Ellis Peters - George Felse 06 - Black Is The Colour Of My True Love's Heart by Ellis Peters Page B
Authors: Ellis Peters
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you will keep the matter confidential?”
Give him his due, he could take a double-edged hint as well as the next man. He promised secrecy with almost unnecessary fervour, and departed, having done his level best to plant the suggestion that, if something had really happened to Lucien Galt, Liri Palmer had made it happen. Who else, after all, had threatened his life?
George sighed, grimaced, and sent for Liri Palmer.
“Oh, he was there, all right.” Liri crossed her long and elegant legs, and declined a cigarette with a shake of her head. “He was doing his best to make up to me, but I wasn’t having any. What it adds up to is that he was inviting me to join in an all-out attack on Lucien’s professional position. A lot of dirty work goes on in the record business, and popular disc-jockeys have a lot of influence. With a few like-minded assassins as dedicated as himself, Meurice could ruin a man.”
“And you were not interested?”
Her lips curled disdainfully. “If I decide on assassination, I shan’t need any allies. I told him where he could go.”
“Yesterday, I hear, you made what could be considered as being a threat against Galt, about as publicly as possible.”
“Oh, that!” A tight, dark smile hollowed her cheeks, but she was not disconcerted. “Dickie made sure you knew about that, of course. He needn’t have worried, I’d have told you myself. Yes, it’s true. I did that.” She sounded faintly astonished now in looking back at it, as though it had become irrelevant and quite unaccountable in retrospect.
“Did you mean it?” asked George directly.
“Did I mean it… Yes, at the time I probably did. But even then what I really had in mind was not action so much as a declaration of my position. All the rest of them just happened to be there,” she said, with an arrogance Lucifer himself could not have bettered. “It was nothing to do with them.”
“Then you didn’t act on it, this afternoon?”
It was the first direct and deliberate suggestion that Lucien Galt might have suffered a murderous attack, might, in fact, be dead at that moment. She received it fully, thoughtfully and silently, and betrayed neither surprise nor any other emotion. What she thought, what she felt, she kept to herself. Like her private communications in song, they were nothing to do with anyone else. This was a young woman accustomed to standing on her own feet, and asking no quarter from anyone.
“I didn’t see Lucien this afternoon. He never came near me, and I didn’t go looking for him. I sent Dickie Meurice away, and stayed up there at the folly until it was time to come in to tea.”
“Not, I feel, without some sort of occupation?”
Her smile warmed a little, but remained dark and laden. “I was wrestling with an idea for a song. It didn’t work out.”
“Miss Palmer, I’ve gathered – and not only from Meurice – that a little while ago your relations with Lucien Galt were very close indeed. Would you mind telling me the reason for your break with him?”
“Yes,” said Liri, directly, firmly, “I would mind. It’s a private matter between him and me, and I want it to stay that way.”
He accepted that without question. “Then, if you’re good at keeping things private, keep this interview, this whole investigation, between the few of us. This week-end may as well run its course without a general alarm, if it can. And there’s one more thing I’d like to consult you about.”
He laid upon her knee the small box in which he had placed the silver medal and chain. “My son found this at a certain spot by the river. Maybe you’ve already seen it.”
She took up the box in her palm, and touched the little disc gently with one long finger. “Yes, I’ve seen it. Dominic showed it to us – the few of us who knew. It’s Lucien’s. He always wore it.”
“Always? As long as you’ve known him?”
“Yes, from the first time I met him. He said he’d worn it ever since he
Give him his due, he could take a double-edged hint as well as the next man. He promised secrecy with almost unnecessary fervour, and departed, having done his level best to plant the suggestion that, if something had really happened to Lucien Galt, Liri Palmer had made it happen. Who else, after all, had threatened his life?
George sighed, grimaced, and sent for Liri Palmer.
“Oh, he was there, all right.” Liri crossed her long and elegant legs, and declined a cigarette with a shake of her head. “He was doing his best to make up to me, but I wasn’t having any. What it adds up to is that he was inviting me to join in an all-out attack on Lucien’s professional position. A lot of dirty work goes on in the record business, and popular disc-jockeys have a lot of influence. With a few like-minded assassins as dedicated as himself, Meurice could ruin a man.”
“And you were not interested?”
Her lips curled disdainfully. “If I decide on assassination, I shan’t need any allies. I told him where he could go.”
“Yesterday, I hear, you made what could be considered as being a threat against Galt, about as publicly as possible.”
“Oh, that!” A tight, dark smile hollowed her cheeks, but she was not disconcerted. “Dickie made sure you knew about that, of course. He needn’t have worried, I’d have told you myself. Yes, it’s true. I did that.” She sounded faintly astonished now in looking back at it, as though it had become irrelevant and quite unaccountable in retrospect.
“Did you mean it?” asked George directly.
“Did I mean it… Yes, at the time I probably did. But even then what I really had in mind was not action so much as a declaration of my position. All the rest of them just happened to be there,” she said, with an arrogance Lucifer himself could not have bettered. “It was nothing to do with them.”
“Then you didn’t act on it, this afternoon?”
It was the first direct and deliberate suggestion that Lucien Galt might have suffered a murderous attack, might, in fact, be dead at that moment. She received it fully, thoughtfully and silently, and betrayed neither surprise nor any other emotion. What she thought, what she felt, she kept to herself. Like her private communications in song, they were nothing to do with anyone else. This was a young woman accustomed to standing on her own feet, and asking no quarter from anyone.
“I didn’t see Lucien this afternoon. He never came near me, and I didn’t go looking for him. I sent Dickie Meurice away, and stayed up there at the folly until it was time to come in to tea.”
“Not, I feel, without some sort of occupation?”
Her smile warmed a little, but remained dark and laden. “I was wrestling with an idea for a song. It didn’t work out.”
“Miss Palmer, I’ve gathered – and not only from Meurice – that a little while ago your relations with Lucien Galt were very close indeed. Would you mind telling me the reason for your break with him?”
“Yes,” said Liri, directly, firmly, “I would mind. It’s a private matter between him and me, and I want it to stay that way.”
He accepted that without question. “Then, if you’re good at keeping things private, keep this interview, this whole investigation, between the few of us. This week-end may as well run its course without a general alarm, if it can. And there’s one more thing I’d like to consult you about.”
He laid upon her knee the small box in which he had placed the silver medal and chain. “My son found this at a certain spot by the river. Maybe you’ve already seen it.”
She took up the box in her palm, and touched the little disc gently with one long finger. “Yes, I’ve seen it. Dominic showed it to us – the few of us who knew. It’s Lucien’s. He always wore it.”
“Always? As long as you’ve known him?”
“Yes, from the first time I met him. He said he’d worn it ever since he
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