Glass Houses Read online

  Peace. No Winston. No FitzDurham. Was that so much to ask?

  He couldn’t bear to remain where he could see Winston.

  Soames would have been ignored all day. Winston hated the ferret, more because he belonged to Rupert than because of a supposed allergy to the animal. Rupert made to pass Winston, who was sweating and red-faced, and the prospective client, who was not.

  “There you are,” Winston said. “Stay put, there’s a good chap. I’m almost finished here.”

  The woman’s face was powdered white. Her very dark eyes darted rapidly between Winston and Rupert. “ ’Alf,” she said as if she spied some advantage in Winston’s divided attention. “I will take it with me.”

  “Not possible. Forgive me, madam, but we’re closing now.” Winston moved toward the door, bowing his bald head as he went. “Do come back if you decide the piece is worth full price.”

  Rather than argue, the Frenchwoman gave a delighted grin and waved as she departed, saying, “You will think about my very good offer, and I will give you another chance. Per’aps.” This was their late-opening night, and darkness had begun to seep into the street. Lights in the shop windows cast a yellow wash over items displayed there and onto the pavement outside. A strolling couple stopped to look at a Chippendale commode which they evidently found amusing.

  Winston finished shooting home bolts and came toward Rupert in menacing, head-first mode. “Damn you,” he said succinctly, stretching his receding chin as far forward as that feature allowed. “Explain yourself, man. At once. Where have you been? It’s nine, for God’s sake, and not a word from you since last night.”

  “You could always have done the dirty work yourself. The choice was yours.” The choice was always Winston’s, but if Rupert had his way, that was going to change before too long.

  “You know, Rupert,” Winston said in the pseudo-pleasant tone that always boded ill, “no matter how long, or how hard I try to help you overcome your lower middle-class background, you defeat me. Breeding will out, isn’t that what they say? I’m not even sure a good school would have made a difference. You are a common man, progeny of a loathsome thief of very little brain.”

  This was not the time to get shirty. “Whatever you say, Winston.” The toad really got his jollies from seeing he’d offended Rupert.

  “I say that you have no sense of honor, and a sense of honor is the mark of a gentleman. You are not a gentleman. If you were, you would consider the man who helped you out of the gutter. Where have you been all day?”

  “Making sure we’re safe.” Let the bastard toy with that. Winston ran a finger under his starched white collar. He favored tweed lounge suits and suede shoes, and smelled strongly of the cigars he smoked. Never a slim man, with age he had broadened and softened and taken on an ever more doughy appearance. How much pleasure Rupert would have on the day he told the chinless pervert exactly what he thought of him.

  “I’m waiting,” Winston said.

  “Did you feed Soames?”

  A withering stare met Rupert’s question.

  “No, I don’t suppose you have. I went to Hampstead. Just like you wanted. Found the house. Spoke with the girl.”

  “And?” Winston produced a rumpled handkerchief and passed it over his moist brow.

  “And we did business.”

  “You got the photographs?”

  “Er—yes, that’s right.” He’d done bleeding brilliantly considering the circumstances.

  “Where are they?”

  Rupert patted his jacket.

  “Have you looked at them?” Winston sweated more freely. “Can you see anything?”

  “I’ve been a bit busy. The girl wasn’t easy to deal with.”

  Winston’s eyes rested on Rupert’s jacket. “You couldn’t have been dealing with her from last night until nine this evening.” He’d grown redder and he breathed hard. “Everything depends on this. What’s the matter with you? Something’s gone wrong, hasn’t it? You’ve dashed well balled it up, you monumental ass. I warned you that—”

  “Better calm down, Winnie, or you’ll pop a vein.” He should be so lucky, Rupert thought. “She did a bunk afterwards, and I had my hands full making sure I knew where she’d gone. Just in case.” And that hadn’t been easy. Rupert had snoozed in his waiting taxi. If the taxi driver hadn’t been alert, he’d have missed seeing FitzDurham take off in her mangy mini-cab.

  “Just in case what?” Winnie asked slowly.

