High life
Unlucky?
Taki
As a close friend of Lord Lucan, and despite various tempting offers, I have avoided writing about him since that tragic day foul years ago. The reason being that any reminiscence, unless useful in helping solve the puzzle, is bound to have only one effect: to arouse Oublicity which in turn would be detrimental to the three persons he prized most, his children. And as time goes by the less written about him the better. His children will soon be old enough to read the papers. Having said this I will now contradict myself and do the exact opposite of what I'm preaching. I am moved to do so by last week's Spectator article concerning his various 'sightings' and the seemingly endless appetite of the media and the public for news of the 'fugitive' lord.
The first theory I would like to debunk is about the Lucan set. It never existed. It was simply a creation of the rather limited imagination of the Sunday Times team that 'investigated' his case. The set that did exist, and which both Lucan and I were part of, was that of John Aspinall, wild animal breeder, casino owner, and de facto tribal chief of all intrepid gamblers, animal lovers, and people who believe that Englishmen should be warriors rather than shopunderdogs and lovers of ancient Greece.
'Lucky: Lucan was so nicknamed by Aspinall because of a four-month period during which he played five chemin-de-fer shoes a night, five nights per week, and never had a winning night. Like a modernday Cardigan, however, he never corn • plained, never lost his sense of humour, until the inevitable happened. He went bust and went to Aspinall for help. Which he got. Along with an enduring friendship. Yet Lucan emerged as a bore, a half-witted upper-class twit, after the press was through with him following Sandra Rivett's murder. He was definitely neither. He loved history, was a voracious reader, had a great sense of humour and was a devoted father. Despite great pride he took himself less seriously than any man I know, and having known him very well I am still incapable of believing him guilty of murder.
But, needless to say, the facts are there. He looks guilty as hell and I won't deny it. There are, however, certain discrepancies in the drama which leadme to believe in the following scenario: a very depressed Lucan wanders near his home following a bout of drinking. He has missed his dinner date because he has begun to drink earlier than usual. An unknown murderer runs away as he enters his house. Confused he goes up the stairs and sees Veronica lying face down on her bed having been attacked. He turns her round and she screams at him thinking it is he who has attacked her. 'Lucky' 110 realises the gravity of his position. He has for the past two years insisted that Veronica is out to 'get' him. Although he calms her down momentarily, she gets away from him and goes for help. In his drunken,. confused and depressed state he panics. He thinks all is lost and decides to take the easy way out. He drives to the Maxwell-Scott house, writes his let" ters and commits suicide. After leaving the Maxwell-Scott home, and before killing himself, he convinces a close friend that for the sake of his children he must be buried• Before the friend can argue 'Lucky' kills himself. My version of events is based on wishfn,1 thinking as well as Suzy Maxwell-Scott s conviction that he is innocent. It is Ells° consistent with Veronica Lucan's statement of being attacked from behind by an unseen assailant. And now for the cheap shot. A hired private detective found that the unfortunate victim had gone through na, acrimonious divorce, had both a fiance an a boyfriend, and was known to have hee!I the cause of fights over her favours. There is one chance in a thousand that it could have been someone else. Lucan was no fool. Either way he kneqi he was in for a public humiliation. As Aspinall pointed out at the time, he was man capable of falling on his sword. I, believe that if he's alive he is guilty. If den" he could be innocent.
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