The Christie Caper - Carolyn Hart [52]
Annie wanted very much to derail these observations. Talking about Bledsoe and his adversaries detracted from the glow of this marvelous dinner, but she knew that Lady Gwendolyn meant well.
Annie’s face must have revealed more than she realized.
Lady Gwendolyn chided her gently. “Remember Arthur Bantry, Annie. It helped him not at all to refuse to see what was happening around him.” Those bright, questing blue eyes swept the dining room. “Much is happening around us—all the result of the intermixture of characters assembled here.” The old author’s tone was somber. “Bledsoe, of course, is the focal point.”
With an effort of will, Annie managed a strained smile.
Lady Gwendolyn absently smoothed her upswept hair. “Oh, Bledsoe’s obviously posturing, but I sense a purpose, a plan. At this point, I’ve been unable to determine his true objective. Whatever it is, I fear he will achieve it at all costs.” She said it coolly, without great dramatic flair, but Annie’s skin prickled. It was as ominous as a muffled roll of drums. “And the rest of them, bound to him by ties we cannot see. Fleur Calloway—such a charming woman, but she’s shackled by misery. I see it in her eyes. She needs to break free of the past, live again. Emma Clyde—oh, she’s immensely clever and she knows it. A bad enemy. Derek Davis—life is hard on the young. His emotions are raw. He’s living on the edge. Natalie Marlow—gauche.” Lady Gwendolyn reinserted a bronze bobby pin in her braids. “She doesn’t know how to be a woman, but she wants to be, a very dangerous combination. Natalie’s ripe for the picking. Margo Wright’s a cool customer. She doesn’t miss much. Nathan Hillman—assuredly a very civilized man, but his feelings run deep. Victoria Shaw—her dead husband is more real to her than the people here. Resentment can fester, twist even a gentle nature.”
“Brilliant,” Laurel breathed admiringly.
Henny rolled her eyes.
Max cupped his chin in his hand. “So you think there’s going to be trouble, Lady Gwendolyn?”
“Yes.”
Annie winced. The old lady didn’t have to sound so damned positive—and so convincing. As a matter of fact, tonight’s bash was about as far from trouble as possible, and Annie was beginning to hope that perhaps the quick and thorough police response—thanks to Chief Saulter—to the incident at Death on Demand had made the perpetrator realize the seriousness of breaking the law and that nothing further would occur to mar the conference. Besides, Annie, perhaps a little superstitiously, didn’t want to court trouble by thinking about it.
She popped to her feet. “Got to check on the band.”
As she passed through the dining room, she knew her guests were having fun:
“Obviously Marple is the superior detective. Poirot just postures.”
“I beg your pardon. Think of his brilliance in solving Sad Cypress.”
“I’d love to see a revival of Spider’s Web. She wrote the play especially for Margaret Lockwood, and when it was produced it ran simultaneously in London with The Mousetrap and Witness for the Prosecution. How many play wrights can equal that?”
“Sometimes a woman’s hunger for children can be destructive—think of Rachel Argyle in Ordeal by Innocence.”
“By far the most unforgettable figure of evil in all of Christie’s work is Mrs. Boynton in Appointment with Death.”
“It would be too dangerous—think of the libel problems—to pattern a character today after someone as openly as Christie patterned Louise Leidner in Murder in Mesopotamia after Katharine Woolley.”
“Endless Night is a psychological tour de force.”
The band leader assured Annie that the musicians were prepared; there would be plenty of Cole Porter and George Gershwin. (Whenever she heard Porter’s “I Get a Kick Out of You,” she thought of the marvelous 1982 film version of Evil Under the Sun.