, very smart. The idea that anyone would want him dead is so alien to me-” She stopped again and looked out. “I’ve thought of little else since it happened. I’ve tried to come up with some reason or other. I can’t.”

“When did you last see him?”

“About three weeks ago. Simon tried to come every week. Sometimes he didn’t make it, but usually he did. Both he and Marie-France, though she doesn’t come as often. Ian, too, visits me once in a while, and I know Oliver would if the doctor hadn’t offered to chop off his feet.” She laughed, but the laugh broke in two. “Let me tell you what happened, since you must be wondering why I’m here and not in London. About five years ago I lived by myself in Knightsbridge. When I developed this heart problem, my doctor advised me to get someone in. People advise you to do that as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, when it’s really one of the hardest. Living in a two- bedroom flat with a stranger? Please. Oliver asked me to come to the Lodge where there were people around but where there was also privacy. I could have gone to Simon or Marie-France, but there goes the privacy for all of us. The Lodge was ideal; it was perfect. You could walk around for days without running into anyone if you chose.” She stopped and reached in the pocket of her dress for cigarettes. She turned the THANK YOU FOR NOT SMOKING sign backward. “That always makes me want to light up.”

Jury laughed and took the lighter from her and lit her cigarette. Lighters had such a satisfying little rasp and snap to them.

“You must have been a smoker once, Superintendent, the way you’re looking so covetously at this.”

“You’re right.”

“Well, be proud of yourself, though I doubt virtue is much of a reward for you. I’ve tried several times to give them up and can’t.”

“And did you choose not to?”

She was puzzled. “Not to what… oh! You mean to bump into people at the Lodge?” She laughed again. “If you mean Kitty Riordin, yes. I’m not terribly fond of Maisie either, if it comes to that.” She looked at Jury, as if perplexed by his question. “I expect that’s why I’m here and not there.”

“You didn’t get along with Mrs. Riordin.”

“I’ve always thought her a cold fish. I’m rather surprised that Oliver didn’t finally get tired of her.” She shrugged. “I expect having her there got to be a habit with him. He’s a very good judge of character, Oliver. So was my father. He had presence; so does Oliver. But I don’t think it comes from wealth and power-and believe me, Oliver has both in abundance. I think, rather, it comes from honesty. Both of them were-are-fueled by honesty. And perhaps we all inherited something of that. I hope so.”

“You did.”

Emily Croft smoked and rocked. Peacefully, Jury thought. He doubted she would put up with any constant irritation in her life; she would do something about it. “But if it was a choice between you and Kitty Riordin, he wouldn’t choose her, would he?”

“No. But I certainly wasn’t going to bother him with all of this. He’s ninety-six or seven, you know. He’s remarkable. As much as I love the Lodge and always have, I decided I’d give this place a try.” She looked around, walls and ceiling, as if assessing it for the first time. “You want to know about Simon, I expect.”

“I want to know about everybody.”

“Yes, of course. You know, I always got along with Simon. Remember, I was years older than Simon and Marie-France; I was eighteen, nearly Alexandra’s age. We were fairly close, Alex and I. I expect that’s why she confided in me. Did you know she had another child? I don’t know if she told anyone else; perhaps she told Kitty, since she was close to Kitty because she took care of Maisie. But I know she told Oliver she’d decided to take a trip to the Continent.” Emily laughed. “I wonder how many trips to the Continent could be blamed on illegitimate babies.”

“Not Ralph Herrick’s?”

“Oh, no. It was just before Ralph came along; they were married that Christmas and Alexandra got pregnant soon after. I’ve always thought that her sadness at having to give up that first child made her immediately want another.”

“She didn’t tell you who the father was of that first baby?”

Emily shook her head.

“Tell me about Ralph Herrick.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Ah, Ralph. Yes, I wondered if anyone was going to get around to him. Simon and Ian idolized him, and no wonder. A handsome flier, a hero. Made to order for hero worship. Well, Simon was, what? Ten or eleven? I suppose it’s understandable.”

“You didn’t admire Ralph Herrick as much as the others?”

“Not even with the help of the Victoria Cross, Superintendent. Admittedly, he was daring, though ‘audacious’ might be a better word. Ralph was an opportunist. I’ve always been a matter-of-fact person, not very imaginative. As I said, I admired Oliver Tynedale and my father because they’re fueled by honesty. Ralph was running on empty.” She stubbed out her cigarette in a thin, aluminum ashtray and went on. “I really tried to warn Alex, but she wouldn’t pay any attention. Neither would I had the situations been reversed.” She sighed. “Poor Alexandra. I don’t think in the year they were married he turned up more than half a dozen times. If he had been present more, I think she would have discovered he was bad news. He was too plausible. I’m always suspicious of overly credible people. What surprises me is that Oliver and Dad were taken in. They were such cool characters themselves, I’d think they’d be alert to someone who reminds one of those old 1920s Chicago gangsters, one of those smooth racketeers one sees in old American films.” She shrugged. “Ralph would’ve made a wretched father. He hadn’t it in him to be anything but.”

“What about Maisie?”

“I’m none too fond of her, obviously, since she engineered my leaving. Helped to, I mean. I think she’s completely deluded when it comes to Kitty Riordin.”

Jury did not want to put words in her mouth. He sat back. “If you’ll excuse the curiosity-and there is a reason for it-by the terms of Mr. Croft’s will, was anything settled on Kitty Riordin?”

“No. There were no surprises in his will, Superintendent. The bulk of his money and his property come to my sister and me. There were bequests made to Ian and Maisie and-I thought this rather sweet-to Mrs. MacLeish. I understand it was she who found Simon’s body, poor woman. You know she came to cook for him, of course. Oh, yes, and Simon left some money in trust for little Gemma Trimm. That was nice of him, I thought, as he had no reason to do it, especially in light of what I expect Gemma will inherit from Oliver. Simon was just a very generous man. Well, so was my father, so is Oliver. But regarding the will, no, as I said, there were no surprises.”

Actually, he did know because Mickey had found out. Jury simply wanted to hear what Emily Croft said about the will. He waited. When there was nothing else, he said, “You go up to London occasionally, I understand.”

“I do. It’s one of the nice things about having money, Mr. Jury. You don’t have to constantly disrupt your life. I didn’t have to sell my flat in order to live at this place. Oh-is this by way of asking me if I was in London the day that Simon was shot?” Her smile was sad.

“Were you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I was. I got there in the early afternoon; I wanted to do my Christmas shopping. I stayed overnight, but I didn’t get word about Simon’s death until the next evening, after I’d returned here. I was