Garrison-Gore. Mrs Garrison-Gore . Earlier on, when you talked about clichés something seemed to click. I can’t swear to it, but I believe I’ve heard someone mention a Romany Garrison-Gore. Unless I dreamt it. No, I didn’t. It was my copy editor who mentioned her.’
‘Your copy editor? Are you sure?’
‘I am.’
‘Are you telling me Mrs Garrison-Gore is one of you? I mean one of the crime-writing sorority. Romany Garrison-Gore. I am most certainly not familiar with the name. It doesn’t ring the faintest bell.’ Payne shook his head. ‘Perhaps she is one of those obscure ones that are strictly for library distribution? It’s ages since I’ve been to the library.’
Antonia was in the process of adjusting a French straw confection on her head. ‘She is “one of us”, yes … Unless it’s a different Mrs Garrison-Gore altogether. Her sister or her cousin.’
‘No, not her sister – they can’t both be “Mrs Garrison-Gore” – unless both women married men called Garrison-Gore … And no two sisters can ever be called “Romany” … Didn’t they make you study Titles and Forms of Address at your finishing school?’
‘I thought Sybil looked furtive when she mentioned Mrs Garrsion-Gore’s name.’ Antonia’s eyes narrowed. ‘As though she regretted letting it slip out. Perhaps I imagined it.’
Payne said that a detective story writer who was already on Sphinx Island was a damned suspicious thing. ‘Yes, it all makes perfect sense now … Sybil was perturbed that you – a detective-story writer yourself – might recognise Mrs Garrison-Gore’s name and draw certain conclusions from it. The obvious conclusion of course is that they are putting on some murder show in our honour and that they have hired the services of a professional to stage-manage it.’
‘You thought the idea far-fetched.’
‘No, not far-fetched at all. Of course Mrs Garrison-Gore’s presence on Sphinx Island may prove to be purely fortuitous – she may be John de Coverley’s latest mistress – or Sybil’s oldest and dearest school chum. Or she may turn out to be a loony ufologist who’s writing a thesis on the alien invasion of Sphinx Island in the fifties. That’s possible, isn’t it?’
‘Sybil wouldn’t refer to her as “Mrs Garrison-Gore” if they’d been at school together,’ Antonia pointed out.
‘That may be some kind of a private joke between them. A chap I was at school with was called Puckler-Muskau, but he became generally known as “Pickled Mustard”. He was an Austrian Prince who could trace his lineage back to the days of the Holy Roman Empire. But we are digressing.’
‘It’s you who’s digressing … Actually, Sybil said Mrs Garrison-Gore was a “friend of a friend”, but that was clearly a fib concocted on the spur of the moment. I think she was trying desperately to distance herself from her.’
‘What did your copy-editor say about Mrs Garrison-Gore exactly?’
‘It was only a passing remark. I don’t think it was particularly nice.’ Antonia scrunched up her face. ‘Something about Romany Garrison-Gore being the ultimate nightmare to edit.’
‘Decidedly not nice … It was that one word, “clichés”, that reminded you of her, wasn’t it? That’s when things clicked?’
‘Yes … How do I look?’
‘You look marvellous … A little to the left … That’s it … Perfect … Clichés … The lady novelist with a penchant for lethal clichés … Could we assume that Romany’s romans policiers are little more than hackneyed rag-bags of disparate ideas pinched from other people’s books?’
‘For some reason I have the impression she writes under an assumed name.’
‘‘‘Garrison-Gore” sounds like an assumed name to me. Somehow one expects the pen of a murder mystery writer to be dipped in gore. Which ties up with the letter. I said that looked like blood, didn’t I? One must never underestimate the power of
‘Your copy editor? Are you sure?’
‘I am.’
‘Are you telling me Mrs Garrison-Gore is one of you? I mean one of the crime-writing sorority. Romany Garrison-Gore. I am most certainly not familiar with the name. It doesn’t ring the faintest bell.’ Payne shook his head. ‘Perhaps she is one of those obscure ones that are strictly for library distribution? It’s ages since I’ve been to the library.’
Antonia was in the process of adjusting a French straw confection on her head. ‘She is “one of us”, yes … Unless it’s a different Mrs Garrison-Gore altogether. Her sister or her cousin.’
‘No, not her sister – they can’t both be “Mrs Garrison-Gore” – unless both women married men called Garrison-Gore … And no two sisters can ever be called “Romany” … Didn’t they make you study Titles and Forms of Address at your finishing school?’
‘I thought Sybil looked furtive when she mentioned Mrs Garrsion-Gore’s name.’ Antonia’s eyes narrowed. ‘As though she regretted letting it slip out. Perhaps I imagined it.’
Payne said that a detective story writer who was already on Sphinx Island was a damned suspicious thing. ‘Yes, it all makes perfect sense now … Sybil was perturbed that you – a detective-story writer yourself – might recognise Mrs Garrison-Gore’s name and draw certain conclusions from it. The obvious conclusion of course is that they are putting on some murder show in our honour and that they have hired the services of a professional to stage-manage it.’
‘You thought the idea far-fetched.’
‘No, not far-fetched at all. Of course Mrs Garrison-Gore’s presence on Sphinx Island may prove to be purely fortuitous – she may be John de Coverley’s latest mistress – or Sybil’s oldest and dearest school chum. Or she may turn out to be a loony ufologist who’s writing a thesis on the alien invasion of Sphinx Island in the fifties. That’s possible, isn’t it?’
‘Sybil wouldn’t refer to her as “Mrs Garrison-Gore” if they’d been at school together,’ Antonia pointed out.
‘That may be some kind of a private joke between them. A chap I was at school with was called Puckler-Muskau, but he became generally known as “Pickled Mustard”. He was an Austrian Prince who could trace his lineage back to the days of the Holy Roman Empire. But we are digressing.’
‘It’s you who’s digressing … Actually, Sybil said Mrs Garrison-Gore was a “friend of a friend”, but that was clearly a fib concocted on the spur of the moment. I think she was trying desperately to distance herself from her.’
‘What did your copy-editor say about Mrs Garrison-Gore exactly?’
‘It was only a passing remark. I don’t think it was particularly nice.’ Antonia scrunched up her face. ‘Something about Romany Garrison-Gore being the ultimate nightmare to edit.’
‘Decidedly not nice … It was that one word, “clichés”, that reminded you of her, wasn’t it? That’s when things clicked?’
‘Yes … How do I look?’
‘You look marvellous … A little to the left … That’s it … Perfect … Clichés … The lady novelist with a penchant for lethal clichés … Could we assume that Romany’s romans policiers are little more than hackneyed rag-bags of disparate ideas pinched from other people’s books?’
‘For some reason I have the impression she writes under an assumed name.’
‘‘‘Garrison-Gore” sounds like an assumed name to me. Somehow one expects the pen of a murder mystery writer to be dipped in gore. Which ties up with the letter. I said that looked like blood, didn’t I? One must never underestimate the power of
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