The Dark Palace--Murder and mystery in London, 1914 by R.N. Morris

Author:R.N. Morris [R.N. Morris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2013-12-12T05:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

As soon as the lights went on, and the heaving naked male arse was revealed in the blazing glare of electricity, Porrick understood everything.

The arse carried on pumping for a moment. It was an ugly, dispiriting sight. A stark, pale obscenity moving with brutal energy in the shabbiest rented room imaginable.

Novak’s startled oath – ‘What the devil?’ – was enough to bring Lord Dunwich (Porrick remembered his name as soon as he saw his face) to his feet, his sorry aristocratic member bobbing disconsolately, before drooping and shrinking rapidly. His lordship grabbed a cushion and held it in front of him.

The woman, Novak’s wife of course, pulled her skirt down and sat up in the bed. Her expression might have puzzled an observer who didn’t fully grasp the situation. A mixture of annoyance and boredom. She all but rolled her eyes at her husband.

She retrieved a cigarette from the bedside table and lit it. Soon, she was wholly preoccupied by the pleasures of smoking.

‘Now, it’s not what it seems!’ pleaded Lord Dunwich. Porrick had to laugh at that. Despite his loathing for Novak and his wife, he had little sympathy for Dunwich.

‘On the contrary, Lord Dunwich, it’s crystal clear what’s going on here,’ said Novak.

‘I didn’t know …’

‘You didn’t know she was my wife?’

Porrick noticed a flicker of a smile on Dolores Novak’s face. Lord Dunwich had his back to the woman, so he missed this hint of collusion between husband and wife.

Novak showed no sign of registering his wife’s amusement. ‘Please, Lord Dunwich, don’t insult me. Don’t add a lie to the offence you’ve already committed.’

‘No, no. I wasn’t going to say that. I knew. I admit I knew. It’s just that I didn’t think you minded, you see.’

‘Not mind? Why would you think I wouldn’t mind? Because you’re an aristocrat? You forget, I’m an American. We don’t acknowledge droit du seigneur in America.’

Mrs Novak tossed her hair appreciatively.

‘I honestly thought you film people were more lax about these things. I thought you and Dolores had an understanding. Look … may I put my trousers back on? I feel that I’m at something of a disadvantage.’

‘You shoulda oughta thoughta that before you took ’em off!’

His wife’s tongue licked out, as if to taste the acrid flavour of her husband’s histrionic ire.

Porrick had had enough of this. ‘Let him put his trousers on, Novak. I for one am not very comfortable with him undressed like that. In fact, I think I should step outside.’

‘Now look what you done! You’ve upset my friend, Mr Porrick!’ Porrick felt his lip curl at Novak’s bogus protests. He resented being dragged into the sordid affair.

‘Actually, come to think about it … it’s probably time for me to go home.’

‘You stay where you are, Porrick. I want you to bear witness to this man’s … depravity!’

Dolores Novak lifted her head self-righteously, as if she were the innocent party.

‘Steady on, Novak. You’re rather overdoing it, you know. After all, didn’t you say to me …’

Novak cut him off with hasty indignation.

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