Death on the Last Train by George Bellairs Page B

…”
    â€œQueer?”
    Luxmore looked at his well manicured nails, breathed on them and rubbed them on his pants.
    â€œYes, queer. Seemed to want to get her ticket as soon as she could and get out of the service. I couldn’t understand it. She used to enjoy herself once. A little sport …”
    â€œWas that when she was in hospital …? I take it she did go sick?”
    â€œOh, yes. She went sick right enough. They had her in bed for a month. Ulcerated stomach, or something. Then she got leave and came back for a medical board. She’d changed when she returned. Gave me the icy mit. I was damned mad about it. We’d got on so well before.”
    I’ll bet you were mad, thought Cromwell. A conceited ass like you couldn’t understand a snub.
    â€œWhat do you think changed her?”
    â€œI think somebody had been putting her off me at home. You see, I went over to Mereton to see her when she was on leave. Took her all her time to be civil. I asked her what was up. Oh, just that she didn’t think we were suitable and couldn’t make a go of getting married.”
    â€œYou were prepared to go so far?”
    Luxmore flared up and his little eyes glowed dangerously.
    â€œWhat the hell do you mean, go so far? I said I’d fallen for her in a big way, didn’t I? We were going to get married when we got back in civvie street.”
    â€œWhat do you do in civil life?”
    â€œMy father’s a bookmaker. Turf agent, you know. P’raps you’ve heard of him … Ted Luxmore …”
    â€œCan’t say that I have.”
    Luxmore looked pityingly at Cromwell.
    â€œEverybody knows Honest Ted Luxmore as they call him. He had to go on munitions when war broke out … Carries on a nice little business at the works as a sideline. He’ll be back on the turf soon and then I’m joining him when I get my ticket. I’ll be in the money then.”
    â€œI see. So Alice Bryan got cold feet.”
    â€œNo need to be offensive about it! I think she got thinking a bit above her station. I wasn’t good enough for her.”
    â€œDid it ever occur to you that there might be somebody else?”
    â€œNo. Why should it? I never got a hint of it. I just think she was flyin’ a bit high and a plain L.A.C. wasn’t good enough.”
    â€œSeems like your imagination, if you haven’t anything concrete to work on.”
    â€œI think it started with the things her fairy grandfather used to send when she was in hospital. Bellis was her aunt’s boy friend, you know, and used to send her parcels. Grapes at two quid a pound; peaches at five bob apiece. Just damn silly. What the hell does anybody want with fruit at that price? It doesn’t do ’em any good.”
    â€œBut perhaps it was the thought that appealed to her. Didn’t you ever take her presents when she was laid up?”
    â€œTook her a bottle of port to put the roses in her cheeks. Two quid I paid for it under the counter. The nurse said with her complaint she couldn’t drink it, so I took it back and drunk it myself.”
    â€œH’m. Did Bellis come here to see her?”
    â€œNo. Her aunt came a time or two, but I never saw Bellis here. I met him when I called at Mereton. Old bloke with one foot in the grave. Seemed crackers on Alice’s aunt. Do anything for her, he would. She was a good lookin’ bit, if you like ’em full blown. Personally, I like a bit less of ’em. Alice suited me down to the ground. In fact, I’ve not got over it. I’m damned sore about the way she treated me after the good time I gave her.”
    â€œSore enough to do damage to anybody who got in your way?”
    â€œWhat d’yer mean? Suggesting that somebody chiselled in and pinched her. Get that out of your head. If they had, I’d have known. Trust Harry Luxmore. Know too much about gels …”
    â€œSo you don’t think that