Free The Marshal's Own Case by Magdalen Nabb

guessed it and said so.
    ‘It’s no wonder. I look a sight now because I’m ill. But mostly it’s because I’m dressed up like that. We have to, I told you. It’s a show. Anyway, it’s that chap in the middle I’m showing you. That’s Nanny.’
    Nanny was very evidently a man and a robust one who could have done with a shave. Nevertheless he was wearing a woman’s evening gown and his lips were inexpertly painted.
    ‘That’s an old frock of mine he’s wearing. The one I’m wearing I’ve still got. It’s a beauty—cost me over three million. He used to be an occasional client of mine until Lulu got her nails into him. That’s her in the middle.
    ‘But surely, that . . .’ He couldn’t believe it wasn’t a woman, or rather a girl, since Lulu looked very young. He was posing provocatively in a long sequinned gown open to the waist, turning slightly away from the camera, breasts thrust out, long dark hair falling back over the shoulders, directing straight at the viewer a voluptuous, dazzling smile.
    ‘Not bad, eh? Oh, she’s a beauty, all right, is Lulu, but a real bitch, I can tell you. If she ever gets the chop it’ll be from one of her own kind. Nobody can stand her except her clients who’ll pay anything to have her, though she gives them a hard time, too. Nanny’s a fool for running after her. He must have been drunk that night, too, to let himself be photographed like that. Just look at his eyes. He’s well away.’
    They were certainly bleary but that could just as easily be the effect of the flashlight.
    ‘Well,’ the Marshal said, giving back the photograph, ‘I don’t think it’s Lulu who got it this time by all accounts, since they all seem to think Lulu’s gone to Spain.’
    ‘Very likely. I wouldn’t know. I keep my distance from her.’
    ‘But you were together in the photo.’
    ‘That was a big party—in any case, it was Nanny who insisted. It must be nearly two years ago now. It may even have been that night that he started with her—is that the doorbell? It is. Will you keep hold of Mishi? Otherwise I’ll have to shut her in the bedroom.’
    The Marshal took the little cat on his lap. It made no objection but sat still, purring gently and watching Carla’s every move.
    ‘It’s only my shopping. I’m not fit to go out.’
    A fat grocer’s boy came in with a box of food and placed it on the table.
    ‘How much?’
    ‘Thirty-five.’
    Carla was fishing in a brown leather purse. ‘Did you put me a carton of cigarettes in?’
    ‘It’s there in the corner.’
    ‘Thirty-five. Thanks, Franco.’
    ‘Be seeing you.’
    ‘ ’Bye.’ Carla opened the red and white carton. ‘I’ve not smoked for three days. Probably shouldn’t now, but still . . .’
    ‘I may as well leave you,’ the Marshal said, standing up, still with the shiny little cat between his big hands. ‘I really only came to make sure you were alive and well.’
    Shaken by a fit of coughing, Carla stubbed out the just lit cigarette. ‘That tastes foul. I’m not better yet. Give Mishi to me if you’re going. I think I’ll go back to bed.’
    ‘It might be just as well,’ the Marshal said. ‘And if you can afford it you might do well to stay at home a bit longer, until we get our hands on this murderer.’
    ‘Are you kidding? Listen, if I can be of any help, don’t hesitate to call me. A lot of the people in this game are out of their minds and would tell you anything, but as for catching whoever did the job . . . It’ll be like all the others, once the novelty’s worn off things’ll go back to normal and it’ll all be forgotten. No offence, do you understand?’
    What could he say, after seeing all those files marked ‘Unsolved’?
    ‘You look like you don’t know much about this sort of thing, if you don’t mind me saying so. If one of us gets bumped off how much do you think anybody cares? Bit of a thrill reading about a chopped-up body in the papers and we’ll probably have more