Thinner than water, p.1
Thinner Than Water, page 1
All the characters and events portrayed in this work are fictitious.
THINNER THAN WATER
A Felony & Mayhem mystery
PRINTING HISTORY
First UK edition (Collins): 1981
First US edition (Doubleday): 1982
Felony & Mayhem edition: 2022
Copyright © 1982 by M. D. Brown
All rights reserved
ISBN: 978-1-63194-276-1
Manufactured in the United States of America
Cataloging-in-Publication information for this book is available from the Library of Congress.
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Other “British” titles from
MICHAEL DAVID ANTHONY
The Becket Factor
Midnight Come
Dark Provenance
ROBERT BARNARD
Corpse in a Gilded Cage
Death and the Chaste Apprentice
The Skeleton in the Grass
Out of the Blackout
SIMON BRETT
Blotto, Twinks and the Ex-King’s Daughter
Blotto, Twinks and the Dead Dowager Duchess
Blotto, Twinks and the Rodents of the Riviera
Blotto, Twinks and the Bootlegger’s Moll
CAROLINE GRAHAM
The Killings at Badger’s Drift
Death of a Hollow Man
Death in Disguise
Written in Blood
Murder at Madingley Grange
ELIZABETH IRONSIDE
The Accomplice
The Art of Deception
Death in the Garden
A Very Private Enterprise
MAGGIE JOEL
The Second-Last Woman in England
The Past and Other Lies
SHEILA RADLEY
Death in the Morning
The Chief Inspector’s Daughter
A Talent for Destruction
Fate Worse than Death
LESLIE THOMAS
Dangerous Davies: The Last Detective
L.C. TYLER
The Herring Seller’s Apprentice
Ten Little Herrings
The Herring in the Library
Herring on the Nile
Crooked Herring
E.X. FERRARS
Something Wicked
Root of All Evil
The Crime and the Crystal
The Other Devil’s Name
A Murder Too Many
Smoke Without Fire
Last Will and Testament
Frog in the Throat
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Something Wicked
Chapter One
When I came up the moving stairs and emerged into the roundabout at Piccadilly underground station and a man who was passing took me in his arms and kissed me warmly, I thought to myself, “I believe I must have met this man before.” But casual kissing has become so general as a form of greeting that it seemed to me possible that whoever it was and I had chatted for only five minutes at somebody’s party and had never even known each other’s names.
Then my vision, or rather my mind, cleared and I exclaimed, “Gavin!”
“I thought for a moment you hadn’t recognized me,” he said.
“Of course I did.”
But the truth was that Gavin Brownlow had changed a great deal since I had seen him last. But that had been something like five years ago, if I remembered correctly. At any rate it had been on an occasion when, over lunch, he had wanted my advice as to whether or not he and his wife, Kay, should go ahead with a divorce. That had been a year or so after I and my husband, Felix, had parted, and it had appeared that Gavin had thought that my experience in such matters might be helpful to him.
Not that he had really wanted advice. He had only wanted to talk to someone who, he could feel fairly secure, would not think of offering him any. And actually Felix and I had never had a divorce. We had simply gone our separate ways, the strange episode of our marriage seeming so unreal that there had been no necessity for us to suffer the trauma of going through divorce proceedings. That had happened about six years ago. So according to the calculations that went through my head rapidly as Gavin and I stood embraced in the underground, it must have been about five years since we had last met.
He was still as handsome as ever, but his black hair had turned grey, though he could not have been more than forty, and it had altered his appearance almost as much as a new hat can alter that of a woman. His face had grown thinner too, which gave him a faintly haggard air of maturity, and as he stood back from me and looked me over I saw that he stooped slightly, as if he spent too much of his time at an office desk. He went to a good tailor, too, which was something that he had never bothered about in the old days. However, he still had his likeable air of vagueness and of wanting someone to be kind to him and take care of him.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “Are you very busy? Could we have lunch together?”
I was only in London for the day to do some shopping and I was already bored with it. The crowds were getting on my nerves and I had failed to find any of the things I wanted. As I always did each time I came to London nowadays, I had been making up my mind that in future I should do all my shopping in the small town where I live. So I told Gavin that I should love to have lunch with him. It was just what was needed to save my day from having been a total waste of time.
“We’ll go to Fecino’s then,” he said.
That was pure sentimentality. Fecino’s was the small restaurant in Dean Street where he and Kay and Felix and I used to meet for lunch or dinner on the rare occasions when one of us had had enough money for it, in the days when we were all happily married. On the whole I would sooner have gone somewhere else, but if it was where Gavin wanted to go, I did not feel like objecting. We went up the stairs into Shaftesbury Avenue and walked along towards Dean Street.
The pavements were too crowded for us to be able to talk as we went, but once we were settled at a table in the restaurant and had ordered drinks, Gavin gave me one of his direct yet curiously diffident looks and said, “Well, tell me how things are with you, Virginia. Have you stuck to that physiotherapy thing?”
