A Death in Diamonds (Her Majesty the Queen Investigates #4)

by S.J. Bennett

We must have you down for the weekend. I’m sure Topsy would love to meet you.’

But would she want to meet topsy?

He asked who’d designed her ‘delectable’ dress, and gave her his full attention when she told him about Auntie Eva.

Pukes in mouth.

Joan had come across various Government background papers on the subject in the course of her work, and was at least as well informed on the latest developments as they were, but it was clear her opinion wasn’t wanted.

These two could easily hold their own at a royal reception, as long as they weren’t asked to speak.

Had life been like this for the dead woman in diamonds? Joan wondered.

And from the look the girl gave her, she realised she was the only person at the table who had been so innocent.

Joan knew somehow that Hector Ross would be waiting up for her and used the time to shed all the hot, bitter tears she could manage.

Nasty man.

It mattered, because she thought that when she entered the new worlds of the Private Office and Dolphin Square, she had become a different person. One who was taken seriously. One who mattered herself.

All he saw was a cheap little Irish tart who would sleep with him for her dinner and be grateful. No need to ask.

I hope he's hit by a bus.

When he asked about her family, he’d been privately amusing himself with how the other half lived.

Had tonight’s introduction been arranged deliberately? Not just to humiliate her, but to use her to get closer to the Queen? She remembered thinking that of the two brothers, if anyone was responsible for the plot it would be Tony.

She loathed Tony Radnor-Milne, loathed his brother for making the introduction, and his brother’s insipid wife for assuming the worst of her. But that didn’t mean to say they were traitors. Only that they might be.

He was like that at Oxford. Although back then I seem to remember that it was other people’s ancestral homes that he invited one to.’

Lol.

‘I’m not related to half of them, like Fiona. One of the men treats me like a speck of dust, another makes no secret of how much he’d love to be rid of me, even though I do half his typing, on top of my own work.

I’m nice as hell to the secretaries, but they cold-shoulder me too. They were lovely before I got promoted and I’d swear I haven’t changed.’

It reminded her of Bletchley, standing outside the huts, looking up at the sky and praying for the citizens of Coventry and the East End, the submariners in the Atlantic, the fighter pilots heading out to France.

The taste of tobacco in her mouth brought back the camaraderie and terror, the intense pressure and a never-to-be-repeated lust for life that they had shared in the midst of it all. It was strangely uplifting.

‘He’s a very successful man,’ Hector said. ‘If I could afford to put money in one of his companies I’d probably make a fortune. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t an outright bloody blackguard.’

She had the impression that, sweetly, he would have liked to have ridden in on his charger and rescued her from Tony’s evil clutches. Instead, he’d made her cocoa.

The men of the Billy Hill gang didn’t normally try to assist the police in any way – except by providing work for them to do.

However, Buenos Aires eventually came up with a match, and now the information was flooding in. Rodriguez was of interest to police forces in four continents.

‘Rodriguez was a gambler,’ he pointed out. ‘He liked to spend time in a club in Tangier called the Chamberlain, overlooking the Mediterranean. That club is partly owned by a company that has an interest in the Raffles escort agency. At least one of your associates is a regular customer of Raffles, and Rodriguez also liked to visit when he was in town.

‘He could have quite easily organised the disappearance of your speech,’ Joan suggested. ‘He has the senior ladies in the typing pool wrapped around his finger.’

‘Sir Hugh looked into it for himself when he got back from Paris. Apparently, the instruction had come directly from the Embassy there – and it had come from Sir Hugh himself.’ ‘Oh!’ ‘A junior girl swore that Sir Hugh had spoken to her personally on the telephone. If someone was doing an impression, it was a good one.’

Whoever he is, he’d just stop for a while. I need him to carry on so we can find him. Ideally, before he does any real damage.’

At lunchtime, she was surprised by the arrival of two dozen long-stemmed pink roses, with a note saying, ‘I hope you’re not allergic to these’.

Romantic.

Was this some sort of double bluff? Or was he really so self-opinionated that he assumed she would only reject him if she was genuinely physically incapacitated? She gave the bouquet to the secretaries.

