The murder took place later that same day.
Olga Klimt received the call on her landline at half past four in the afternoon. It was a stranger who spoke to her. It was a very pleasant kind of voice, cultivated, very English. The only odd thing was that she couldn’t quite say if it was a man or a woman …
‘Is that Olga? I am a friend of Charlie’s. He asked me to call you. He needs to see you. It’s rather urgent, in a way, but there is nothing to worry about. Could you go to the clinic at once?’
The caller rang off before she could ask any questions.
Olga panicked, she couldn’t help herself. She immediately rang Charlie but his phone was permanently engaged. He couldn’t be that ill then, she reflected, if he was on his phone? Unless someone else was using his phone?
Both the message and the way the person had spoken were very strange, now that she came to think about it. She wondered if it was Mr Bedaux who had phoned her. Mr Bedaux was a good mimic. What if Mr Bedaux was trying to get her outside Philomel Cottage for some reason?
No, nonsense. She couldn’t stay in the house. She must go and see Charlie. It was getting dark but she had nothing to fear, really. All she needed to do was walk to the end of the cul-de-sac and then she would be out in the busy main road, where there were people, traffic, lights. She could run, run like the wind …
She put on her coat. Her hands were shaking slightly. She was scared of Mr Bedaux, of course she was. But he seemed to have disappeared! She hadn’t seen him since that day at the clinic, actually, and Charlie had phoned her earlier on and said he had been unable to get in touch with Bedaux. Well, that was a good thing – wasn’t it? Though, it was also very strange. At one time Mr Bedaux had been phoning her several times a day, asking her how she was, where she was, what she was doing, who she was with, what dress she was wearing …
There was something sinister about his silence. It suggested that Mr Bedaux somehow knew that she had confessed everything to Charlie. The thought caused Olga to shiver.
No, she must go! She picked up her bag and walked resolutely across the hall. She opened the front door and stood on the threshold. Not too cold. Looked like rain.
She glanced around. There was no one in sight. That green refuse bin. She imagined it had moved! No, she was being silly. She didn’t really expect Mr Bedaux to jump out of it! She laughed nervously.
She turned and inserted the key in the lock …
There was something wrong with the key – it refused to turn or perhaps it was her – she was nervous – she’d heard a noise – plaintive wailing – the kitten was mewing in the hall, scratching the door –
Her hands were shaking really badly now. What was wrong with the key?
The knife had been carefully sharpened and it entered the girl’s back without any resistance.
She didn’t so much as utter a sound, only a kind of a gasp.
She pitched forward and fell.
There wasn’t much blood but some of it seeped into her luminously blonde hair.
‘What seems to be the problem now?’ The Nanny Everett nurse stood at the end of the bed, regarding him with her faintly censorious expression.
‘I can’t get my girlfriend. She isn’t answering her mobile.’ Charles Eresby glanced at the clock on the wall. It was quarter to six.
‘No need to get into a state,’ the nurse said comfortably. ‘Perhaps she is on the Tube. No network if you are on the Tube. You should know that.’
‘Maybe she is on the Tube, yes.’
He didn’t know why he felt so anxious.
He had had a call earlier on. Someone from his bank had phoned him and kept talking to him for a very long time. Now that he thought about it there had been something wrong about that call. The person’s voice had sounded muffled – as though he didn’t want to be recognised?
I mustn’t get paranoid, Charlie thought. His heart was beating rapidly. It must be the coffee, he decided. He was drinking too much coffee. That was it.
‘Would that be the young lady who paid you a visit the other day? The fair-haired young lady?’
‘Yes, that’s her.’ He had no intention of discussing Olga with the Nanny Everett nurse.
‘Were you expecting her?’
‘No. Not really. Not tonight. She said she would come tomorrow morning. I – I just wanted to talk to her.’ Charles Eresby looked down at his mobile phone and once more he pressed Olga’s number.
He held the mobile to his ear. Please, leave a message.
‘It will be the six o’clock news soon,’ said the nurse. ‘Would you like me to turn on the TV?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Would you like a drink? A cup of tea?’
‘No, nothing, thank you. I have a bit of a headache, actually.’ Charles Eresby lay back on his bed and shut his eyes.
‘You won’t be able to go to sleep later on if you start snoozing now,’ she warned him.
She clearly didn’t see she was being a nuisance. If he had had a Pierrot, he would have thrown it at her!
Eventually he heard her leave the room. He knew she meant well but she could be annoying … He mustn’t be ungrateful … They had been taking very good care of him here … No, he didn’t feel like going back to Sloane Square … and to Bedaux … There was no question of his keeping Bedaux … If Bedaux tried to bother Olga in any way, he would call the police … He hoped Olga’s silence didn’t have anything to do with Bedaux … He had no need of a valet … Ridiculous idea, when one came to think of it … ‘George V valet’ … That was private code for death, if Charlie remembered correctly, the invention of some controversial politician, now dead. No, not for death exactly, rather, for fear of dying while asleep and being found by a servant the following morning … How morbid that was!
No more valets, Charlie thought.
‘Sorry, sir, but there is a message for you.’
Charlie opened his eyes.
It was the young nurse with the silly snub-nosed face. She was standing by the door.
‘What message?’
‘Someone phoned – they left a number for you to call – they said it was very urgent.’ Coming up to the bed, she handed him a slip of paper.
Charles Eresby stared down at the number. It was a mobile phone number he didn’t recognise. For some reason, he didn’t quite know why, he didn’t like the look of it. ‘Didn’t the caller leave a name?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Man or woman?’
‘Can’t say, sir. I thought it was a gentleman at first but I am not sure. I think it was someone who knew you were here, with us, but they didn’t know your mobile number.’
He nodded. ‘That makes sense. Thank you, nurse.’
The door closed behind her.
He dialled the number.
His call was answered almost at once.
‘Hallo?’ Charlie said. ‘Hallo? Who is that?’
There was a silence but he could hear someone’s laboured breathing.
‘Hallo? You left a message – It’s Charles Eresby speaking –’
‘Olga Klimt is dead,’ a voice said. ‘Exactly as you wanted it. Now it’s your turn. You’ll need to do your part of the deal.’