Roots of Evil(84)

‘The solicitor?’

‘The solicitor,’ said Jennie Fletcher. ‘He’s an irreverent devil, although I’d have to say he’s an efficient irreverent devil. As a matter of fact he’s got rather a good reputation when it comes to criminal law – the ACC thinks very highly of him – and he’s a tiger in the magistrates’ court, I’ve seen him in action. That’s the silver-tongued Irish, of course.’

Sergeant Trendle, who had been checking the list of Ashwood’s previous owners, said it looked as if Liam Devlin had given them genuine information about the land.

‘It’s mostly been owned by small-time entrepreneurs, who thought they were getting a bargain, and then couldn’t get rid of the place quickly enough when they realized it wasn’t a bargain at all.’

‘Which is what we thought. I think Devlin’s all right, but we’ll still have him in for this film experiment, although we’d better have a pinch of salt with us when we’re talking to him. Do you ever read Shakespeare, Trendle?’

Trendle, who liked a bit of a laugh on his days off, said he did not.

‘There’s a line in one of the plays – “First thing we’ll do, let’s kill all the laywers,”’ said the inspector. ‘Remember that. Always watch a lawyer, Trendle.’

Sergeant Trendle, who could not cope with the inspector when she was in this mood, suggested that if they were speaking of lawyers, what about the other one?

‘Edmund Fane?’ said Fletcher, softly. ‘Oh, yes, I want him there as well.’

‘You don’t like him?’

‘I don’t trust him, Trendle. So I don’t care if you have to invoke Magna Carta or the European Human Rights Law, just make sure he’s there.’



Edmund was not best pleased to be telephoned by Sergeant Trendle and politely requested to come to Quondam Films’ premises on Saturday afternoon for the purpose of viewing the infamous von Wolff Alraune.

He thought it a preposterous idea to screen the film – in fact he had thought the thing had been lost years ago. It had not been lost? It never had been lost? Oh well, Edmund had never bothered overmuch about all those old-fashioned films or books. Still, he would come along if the police really insisted.

He was, in fact, rather pleased at the thought of seeing Lucy again, and it might be intriguing to see her in her professional setting, so to speak. Would she wear a sharp, dark office suit? And would it be possible to have supper with her afterwards? Perhaps she would invite him to her flat again. His mind flew ahead, seeing the two of them seated at the little table in the deep bay window, and then moving across to that deep sofa before the fire…And then…? There was a sudden strong pleasure in remembering how his father had gone to bed with Lucy’s grandmother all those years ago, and in wondering if, on Saturday night, Edmund might go to bed with Lucy herself. There was a symmetry about it which pleased him. I’m not re-creating what you did, he said to Crispin’s image in his mind; I’m really not. No? said Crispin’s voice, mockingly. Whatever you’re doing, the symmetry of it sounds slightly skewed to me. But let’s go for it anyway, dear boy. Lucretia’s granddaughter…Oh yes, Edmund, oh yes, let’s go for it…

Edmund phoned Lucy there and then, explaining about Sergeant Trendle’s call. He was not going to drive up, he said – all that traffic, and parking in London on a Saturday. He would get the twelve thirty train; it got in just before two, and he could have his lunch on the train.

‘But I’m not sure what to do afterwards. Perhaps we could have a meal together. The last train back is at ten, so there would be plenty of time.’

‘Oh, what a shame,’ said Lucy at once. ‘I’m going out later on. But you could easily get the six fifteen back after the viewing, couldn’t you?’

‘I suppose so,’ said Edmund, annoyed. ‘It’ll mean getting home rather late, and not eating until at least half past eight. Still, it can’t be helped.’



Lucy felt guilty at having lied to Edmund about going out, but relieved to have sidestepped any idea of spending the evening with him. He would probably annoy everyone all afternoon by making pointed remarks about his delicate digestion, and how he had only had a British Rail sandwich for his lunch and how he would not get home for his supper until late. Oh, blast Edmund, thought Lucy, crossly. I refuse to feel guilty about him. He can perfectly well have something to eat before getting the train back; Quondam’s smack in the middle of Soho, for pity’s sake – eating-places every ten steps!

And at least there would not be any embarrassingly unfamiliar seduction techniques to contend with, or pounces over the coffee percolator to ward off. Lucy was not sure if she could cope with Edmund being amorous and seeing Lucretia as Alraune all on the same day.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE




‘Jesus God Almighty,’ said Liam Devlin, eyeing Quondam’s projector for the running of Alraune. ‘Are you sure you actually need electricity to power that thing? If you told me it relied on the magic lantern principle, it wouldn’t be a surprise.’


Devlin had arrived late for the viewing, which Edmund thought just went to show what kind of feckless person he was; his black hair looked more than ever as if it needed combing, never mind cutting, and he was wearing cord trousers, a ramshackle pullover and a long raincoat that looked as if it had been dragged on in the dark. It was annoying to see Michael Sallis shake hands with him in a very friendly way – from what Edmund remembered of Sallis at Deborah Fane’s funeral, he could not have very much in common with the disreputable Devlin. He noticed, as well, that the females present all sat up a little straighter at Devlin’s entrance – including Lucy. This annoyed Edmund so much that he pointed out with some acerbity that Devlin’s arrival was a good twenty minutes after the arranged time.