‘Oh, that! He means no harm. His wife, Lady Jessica, is quite intimidating. I’m not surprised he enjoys little distractions.’

That is so gross.

‘Harmless fun, but I wouldn’t go, if I were you. Lady Jessica – Topsy, we call her – doesn’t like it. And it’s her home, after all.’

Imagine a women not wanting to see her husband hit on other women at her own house.

‘Tony married into money. And nobility. Topsy’s the niece of the Marquess of Middlesex. Of course, Tony’s a millionaire in his own right now, but the Abbey is hers, strictly speaking. It’s been in her family for generations.’

What about Tony’s family?’ Joan asked. ‘Lawyers, I think. His grandfather worked at the Old Bailey.

‘He likes to give the impression he’s the Lord God Almighty, but he’s terribly bourgeois. His father had to save for him to go to Eton.’

Ooo.

‘He got a first in PPE, went into the City and made a fortune in rubber during the war, selling essentials to the military.’

‘There was a big demand for rubber in the army. It set him up for life. Now Tony has fingers in pies all over the place. He’s very good at anticipating the next big thing. He’s expanded into oil and plastics. Something to do with aviation – jet planes, I think. They need materials that can withstand high temperatures.’

You know about Ross, I suppose. Damn sad story. Wife ran off with the family doctor.’

Ross was busy clearing up a lot of difficult situations in Europe. Away a lot, as he had been during the fighting, of course. His wife volunteered at the local cottage hospital. Fell for the sawbones. Wouldn’t leave Ross, wouldn’t exactly stay. Dashed awkward for all concerned.’

Before, it had always looked easy enough to sit and wave, or stand and wave, or walk around and shake a few hands and nod at a piece of machinery. But knowing as she did that every ten-minute slot was accounted for, and each half-hour included a hundred people who could be inadvertently insulted if they weren’t smiled at or asked the right question, and twenty pressmen who would be happy to capture the moment on celluloid if it happened, Joan saw each day as an endurance test.

She’s made of Scottish granite, that woman. Sterling individual.

But Bobo seemed to think it was Her Majesty’s makeup ointments. She’d been trying it out because it “smelled funny”, if you can believe it. Obviously, she had some sort of sensitivity, or it might have been an allergy, I suppose.

Someone was after the queen.

‘Bobo’s face cream ran out, so I said she could use mine. She said it wasn’t the smell that worried her, so much as the fact that it didn’t have a smell. She knows Elizabeth Arden. It wasn’t quite the right colour, either – too grey – but it was a new tube and the packaging had been intact. So she smoothed some on her face and within a matter of hours, her skin erupted.’

And the housekeeper at the residence was rather mean to her, but of course one couldn’t say anything.’

‘I mean, face cream! Honestly! And itching powder – that’s what it must have been, some industrial version of it. It’s such a schoolboy prank, isn’t it? Like apple-pie beds and buckets on doors.’

By the time Bobo thought to look for it, half the residence knew about her skin reaction. Several servants had been in and out of our rooms, any one of whom might have spirited it away.

‘Sir Hugh’s brother is a world-class chemist.’

He’s an expert in insulin manufacture. I can’t believe he’d do anything so petty and juvenile. But if his brother asked him to, and said it was a joke

No friend wishes you ill, and if anything were to happen your popularity would only soar, and your enemies would suffer.’ ‘My enemies?’ ‘If you have any.

Hush ding bat.

‘Behind the scenes, they have a lot to say about the British Empire, ma’am, not all of it favourable. But they’re complimentary about you personally. Were it not for your focus on friendship, things would have been much more difficult.’

Feel like that's true now.

Macmillan gave her a warm, paternal smile and a look that suggested if he could have patted her on the hand, he would have.

Chop off his hand.

I need hardly remind you, we’re locked out of their atomic programme, we’ve lost the trust of the CIA …’

*smack.*

And she must do it without being able to trust the food she ate, the people she travelled with, or even the contents of her vanity case.