‘Dora Lavender would be suspect number one!’ said Melissa dryly. ‘And that would have been ironic, wouldn’t it, now he’s been posted back to HQ. I wonder if Rose will be down to dinner?’
‘Dressed in mourning?’ Iris gave an unsympathetic cackle. ‘Can’t say we didn’t warn her.’
The atmosphere at the dinner table could have been worse – for most of the meal, at any rate. Dora, naturally, was in good spirits and with Fortune on her side she could afford to be magnanimous. She made no reference to either Dieter’s recall or the coming week of golf in Antibes; instead, in response to a question from Melissa, she gave an account of her visit to the sports centre the previous day and then encouraged Rose to talk about her experiences in the world of son et lumière.
Rose responded bravely, but her manner was artificially bright and brittle. Like Dora, she too avoided any mention of Dieter. It was a chance remark that caught her off guard.
‘Your interviews seem to have been a great success,’ said Melissa casually as she helped herself to cheese. ‘Did everyone fare as well?’
‘I think so,’ said Dora. ‘Everyone seemed very pleased with the arrangements Philippe had made, didn’t they, Rose?’
‘Dieter was a bit put out.’ Rose had evidently spoken without thinking. Her colour deepened and she bit her lip and looked down at her plate.
‘Why? What went wrong?’ asked Dora gently.
‘Nothing really . . . I mean, it was a good interview. It was just that the man he went to see kept him waiting from nine o’clock until almost ten. Something to do with a piece of machinery breaking down.’
‘These things happen,’ said Dora. ‘Monsieur Tollet at the sports centre had to leave me several times to deal with queries.’
‘Just a minute,’ said Melissa. ‘Dora, didn’t you say something to me about trying to have a word with Dieter yesterday morning, before you went off to your interview?’
Dora thought for a moment. ‘That’s right, I did. He was in the garden and I called out to him, but he didn’t answer. Wouldn’t answer, more likely,’ she added tartly, forgetting her role as peacemaker and earning a resentful glance from Rose.
‘What time would this have been?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Half-past nine, perhaps. I didn’t look at my watch, but I found out later it had stopped so it would have been wrong anyway. Everyone else had gone and I was practising on the putting green. I saw him go through the gate into the woods . . .’
‘You couldn’t have done,’ Rose interrupted. ‘He was waiting to see that man at the factory long before then. Anyway, why did you want to speak to him? You usually avoid him like the plague.’ The cordial atmosphere was crumbling fast.
‘Does it matter?’
‘Of course it matters. You were going to interfere, weren’t you?’ Rose’s voice shook, the pitch growing higher with each word. ‘Trying to come between him and me? Well, it won’t work. And don’t imagine that just because he’s got to go back on Saturday, we shan’t be seeing one another again.’ She leapt to her feet and glared at Dora, her chin thrust forward, her eyes hard and angry.
‘Rose, do calm down. Everyone’s looking at you.’
‘Let them look. I’m not staying here with you another minute!’ Almost in tears now, Rose rushed out of the dining-room, narrowly avoiding a collision with Monsieur Gauthier bearing a loaded tray.
Dora was about to follow, but Iris stopped her with a gesture. ‘No point,’ she said laconically. ‘Only lead to another bust-up. Have a liqueur with your coffee.’ She beckoned to Monsieur Gauthier, who came bobbing across to their table.
When he had gone to fetch their order, Melissa said, ‘Dora, are you absolutely certain you saw Dieter Erdle in the garden yesterday morning?’
‘Of course I am. He was going into the woods.’
‘Did you happen to notice what he was wearing?’
Dora looked surprised, thought for a moment and said, ‘Blue trousers and a white shirt, I think.’ Iris opened her mouth to contradict, but Melissa nudged her under the table. Dora looked at them curiously and said, ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I just wondered . . . you said this was about nine-thirty. Would that have been about the time you went back to the car to look for your nine iron?’
‘No, that was later. I went back and carried on with my putting practice for a while. What did I do next?’ Dora traced an abstract pattern with her finger on the table-cloth, as if she felt it would help the process of recall. ‘Oh, yes, I thought perhaps I’d try to intercept Erdle on his way back. I hung around for a while . . . now I come to think of it, I walked a short way along the path, looking for him.’