I said I had.
“And that satisfies you?”
“I can think of more exciting ways of earning a living,” I said, “but I’m not qualified to do anything else and it really suits me very well. It’s part time and I don’t have to work frightfully hard. What about you?”
“Oh, I’ve gone into the family firm in Spellbridge, as I always knew I should in the end,” he answered. “We’re Brownlow and Son nowadays.”
“Your father hasn’t retired?”
“Not yet. He talks about it sometimes, but in fact he’ll go on till he drops.”
Gavin and his father were both architects. When Gavin had been younger he had looked down on his father’s work and had had ambitions to set up on his own, as far away as possible from the depressing Midland town where he had grown up. But, with middle age approaching, a secure and comfortable income might have acquired greater attractions than it had had in his youth. His father, I knew, was financially a very successful man.
“Do you get on better with each other than you used to?” I asked.
“Oh yes, we get on pretty well,” Gavin answered. “I’ve even moved in with him and Hannah. You remember Hannah?”
I remembered her dimly. I had met her only two or three times. She was Gavin’s younger sister and was almost as good-looking as he was, but had been a shy, rather prickly young woman.
“She hasn’t married?” I said.
“No, she’s always stayed at home and run the house for my father. I’ve tried to get her away from him for her own good, but she only seems to resent it. And he’s pretty possessive where she’s concerned. What about you? You haven’t married again?”
I shook my head. Our drinks had come and the waiter had thrust large menus into our hands. I hoped that Gavin would decide what I should like to eat, as I like most things and large menus always intimidate me.
He studied his with what was apparently concentration, but what he said next had nothing to do with it.
“That’s what I’m going to do myself,” he said.
“Get married again?” The information did not surprise me. The surprising thing really was that it had not happened sooner.
“Yes, next week,” he said. “That’s why I’m in London. I’m buying a present for her. I suppose…” He hesitated, then gave me one of his bright, shy smiles. “I suppose I can’t persuade you to come along and help me choose it. I’m simply no good at that kind of thing.”
“I don’t think I am either, and as I don’t even know her, I’ll be quite useless,” I said. “But I’ll come and look on if it’ll help to give you self-confidence. What’s it going to be? Diamonds?”<
“No, not diamonds. I gave diamonds to Kay.”
I had never known what he had felt about his divorce from Kay.
“Whom are you marrying?” I asked. “Tell me about her.”
But at that point the waiter intervened and I remembered that Gavin was one of the people who have to have their food chosen for them, so after all I had to take the responsibility for it and helped him to order vichyssoise and blanquette de veau for us both and a bottle of Gewürztraminer.
After that I said again, “Tell me about her, Gavin.”
“Her name’s Rosie,” he said. “Rosalind, which I much prefer, though Rosie suits her somehow. Rosie Flint. The Flints are neighbours of ours. They run a sort of market garden and Rosie’s father, Oliver, does all sorts of other things too, paints a bit and takes wonderful photographs, and I believe he’s written a novel too, though I don’t think it had much notice taken of it. You probably know that sort of person. Lots of talent… I don’t think anything he’s done has ever quite come off, but he’s a very interesting chap. I think her mother, Nora, is really the backbone of the family.”
“But I was asking you about Rosie, not her parents,” I said. “Oh yes, well, I don’t know quite how to describe her.” He blushed slightly. “In my view she’s exceptionally lovely and very intelligent, too. She got a first in social science at University College, but she never parades that, and she’s wonderfully alive, but gentle, too… Oh, hell, how does one describe a girl one’s in love with?”
“I suppose it’s rather difficult.”
“The trouble is…”
Of course there was bound to be trouble. Gavin, apart from his work, at which I had always had the impression that he was notably gifted, was a most incompetent person who could find his way into trouble even when there seemed to be no possible risk of it.
“Yes?” I said.
“She’s only twenty-three and I’m nearly forty.”
“Seventeen years,” I said. “Well, I shouldn’t worry too much about it. You’re wearing very well. People don’t age as rapidly as they used to.”
“But don’t you realize that when she’s only fifty I’ll be approaching seventy?”
“I’m glad you’re thinking so far ahead. That must be a good sign.”
“Do you really think so?” He looked bashfully pleased. “When you’ve once made the sort of hash of things that I did with Kay, you feel pretty scared of trying again. But yes, I think you’re right, I think it’s going to work out this time.”
“After all, Kay’s a rather difficult person, isn’t she?” I said. “I’ve always been fond of her, but I’ve always thought one would have to be very strong-minded to live with her day in, day out.”
“That’s the truth. And I was only just strong-minded enough to step back from the brink before it was too late. D’you know, I don’t know what I might have done if I’d gone on living with her. But I’ll tell you something, Virginia. One of the things I’ve always been grateful to you for was that you never took sides when things between Kay and me were coming apart. Most people did, my father and Hannah, for instance. They didn’t understand Kay and they were entirely on her side, which actually didn’t help her or me in the least. But thinking about all that has just given me an idea. I think it’s a rather splendid idea…”
He was interrupted by the waiter returning and putting our bowls of vichyssoise before us.
