On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service Read online

  Camilla stood up. “Lieutenant Klinker, I’m so very sorry. What an awful ordeal. Let me have someone run a bath for you and get you out of those wet clothes immediately. And I’ll have brandy sent up to your room.” Then she must have remembered that we were in the middle of an interrogation. “If that is permissible, Assistant Chief? I cannot let one of my guests catch pneumonia.”

  “Very good. You may allow one of your servants to take care of this man.”

  Klinker shook his head and said something in German.

  “He says he does not wish to cause any inconvenience. He was trying to find a back way to gain access to the house so that he was not seen in this embarrassing condition. But he is quite capable of taking care of his own needs.”

  “Oh no, Lieutenant Klinker,” Camilla said. “It will be no trouble to have one of our footmen look after you. You’ve had a horrible experience.” She started to usher Klinker to the door.

  Stratiacelli motioned to one of his officers. “Go with them, Bernardo. Keep watch at all times.”

  He waited until the little procession had left. “Now we return to our business,” he said. “The matter of fingerprints. Do not move. My man will be with you shortly.”

  And he left us.

  “Impossible, annoying little man,” Mrs. Simpson said. “Paolo, we must telephone the British consul and have His Highness taken from this place before the press gets wind of the murder.” She turned to glare at me. “And why you had to notice the gun in the wrong hand and couldn’t have left this as a convenient suicide I can’t think, Georgiana. Look at the trouble and annoyance you’ve put us through now.”

  Frankly I was beginning to think the same thing. Rudolf had not been my favorite person. He had been blackmailing at least one person in this house, probably more. He was probably also Hitler’s spy. So why should I have cared that someone took his life? I suppose it was that wretched Rannoch upbringing that instilled a sense of duty and honor at all times. “I’m sorry,” I managed to mumble. “I did what I thought was right at the time.”

  “And now you’ve got your poor mother into deep trouble,” Mrs. Simpson went on. She was clearly enjoying this part. “I don’t know how she’s going to get out of this. Not if that little man has his way. Do they have the guillotine in Italy? Or the firing squad?”

  Mummy gave a little gasp of fright.

  “Wallis!” the Prince of Wales said. “That was quite inappropriate.”

  “Sorry, honey. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

  “Hardly going to lighten it by relating the various ways I could be executed,” Mummy said angrily.

  “Don’t worry, mein Liebling. I will make sure you are safe,” Max said. “If necessary we will take one of the speedboats and whisk you to Switzerland.”

  A young policeman came in, looking horribly embarrassed. “Mi scusino, signori,” he said and opened his fingerprint kit on one of the tables. One by one he took our prints and then made a getaway as fast as he could, murmuring, “Grazie, signori. Grazie.”

  “Well, that’s finished,” Paolo’s mother said. “Now for luncheon. Father Francisco, you may escort me.” She waited for him to take her arm and they left the room.

  “I suppose we may join them,” Camilla said, glancing at Paolo. “I’ve no idea whether the servants have been allowed to prepare a meal or whether they too have been questioned by the assistant chief.”

  She headed for the door. The others followed. As I went to follow I was dragged back by a grip of steel on my arm. Mummy held me as the others disappeared through the door.

  “Georgie, you’ve got to help me,” she whispered. “If they find those photographs I’ll hang, or be shot by a firing squad or whatever they do here. I’m done for. You’re the only person who can save me.”

  “I don’t really know what I can do,” I said. “I have already searched in the obvious places. He may have stuck the photographs into a book in the library, but I can’t go through all those volumes, and neither will the police. They are not looking for photographs.”

  “They must be in his room. They must be,” she insisted. “We could go up now, while the others are at lunch. The police must have finished dusting his room for fingerprints.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” I hissed back at her. “If we are caught in his room, searching for something, do you not think that might make Stratiacelli even more convinced that you are guilty?”

  “Then you go for me,” she said. “He doesn’t know you are my daughter. If you’re caught you can just say you were curious, or you made a mistake and went into the wrong door.”

  “Mummy, I don’t think one enters the room of a murdered person by mistake.”

  “Then think of something, please. For God’s sake, Georgie. It may be now or never.”

  She was clinging to my arm as if she was a drowning person and I was a tree limb. And she was shaking. What could I do? “All right. I’ll give it a try,” I said.

  She hurried down the hall, calling out brightly, “Max, darling. Wait for little moi.”

  I climbed the stairs, one by one, each step feeling heavier and heavier. The upstairs corridor seemed to stretch out forever. I reached Rudolf’s room. The door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open cautiously, one inch and then one inch more. The room appeared to be empty. I took a deep breath and stepped inside, tiptoeing over the carpet that covered most of the floor. I noticed that white feather still lying a foot or so from the bed. There was a strange and unpleasant smell. A burned odor, not only that of gunpowder but of something else I couldn’t quite identify. I also caught a whiff of the smell of blood and the smell of death. The bed was now empty, the body having been removed, but the pillow was dark brown with dried blood and blood spatters decorated the pink wallpaper above the brass bedstead. I had an urge to rush over to the French doors and let in some good fresh air.