  That tore it. He couldn’t say he’d decided he ought to know where Miss FitzDurham was just in case she tried to use the actual prints, or make a second set of negatives. And he wasn’t ready to reveal his sickening mistake with the money. He shrugged. “You never know what might come up. We could want to talk to her again.”

  “No, we couldn’t. The last thing we want is to have any further contact with the woman at all. Where have you really been? Not with Kitty. Please say you haven’t been with Kitty.”

  “I haven’t seen my dear wife for days.” He had seen Nonie at her flat in Shepherd’s Bush—warm, welcoming Nonie, who was always ready to help him feel like a man again—had been since Rupert’s own days of living and working in the same area. “I don’t even know where Kitty is.” Nonie knew Rupert was unappreciated by some people and spent every minute of their time together appreciating him enough to make up for the rest.

  “Kitty can’t know anything. Understand? If that woman finds out we’re valuable, she’ll find a way to take advantage.”

  “She won’t find out we’re vulnerable, Winston.”

  “Give me the photographs.”

  Shit. He slid the envelope of negatives from his inside breast pocket and handed it over.

  Winston’s hand, the hand that held the envelope, trembled. He backed up to an eighteenth-century chair upholstered in a fine example of Genoa velvet, and sat down with a thump that raised dust. What height Winston had was in his torso. His feet swung clear of the ground. He opened the envelope and stared inside. Rupert sniffed, and laughed, and made for the back room. “Come here.” Winston sounded querulous and unlike himself.

  “Just need to see to Soames.”

  “Back—here—now.”

  Rupert broke into a trot and scooted into the cluttered sanctuary he and Winston shared. Here they were out of sight of customers, while any customers could be viewed through one-way glass. Winston was very fond of one-way glass—he used it elsewhere, too.

  “Rupert?” Through the glass, Winston’s frightened expression seemed magnified. “Come here at once or I shall get very angry with you.”

  In the end, Winston always became muddled and foolish. Good. The time had come to cause a diversion.

  Rupert took Soames from his cage and held the creature’s face close to his own. “Good boy, beautiful boy. You go and say hello to dear Winston.” With that he kissed the ferret’s nose, put him on the floor, and hurriedly returned to the showroom.

  “What are these?” Winston held the negatives in one hand.

  “The negatives. I offered her money, and she finally agreed.” He smiled as if proud of the proceedings. “It wasn’t easy, but I pulled it off.”

  “And the photographs? She had to have photographs.”

  “They wouldn’t have fitted through the letterbox.”

  Winston’s eyes grew larger. Light glittered on his little lenses. “What letterbox?”

  “The one in her front door. The one she put the negatives through.”

  “But—”

  “She wouldn’t open the door, Winston, for God’s sake. You can’t blame her. She was on her own and didn’t know me from Adam. So she passed those out to me through the letterbox.”

  “And she’s still got photographs?” Winston’s chin made another valiant attempt to jut. “Photographs, Rupert. The photographs that could land us in jail.”

  “She doesn’t know what she’s got.”

  “That’s not the sodding point, you moron. What is the point is that she’s got t
hem. What’s to stop her from using them for that magazine?”

  “She took the money for them, that’s what And I told her it was a kill fee.”

  “Oh, yes, oh, of course. In that case she wouldn’t think of using them elsewhere. I feel better now, Rupert.”

  As usual, Winston was blaming him for everything. “Even if she’d given me photographs, how could we know they were the only set?”

  “You were supposed to get in there and search.”

  “I did.”

  “Another balls-up. You didn’t get a thing.”

  “I couldn’t find them. Everything looked the same to me. What did you want me to do, take the lot? Take everything?”

  “Yes, Rupert, that would have been a good idea. Then we could have been sure.” Winston squirmed and his eyes grew more moist. “Phone’s ringing. Don’t answer.”

  Rupert went to the white phone on a tulipwood writing table where sales were conducted and picked up the receiver. “Hello, Rup—”

  “Stuff it, Fish.”

  Kitty. Of all the lousy luck. “Can’t talk now.” Oh, no, he certainly couldn’t talk to his nemesis now.