Felix has told me since then that that was when I should have started to feel apprehensive. He has claimed that if only I had remembered how badly most of Gavin’s good ideas turned out I should have saved myself a great deal of distress and trouble. That, however, is the sort of thing that it is very easy to say after an event. Felix has always been strong on hindsight. It can sometimes make him sound very wise. But I am sure there was no reason at the time why I should have felt anything but a mild curiosity about Gavin’s splendid idea. As he and I started on our soup I waited for him to go on.
He gave me a warm smile. “How would you like to be a witness at the wedding?” he asked. “You were a witness when Kay and I were married and you’re one of my oldest friends. I do wish you’d do it.”
“Yes, Felix and I were the witnesses, weren’t we?” I said. “I’d hardly call that a good omen for the second time around.”
“Please do it,” he said. “You always give me a sort of feeling of security and I need that quite badly at the moment. You see, almost everybody is against this marriage, partly because of the age difference and partly because I’m divorced. Nora Flint likes me, I think, but I know she had her heart set on a church affair for Rosie, with bridesmaids and all, but our vicar won’t hear of that, and my father dislikes the whole Flint family because he despises everything they care about, and Hannah is always against everything I do. I don’t think Oliver’s against it, but he’s totally indifferent to the whole affair and doesn’t care what happens as long as he’s left in peace. So if only you’d come I’d feel I’d got at least one friend to back me up.”
“It’s going to be at a registrar’s, is it?”
“Yes, in Spellbridge. And then perhaps after it you and Felix and Rosie and I could have lunch together and go on afterwards to the reception Nora has set her heart on. I’d prefer it if Rosie and I could just go away quietly after we’d signed up, but Nora really wants to put on some sort of show, so we’ve agreed to it. She’d be awfully hurt if we hadn’t. But you will come, won’t you? Can you get away from your work? You could stay at the house for a night or two and not in one of those awful Spellbridge hotels.”
I was staring at him. “Did you say Felix and I?”
He frowned deeply into his soup, as if, after all, it had not been what he wanted.
“Yes,” he said. “I know I ought to have said that first. Felix is going to be the other witness. Do you mind?”
I thought about it for a moment. I have never pretended that I mind meeting Felix. The truth is, I usually enjoy it if I do not have to see too much of him.
“It isn’t an insuperable difficulty,” I said. “But if he’s going to be there you’ll have at least one friend with you.”
“Only it would be so nice if you’d come too.”
“How did you get hold of him?”
“I asked him over the phone a few days ago. We’ve always kept in touch, though we don’t meet often. But he never mentions you, so I’ve never been sure if you were a painful subject. But if you aren’t, that’s fine. I can count on you coming, can’t I?”
I nodded. “Yes, if you want me.”
So that was how, a week later, Felix and I met again after a rather longer interval than usual. It was at least six months since I had seen him last. I had often thought that it would have been better for us both if we had broken off our connection completely, but he had never seemed to have the same feeling. He had a way of insinuating himself into my life from time to time, sometimes because he had got it into his head, usually mistakenly, that I could help him with some problem that had arisen, sometimes because something had brought him into my neighbourhood and he wanted free lodging for the night, and sometimes, apparently, because he simply felt that he would like a little of my company.
Oddly enough, it was hardly ever to borrow money. He did not mind helping himself from my handbag to pay the bill when he took me out to dinner, but that was a habit that he had got into when we were married and he had never thought that he ought to give it up. He often borrowed from unwary people who certainly never saw their money again, but not from me, though he must have known that I should have found it very difficult to refuse him if he had ever asked me for any, always supposing that I had some to spare myself. My salary did not amount to much and the money that I had inherited from my parents had shrunk with inflation, though the house that they had left me and to which I had returned after Felix and I separated had been a great help. But he seemed to have scruples about asking me directly for money, though he must often have needed it. He had scruples about all kinds of things, but what principle there was behind them had always been a mystery to me. He undoubtedly had a conscience of a kind; I had never been able to fathom how it worked.
After my lunch with Gavin he and I had gone to a jeweller whom he happened to know and Gavin had chosen a necklace for Rosie made of strands of different-coloured gold. I did not really help him to choose it but when he had decided on it I told him that if anyone had given me such a thing I should have been very happy. There had been a time when Felix gave me lavish presents and I had delighted in them until I found out that he had a way of acquiring them without ever paying for them. He had been, and I was sure still was, an expert shoplifter. The discovery had been one of the first things that brought discord into our marriage. To this day I am not sure how much of my distress was on moral grounds and how much it had been simply that I had been horribly frightened, certain that sooner or later he was bound to be caught. But somehow this had never happened. He was both cautious and very adroit and had never been detected.
