‘Were you expecting someone else?’ Moon’s voice said. ‘Don’t you remember the puzzle? You set us a puzzle. The music stopped. She died. Explain.’
‘Sounds incredibly silly. Who gave you my number?’ Payne passed his hand across his face.
‘I got your number off James’ mobile. He doesn’t know about it. He’d be very cross if he knew, so don’t tell him, please.’
‘Look here, Moon, I’m terribly busy at the moment. I’m expecting an important call. What the hell is that racket?’
‘We are at the zoo. Don’t ring off, please! Can you hear the monkeys? I love animals, which means I am a good person. James has gone to get me an ice-cream.’
‘I don’t think I set you any puzzles at the party.’
‘You did. There could be more than one solution, you said. Do you want to hear my solution?’
‘I am expecting an urgent call-’
‘Your solution was that she was a blindfolded tightrope walker. The music was her cue to step off. One day, the machine playing the music broke down. She stepped off too early and fell to her death. Right?’
‘I am going to ring off now-’
‘This is my solution now. Pay close attention,’ Moon said. ‘She was a blind swimmer, who swam out from her boat every day. She played a radio in her boat, so she knew where to swim back to – are you following? The transmission suddenly cut out because damp had got into the radio, so she could no longer find her boat and drowned. Cool, eh?’
Payne agreed it was cool and eventually the conversation was brought to an end.
His mobile rang again.
This time it was Tancred Vane. So he was alive and well.
Payne heaved a sigh of relief.
Tancred Vane sat slumped in his chair, a glass of whisky in his hand, a look of extreme dejection on his face.
‘That’s the exact question Stella asked me. Do you know the actress Melisande Chevret? I said no. Then the name slipped out of my mind completely, but of course it came back to me the moment you mentioned it.’
‘Well, it confirms the story Stella’s daughter told me. It proves that Moon did not lie.’ Payne leant back in his chair. ‘Did Stella say anything else about Melisande?’
‘No, she didn’t. She might have done if I’d shown any interest, but I didn’t encourage digressions. I wanted her to get on with her story about her grandmother and life at the royal palace in Sofia.’
They were sitting in Tancred Vane’s drawing room. The biographer had suggested the study or the library, but Major Payne had been eager to see the scene of the crime.
It was a warm room of soft textures and deep rich colours, with amber and maroon striking the predominant note. There seemed to be no hard surfaces, only silk melting into velvet and velvet into brocade. The room basked in the soft glow of indirect lighting and the shimmer of gold leaf. There were several art nouveau lamps in the shape of mermaids, an ottoman and a mahogany baby grand, on which stood a signed black-and-white photograph of Princess Anna of Montenegro wearing a slouch hat. A magnificent volume bound in blue leather embossed with the heraldic fleur-de-lis of Bourbon France lay open on a round malachite table.
Producing a magnifying glass, Payne sprawled on the floor, Sherlock Holmes-fashion, but not even the slightest patch of discoloration was discernible. The blood had gone. Tancred Vane explained that he had had a cleaning crew at the house early that morning; they had spent three hours rubbing and scrubbing away. The window curtains had already been changed. The police had said he could. Where had the sword hung? Vane pointed. The nail was still there, a particularly monstrous nail with a head nearly as big as a ping-pong ball.
‘Stella said her daughter would like the sword. It was the kind of thing her daughter was interested in. She asked how much a sword like that would cost and seemed profoundly shocked when I told her the price I’d paid for it.’ Tancred Vane paused. ‘Is the daughter still under suspicion?’
‘I believe she is, but the police don’t seem to have enough evidence for an arrest. That bloodstained handkerchief now – did they show it to you?’
‘They did. It had the initials MM. I told them I’d never seen it before.’
‘Did you never doubt Miss Hope was the genuine article, Vane?’
‘I must confess I didn’t. Not even after she began to make mistakes – getting names and dates wrong and so on. Not even when she described a non-existent lodge!’ The royal biographer sighed. ‘She kept apologizing for being such a “muddle-headed old ass”. She said she had never been a particular devotee of the French cult of lucidite. She did say droll things. She made me laugh.’
‘You didn’t get any pinpricks of doubt every now and then?’
‘I did – but I dismissed them. I went on believing her. I thought it was her age. Elderly ladies do get confused. I never for a moment imagined she was much younger than that.’
‘Melisande Chevret can’t be any more than fifty-five or six… She made herself look a quarter of a century older because she needed to fit into her historical narrative,’ Payne said thoughtfully. ‘Miss Hope was a girl of fifteen when she became nanny to Prince Cyril’s son – and that was in 1941, you said?’
‘Yes… I suppose it had to be 1941. A year earlier would have made her too young to have been employed at the palace and it couldn’t have been a year later either since in 1942 Bulgaria had already abandoned its neutrality and joined the war as an ally of Germany. The idea of an English girl working for a pro-Nazi German prince would have raised eyebrows. She kept it all on the edge of credibility, I can see that now.’
‘She seems to have thought the whole thing through very carefully. I never thought Melisande was particularly clever,’ said Payne. ‘It seems I was wrong… Miss Hope was a good raconteuse, I take it?’
The royal biographer said that that would have been putting it mildly. There had been something mesmeric about Miss Hope’s tales of life at the palace. She had come up with the most fascinating details, with all kinds of absurdities and amusing trivialities.
Tancred Vane frowned. ‘There were things that didn’t quite add up, things that were somewhat out of kilter – but I never really suspected-’
‘What things? Give me an example.’
‘Um. All right. Would a royal prince in the 1940s have his mistress and illegitimate child living in the palace grounds? Would he have paraded them at royal events? But I never questioned any of it seriously. Miss Hope always managed to end on a cliff-hanger of sorts. It made me long for our next session.’
‘Ah. The Scheherazade effect.’ Payne nodded. ‘She set out to get you hooked and succeeded.’
‘I can’t believe that all along she was after that poor woman. I simply can’t. Makes me sick, thinking about it. And why did she continue coming after Stella’s death?’
‘My aunt asked the very same question.’ Major Payne admitted that the precise reason for the continued visits still eluded him.
‘She is mad – must be,’ Tancred Vane murmured. ‘I have been in thrall to a mad woman.’
‘What exactly did she say when she saw me through the window?’
‘She said something terrible would happen if I let you in. She begged me not to open the front door. Later – after you left – she said she’d made a mistake. She’d taken you for somebody else. She apologized profusely for alarming me. She said she was an old fool. She had problems with her eyes. She said she needed new glasses.’
‘Do you think she managed to eavesdrop on our conversation? I believe I heard the creaking of a floorboard.’
‘No idea. I found her exactly where I’d left her in my study, sitting by the window. Well, her face was very flushed and I thought she looked a little tense. She did ask who you were, what you wanted and so on… I told her part of the truth – that you’d been asked by James Morland – Stella’s fiance – to “look into the matter” since he didn’t trust the police.’
‘She left soon after?’
‘Yes. She complained of feeling a little under the weather. Old age catching up with her at long last, she feared. She seemed nearly her old roguish self again – though, come to think of it, she didn’t give me her usual peck.’
‘Did she usually give you a peck?’