  “ ’Course you can. You’re avoiding me.”

  “I’m not avoiding you, Kitty. You’re avoiding me. You know where we live, but you don’t choose to go there.”

  “I go there.”

  Winston had set the envelope aside and was waving his arms and gesturing for Rupert to hang up on Kitty.

  “You don’t go there when I’m there.” He loved Kitty in his own way. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever met, and he still didn’t quite believe that she’d ever agreed to become his wife. “I miss you.”

  “No!” Winston said, then covered his mouth when he realized he’d spoken aloud. He passed a forefinger across his throat and bounced.

  “I need money,” Kitty said.

  Rupert pursed his lips.

  “I’ve been watching you, Rupert.” Kitty’s full voice took on a singsong note. “Who is she, lovie?”

  Now his skin cooled and he avoided even glancing at Winston. Kitty knew about Nonie. “You’ve got it wrong,” he said.

  “I followed you to Hampstead.”

  “Hampstead?” Sweat coated his body instantly. His eyes stung. “What do you mean?” Once the woman began to fall, the platform had become a blur. Kitty could have been there.

  “Come on now, lovie. You watched her go into that house and you waited forever. But then you were pleading with her through the letterbox.” She laughed her snorting laugh.

  He breathed again. “Yes, well, you’ve got it wrong. She had something I wanted to buy.”

  Winston moaned and covered his eyes.

  “Oh, reeeelly? You poor boy, you are in a bad way.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Rupert said hurriedly. “You know I never look at anyone but you. It was stricdy business.”

  “Hang up,” Winston howled, then said more quietly, “and don’t you dare slip and mention… He who is never mentioned is not to be mentioned.”

  “Put that little twerp on the phone,” Kitty said. “And get me money. A lot of it. Leave it with Vince at The Fiddle.”

  “Winston doesn’t want to talk to you, and—”

  “Yes, I do want to talk to her,” Winston interrupted. “Bring me the phone.”

  “Are you diddling that mousy little woman?” Kitty asked.

  “For God’s sake, Kitty. Miss FitzDurham? No. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “Bring me the phone, Rupert,” Winnie ordered.

  Kitty laughed and snorted, “I’m not worried. I’m never worried. Whoever is Winnie talking about?”

  Rupert couldn’t think what she meant. “What?”

  “Oh, you can tell me. Ever so quietly. Whisper. Who’s he who is never mentioned? Surely not—well, you know who?”

  “Your ears are too good for your health,” Rupert told her. “You’ve got the right man. And he’s dead now—which means he absolutely never gets mentioned again.”

  Winston slipped low enough in his chair for his heels to touch the carpet. “Fool,” he mouthed. “Bloody fool.”

  “Dead?” Kitty said, but not as if she expected an answer. “Oh, Rupert, don’t tell me what happened. It’s better if I don’t know. I don’t care anyway. Give Winnie the phone, there’s a good little lapdog. I’ll expect Vince to have something for me.”

  There came a time to give it up where Kitty was concerned. He hauled on the long telephone cord and thrust the receiver at Winston who put it to his ear as if he expected worms to crawl inside his head. “Yes?” he said, sweating profusely now.

  He listened without speaking for a minute or more, apparently unaware that his specs were sliding down his nose. Silently he held the receiver out to Rupert, who heard the line buzz and hung up.

  “Bitch,” Winston said. “Might as well give her some money to shut her up. She’ll only keep pestering you if you don’t.” Darn it. Rupert didn’t have to ask what Kitty had told his partner. In the throes of—well, in the throes of being quite grateful to her, he’d told Kitty some of the personal bits, including Winston’s personal bits. She’d probably just informed him of what she knew. This was going to make it tougher to get some proof of Winston’s escapades.

  A long, thin, supple body covered with gray fur slipped across the floor behind Winston’s chair. Rupert was almost moved by pity to make a dash and head off Soames. Almost.

  The gray fur turned silver in the light. Soames’s tiny, needle-sharp claws sunk into costly Genoa velvet and he rippled up the side of the chair. While Winston gazed morosely at his flaccid hands where they rested in his lap, Soames flowed behind his head and delved his darling, wet little nose into the ear Kitty had so recently assaulted.