‘But you didn’t see him?’
‘No, I came to the conclusion that he must have gone the other way, along the track leading to the road.’
‘Weren’t you surprised to have seen him in the first place? I mean, didn’t you know he was supposed to be in Anduze at nine o’clock?’
‘Why should I? We were given the details of our appointments individually. I simply assumed his was for later on, like mine.’
‘So, when you failed to find him, you gave up and went back to the car to look for your nine iron?’
‘That’s right. I couldn’t find it, but I didn’t search thoroughly just then.’
‘Because you realised your watch had stopped and it was later than you thought?’
‘Yes. I checked the car clock and it was twenty past ten. My appointment was in Alès at eleven and I wanted to give myself plenty of time to find the place, so I decided to leave straight away. Why are you asking all these questions, Melissa? Do you suppose it was Erdle who stole my iron?’
‘I’ve no reason to think so, but I’m trying to consider all possibilities.’ Remembering her promise to Bonard and anxious not to excite any alarmist speculation, Melissa kept her tone casual, but the damage had been done.
Dora jerked her head like a horse shying at a pheasant. ‘Well, I have every reason to think so!’ she declared. ‘I see it now – it’s that stupid young fool’s idea of a joke, to pay me out for objecting to the way he’s been behaving towards Rose! Just wait till I get hold of him!’ Her face registered gathering anger and her tone a blistering contempt. ‘I’ve a good mind to go and have it out with him here and now. I know where to find him – he’s staying at the Lion d’Or.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Melissa, restraining Dora in the act of leaping to her feet. ‘What proof have you got?’
‘What proof do I need? Who else would play a trick like that on me? I wouldn’t be surprised if Rose put him up to it!’ She was becoming increasingly agitated, glaring at Melissa as if in some way holding her responsible.
‘Take it easy,’ said Iris. ‘This is getting out of hand.’
Dora ignored the intervention. ‘There’s something funny going on,’ she insisted. ‘What was Erdle doing in the woods this morning, I’d like to know?’ She stabbed the air with her forefinger. ‘I’ll tell you what he was doing. He was looking for somewhere to hide my iron. He might even have thrown it over the cliff. If he has, it’ll be ruined!’
‘Please, Dora, be reasonable!’ urged Melissa. ‘According to Rose, he was at a factory in Anduze by nine and spent the rest of the morning there. He couldn’t be in two places at once.’
‘His contact didn’t show up till nearly ten. He had plenty of time to come back.’
‘But Rose said . . .’
‘Rose will believe anything that man tells her,’ fumed Dora. ‘All I know is, I saw him, I followed him, but he disappeared into the woods. What he did after that, I’ve no idea. Unless,’ her hand shot to her mouth and her eyes dilated, ‘unless he was going after Alain Gebrec. Perhaps that poor man didn’t kill himself after all!’ Her voice faded to a barely audible whisper. ‘Perhaps Dieter Erdle murdered him . . . with my nine iron! Oh, how dreadful!’
‘If I were you, I wouldn’t go spreading accusations like that around,’ said Melissa, alarmed at th
e turn the conversation was taking. ‘You could find yourself in serious trouble.’
‘I don’t need your advice on how to conduct myself, thank you,’ said Dora through her teeth.
Further acrimony was prevented by the arrival of Monsieur Gauthier with the liqueurs. Immediately, Dora put her expression to rights, even squeezing out a polite smile of thanks as he set her glass in front of her, the epitome of a well-bred Englishwoman who never reveals her feelings before servants or foreigners.
‘Your friend, she does not return?’ he enquired, with a bob towards Rose’s empty chair.
‘She is tired and has gone to her room. I’ll go up and see how she is. I’ll take this with me.’ Dora stood up with the glass in her hand. ‘Will you get another one, please?’
‘Well, what do you make of that?’ murmured Melissa as soon as Dora was out of earshot.
‘Couldn’t have been Erdle she saw,’ replied Iris. ‘Wrong colour trousers.’
