Free Gently with the Ladies (Inspector George Gently 13) by Alan Hunter Page B

Sybil is a sadist, period. Twisting the knife gives her a thrill.’
    ‘Was she jealous of your wife?’
    ‘That’s an understatement. They’re worse than men, you know, are Lesbians.’
    ‘And your wife of her?’
    ‘Clytie too. They nearly broke up over one of the girls.’
    He sent a curious look at Gently.
    ‘You know what I’m talking about?’ he said. ‘A pair like La Bannister and my wife always have a third girl in tow. She’d be a mannequin, probably, or some hanger-on in that racket. You’d be surprised if you knew the extent of the Lesbian colony in London. Well, these girls come and go. They’re just to freshen-up the scene. But Sybil got stuck on one once, and then the fur began to fly. She worked for a fashion magazine, this girl, and Clytie pulled some dirty tricks on her; she lost her job and her reputation. She was sunk without trace.’
    ‘What was her name?’
    ‘Oh . . . Beryl something.’
    ‘Beryl Rogers?’
    ‘That could be it.’ His eyes opened a little wider. ‘You do your homework, don’t you?’ he said.
    ‘What happened to her?’ Gently asked.
    ‘I’ve no idea. She ceased to be.’
    ‘What magazine was she on?’
    Fazakerly’s hand jerked a gesture.
    ‘You see, I wasn’t much around when the girls were in session. As the joker said, things like that can harm a young lad. I’d be out on the town following my own sexual pattern, which was probably no nicer though more socially acceptable. So I never met Beryl Rogers.’
    ‘But she was dropped by Mrs Bannister.’
    ‘Naturally. Her name was never mentioned again.’
    ‘And it was the only trouble of that kind.’
    ‘After that the girls were strictly temporary. Apart from Albertine, of course, who was a hired hand and didn’t count.’
    Gently silently nodded. Fazakerly dipped his cigarette in an ashtray.
    ‘But this half-sister,’ Gently mused, ‘where does she come into it?’
    ‘Brenda Merryn?’
    ‘Brenda Merryn.’
    Fazakerly went on tamping out the cigarette-end. At last he said.
    ‘She was my little comfort. I slept with her more than with anyone.’
     
    He ground the butt to pieces methodically, spreading shreds of tobacco over the ashtray. Then without looking at Gently he continued:
    ‘Brenda was sorry for me, that’s about it. I was such a weak and depraved devil, without a friend to my name, and no more backbone than a tadpole. So Brenda Merryn took pity on me.’
    ‘Did your wife know that?’
    ‘She either knew or suspected. She flung it up at me a few times when she wanted to be catty. But Brenda still used to call round, Clytie never made an issue of it. She’d no use for me herself and Brenda was welcome to her leavings. In fact, Brenda was always welcome to the leavings. Clytie used to pass on surplus clothes to her. I figured in about the same category, some evening wear she’d got tired of.’
    ‘How long was Miss Merryn your mistress?’
    ‘Several years, off and on. But I never thought of her as my mistress. She was more like a sister with sex added.’
    ‘You trusted her.’
    ‘I could talk to her. She had no illusions about Clytie.’
    ‘She was on good terms with your wife.’
    ‘I suppose you could say that, in a poor-relation sort of way. She’s’ – he rocked his shoulders – ‘she’s a bit of a deep one. You always wonder about Brenda. I could never feel I was very close to her, though she was always on my side. That’s what I mean when I say she was like a sister. She’s family, but on her own.’
    ‘Could you discuss your other affairs with her?’
    ‘Why not? They were only a giggle.’
    ‘You told her of Miss Johnson?’
    ‘She knew about Sarah. Though I didn’t blab too much in her case. Sarah is different, she’s rather special; she’s the woman I ought to have married. I suppose you always find them too late: that’s the failing of monogamy.’
    ‘And what was your answer to have been?’
    Fazakerly shrugged. ‘The bum’s answer. Doing nothing,