The Deadly Dance - M. C. Beaton [69]
He reached for his bottle, but Charles said firmly, “No drink.”
He shrugged and then began to talk. His name was Luke Field, son of a French mother and an English father. His father had left them and his mother had moved back to Paris from England. He had worked as a graphic artist but had been fired from a succession of jobs. This Englishman had approached him and had suggested he help him play a trick. Luke had agreed because he thought with the money, he could get sober and get a job again. The man called Jeremy had taken him to a flat in the Rue Madame.
“Top flat?” asked Agatha breathlessly.
“Yes. There was a blonde woman there. He called her Felicity.” She had left soon after Luke arrived. Jeremy had gone back to the hotel and reappeared with one of his suits, shoes and shirt and tie. Luke actually had a passport, although he said he often thought of selling it for money. He was bathed and shaved and his face was made up to cover the broken veins. He had to practise imitating Jeremy’s voice and manner. The deal was that he was to stay at the hotel one night. Then this Jeremy would take his passport and fly to England while Luke was to follow the next day on Jeremy’s passport. Once there, he was to phone Jeremy, who would meet him. They would exchange passports and then Luke would get paid and fly back.
“But why did you speak French at the hotel?” asked Charles. “Laggat-Brown didn’t know any French.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Luke. “He told me his French was excellent, but he spoke to me the whole time in English. I thought I’d go to a meeting and then go straight to bed to keep me sober.”
But then Luke became truculent. He said he didn’t want to have anything to do with the police.
“All right,” said Agatha, “but come with us to our hotel and I’ll get you the money. It’s in the hotel safe.”
And please let the French police be waiting for us, Agatha prayed silently.
But her heart sank when they arrived at the hotel. Not a uniform in sight. “Come up to my room,” she said to Luke. She felt if she stalled for time, they might arrive. Why was Charles coming with them? Couldn’t he go to his own room and phone the police from there? But she was frightened to do anything to scare Luke off.
Once in her room, she went to the safe and pulled out her wallet. After her last experience, she had decided to carry as little money with her as possible when she went out.
She slowly began to count out the money and then stopped half-way. “I don’t really feel I should pay you anything because you won’t go to the police. In fact,” she said, scooping up the money and putting it back in her wallet, “your information is no use to us without a statement.”
Luke looked at her hungrily. He was dying for a drink. Did he really want to go back to work? Winter was drawing closer and he thought another winter on the streets might kill him.
But the thought of the police terrified him. They would probably accuse him of being in league with this killer.
There came a peremptory knock at the door and a voice called in English, “Police. Open up!”
Luke hung his head. The fates had made up his mind for him.
TWELVE
AGATHA was never to forget that long night of questioning and more questioning. Then she was told that when they got off the plane in the morning, a police car would be waiting at Birmingham for them.
She and Charles were both groggy with lack of sleep when they arrived at Birmingham Airport. And got into the waiting police car.
“They’ve got to let us rest,” grumbled Agatha. “I can’t take much more of this.”
They both fell asleep as the police car raced towards Mirces-ter. At police headquarters, they were told they would be interrogated separately.
Agatha was to be interviewed by Fother from the Special Branch and Detective Inspector Wilkes.
“Before we begin,” said Agatha urgently, as a policeman was putting a tape in the recoding machine, “have you arrested Laggat-Brown?”
“Yes, he’s been brought in for questioning.”
“I suppose he’s saying he got Luke to impersonate him for a joke.”
“He