Tales of the City 04 - Babycakes

were professional partners mostly. Simon was simply the result of … a night of foolishness. It was a stupid mistake, but we salvaged it rather well. Until now.”
Michael hesitated, then asked: “You … didn’t want a baby?”
“No, love.” She smiled at him sweetly. “I wanted a career.”
He nodded.
“I wanted to be a star, if the truth be known, but that wasn’t in the cards. Bunny robbed that hotel in Brighton, and the whole bally world fell apart. If the Bardills hadn’t taken me on as Simon’s nanny …”
“They took you in, knowing that you were Simon’s …?”
“Oh, no! Bunny told them that Simon was the son of a girl in Valletta. He was simply acting as … broker. I imagine they suspected he was the father, but they never said as much. All they really cared about was having a beautiful son to care for.”
“Does Simon think he’s their natural son, then?”
“Everyone does. The Bardills were away from England for almost three years. They told their friends he was born in a Maltese hospital while they were on holiday … which was quite true. Mr. Bardili even had a birth certificate made, I’m not sure how. He was a barrister, you know.”
“But what if Simon …?”
“… had grown up to be little? Well, he didn’t, now. did he?”
“No.”
“It was naughty of us—I admit that—but it solved everyone’s problem at the time.”
Michael looked back at the problem under the duvet. “And … this guy came here to spill the beans … and he expected Simon to give him money for that?”
“Not exactly. He wanted money, yes … but he thought Simon already knew about him.”
“You told him that?”
She nodded. “I thought it would discourage him from seeking out Simon. I’m afraid I was wrong about that. It only sent him into a fury.” She cast a scolding glance at the father of her son. “He has such a temper, that one.”
If there was something appropriate to say under the circumstances, Michael couldn’t think of it. Miss Treves sensed his discomfort and smiled sympathetically. “It’s a bit much, isn’t it?”
He waited a moment longer before asking: “What do you want me to tell the police, then?”
“Everything,” she replied. “Except the reason he came here.” She turned to Wilfred. “That won’t make matters any worse for your father, love. They were both drunk—obviously—and they got into a senseless fracas. Bunny was wandering by on the pavement and … made too much noise, which … distressed your father … and they began to fight. They’ll see that he died of a heart attack, I’m sure.”
Michael wasn’t so sure, “But couldn’t they trace him to Simon?”
“How? I haven’t seen him myself for over twenty years. They have no reason whatsoever to link him with me if …”
“What if Wilfred’s father comes back?”
The kid shook his head. “He won’t, mate.”
Miss Treves gave him a pitying look. “He might, love. I doubt if the police would hold him completely responsible for …”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t care.”
“Of course you care. Don’t be silly.”
Wilfred smiled and shook his head.
Miss Treves raised herself to a sitting position, then sought the floor with her tiny feet. She wobbled a little standing up—because of the brandy, no doubt—but her resolve seemed firm as she strode toward the corpse.
“What are you doing?” Michael asked.
She knelt next to the body. “Looking for something.”
As she searched Bunny Benbow’s pockets, Michael grew increasingly nervous. “I don’t think you should do that. They might be able to tell if …”
“We were looking for identification,” she said curtly. “That’s perfectly understandable. Here!” She had found what she wanted: Benbow’s ragged clipping of the Mirror story— ROVAL RADIOMAN ON FRISCO PLEASURE BINGE . She handed it to Michael. “Burn it, will you, love?”
Michael stuffed it into his pocket. “Is there anything else on him?”
Her frisking produced only a few coins and a St. Christopher medallion. She brushed off her hands and stood up. “Well, now … are we clear on everything?”
“I think so,” said Michael.
She turned to Wilfred. “How about you, love?”
The kid nodded.
“Good. Then I’ll just slip back to …”
“Wait a minute,” blurted Michael. “Where should the body be when the police arrive?”
“My, yes … well … I suppose we should put him back in the hallway, don’t you? That way you can say he burst in when … the