‘He might have changed them.’ Melissa’s brain was in overdrive. ‘Suppose Dora’s right and he did kill Gebrec? Crawling about disposing of the body, he could have got them dusty.’
‘Suppose so. Or bloodstained. A bash on the head with a golf-club’d make a nasty mess.’
‘In that case there’d have been blood on the ground,’ Melissa pointed out. ‘The fuzz would have been on to that straight away. No, if there’s anything in the golf-club theory, it’s more likely the victim was merely stunned.’
‘So you reckon Erdle might have done it?’
Melissa shook her head doubtfully. ‘There is the problem of time. If what he told Rose was true, he couldn’t have been at the belvedere after about a quarter to nine. We know Gebrec was alive at least half an hour after that. It should be the easiest of alibis to check.
‘Oh, yes? Like how, Madame Poirot?’
Melissa shrugged. ‘You tell me. I’ve got no authority to go asking questions of complete strangers.’
Iris’s eyes sparkled. ‘Knowing you, you’ll think of something!’
Melissa grinned back at her. ‘I’m delighted to know you have such faith in me!’ They clinked glasses and sipped their liqueurs in a companionable silence, forgetting for a minute or two the gruesome nature of their discussion. Then Melissa said, ‘Motive. Let’s think about motive.’
‘Any ideas?’
‘Nothing very positive, but Erdle was constantly needling him, wasn’t he?’
‘More like a motive for him to bump off Erdle than t’other way round.’
‘That’s a point. And there’s that book I bought – gosh, I keep forgetting about that! Both Gebrecs were furious about something in there, and Erdle knows what it is. He offered to show me, but Alain nearly went berserk and then we got interrupted. I started to flip through it, but I didn’t know where to begin. It’s got over three hundred pages, all heavily annotated.’
‘Tried the index?’
‘Of course.’ Melissa looked pained. ‘First thing I did.’ She finished her drink and got up from the table. ‘There’s only one person who can answer this.’
‘You mean Erdle? Not going to tackle him about this business of Dora’s golf-club, are you?’
‘Of course I’m not.’
‘What about Madame G?’
Slowly, Melissa sat down. ‘Yes, of course, she knows,’ she mused. ‘But when I asked her if she knew of anyone who might have a motive for killing Alain, it didn’t seem to ring any bells.’
‘Revenge?’ suggested Iris. ‘Long-standing grudge . . . one generation settling the previous one’s accounts?’
‘Mm, could well be. I can’t bother Madame Gebrec this evening, she’s far too upset. But I can talk to Erdle.’ Melissa stood up again.
Iris did the same. ‘I’ll come with you.’
Melissa eyed her with something like suspicion. ‘This is a change of heart for you, isn’t it? You usually do your darnedest to talk me out of getting involved in this sort of thing.’
‘Learned my lesson, haven’t I? Can’t stop you poking your nose in, but I can keep an eye on you.’
‘Okay,’ sighed Melissa. ‘Come if you insist – but please, let me do the talking.’
When they reached the Lion d’Or, the first person they saw was Jack Hammond sitting in a corner of the terrace. He hurried across to greet them, his ruddy face alight with pleasure.
‘I was just thinking about you,’ he said. His glance briefly included Melissa, but settled, beaming, on Iris. ‘Will you have a drink with me? Dieter said he’d be along presently.’
Iris hesitated, but Melissa jumped in quickly. ‘You two wait here for me and I’ll join you in a minute or two,’ she said. Over Jack’s shoulder, she caught her friend’s eye and put a finger to her lips. There was no particular reason why he should not know what she was up to, but she instinctively felt an urge to keep it quiet for the moment.
She intercepted Dieter just as he was emerging on to the terrace. He looked surprised at her request for a word in private, but readily agreed and led her across the hotel reception hall, out through a door at the rear of the building and into the garden. There was no one about; the swings in the children’s play area hung motionless and the only sound from the swimming-pool was the hum of the filtration plant. The reflections of a string of coloured lanterns danced in an ever-changing pattern on the rippling surface of the water.
‘Isn’t that pretty!’ exclaimed Melissa.
Dieter raised an eyebrow. ‘You did not come out here to admire the lights, I think?’
‘No.’
