Frequent Hearses by Edmund Crispin Read Free Book Online Page B

recollected their lacquered and unlickable condition, but the effect was none the less discomposing; and particularly, it seemed, to the girl herself, for tears started into her eyes and she began to tremble at the knees. Humbleby, unused to such adverse reactions to his mild and reassuring presence, said: “Come, come, Miss Byrant, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Fen said: “My name is Gervase Fen.” And Johnny, smacking her heartily on her lightly clad bottom, said: “Don’t be so daft, girl.” Of these various prophylactics it was the last which proved most efficacious. Miss Bryant seemed, indeed, to be almost cheered by it—perhaps because it belonged to an order of things with which she was more or less at home. She rubbed herself unselfconsciously and in a timorous little Cockney voice said: “I’m all right, thank you, sir.”
    “Good, good,” said Humbleby expansively. Diffident, sensitive chorus-girls were obviously outside his experience, and he appeared to be at a loss what to say next. This problem, however, was solved for him by the cry of “Absolute quiet, please” which heralded the second take, and since it was evident that if they wanted to talk they must go elsewhere, he signalled to the others to follow him and tip-toed towards the door. Once outside, he demanded to be shown to a vacant room; and Johnny, after one false attempt which tactlessly disrupted the embraces of a canteen waitress and a sound engineer, soon found one for him—a square, under-furnished, unimaginative place whose windows, commanding a part of the estate, displayed a group of workmen with wheelbarrows lethargically digging a small hole in the ground.
    “Anything else?” Johnny asked. “Because if there isn’t I ought to be getting back. Mind you behave yourself, Miss Sex Appeal,” he said to Valerie Bryant, “or they’ll put you in the lock-up. I’ll say cheerio, then. John Wilberforce Mornington signing off, at your service now as always.” With this, mercifully, he went. And Humbleby, clearing his throat in an embarrassed fashion, said “Do please sit down, Miss Bryant.”
    Miss Bryant sat down—with extreme caution, on the edge of a chair—and gazed upon them out of wide, pathetic eyes. “I ’as to be careful,” she ventured, “not to get the make-up rubbed on me legs and arms.”
    “Yes,” said Humbleby. “Yes, I’m sure you do.”
    Miss Bryant evidently did not find this ready acquiescence at all consoling, for she began to tremble again, though less violently than before. “I—is it true, sir,” she stammered, “that you’re from the p’lice?”
    “Yes, it’s true enough,” said Humbleby, “but you’ve absolutely no cause to be alarmed, Miss Bryant. All I want is to ask you a few questions about Gloria Scott.”
    “Gloria?” Miss Bryant was startled. “She ain’t in no trouble, sir, is she?”
    Humbleby shook his head soberly. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, Miss Bryant, that she has—um—committed suicide.”
    Miss Bryant sat very still. After a moment two large tears ran down her cheeks, leaving shining tracks in the powder. Both Fen and Humbleby were afraid she was going to break down, but the impact of Humbleby’s intelligence had numbed her, and she made no movement except to brush the tears away with the back of her hand. Presently she whispered:
    “Gloria always said she would.”
    “Would kill herself?”
    Miss Bryant nodded slowly. “An’ I didn’t believe ’er, ’cos they say it’s never the ones ’oo talk about it as actually does it.” Then she sat up abruptly as something occurred to her. “But she couldn’t a’ done, sir! Not after she got erself that big part in the ’istorical film. She was that pleased about it you wouldn’t believe, and—”
    “Yes,” Humbleby interposed. “We’ve heard about that, Miss Bryant, and that’s why we’re trying to discover some other reason—some reason sufficiently compelling to outweigh the