  Winston jumped. He jumped, and stiffened. His eyes stretched wide open. “Rupert?” he whispered. “Rupert?”

  The torturer was tortured and very nicely, too. “Isn’t that sweet,” Rupert said. “I’ve always told you Soames likes you.” It was bloody amazing the way lugubrious—a good word, that—the way lumbering, lugubrious old Winnie whipped his sueded twinkle toes onto the chair and stood on the seat. Soames slithered around Winnie’s neck like a snug fur collar.

  Winston turned deep puce. He squealed, and danced, and flapped his arms—and his jowls.

  Another sound reached Rupert. Choking. Flaming hell, if he didn’t watch out, Winston would drop dead, which might be brilliant if Rupert didn’t still need him. “It’s okay. Hold on. Oh, dear me. Come to Daddy, Soames, you’re frightening Winston.” He grabbed the ferret and stuffed him into an ivory birdcage. “It’s all right now. He’s gone, old friend. I’ve taken him away.” With his arms still outstretched, and his legs pressed together, Winston held his pose, but the color gradually faded from his face. His eyes regained focus and he seemed, slowly, to become aware of where he was. Without a word, he lowered his arms and climbed down. He removed his glasses and rubbed the lenses on his damp handkerchief, flipped his head as if tossing back luxuriant hair, and reseated himself.

  Rupert waited.

  “You can take some of the money and leave it for Kitty, if you like,” Winston said while he gathered up the envelope Rupert had given him. “Not that you can make a habit of using business funds.”

  “Thank you,” Rupert said.

  Winston took out two individual negatives, held them up to the light, and squinted. Rupert crossed his arms. The storm had passed. Once Winnie saw he had what they really needed, he’d back off.

  Another two negatives, and another two were held up to scrutiny. Taking less time with each pair, by the time Winston looked at the last ones he barely raised them before his eyes before dropping his hands again. He gripped the anus of the chair and allowed everything to slide from his lap to the Savonnerie carpet beneath his hanging feet.

  “Winston?” Rupert frowned. “Are you ill?”

  “You paid her?”

  “We agreed I should.”


  “How much?”

  Rupert grew warm. That had been a mistake he’d hoped to rectify at the airport, but there had been no way and now she was gone. And he was bloody well going to have to follow her. “I’m not really sure.”

  “Give me what’s left.” Winston held out a hand.

  “Can’t” He always ended up feeling like a stupid kid.

  “What did you pay for those?” Winston pointed to the negatives on the floor.

  Rupert puffed up his cheeks and longed for a bag of crisps. “I gave her the envelope, like you told me to.”

  “I never bloody well told you to give her the envelope, you fool. I told you to see how little she’d settle for. You were supposed to offer her fifty, then up it to a hundred or so if you had to. What the hell are we going to do?” He rocked his head from side to side. “Give me the deposit slip for the checks. Or did you mess that up, too, and forget to go to the bank?”

  Rupert glanced at a Japanese ceremonial sword on a credenza behind Winston. Supposedly it could decapitate a man with a single swipe.

  Too messy. And too public.

  “Rupert?”

  “The checks aren’t in the bank.”

  “I should have known better than to allow you to take the bank deposit at the same time. Where is the bank deposit?”

  “We’ll get it back,” Rupert said. “I had the two envelopes in the same pocket. They must have got stuck together.”

  “Oh, my God.” Winston flopped back in the chair. “You put everything through her letterbox. No. Say you didn’t. There was thousands in cash. And those two checks—three quarters of a fucking million in checks.”

  “She got the lot,” Rupert said. “I didn’t expect her to hold out the way she did, and I made a mistake. I was rattled. There, that’s the way it was.” She should have been dead but wasn’t. That was also the way it was, but Winnie would never find out that Rupert had botched a murder attempt.

  Winston moaned repeatedly and wiped at his mouth. He said, “Tell me you’re joking. If you’re not, she knows exactly who we are and how to find as.” He paused with his mouth open.