The Old Silent

Melrose squinted through the smoke-filled room. 'How did Vivianget here?'

Jury put his hand to his head as Dickie let go with another ravaging chord progression and wished for once he had access to Wiggins's pocket pharmacy. 'It was her idea.' He waved his hand toward the blue-lit stage of the Nine-One-Nine, where Vivian, pumps off, was churning and applauding. 'Have any of those cigars?'

'This was Vivian's idea?' Melrose fumbled inside his jacket pocket for his cigar case.

'One of London's best-kept secrets. One of those underground places you hear about through word-of-mouth, and not much of that. The regulars want to keep it to themselves. Vivian wanted to see the 'real' London.'

'I don't want to go back to the Ritz and a lot of rich, boring tourists. You must know some nice, sleazy club.' To which Jury had said he didn't do much club-hopping. ' Well, you must raid them sometimes.' She seemed sure he knew every club in London's underbelly.

'She kept reminding me it's her last night in London. Exact words, 'my last night on English soil.' ' He smiled at Melrose.

'How dramatic.' Melrose draped his black dinner jacket with its ribbed satin facing over the wooden chairback. 'If we keep her drinking she'll forget and go all the way to Istanbul.'

'I think the Orient Express stops in Venice. They'll chuck her out.'

'Is Wiggins still at hospital?' Jury nodded. Melrose asked, 'What's her condition?'

'As bad as can be expected. Slips in and out of a coma. Wiggins said she was talking like someone in a dream. About Healey, Ann Denholme. Some things we'd deduced.'

'Extortion, blackmail, that sort of thing?'

Jury swallowed some of the club soda. The headache was lessening. 'Unfortunately, she chose Rena instead of Charles. 'Pay up or I'll tell his wife about Abby.' My God, she might as well have put a gun to her head as let Rena Citrine know Abby was Roger's daughter.'

'And if Nell Healey had found out about Abby, the Fury would have got the lot, wouldn't she?'

'The entire inheritance, is my guess.'

'My Lord, but Healey took chances. Involved with two women up there right under his wife's nose? Not to mention Mavis Crewes.'

'I think his involvement with Rena might have been pure greed. And she certainly tried to steer me away from revenge as a motive-wanted me to think it was adultery.' Jury shrugged. 'But then again, who was she actually with on Bimini? I'm having Wiggins check to see if there's a record of a marriage between Citrine and Littlejohn. Roger might have decided to run through what money Rena had. We'll probably never know. But Rena certainly had expectations insofar as Nell was concerned; Rena was careful to champion her cause, to stick by her.' Jury looked through a film of smoke toward the right-hand wall. 'I see Trueblood's found a friend.'

Marshall Trueblood had been in the place for all of fifteen minutes and he was already having an animated discussion with Karla. At least, Trueblood's part was animated. Karla was standing in the same spot, in the same position, holding up the wall against which Marshall Trueblood was leaning his elbow, his head against one hand and his other gesticulating wildly. In answer, Karla merely smoked and gave Trueblood the best of her profile. Her lips, otherwise, did not move. Trueblood was wearing a paisley dinner jacket, black cummerbund, and a cerise bow-tie, butterfly fashion, beneath a wing collar.

'But to try and kill Abby? The very night after Ann Denholme? She had plenty of time for that-' Melrose paused. 'No, she wouldn't. Because Nell Healey was to be taken into custody the very next morning. And all three of those killings were to look like her revenge on her husband having not just an affair but a child by that affair.'

'Try to imagine Irene Citrine's state of mind when she walked into Abby's barn and saw that Sirocco poster,' Jury said.

'Why did she recognize him when no one else did? Had he changed that much since he was fifteen?'

'She was the only one who knew Toby Holt was alive; not even his uncle could be certain. Three years ago the band was playing clubs in the Florida Keys. Remember, she spent several months on Bimini. But it's not only that. It's context. Rena saw that poster in a context she could hardly have forgotten. A young man against a tree right beside a view of the Cornwall coast. The only person who could identify her, and he's right here in London.'