  But I knew I might only have a few moments. I looked around the room. If I were Rudi, where would I hide something I didn’t want found? Certainly not in one of the drawers of that armoire beside the bed, nor the vanity. There was a similar wardrobe to mine on the right side of the room. That looked big enough to hold a multitude of secrets. I had no idea how big the photographs were: if they were ordinary snapshots they could be in the pocket of any piece of clothing. I shook my head in despair. An impossible task. But I had promised my mother that I would do my best and a Rannoch never goes back on her word. I had to start somewhere: under the mattress, maybe? That should be my first search as the bed would obviously be stripped in the near future. I stared at that dried blood with distaste and took a deep breath, willing myself to do it.

  As I took a step toward the bed a figure rose up from beyond it. I opened my mouth, but I was so terrified that just the ghost of a scream came out. I stepped backward, lost my balance and careened into the armoire. The vase that had been on it teetered and started to fall. I made a grab at it, but it was too late. The vase crashed to the floor. The person who had risen up from behind the bed looked equally terrified. It was Camilla.

  “Georgie! Oh, my God. You scared the daylights out of me,” she said. “What on earth are you doing in here?”

  “I suppose I could ask the same question of you,” I said, trying to speak and breathe normally. “You were presumably not kneeling on the floor to say your prayers to Mecca.”

  “I was looking for something,” she said. “You too?”

  I nodded.

  “Letters?” she asked.

  “Photographs.”

  “We only have a few minutes. Let’s cooperate,” she whispered. “You take that half of the room and I’ll take the other.”

  “I have to pick up the pieces of that vase first,” I said. “Someone may have heard it falling. It made an awful crash.”

  “Here, let me help.” She came around the bed and we scrabbled on the floor, picking up china.
Luckily it had broken into several big pieces.

  “We must get rid of these before . . .” Camilla whispered. We both froze as we heard the sound of voices coming up the stairs. “Quickly, into my room,” I whispered.

  We dashed to the door and were just opening the door of my room when Stratiacelli’s voice echoed down the hallway. “Where are you going, ladies?”

  We stopped and turned to face him, horribly conscious of the sharp shards of the vase in our hands. “Into my room,” I said. “I wanted to get a handkerchief, but I was afraid to come upstairs alone so the contessa was good enough to come with me.”

  Stratiacelli came closer. I slipped the bits of broken china into my skirt pocket. “This room is yours?” he asked.

  “Of course,” I said. “You may see for yourself if you like.”

  “Next door to the dead man’s room?”

  “That’s right.”

  He came closer and went into my room, prowling around. While his back was turned I saw Camilla tuck her pieces of vase behind a pillow on the bed. Stratiacelli looked up unexpectedly.

  “But on the night of the murder you heard nothing? No gunshot?”

  “I know. I thought that was strange too,” I said. “I’m sure the walls are thick in an old house like this, but a gunshot is a loud noise, isn’t it?”

  “It is. Even a small pistol like the one that killed this man makes a loud sound. You were in this room before midnight?”

  “Oh, I was sound asleep by eleven,” I said.

  “You are a heavy sleeper?”

  “Not usually, but I must have been extra tired. And we did have a lot of wine with dinner. I’m not used to it.”

  “Ah,” he said. “And this man who died. Count Rudolf von Rosskopf. You were acquainted with him?”

  “I only met him when I arrived here two days ago,” I said. “I have never been to Germany and I don’t usually move in smart society.”

  “You are not also an aristocrat? A companion, maybe?”

  “Signor Stratiacelli,” Camilla said in a shocked voice, “this young lady is related to the King of England. She is cousin to the Prince of Wales.”

  “I see. But you do not meet other aristocrats? I thought you people play together, no?” he asked, the hint of a sneer on his face now.

  “I have no money,” I said. “My branch of the family is penniless. I am about to marry a man who is also penniless. I only came to this party because the queen knew I was going to be in Stresa and thought it would be a treat for me to be in such exalted company.”

  Camilla had to translate this for him.

  “Ah,” he said again. “I see.”

  “Lady Georgiana is very upset by this business, Signor Stratiacelli,” Camilla said. “She is delicate by nature. I think we should let her lie down for a while, don’t you?”

  “Very well,” he said. “You may rest, Lady Georgiana. I hope my men do not disturb you when they finish taking fingerprints from the next-door room.”

  He bowed and retreated.

  Chapter 25

  TUESDAY, APRIL 23, AROUND 2:30 P.M.

  Just had a lucky escape.

  “Let’s just hope it is only fingerprints that they find,” Camilla said as the door was closed, leaving us alone.

  “That was close,” I said, removing my hand from the folds of my skirt and holding out the pieces of broken china. “Where can we hide this?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll tell Gerda the policemen knocked it over and have her take the pieces out to the trash.” She managed a little smile of conspiracy.

  It was just beginning to dawn on me that Camilla was a suspect in Rudi’s murder. It was her house, after all. She could come and go as she pleased without anyone noticing. And it seemed that she had a motive. I remembered that she had sneaked up to Rudi’s room earlier that night. And it might have been her I overheard having a tense conversation in his room too.

