The Bee's Kiss(10)

‘Terrible sight,’ he said and would have said more. Would have suggested that she might like to leave this next distressing part of the enquiry to him but she looked down calmly enough at the body.

‘Is it Gustav Klimt,’ he wondered out loud to bump them over the awkward moment, ‘the painter that this lady’s appearance calls to mind?’ Too late he remembered that a reference to a foreign painter with a reputation for decadence would be bound to be offensive and shocking to the good taste of a young lady of Tilly Westhorpe’s background. But, with a bit of luck, she would never have heard of the chap.

The constable considered for a moment. ‘Oh, yes, I see it . . . The Kiss, you mean? It’s the angle of the head, I think. No . . . I’d have said rather Dante Gabriel Rossetti. His darkest nightmare.’ She looked stonily down at the battered features and then, caught by an emotion Joe could not fathom, she spoke again as though to herself.

‘Evil, evil old devil!’ she said passionately. ‘Killing’s too good for her!’





Chapter Three


Joe let the words lie between them for a moment, puzzled and apprehensive.

‘Would this be a good moment to explain just how familiar you were with this lady, Westhorpe? And what exactly was the nature of your personal reason for coming up here to see her? Sir Nevil has asked for you to be associated with this enquiry but if there’s the slightest suggestion of an interest other than professional, you’ll be asked to withdraw.’

Calmly she took her eyes off the corpse and transferred her gaze to Joe. Direct and searching, it had the effect of making him feel himself to be the one undergoing questioning. ‘We were never introduced. As far as I know she was perfectly unaware of me. The party tonight is the first occasion on which I have ever seen her. But sir! Surely you cannot be unconscious of her reputation? In the circles in which I move, I can assure you, Commander, Dame Beatrice is not venerated . . .’

She was just getting into her swing and Joe was eager to hear more when something prompted her to cut short her attack on the character of the deceased. ‘But this is hardly the place to swap gossip, I think. And one shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, and all that . . . Oh, for goodness sake! What am I saying? You ought to be aware, sir, and, in the circumstances, there will be few enough to tell you . . . The woman was a monster! Dissolute, degenerate, debased . . .’

‘Run out of d’s, Westhorpe?’ said Joe, taken aback and trying to take the sting out of her remarks, almost sacrilegious, he felt, when delivered with such vehemence over the cooling body. ‘What about, er, Dame . . .? Darling of the navy . . .? Doyenne of London society?’

‘I’m trying to be helpful, sir,’ she said repressively. ‘You are not obliged to give any weight to my information but if you enquire in the right quarters you will hear other evaluations of Dame Beatrice’s character and habits than those you will read in next week’s obituaries. But for now, there’s work to be done – work in which you will find me perceptive and efficient.’

She didn’t quite click her heels but Joe almost expected to hear it.

‘Very well. We’ll leave it. But I’m not satisfied with your explanation and will come back to it. I shall need to know precisely what brought you to this room at such an unlikely hour to see someone you say you were not acquainted with. Now, we need to establish without further delay who is her next of kin.’

‘I could just tell you but perhaps you’d rather read the details from her diary which is in the bedroom. She lives in Surrey with her mother. Not married, of course.’

At a nod from Joe, Westhorpe went into the bedroom, emerging with a small black notebook. ‘Here we are . . . Mrs Augustus Jagow-Joliffe, King’s Hanger, near Godalming. There’s a telephone number. Dame Beatrice has a flat of her own, I think . . . yes . . . here’s the address – it’s in Fitzroy Gardens.’

She handed the book to Joe and he put it in his pocket.

‘Where would you like me to start, sir? Shall I make a sketch of the crime scene?’

‘Hold on, Westhorpe. That’s a job for whichever inspector they’ve supplied us with. You can make a start on her personal effects. An inventory, if you like.’

Westhorpe just managed not to roll her eyes in disbelief. ‘Very well. I’ll start in the bedroom as that’s where most of the effects are and leave the field clear for the attentions of a superior officer.’

Joe opened his bag and took out a notebook and a pencil. ‘Here, use this.’ He stood in the doorway watching as she set about making her inspection. He had expected her to make at once for the wardrobe or the chest of drawers but she stood by him, surveying the room.