Gently with the Ladies (Inspector George Gently 13)

her bosom heaving silently. She made no effort to say anything. The little whimper was all. She stood defenceless and as it were naked, under the weight of their eyes. Then Mrs Bannister snapped something in French. And Albertine began blurting her head off.
    She was using French, and it was much too fast and idiomatic for Gently to follow. She had fallen on her knees before Mrs Bannister and was passionately wringing her hands as the words poured from her. Mrs Bannister apparently understood. She interposed short stabbing questions. She was very pale. At one moment she closed her eyes as though in pain.
    Gently looked at Reynolds, who was staring furiously, but he only shook his head. Fazakerly however was straining forward and seemed to be gathering a little of what was said. He was frowning and clenching and unclenching his fists. At last he flung himself on the settee.
    ‘The poor bloody bitch!’ he exclaimed. ‘No, no, you can’t send the poor whore up for that.’
    ‘For what?’ Gently said.
    ‘Sybil’ll tell you. Oh hell. It breaks your heart.’
    He sat punching his fists together and scowling at the carpet.
    Albertine finished. She sank on the floor, moaning and giving little shudders. Mrs Bannister, her face white, found a chair and sat. She looked pitifully at Gently.
    ‘Did you understand?’ she asked.
    ‘No.’
    ‘I suppose I must tell you. Though it isn’t very pretty.’
    ‘I understood,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘If you like I’ll tell him, Sybil.’
    Mrs Bannister looked at Brenda Merryn. Her hand lifted and fell.
    ‘I think I’ve got it right,’ Brenda Merryn said. ‘Albertine had a weakness for jewellery, isn’t that so?’
    Mrs Bannister nodded. ‘She sometimes borrows it. She doesn’t steal it, it always comes back.’
    ‘She knew Clytie was lunching with you on Monday and that Clytie never locked her door, so she made an excuse to her friend and slipped back to borrow some ear-rings for a dance they were going to. Then she saw the necklace and thought she’d have that. But Clytie came back and she had to hide. She had to stay there while I was with Clytie and until after the row, when Siggy had left. Then she tried to slip out and Clytie caught her. Clytie knew about Albertine’s weakness. She made Albertine turn out her bag and there were the necklace and the ear-rings. She threatened Albertine; either Albertine did what she wanted, or Clytie would have her arrested. She forced Albertine down on the settee with her. Albertine saw the pin. She got it. She hit Clytie.’
    ‘I couldn’t stand her dirty tricks,’ Albertine wailed. ‘I am decent, Monsieur. I pulled down the little silver rolling-pin and I made her a good woman.’
    Brenda Merryn nodded. ‘That’s about it. She made Clytie a good woman.’
     
    Half-an-hour later they had everything: the ear-rings, also recovered from the dustbin; a dress, blood-spotted on the front and sleeves; and a pair of blood-spotted gloves. The dress and gloves were found stuffed into a shoe-box and hidden behind Albertine’s wardrobe. She had intended putting them in the furnace downstairs but had been prevented by the presence of Dobson. The ear-rings were paste and of small value. Because they were wrapped in tissue Dobson had missed them.
    ‘What’ll happen to her?’ Fazakerly asked Gently, as they watched Albertine being taken to the lift.
    Gently shrugged massively. ‘Probably not much. Nobody’ll want to throw the book at her.’
    ‘Would it help if I briefed a top counsel.’
    ‘It might help you feel better. It’s not necessary.’
    ‘You’re a cynical so-and-so, Monsieur.’
    ‘Just answering a question,’ Gently grunted.
    Fazakerly went. Sarah Johnson went after him, though he pretended not to notice her. Mrs Bannister, still looking ghostlike, retired into her flat and bolted the door. Brenda Merryn was left. She came up to Gently. They were on the landing outside the Bannister flat. She stood in front of him, looking up, her face slack, her eyes weary.
    She gave a little sigh. ‘All over, George.’
    Gently didn’t say anything. Her face was ugly with blotched make-up and there was grime on her chin.
    ‘Is it always like this at the end – just feeling empty and dragged to death?’
    ‘Is that how you feel?’
    ‘Don’t you? As though none of it mattered a damn anyway.’ She let her head lean to one side. ‘But perhaps it’s different for you,’ she said. ‘You see it professionally. It’s a