  “Camilla, was Rudolf blackmailing you?” I asked.

  Her face went white. “How did you know?”

  “You were searching for letters, you said. You were taking a tremendous risk, going into the dead man’s room while the police are still in the house, so I figured it must be very important to you.”

  “Very important?” Her voice had an edge to it. “A matter of life and death.” She sank down onto my bed. “Oh, Georgie, it’s been so awful. A nightmare.”

  I sat beside her. For a while she stared at her hands. One of them had a small cut from those sharp edges of china. We watched as blood oozed from it. Then she said, “I did a foolish thing. Something I shall regret for the rest of my life.”

  “You let Rudolf seduce you?” I asked.

  She looked up and nodded, glad that she hadn’t had to spell it out herself. “So stupid of me. But you know how things are with our sort of people. We were at a big party in Monte Carlo. Very glamorous. I—well, I’ve never been the glamorous type. You remember me from school. One of the plain county-set girls, right?”

  I could hardly say yes, so I said, “I don’t think any of us could have been called glamorous or sophisticated at school.”

  She nodded. “I couldn’t believe my luck when Paolo started courting me and then asked me to marry him. It was like a dream come true. I mean, he was handsome. He had the title. One of the oldest families. Anyway, he had to return to Rome suddenly and he left me with the friends in Monte Cosimo. We went out on a yacht. Mostly people I didn’t know. Rudolf started paying attention to me. I was flattered because there were some beautiful women there. We drank a lot. Then he came to my cabin. I had drunk much more than usual and I wasn’t able to fight him off.”

  “He forced himself on you?” I asked, shocked.

  “Well, no. That’s the worst part. I started to fight him off, but the more he went on, the more I found myself giving in, actually enjoying it. In the morning I was horrified at myself. I had to get away as quickly as possible. The yacht was docked in Monte Carlo. I wrote Rudolf a note, telling him I could never see him again and please not to contact me, then I slipped ashore and went home. And I thought that was that.”

  She looked up again, willing me to understand. “Then the letters started arriving. Rudolf had my note, actually incriminating myself, confessing to the night I had spent with him, and he was going to show it to Paolo if I didn’t send him a large sum of money.”

  “So you paid him?”

  “I have some private money from my family. I sent him what he asked for, thinking that would take care of it. But of course it didn’t. He wanted more and more. And the problem was that I couldn’t risk letting Paolo get his hands on that note.”

  “You don’t think he’d understand that you were drunk and that Rudi took advantage of you?”

  She shook her head. “Paolo’s family is very strict on infidelity. It might be a last straw in deciding that I was no longer suitable to be his wife. You see, I can’t have children. We’ve been married three years with no baby on the way so I went to be tested and . . . well, I had a burst appendix when I was twelve and apparently that has ruined my chances. I think Paolo was shattered by the news. He’s an only son. The title would die out with him. And so what better excuse to divorce me for infidelity and marry an Italian girl who can give him lots of babies?”

  I took her hand. She gave me a sad little smile. “Perhaps he loves you for the person you are, Camilla. And now there is every chance that you are free. Rudolf’s secret has died with him.”

  “God, I hope so.” She gave a long sigh. Then something occurred to her and she looked up at me. “Was he also blackmailing you?” she asked. “Did he also force himself upon you?”

  “He tried to on the train coming here,” I said. “But no, I’d never met him before. It’s my mother he’s blackmailing.”

  “Golly.” Camilla looked surprised.

  “In
her case he had a hidden camera and took pictures. Her situation is like yours. Max is quite prudish and the photographs were, shall we say, risqué? She’s been living in fear since she found he was a fellow guest at this party. What on earth did you invite him for?”

  “I didn’t!” Camilla exclaimed. “I nearly died of fright myself when he showed up on the doorstep. Apparently Uncle Cosimo had told Paolo he wanted to host some Germans—good for Italian/German understanding, he said. I had no idea that Rudolf would be one of them.”

  “Let’s just hope that the police don’t search that room too well,” I said. “I did look through the rest of the house to the best of my ability, but I think he must have kept things in his own room. The door was locked when he went out.”

  “Yes, I know. I tried it too.”

  “You must have access to the servants’ key,” I said. “Why didn’t you take that?”

  “It’s not that easy. Signora Follini, our housekeeper, keeps the duplicate keys on her belt,” she said. “She takes them to bed with her at night. She hands them out when servants ask for them. I suppose I could have just demanded the key, but I couldn’t think of a good reason. And there was never a moment when I wouldn’t risk being seen.”

  “I saw you coming out of his room yesterday evening,” I said.

  “Yes. I did manage to get in there once. I’d tried a few times, but this time he left his door unlocked. I did search in all the likely places, but I only had a few minutes while my hand was dummy so I had to get back to the table.”

  “If you couldn’t find anything in the likely places, there’s a good chance the police won’t find anything either,” I said.

  “A good chance, yes,” she said. “Let’s just say a little prayer, shall we?”

  “Get your tame priest to pray for you,” I said, before realizing that this might not be the thing to say to a die-hard Catholic.