The Hallmarked Man полностью

‘Dubonnet and gin. We call it the Majesty because it’s the Queen’s favourite. Always bothers me, thinkin’ of her drinkin’ something that common.’

Longcaster sipped his martini, his dark eyes fixed on Robin, then said,

‘Drink it. I’m hardly likely to bloody poison yeh, am I? Or are you scared I’ll jump on yeh? Needn’t worry about that. I get more excited about a morning piss these days than I do about women.’

‘I prefer to keep a clear head when I’m working,’ said Robin, and she thought how prissy she sounded.

‘I doubt Decima would begrudge you a solitary Majesty.’

Robin chose to ignore this comment.

‘Do you know where Rupert Fleetwood is, Mr Longcaster?’

‘No.’

‘His aunt thinks he’s got a job in New York.’

‘I think that staggeringly unlikely.’

‘Why?’

‘Jellyfish aren’t noted for their ability to catch flights to New York. Drink your bloody drink.’

Robin picked up the glass and took a sip.

‘Like it?’ said Longcaster.

‘Yes,’ said Robin honestly.

‘Thought you would,’ said Longcaster. He blew out cigar smoke, then said,

‘I doubt Fleetwood’s gawn far, unless he’s hit a strong prevailin’ current. S’pose he could be beached somewhere… small children poking him with plastic spades…’

‘Are you at all worried he might have killed himself?’

‘No,’ said Longcaster, ‘no, I can truthfully say I haven’t had a single second’s worry on that score.’

‘He seems to have been under a lot of pressure, before he disappeared,’ said Robin.

‘I don’t know about pressure,’ drawled Longcaster. ‘He staggered out of here under the weight of a prime piece of seventeenth-century Dutch silverware. Would you say that’s suicidal? Or is it the behaviour of a young man who fails to comprehend, as Wodehouse puts it, “the nice distinction between meum and tuum”?’

‘You called the police, didn’t you?’ said Robin.

‘Naturally, but our brave boys in blue aren’t overly interested in recovering property for the likes of me. “You’re insured, aren’t you?” is the burden of their song. You can tell Decima, though, that as soon as I get wind of where the jellyfish is, I’ll prod the police in the right direction. I’m sure by now he’s realised the thing’s impossible to sell. No reputable dealer’s going to touch it, not without proof of legal ownership. It’s a particularly fine and distinctive example of its type and, unfortunately for the jellyfish, it features in photographs of the Dostoevsky room.’ Longcaster took another pull on his cigar, then said, ‘Didja know I won it from his father?’

‘I did, yes,’ said Robin.

‘Peter and I were at Eton together. ’S’a matter of fact, that nef wasn’t Peter’s to gamble with in the first place, it was his wife’s. She was bloody livid when she found out what he’d done. Peter didn’t have a pot to piss in before he married Veronica. The jellyfish is just like him, hopin’ to marry money.’

Longcaster pointed a long finger at a photograph on the wall, which featured two men, one recognisable as a younger Longcaster, the other having a thin, raffish face, and three women. One of the women, who also looked around forty, wore glasses and looked rather stern. The other two were younger, one dark, one fair, and both very beautiful. All five were posing, the women in ballgowns, the men dinner jackets, in front of a gigantic castle over which a yellow flag bearing a black lion flew.

‘That’s Peter and Veronica, there,’ said Longcaster. ‘The woman in glasses is Anjelica, Peter’s sister – the jellyfish’s aunt. She doesn’t like me, as I’m sure she’ll’ve told you, if you’ve spoken to her.’ Longcaster stared dispassionately at the picture for a few more seconds, before saying, ‘I’m not sure, but I think I might’ve screwed her that weekend. And the dark woman there’s an ex-girlfriend of mine. I was resisting her broad hints I should make an honest woman of her at the time, but I was enjoying being between wives.’

‘Is that the Fleetwoods’ home?’ said Robin, staring up at the medieval castle in the background.

‘’Course it’s bloody not, that’s Gravensteen,’ snorted Longcaster.

He drained his glass, then leaned over and pressed the brass bell again. The waiter opened the door within seconds.

‘’Nother Martini. Nothing for her, she’s dawdlin’.’

When the door had closed again, Robin said,

‘I’ve been told by someone who saw the relationship up close that Rupert genuinely loved Decima. That person didn’t believe Rupert was with her for her mon—’

‘Bullcrap,’ barked Longcaster. ‘Nobody’s going to attach themselves to Decima for her beauty or her charm. The pair of ’em looked like Tweedledum and Tweedledee together – just imagine the moon-faced children. What?’ he said, in response, Robin knew, to the expression on her own face.

‘Just thinking, what horrible things to say about your own daughter.’