forward slightly. ‘Why don’t you tell me about the stabbing, Norman dear. You’ll feel much better if you get it off your chest.’
Norman half laughed bleakly. ‘There’s not much to tell about that incident. I’ve been trying to piece things together as best I could from Terry’s incoherent mumblings, and I’ve come up with one theory at least. I wish I’d talked to you before, and then perhaps this bloody mess might have been avoided. But to be honest, I didn’t want to discuss Terry’s troubles. I … I … felt it would be terribly disloyal.’ Norman took a cigarette, lit it and continued, ‘I know I can trust you though. I mean, I know you understand that what I’m going to tell you about Terry is absolutely confidential –’
‘I would never repeat anything you told me to anyone,’ Katharine interrupted. ‘I promise you, Norman.’
‘Thanks, love.’ His eyes rested on her, searching, as he began slowly, diffidently, ‘I know you suspect Alexa, and so does Penny, but I don’t think she was involved. Terry told me the other day that she was going to Zurich to see her father, and as far as I know she did. I think she’s still there. Actually, I’m sure it was a man,’ he rushed on, his voice gaining in strength and conviction. ‘But listen, love, I don’t want my theory repeated. You’ve got to promise me you won’t say a word to a soul about this matter either.’
Katharine moved to the edge of the sofa, absorbing his words. She said, ‘Of course I won’t. I realize you can’t go around accusing people of attempted murder.’
‘Have you ever seen Terry with a young, good-looking bod? Dark haired, very well dressed, almost foppish?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ Katharine said, her brows puckering. ‘Does he have a yellow Jag that he parks in the Haymarket?’
‘That’s the bloke!’ Norman cried. He took a long swallow of the gin and tonic, and said flatly, in a cold voice, ‘I think it was him that did it.’
‘Norman, are you sure?’ Katharine asked nervously.
‘Of course I can’t be sure. I wasn’t there,’ he replied snappishly. In a more even tone he added, ‘But from what Terry said to me, and because of the things I know myself, everything points to him.’
‘But who is he, Norman?’ Katharine demanded.
‘He calls himself Rupert Reynolds.’
‘Calls himself! Isn’t that his real name?’
‘No, it’s not. Actually, he’s the son of a very prominent man.’
Katharine looked at Norman sharply. ‘How do you know, if he uses a false name? Did Terry tell you?’
‘No, he didn’t. In fact, Terry had no idea who the hell he was until I filled him in. You see, this bod was getting to be a bit of a nuisance to Terry, so I made a few inquiries about him.’ Norman laughed grimly. ‘He’s the black sheep of a prominent family, and not on good terms with his old man. Anyway, I believe he was having lunch with Terry at the flat today, when they had a row. And then Rupert slashed him with the knife.’ Norman’s head moved up and down a few times jerkily, as though he was confirming his suspicions to himself.
‘But why?’ Katharine asked, horrified that anyone would want to harm Terry.
‘Jealousy,’ he pronounced.
Taken aback though she was, she refrained from commenting. Finally, she said, ‘Don’t tell me Terry pinched one of his girl friends.’
‘Well, yes, and then, no. It’s a shade more convoluted than that …’ Norman ran his hand through his thinning hair, blinking rapidly, obviously distressed. ‘I’ll try and make the story as simple as possible. About six months ago this Rupert chap met Terry at a party. He claimed to be a playwright. Anyway, he attached himself to Terry. Like a bloody leech, I don’t mind telling you. I warned Terry he was a sponger, a hanger-on of the worst kind, but Terry simply laughed at me. He seemed to be impressed with the bloke, God knows why. He thought Rupert was entertaining. Rupert was trying to shove a play down Terry’s throat, one he’d written. He wanted Terry to help him get it staged, and to star in it. Bloody cheek, if you ask me. And a load of codswallop, it was. Drivel. At least Terry had the sense to say no to that little project, but still, he wasn’t able to shake Rupert. Terry was beginning to get fed up with him, and they had some sort of a barney. Rupert made himself scarce for a few weeks. Suddenly, out of the blue, he was back on the scene with Alexa Garrett in tow. He introduced her as his girl friend, and, I must say, they did seem very chummy. Stone the crows, the next thing I know she and Terry are shacking up together and madly in love. Talking of marriage. Bloody hell, you could have knocked me down with a bloomin’ feather.’
‘And so that’s why Rupert stabbed Terry? Because he was jealous of him?’
‘No, I don’t think so …’ Norman gave Katharine the most careful of looks, and his voice was muffled as he told her, ‘I think the bugger was jealous of Alexa. I think … well, to be honest, Katharine, he’s a bit decadent in my opinion. You know, swings either way on a windy day. AC-DC.’
Katharine was staring at Norman, momentarily nonplussed. Eventually, she asked incredulously, in a surprised voice, ‘Are you trying to tell me this Rupert what’s-his-name has a thing about Terry?’
Norman nodded. ‘I bloody well am! But hey, Katharine, it’s not mutual! Terry’s as straight as a die. Nothing in the least bit bent about our boy. He loves the ladies too much to tango with the gents, as you well know. And I know for a fact he hasn’t encouraged the chap, other than being friendly with him. Terry can be generous to a fault.’
‘But didn’t Terry realize that this Rupert was …’
‘Queer as a coot?’ Norman interjected and laughed sarcastically. ‘No, not initially. Rupert Reynolds is a deceptive kind of bloke. He always had a lot of dolly birds hanging around, and was for ever boring us, boasting about his conquests. But I began to get an inkling about his predilections a couple of months ago, when he started acting possessive with Terry. I remarked about it, but Terry just laughed again and brushed it off. ’Course, I’d alerted him. Then Alexa confirmed my suspicions and Terry had to listen to her, now didn’t he? You can imagine Terry’s reaction. He dropped Rupert like a hot spud. Yes, Master Reynolds was suddenly persona non bloody grata around the old homestead. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of him for weeks.’
‘Until today,’ Katharine volunteered.
‘That’s right. When I got to the flat and found Terry bleeding on the bed, he muttered something about Rupert being bonkers, and repeated it several times too. I couldn’t make out everything he was saying, but blimey, Katharine, it don’t take much to put two and two together, does it?’
‘Oh Norman, it’s so little to go on, really it –’
‘I found this,’ Norman interrupted peremptorily, and reached into his pocket, producing a gold cufflink. He handed it to Katharine, who took it and studied it, turning it over in her hand.
‘It has some sort of crest on it.’ She looked at Norman questioningly.
‘That’s correct. A family crest, and it’s Rupert’s all right. I’ve seen it before. No two ways about it, ducks, and I found it right in the middle of the living room floor. Listen, the ashtrays were full of the cigs he smokes. Some foul-smelling Frog brand.’
Katharine said curiously, ‘Is that why you wanted my advice? I mean about this Rupert fellow?’
‘No, as a matter of fact, it isn’t –’
‘But somebody like that could still be dangerous,’ Katharine cried. ‘Aren’t you afraid he’ll try and hurt Terry again? You know what they say, hell hath no fury like a –’
‘Good God, no.’ Norman laughed, and she caught the edge of grimness in his laughter. ‘I’m sure he’s already scarpered across the Channel by now, and if he hasn’t, you