“This is Flower, Mr. Preston. One of my few comforts in this life, and as you can see, she can be quite a comfort.”
I could see that all right. Her body was lean and smooth, with a tight flat stomach and small hard breasts. She was the same deep brown color all over, and it was evident that Flower didn’t wear anything when she was outdoors in the sun, either. Under the circumstances it would have been ridiculous to say anything normal.
“You said she was one of your comforts. Could I see the others?”
The girl laughed, a surprisingly deep sound from that slim throat.
“You’re not the ordinary run of flatfoot, are you?”
“I’m not with the force,” I explained. “I’m private.”
“You’re here about Brookman, I imagine.”
“Yes. But if I’m going to ask you any questions, I’ll have to ask you to go away and put some clothes on first. My mind keeps coming up with the wrong questions.”
Again came the deep laugh.
“Don’t worry, I’m going. And never mind the questions. I can tell you all I know about the departed. He was a creep. Hugo, let me know when your nice friend leaves. Au revoir, Mr. Preston.”
Despite her tough talk and unconventional dress habits, Flower had not started life on the wrong side of the tracks. I watched the slow rolling motion till she was out of sight.
“With your permission Mr. Somerset,” I said formally. “I could do with another drink.”
“Help yourself. Aren’t you going to ask me about Flower?”
I broke open the can and refilled my glass.
“None of my business, is it? I find if people want me to know things, they’ll tell me.”
He stared at me hard, something like amusement in his eyes.
“She was right, you are no ordinary flatfoot. Very well, shall we talk about Brookman?”
“That’s why I came. How long did you know him?”
“I was trying to remember that for the police. One can’t be too exact with such a casual acquaintance. I’d say between three and six months.”
“Did he do any kind of work?”
“Not to my knowledge. He was always borrowing money. And of course, he never sold a verse in his life.”
I tipped some more of the cold beer down my throat.
“When he came here was he alone, or with some special people?”
“Mostly alone, I believe. Of course he knew a lot of the crowd to say hallo to, either from meeting them here or at the Speckled Band. Sorry, you may not know where that is?”
I nodded sadly.
“I know where it is all right. I had to go there one time. To be certain I got in I had to dress up like something got washed up on the beach.”
The big man inclined his head gravely.
“It does have some odd associations,” he admitted. “However it’s like this house, full of people from a maniac’s nightmare, one of whom could turn out to be a genius.”
It seemed like an awful hard way to find a genius. Personally I’d as soon file a notice in the Genius Wanted columns.
“One last thing, Mr. Somerset. Was there anything special about the night of the party?”
“There is always something special about my parties,” he said loftily.
“But if you mean anything connected with Brookman, the answer is no.”
And it was clearly implied by his tone that the something special which had nothing to do with Brookman, had nothing to do with me either.
“Well thanks, Mr. Somerset, you’ve been very obliging. I won’t take up any more of your time. If anything should come to mind, I’d certainly appreciate it if you’d give me a call.”
He looked at the little white card I handed over.
“Parkside Towers,” he mused. “You must either be a very good detective or you have some other source of income. I believe the rental over there is rather out of the coffee and cakes level.”
“It’s robbery,” I assured him. “And you’re beginning to sound like the Bureau of Inland Revenue. Let’s say I’m lucky.” He let me hear the rich chuckle just one more time. Hugo Somerset might be an oddball, alright he was an oddball but there was something about the man I couldn’t help liking. I thanked him for the beer, and he waved a flabby arm as I left.
When I stepped through the front door of the house, there was Flower. She was sprawled out in a long basket-work chair, carefully covered in a black and yellow silk Japanese kimono. Perversely, I now found her much more attractive than when she’d been wearing all that skin.
“You ought to get dressed more often,” I told her. “On you clothes look good.”
She smiled slowly up at me, even white teeth flashing against the browny red lips. It was the smile of a woman who’d smiled before, plenty of other times, plenty of other places. And not always outside in a garden.
“Hugo wouldn’t tell you anything, would he?”
“He told me what he could.”
“I could tell you more,” she coaxed.
“So tell me.”
She held up her arms, and sighed.
“Come and be nice to me, and perhaps I will.”
There was a fleeting moment when I almost did. With an effort I made myself realize how ridiculous a situation it was.
“Lady, it would be a privilege. But right now I’m very hot, the circumstances are very slightly unsuitable, and it seems to me the heat must be making you very slightly daffy. What about Brookman?”
She folded her arms across the flat stomach, and pouted like a child.
“Shan’t tell you. How can you be so pretty and so horrible all at the same time?”
“How can you be so beautiful and such a screwball?” I countered. “You realize we could be seen from the public highway. It may give you some kind of kick to appear on a flagrant indecency rap, but include me out. Tell me about Brookman.”
She ran a small pink tongue across her lips and pondered.
“Not now,” she decided finally. “Maybe one day, but not now.”
“Suit yourself. If you ever feel talkative, you’ll
