A Death in Diamonds полностью

‘No. Ginette was lying face up on the bed and he was bent over her, with his back to me. I could see she’d tried to surprise him with my knife. It was still sticking out of his side. He was strangling her with one of her own stockings and he didn’t hear me come up behind him. When he started to turn round, I swung the cosh.’

The Queen turned pale, but gestured to Lucie to carry on.

‘With practice, you can do a lot of damage,’ Lucie said, ‘but I hadn’t practised for years. He collapsed on top of Ginette, but I didn’t trust him. Men like that get up again and again, so I rolled him onto the floor. I got out the garrotte and did what I had to do. Then I went to Ginette. The nylon stocking was still there because he’d pulled it so tight around her neck. I took it off but it took time. I kept hoping . . . I tried to save her, but it was too late . . .’ Lucie shut her eyes. ‘She squeezed my hand. I kissed her. She breathed her last breath.’

‘You didn’t call a doctor.’

‘She was dead within a minute. What was the point? They would have put her in a bag and taken her away.’

Lucie gave the Queen a look that was both devastated and cold. This was a woman who knew how to kill a man with an improvised weapon, and didn’t hesitate to do it. She was tough and unsentimental, grief-stricken and worn out.

‘You washed your sister as an act of love,’ the Queen said.

‘Oui. I didn’t want that bastard’s blood on her. It was on the silk jarretière – what’s that word?’

‘Garter?’

‘Garter, yes, that I think she used to hide the knife under her dress, so I took it. The dress was torn and dirty, so I took that off her too. Then I used the other stocking on him, because I wanted him to know how it felt.’

Even though he was well and truly dead by then, the Queen thought.

‘And the knife?’

Lucie remained impassive. ‘I planted it in his face. Then I walked into the other room. I found lilacs. Ginette always loved those flowers. I was just putting them in her arms when I heard the sound of men’s voices downstairs. I waited. They were there for ages and then one of them came upstairs. Then another, and another. I was stuck in that goddam room, but I didn’t mind. In the end, I spent the night with her. It was nice. Peaceful.’

‘I suppose so,’ the Queen said. She couldn’t begin to imagine what this must have been like, but she did know sisterly love.

‘We hadn’t spent so long together in years,’ Lucie went on softly. ‘I took the gloves off and held her hand. I lay beside her and told her stories about France, while this other man snored like a pig across the landing. I could have gone while he slept, but I didn’t want to leave her . . . I assumed I’d tell him what had happened in the morning. But I wasn’t really thinking about the morning.’

‘And when it came, what did you do?’

‘I waited until dawn. Then my training took over. I don’t really remember, but I got outside with the dress under my coat. I didn’t feel as if I was in my body. I climbed over a wall, crept through a garden and came out in the Boltons, where Deborah Fairdale lives. Do you know it, ma’am?’

The Queen half smiled. ‘I do.’

‘From there, I walked quickly to the King’s Road. I found a telephone box and called the police. I can’t remember what I said, but I assumed they would find the bodies in five minutes. Then I went home and hid the dress and gloves and boots in an old suitcase and slept for twenty-four hours. But there was no news of the bodies that day, or the next. Every minute since has been a dream. A nightmare.’

‘I assume your husband knows what you did,’ the Queen said.

‘I imagine. The diamonds . . . His gloves and boots gone too. He must have recognised my old knife in the newspaper. We haven’t talked about it.’

‘He must love you very much.’

Lucie shrugged. ‘I’m a lovely ornament. He’s a generous admirer. C’est tout.’

‘He’s allowed many people to assume he’s a killer to protect you. I doubt his political career will recover.’

Lucie shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’

The Queen saw how unmoved she was by what was surely an act of selflessness. Lady Seymour seemed unmoved by her husband altogether. She sat there, ramrod straight, her alabaster beauty unaffected by the ravages to her makeup, her slim shoulders rising from the beaded perfection of the evening gown he had paid for.