‘Then let me guess. You bring a request from Dora not to deprive her of – what is the English expression – her meal ticket?’ His grin held the same hint of mocking, almost insolent provocation as when he had taunted Alain Gebrec.
Melissa was about to retort that Dora had every right to be concerned about her friend, but reminded herself that it was no business of hers and that in any case, Dora was quite capable of fighting her own battles.
‘I’m quite sure Dora can do without the services of an emissary,’ she said coolly and his laughter echoed across the empty garden.
He was quite outrageous and she knew she should not have so much as smiled, but she found herself laughing with him. He was a handsome animal with a charm that was hard to resist; his brown hair sprang from his scalp in crisp waves, his speech was brisk, his carriage erect and his movements athletic. It was easy to see why Rose found him so attractive; whether he cared for her was another matter and nothing to do with Melissa or her present mission.
‘So,’ he said, smiling in obvious delight at having so easily disarmed her. ‘What can I do for you, gnädige Frau?’
‘You remember how angry Alain became when he saw me with that book?’ she said.
‘Of course.’ The recollection appeared to cause him further amusement.
‘There’s something in it that upset both Alain and his mother very much. You know what it is, don’t you?’
His smile faded. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘You offered to point it out to me. You must remember – Alain snatched the book from my hand before you had the chance.’
He gave an uneasy laugh. ‘Just an example of my unfortunate sense of humour, I fear.’
‘You mean, you don’t really know at all?’
He avoided her eye as he replied, ‘I have no idea.’
‘So why all the snide remarks?’
He looked at her in apparent perplexity. ‘What does this mean, “snide”?’
‘I think you know perfectly well,’ said Melissa impatiently, suspecting prevarication. ‘Teasing him about speaking German, wisecracks about spies . . . that sort of thing. What were you getting at?’
‘Getting at?’
This time, his look of puzzlement was far too exaggerated to be genuine, but she kept her voice even as she said, ‘What . . . did . . . you . . . mean?’
‘Ah, I understand. Well, I meant nothing at all, I assure you. Just a little joke. I tol
d him last week that he looked more like a German than a Frenchman and he became very cross.’ His short laugh sounded slightly hollow. ‘It was quite funny.’
‘He didn’t seem to think it was funny.’
Dieter thrust his hands into his pockets and traced with the toe of one foot the outline of a damp patch on the concrete surround of the pool.
‘I like to make jokes, but some people have no sense of humour, that is all,’ he said defensively. ‘Why do you ask me all these questions?’
‘Alain’s mother doesn’t believe he committed suicide and I’m inclined to agree with her.’ For a moment, the foot hesitated in its rotation, then completed one more cycle and came to rest. He continued to stare at the ground as she added, ‘I’m just wondering who might have had a motive for killing him.’
‘So,’ he said without looking up, ‘you play the real-life detective for a change?’
‘I promised to ask around a bit, and it occurred to me that the book might contain a clue.’
‘I am sorry, I cannot help you.’
‘That’s a pity. I don’t want to have to question Madame Gebrec, because I think it would upset her. Since you won’t tell me, I suppose I’ll just have to plod through the whole book.’
He shrugged. ‘In your place, I would not waste my time. Have you any other questions for me?’
‘No, that’s all.’
As they walked back through the hotel he remarked casually, ‘I said I’d meet Jack on the terrace for a drink.’
‘Yes, he told me.’
‘Perhaps you would care to join us?’
‘As a matter of fact, he’s expecting me. My friend Iris is there with him already.’
‘Aha! Another romance, to keep the score . . .’ He moved his hands up and down, simulating a pair of scales. ‘Gleich?’
‘Even,’ she translated and added, ‘I don’t follow you.’
‘Well, we have had two deaths, so why not two love affairs – or, perhaps I should say, flirtations?’
The words were spoken with a provocative, sidelong glance and Melissa was sure that, just for the hell of it, he was trying to trick her into questioning him over his relationship with Rose. She declined to be tempted. And it had not escaped her notice that he had allowed the words, ‘since you won’t tell me’ to pass unchallenged. It might have been a weakness in his command of the language, but she did not think so.
Murder on the Clifftops Page 16
