Murder in Hampstead, Sabina Manea [best way to read ebooks .txt] 📗

‘Ah, this. I’m getting bored with it. Say, wouldn’t you like the job? That way I can have you all to myself.’

‘I couldn’t improve on it. Don’t rip it out.’

Nina shook her mass of blonde curls. She had different colour eyes – one green and one hazel – which could instantly flip from enticing to unsettling. ‘You’re right, it’s not too bad. You should see my new drinks cabinet. I had it shipped all the way from Charleston. They don’t make them like that in Europe.’ She gestured to the nearest waiter, who dutifully pirouetted in their direction.

‘Cheers. I’m so glad you came, Lulu. It’s like old times.’

Lucia and Nina Chanler, née Lexington, had been inseparable since university in Cambridge. They had ended up working for the same law firm and even shared an office in their previous life – not that the latter had set foot in one since marrying Walter ‘Charming’ Chanler, with his South Carolina tinned fish money that had made life in Lygon Place possible. He had wooed his way into what he thought was British high society, or at least the kind of society that Nina frequented. What went on behind closed doors in Belgravia would have shocked the bourgeois sensibilities of North London, which is why Carliss was best left safely parked at home.

‘How is your mother?’

Nina cackled. ‘On fine form, as always. She’s bored rigid with her retirement – she says it’s about as fun as waterboarding. Coming from her, that’s quite an indictment.’

‘Is she here tonight?’

‘No, she’s gone back north. Oh, I should have known.’ Nina affected a playfully wounded look. ‘You’re just here to use me. You’ll have to entertain me with some sparkling conversation before you ask for a favour.’

‘The serious business can wait, Double N. I’m here to have a good time.’ “Northern Nina”, they used to call her at boarding school, and it stuck in a modified form. By tradition, the Lexington children were educated locally until they were old enough to be sent away to the Cheltenham Colleges, where the involuntarily acquired Nottinghamshire accent was swiftly stamped out.

‘Miss Lucia. Lovely as ever.’ Walter was so parodically Southern as to merit an entire doctoral thesis. He and Nina were a good match. If they hadn’t met, she would have ended up marrying and bossing around a questionable diplomat from her mother’s circle. To his credit, Walter took his wife with a generous pinch of salt. More importantly, he had impressed Virginia Lexington. ‘How’s work?’

‘Good. Busy. Keeps me out of trouble.’

Walter turned to a rotund woman in head-to-toe emerald green, like a giant Fabergé egg, who hovered expectantly on the fringes of their group. ‘Lucia here is the best in the business.’ He was always happy to fly the flag for a friend. The Chanlers had always looked out for one another and their close ones, not out of grudging duty or in the expectation that the favour would be returned, but simply because good manners and social responsibility were in their blood. ‘In fact, everything you see around you is her doing.’ He winked discreetly in Lucia’s direction, and Nina grinned. There was no harm in a little promotional exercise.

The ovoid lady beamed. ‘Oh, Walter, this place is splendid. You’re very talented, Lucia. You could be just the ticket for Oxfordshire.’ Predictably, Walter was a guaranteed hit with females of a certain age. ‘How do you know the Chanlers?’

‘Nina and I used to work together, a long time ago.’

‘Oh, you’re a lawyer too? How very clever. Do you miss it?’

‘Not much. I like the quiet life.’

Walter laughed heartily. ‘I don’t believe that for a second. You two weren’t cut out for the quiet life. You’re up to something, Lulu, I can smell it.’ His eyes suddenly narrowed as they darted to the door. ‘Why, if it isn’t Marcus Calthorpe. Nina, he’s been dying to meet you.’

‘Come along then, Lucia. Let’s get introduced.’ Nina wound her arm around her friend’s waist and strode towards a serious-looking man in an unnecessarily sober suit. ‘The new Ambassador to Oman,’ she whispered in Lucia’s ear. ‘Mummy’s successor and professional golden boy. Apparently our contemporary at Emmanuel. Never set eyes on him, have you? Must have been one of the studious ones.’

‘You mean he was out during daylight hours. No danger of our collective paths ever crossing, in that case.’

Walter did the honours. Marcus Calthorpe looked petrified.

‘A pleasure to meet you at last, Marcus.’ Nina’s disconcerting eyes did little by way of reassurance. ‘You’re quite the mythical creature. I hear you’re going to single-handedly broker peace in the Middle East.’

The poor man flushed all the way to an unpleasant shade of beetroot. ‘That’s very kind. I’m afraid I’ve got some rather big shoes to fill.’

Nina laughed charitably. ‘Yes, Mother does have big feet. I’m sure you’ll do very well. I do hope you enjoy our little get-together.’ She flashed her most benevolent smile and disappeared back into the crowd, followed by her old friend. ‘I think I’ve paraded you around enough.’ Nina signalled to Lucia. ‘Let’s have another drink and you can ask me that favour you wanted.’

They settled in a couple of low cocktail chairs safely tucked behind the specially hired martini bar, which was barely keeping up with demand.

‘Professor Alla Kiseleva and Dr Edmund Glover. Do those names mean anything to you?’

Nina frowned thoughtfully. ‘No… Do you want me to ask Mater?’

‘If you could.’

‘Dare I ask what it’s about?’ Nina’s eyes were glowing. She knew Lucia was up to no good.

‘A murder. Do you want to help me?’

‘Oh, I’d kill for it. In a manner of speaking… I’m bored witless buying furniture and going to Walter’s work dos. There are only so many conversations on sardine prices that I can grin through.’

The old friends talked and drank for