Chapter 19 As English as YouMe #2
“You knew?” said George as Honor paced around the office, alternately smoking and biting a thumbnail. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? For Pete’s sake, of all the—”
“We didn’t know he’d worked out it was you!” said Honor. “He thought George was a man.”
George looked at her with a mixture of bemusement and exasperation. “We? Are you going to explain, or—”
“I don’t want you to upset yourself. Let’s go downstairs and have a drink, at least.”
She followed Honor out of the room. “You know what this means,” she said.
“All my lovers…” She paused. “I mean, the few men within a certain time frame… they’re going to end up murder suspects, aren’t they?
A jealous lover is textbook motivation. I won’t be perceived as having a motive.
Not unless… Oh God, Comyns doesn’t know about me being Jimmy’s sister, does he? ”
“No, no, of course not, I—”
“Why of course not? How am I meant to understand anything when you won’t even tell me who he was, or how the hell we were related?”
In the drawing room, Honor made them both a stiff drink.
Then she told George about Robbie and Jimmy having an affair, about the barmaid at the King’s Arms overhearing them arguing about someone called George, about Robbie swearing Honor to secrecy.
“I did say, though. I did warn him we might have to tell you. I’m sorry, George. But you can see my position.”
“I think I’m going to be sick. I wasn’t even aware Robbie was… I mean, I had my suspicions. We all did, didn’t we. But… well, I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“It’s all been very hard on him. On top of everything else, he has to worry about being arrested for this other thing.”
George remembered her conversation with Robbie on the stairs, after he’d fled the scene of Jimmy’s death. “Have you any idea why he formed this misapprehension in the first place? About Jimmy and me, I mean?”
As Honor began explaining that Robbie had seen George in Jimmy’s bed, there was the sound of a key in the front door, then someone wiping their feet.
“It’s Robbie,” said George. “That’s his step.” She raised her voice. “Robbie, can you come in here, please?”
“George,” said Honor in a warning tone.
He entered the room in his shirtsleeves. He looked younger than his years, thought Honor. Younger and extra vulnerable. He’d shaved that day, and the sun had brought out some freckles on his forehead.
“So apparently,” said George, a nasty edge to her voice, “our chum Detective Inspector Comyns is apprised of this supposed… well, I’m not going to say love triangle. I daresay he might, though. How could you keep this from me, Robbie? Do you have any idea what it must look like?”
As George spoke, Robbie stood there and stared miserably at the floor.
“I didn’t have time to tell you,” he said. “When you went down to speak to him, I’d only just learned that he knew.”
“And you’ve not had ample opportunity to tell me since?” She pushed back a lock of hair irritably. “So you were jealous? How extraordinary. You know, I had a feeling, back then, that you were giving me the cold shoulder. But you’ve never liked me, so I didn’t think much of it.”
Robbie sat down next to her. “I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. I never ought to have kept it from you. Any of it. All I can say is that I’ve not been in my right mind. All of this, it’s scrambled my brain. I feel ill all the time. I can’t sleep. I can’t think straight.”
The doorbell rang. “Oh blast,” said George. “That’ll be Rory.” She stood up. “This conversation isn’t over.”
“Robbie, you’ve got to pull yourself together,” said Honor.
“I agree, it’s not ideal that Comyns seems to have got his teeth into this idea—the love triangle, as George put it—but remember, he’s got it wrong.
And if you think about it logically, if either of you had killed Jimmy in a jealous rage, why would you be covering up for each other? ”
He shakily lit a cigarette and nodded. “Yes. Yes, if you put it like that, I suppose…” He frowned.
“But you know what I’d hypothesize if I were him?
That in the scenario you describe, we’d both be compelled to cover it up due to the risk of scandal.
I mean, if either of us were charged with Jimmy’s murder, the whole sorry imbroglio would be publicized! ”
“You’re thinking too hard about it,” she said. “Remember, not only are you in possession of the real facts, but you’re also far more intelligent than Comyns.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure. He’s clever. You said so yourself. He’s not some bumbling bobby.”
Honor was trying to stay positive for Robbie’s sake.
But she couldn’t argue with that, not convincingly.
“Look,” she said, “what has he actually got? A barmaid’s claim to have overheard things.
Snatches of conversation in a busy, noisy public house.
That wouldn’t stand up in court, would it? It’s hearsay. Inadmissible evidence.”
He smiled ruefully. “You sound like Mina. But even if that’s true, don’t you think we ought to try and—I don’t know—help Comyns focus on a different theory?”
“And how do you propose we do that, exactly?”
He thought about it, smoke billowing dragon-like from his nostrils. “A suicide note! You could say you’ve realized a letter from Jimmy arrived some weeks ago, but it got hidden or lost until now. I can forge his handwriting. The letter could say goodbye, don’t blame yourself, et cetera.”
“What about the postmark on the envelope? That can’t be forged, can it?”
“We could reuse an old envelope somehow. Or say it was hand-delivered. Wait—even better, that he pushed it under your bedroom door and it went beneath the carpet. Then when they find the motorcar at London Bridge, it will all make sense.”
Honor shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know. I think you’re panicking. Let’s not rush into unwise decisions. I say we wait for the time being. Let’s see if the whole thing doesn’t blow over.”
As soon as she said the words, she realized how silly they sounded. Trouble like this didn’t just blow over. Not without enormous luck. And Honor knew better than to rely on luck.