Page 87 of Marble Hall Murders

‘I’ll have a tonic water, then.’

I laid a twenty-pound note on the table to cover the two drinks and turned back to Eliot.

‘Are you all right?’ I asked. I didn’t know where to start. I could have just laid into him, but that would have been counterproductive. Instead, I tried safer ground. ‘I’ve just finished the second part of your book,’ I said. ‘I called you, but you’re not picking up, so I drove all the way over here to tell you I think it’s very good.’

‘Really?’ He perked up at that.

‘Absolutely. I loved that shoe polish clue at the end. I haven’t got the faintest idea what it means, but it’s exactly the sort of thing that Alan would have written. And I thought the scene with Cedric was very entertaining. All those poisons! Did you really base him on yourself?’ I was having to think on my feet. The one thing I didn’t want to discuss was the murder of Alice Carling, even though it was covered in about half of the new pages. ‘The stolen art material was very good too. The whole thing is shaping up very well. So, congratulations.’

He was pleased, but that didn’t stop him taking a dig at me. ‘So what are your notes this time, Susan?’ he drawled.

‘I don’t have any notes. You don’t need them. Actually, I do have one and it’s simply that you shouldn’t be sitting here, wasting your time. You should be at home, working. The deadline isn’t that far away and anyway, I can’t wait to find out what happens. Do you have any more murders planned?’

‘In the book or in real life?’

I half laughed as if I thought he was joking. ‘As long as you don’t murder me,’ I said, keeping it light, keeping it friendly.

‘And why would I want to do that, Susan?’

I’d always known that Eliot had a Jekyll and Hyde personality. Even when I’d met him at Cloverleaf, all those years ago, he’d managed to be charming but offensive, vulnerable but slightly dangerous, and I think I’d always been uneasy in his company. It was what I was seeing now. The difference was that I’d just come from his home – I’d seen the state Gillian was in and I was less willing to make allowances. To learn that she was expecting another man’s child must have been awful for him, all the worse given his medical condition – but there could be no forgiving what he’d done and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to work with him any more. I forced myself to stay calm. I needed time to work out what I was going to do.

Bruce arrived with the drinks. He put two glasses down and whisked away the twenty-pound note in a way that told me not to expect any change.

‘So, did you callFront Row?’ I asked, trying to sound casual.

‘What do you mean?’ He had already drunk half of the vodka I had bought him.

‘We talked about it – don’t you remember? When you came to my house, you said you were going to tell them you weren’t going to do it.’

‘I had second thoughts. Why not? It’s good practice for when the book comes out and I’ve got plenty to say. I’m in the studio the day after tomorrow.’

‘Oh, Eliot! I thought we’d agreed—’

‘I don’t think it’s got anything to do with you, Susan. I asked Elaine and she thought it was a good idea.’

I was annoyed, but there was clearly no point arguing. ‘You must do what you think best, Eliot,’ I said. Then, as an afterthought: ‘I could come with you, if you like.’

‘I don’t need you to hold my hand.’

‘That’s not what I’m suggesting. I just have more experience of working with the media than you and you might find it helpful to have me there as moral support.’

‘No, Susan. I’m going alone.’

It was his laziness, his insolence that finally did it for me. I’d had enough. ‘We need to talk,’ I said.

‘What about?’

‘You know what about, Eliot. I’ve just come from your house.’

A twitch of irritation passed across his face. ‘Why?’ It was as if that was all he could manage.

‘I was trying to reach you, to congratulate you on the work. Gillian answered the phone. She sounded upset, so I went in to see her.’ I didn’t tell him that I’d driven across London. ‘I can’t believe what you did to her, Eliot. What were you thinking of? It makes me feel I don’t know you.’

He said nothing, sitting there with his drink, almost daring me to continue. I knew that I had already crossed a bridge, that things between us would never be the same. I was tempted to get up and walk out – permanently. But still I lingered a few moments, wondering what he would say, hoping for contrition. It didn’t come.

Eliot took another sip of the drink I had bought him andlooked at me with unforgiving eyes. ‘You went to Marble Hall,’ he said. His voice was soft, venomous.

Why was he mentioning that now? Hadn’t we already talked about all this? ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You may remember you suggested it.’