Gently with the Ladies (Inspector George Gently 13)

set with an agate.
    ‘Of course, I know nothing of these affairs, and I should prefer to retain my ignorance, but isn’t it unusual for you to be consulted on such a straightforward case?’
    Gently shrugged. ‘Is it straightforward?’
    ‘I don’t see how you can make it a mystery. It isn’t a mystery to me, I assure you, and I made a plain statement of what I know of it. Have you caught him yet?’
    ‘He came to my office.’
    ‘Ah, that explains it – trust Siggy to be devious!’
    ‘Siggy?’
    ‘His second name is Sigismund. For some reason, Siggy seemed to suit him.’
    ‘I take it you didn’t like him, Mrs Bannister.’
    She made a beautifully controlled gesture. ‘In the end I didn’t care either way, because I saw very little of him. He was about as conspicuous as an outdoor cat and had much the same place in Clytemnestra’s household. She fed him and gave him a corner on a wet night. That was all.’
    ‘They were completely estranged.’
    ‘If you wish.’
    ‘She didn’t care what he did with himself.’
    ‘Oh dear! Do you need me to make it plainer? If he’d done it quietly, he might have gone and hung himself.’
    ‘That’s been my impression,’ Gently said.
    ‘I’m glad, so glad. I thought you had missed it.’
    ‘But doesn’t that make it a little strange that they should quarrel violently over another woman?’
    Her bold eyes challenged him again, implying an impertinence to be stared down.
    ‘Well,’ she said, ‘you’d best take a seat. If you want to be clever, it will take time.’
    Gently silently chose a Sheraton chair and turned it back to the windows. Mrs Bannister frowned at him for some seconds, then went to give a tug to a tasselled bell-pull. Albertine entered. Mrs Bannister addressed her in a stream of resonant French. Albertine curtseyed and withdrew. Mrs Bannister took her seat on the settee. She caught Gently’s eye.
    ‘Well?’
    ‘I was wondering . . . is your maid’s name really Albertine?’
    ‘It most certainly is. There would be no satisfaction in having a false Albertine.’ Her stare held for a moment, then she grudgingly gave him a smile. ‘For a policeman,’ she said, ‘you seem to be a very determined reader.’
    ‘Did you get her by accident?’
    ‘Oh no. One must take trouble over worthwhile things. We interviewed maids by the dozen in Paris before we discovered
our
Albertine.’
    ‘We?’
    ‘Does that surprise you? Clytemnestra was no illiterate. And here’s a little test for you, Superintendent: Albertine actually comes from Illiers.’
    Gently shook his head. ‘I’d have to look that up . . .’
    ‘Then I’ll save you the trouble. Illiers is Combray.’
    Now her smile was triumphant, but it quickly faded again.
    ‘And all that’s past,’ she said dully. ‘As though it had never been . . . so suddenly. And what should be Wagner splitting the skies is just Cole Porter in the next room.’
    ‘Yet you’re wearing no mourning.’
    She pointed to her dress. ‘Not mourning as you’d understand it. But this is the colour she’d expect, the colour of death and love. Her colour: she was the Green Lady. That was the myth she made real.’
    ‘The myth . . . ?’
    Mrs Bannister nodded. ‘Of the woman untouchable by man. The perfect species, the type of the race, from which the male is a biological splinter. You are aware I suppose, being so well read, that that is the current scientific view?’
    Gently hunched. ‘Biology isn’t my subject.’
    ‘Then you may accept the fact from me. The male is a departure from the norm, a specialized carrier of the seed. Probably as a reaction to his situation, which is one of biological inferiority, he has developed an aggressive and self-glorifying ego which in turn has given rise to an unstable society. The biological direction is plain and evident. It is towards a diminished status of the male.’
    ‘You mean matriarchy?’
    ‘More than that. The role of the male is biologically narrow. He carries the seed and transmits it. That is his solitary function.’
    ‘Perhaps, but you’ll hardly do without it . . .’
    ‘You have heard of artificial insemination?’
    ‘Yes, but there are psychological factors—’
    ‘Not for me. Not for Clytemnestra.’
    She rested her chin on her clasped hands and stared large-eyed from between her brackets. She was sitting on the settee with her legs tucked under her and had a curious pixie-like appearance. Though she was tall she was perfectly