'Look at that, would you?' Melrose nodded toward the tiny dance floor. Trueblood and Karla were dancing to a bluesy, jazzy version of 'Limehouse Blues.' Arms shot straight out to the side and holding each other at arm's length, Karla's hand on Trueblood's shoulder. They were staring into each other's eyes. The other couples on the floor didn't seem to notice and were hanging on to one another for dear life, moving in a hag's dream.

'Oh, to be young,' said Melrose. Then he half-rose from his seat. 'Who's Vivian dancing with? If you call it dancing. She's got her arms round his neck.'

'Incidentally, where's your beloved aunt?' He looked round at the door of the Nine-One-Nine, as if Agatha might march through it.

'In Wanstead somewhere.' Melrose was half out of his seat, watching the dance floor.

'Wanstead? What's she doing in Wanstead?'

He sat down again. 'Because she insisted on coming with us. After you called the hotel, we tried to shake her off and couldn't. Trueblood told her this was a dreadful dive where cocaine and crack dealers met. Nothing would do but Agatha had to come along. So Trueblood and I fixed it up that when the doorman got her into a cab, Trueblood would get in while I bumbled about on the pavement, hand the cabbie an address, and then suddenly remember he'd left his money in his room, get out, slam the door and say, 'Go on without us; we'll be along in a minute.''

'You mean you abandoned poor Agatha to wander in Wanstead?'

'We did not abandon poor Agatha. We're gentlemen, aren't we? There was a note to the cab driver that if he had trouble with the address to drive his fare straight back to the Ritz. Well, of course, he had trouble. There was no such address.' Melrose smirked. 'We're not heartless, just fast on our feet.'

'Christ,' breathed Jury. 'Speaking of being fast on your feet, I think I'll cut in.' Perhaps it was the soothing sound coming from the old sax player, but his headache had all but disappeared.

'You mean you dance?'

'I can certainly do that.' He flung his arm toward the floor where the cyanosed couples were hanging onto one another as if rigor were passing off.

Melrose started to get up. 'I dance. I'm quite expert.'

Jury shoved him down. 'What's this to you? You've got your American lady.' Jury sat back down again. 'Whom, I might add, you actually suspected of these killings. 'I'm glad Ellen's in Yorkshire, I'm glad Ellen's in Yorkshire.' '

'Shut up. Naturally, I suspected she stayed behind-the only one who did-just to throw us off. That she jumped on that damnable bike ten minutes after we left and careened down the M-one.'

'I'm surprised you didn't call Weavers Hall to check up on her.'

'I did,' said Melrose morosely. 'She left. Gone. Vanished.'

'Suspecting your lady?' Jury clicked his tongue. 'And what would be her connection with the Citrines and Charlie Raine?'

'The New York-Yawk-connection. Obviously, I couldn't sort out a motive. And who says she's my 'lady'?'

Jury took out several color brochures stamped Shane Street Travel and dumped them on the table. 'The Chrysler Building fell out of your coat.'

Melrose snatched them up. 'The place was near the Armani shop. I just popped in for a moment.'

'Um-hmm.' Jury stood up. 'If you pop off the QE Two or the Concorde in New Yawk, you'll have to walk a hell of a long way. She's from Maryland.'

Melrose stopped in the act of stuffing the travel agent's agenda back in his pocket. 'What? Don't be ridiculous. What makes you think-'

Like a sleight-of-hand artist, Jury now dropped a book on the table.Sauvage Savant, paperback edition. He flipped open the back cover. The picture of Ellen was taken on a windy day and she looked exactly as she had the first… and last time he saw her. Jury tapped the caption. 'Baltimore.' He smiled.

Casually, Melrose drew his cigarette case out, tapped a cigarette before lighting it and said, 'I knew the accent