Ivoria, Tanith Lee [popular ebook readers .TXT] 📗

Laurence has died aged some ten years younger than Claudia, that is the main difference. He had had less time.

And yet…

The cause.

Nick believes Laurence killed Claudia with his harsh spoken judgement on her, her fading beauty, her human descent into old age and concomitant useless undesirability as an actor. Even as a woman. God knew what he had actually said. But it had been enough. Enough to wake the physical demon waiting inside her that next rose up and cut her down. Left alone this might not have happened to her for years, might never have happened at all.

But Laurence’s death - what had prompted that?

“Regarding this nasty little poisoned pen letter the young woman has sent you, Mr Lewis. It looks to me very practiced, very well thought out. The very style of it, like a business evaluation, the false helpfulness, her choice of areas to criticise - particularly those a man of your age and type might take great care over. That you are a professional she has also utilised very carefully. Hers is not, shall I say, the letter of an amateur. I do very decidedly believe she has done this before, possibly on many occasions, just like that girl my wife knew, with her comments stuck up in school lavatories - and always cutting the cloth to fit the target.

“And that being so, sir, I’m inclined to think she is also prepared to deliver something similar verbally. For example, if the chance of sending a letter or email is a non-starter for some reason. I suspect her degree of impatience to strike the blow may also dictate whether she writes - or even telephones. Also how urgently she wishes to witness the effect. In which case her chosen victim must still be present. Obviously to do that would be much more risky. She has more than one address, as we know. She can do her worst at one remove – email, phone, letter - then abscond to some location her former lover knows nothing of. But supposing, as may well happen, the gentleman she physically confronts turns violent. Again, any woman who regularly sends such letters, or speaks their sentiments aloud to the men in question, is off her chump, anyway. To her, the risk is doubtless far outweighed by the enjoyment, which may be sexual.

“I have come to the conclusion, Mr Lewis, that Kitty, if so she is called, offered your brother, on that Monday morning, and in words, face to face, a dose of poison on a scale adjacent to what she has sent to you on paper through the post. Although again, she will have cut the cloth to fit him. He was in his forties, an awkward age for some men. She may have put this to good use. He was getting too old, losing his stamina and figure, hadn’t got her off, she had pretended but really, it would be kinder to tell him, so he could – I doubt she suggested try to improve, no, for him it would be too late for that – simply leave younger women - all women - alone, so as not to disappoint them and make a fool of himself. I won’t go on. You and I, sir, can easily furnish a whole speech to cover what she may have said. But as that is where her main talent lies - even we might not match her.

“I have to tell you now, since I saw your brother leave the flats after his weekend with her, that he did not seem a happy man. He was very red in the face, a red that did not fade during the ten minutes I observed him. Never a good sign in anyone above forty. He seemed angry, and upset, and flustered. He dropped his car keys. Then he had problems starting the car, but the morning wasn’t so cold. When he drove out he drove faster than one would expect him to. As if to get away. I can also add his car, when it was found at Richmond, had a mark on the nearside front bumper. Perhaps a small driving accident due to loss of concentration.

“We recall too he left the young woman much earlier than I had noted his leaving either of the other two women he spent weekends with. His wife had also told me he was, on such occasions, never home before late afternoon, and often not until eleven or twelve at night.

“This also is supposition, but it isn’t illogical. I believe your brother drove to the Park at random, being in an emotional state. Then he parked there and got out for some fresh air since he was extremely discomposed and had begun to feel unwell. The spot he chose is out of the way, one of the highest points of the park and partly outside it, largely unfrequented even by day. His body was found in woods above the rather obscure car park in which he left the Volvo. The vehicle, by the way, wasn’t vandalised. Perhaps surprisingly. Apart from that little scratch, of course. And Mr Lewis himself, though someone had taken any cash he had on him, still had his driver’s licence and credit cards, even his expensive overcoat, though damaged, inevitably. The worst thieves had been animals, foxes and so on, but one doesn’t grudge those poor beggars.”

Nick had said nothing until then. Then he did put a question, and on the soundtrack that plays now inside his head - as the beautiful French girl stares into her lover’s face -Nick hears his own voice interrupt the Pond Monologue.

“Was the piece of ivory still in his coat pocket?”

“Ah, the ivory you mentioned before. What was it like, Mr Lewis, if I may ask? Your brother, I think you said, thought it a piece from an old board game?”

“Or pretended he did. I thought he knew I was lying. I found it in that drawer from Number 14,