The Body in the Billiard Room by H. R. F. Keating

Author:H. R. F. Keating [Keating, H. R. F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: detective, India, mystery, cozy
ISBN: 9780099533900
Google: pbduAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0670817449
Publisher: Viking Adult
Published: 1987-11-02T00:00:00+00:00

12

Ghote whipped his encircling arms away from the utterly unexpected figure they had enveloped.

‘Madam, madam,' he said.

The Maharani, who had let out a single whistling gasp of fright when he had leapt on her, began to recover. She got to her feet and peered forward in the darkness.

‘Madam,’ Ghote said, ‘it is I, Mr Ghote, the guest of His Excellency Mr Surinder Mehta.’

‘What—’

Her face came closer in the dark. He smelt again her tangy European perfume, and wondered abruptly what she had done with her pekinese. No doubt left in charge of some servant in the Club.

‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘Yes, it is. You’re the Great Detective. That’s what my husband said.’

‘Well, madam . . .’

In the darkness he saw her straighten her back and move half a pace away.

‘Then let me tell you this, Mr Great Detective. You are not wanted here. Not wanted in Ooty, and certainly not wanted in the Club. Why the hell they let you in in the first place I don’t know.’

Ghote felt a burst of resentful anger. Who was it, after all, who was illicitly present in this garden? And who was it, too, who had been stated as being a person who would not have been allowed in the Club in old days? Stated by Mrs Lucy Trayling. None other than this Maharani.

And, he thought, he had learnt the reason for that, even in the short time he had been there. A lady who could let herself have a love affair in a third, no, fourth-class hotel in the Bazaar.

‘Madam,’ he said, ‘I am staying at Club as guest of Mr Mehta. He was calling me from Bombay. It is his belief that the billiards marker Pichu was murdered by some person within the said Club, and I am here to find such.’

‘What nonsense. My husband was saying something like that, and I told him he was talking tommyrot. I don’t believe Surinder Mehta asked you here at all, not even if he is practically gaga.’

‘Madam, you are accusing myself of uttering falsehoods? I tell you, I am here in Ooty to investigate the murder of the billiards marker, and I have good reason to suspect that his murder was committed by one of the persons sleeping in the Club on the night in question. And among such persons, madam, you are there.’

The onslaught appeared to have had some effect. The Maharani stayed silent.

Silent and thoughtful.

‘Oh God,’ she exclaimed at last, ‘let’s go away from here. That bloody woman will come out or something if she hears voices, and I certainly couldn’t face her just now.’

‘Very good, madam,’ Ghote said. ‘I also would not wish to be found here.’

They crept to the gate, opened it and stepped down into the lane.

‘I’ve got a taxi waiting along here,’ the Maharani said. ‘Do you want a lift?’

‘You are most kind.’

‘Don’t be too sure of that. I don’t feel very kindly disposed to anyone just now.’

They walked on in silence for a little. The air felt penetratingly cold.

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