Gina appeared in the sitting-room doorway.
“Good evening, Lieutenant,” she said. Her calm, quiet voice had a steadying effect on me.
Carlotti bowed to her.
I stood aside.
“Come in, Lieutenant.”
Carlotti moved forward.
“Sergeant Anoni,” he said, nodding to his companion who followed him into the hall.
I led the way into the lounge. By now I had got over the first shock of seeing Carlotti, but I was still pretty shaken.
“This is unexpected, Lieutenant,” I said. “Did you know I was here?”
“I happened to be passing. I saw the lights were on. I was curious to see who could be here. It is fortunate. I wanted to talk to you.
Anoni, short, thick-set with a fiat, expressionless face, leaned against the wall by the door. He seemed to be taking no interest in the proceedings.
“Well, sit down,” I said, waving Carlotti to a chair. “We were just having a drink. Will you join us?”
“No, thank you.”
He moved around the room, his hands in his coat pockets. Going over to the window, he glanced out, then turning, he came over to where I was standing and sat down near me. I sat down too. Gina perched herself on the arm of the settee.
“I understand you collected la signorina Chalmers’s camera from Lieutenant Grandi this morning,” Carlotti said.
Surprised I said, “Yes, that’s right. Grandi said you had finished with it.”
“So I had thought, but I’ve been thinking about that camera.” Carlotti took out a packet of cigarettes and lit one. He knew better than to offer Gina or myself this particular brand that he smoked. “I feel I have been a little hasty in parting with the camera. You would have no objection to return it?”
“Why, no. I’ll bring it to you to-morrow morning. Will that do?”
“It’s not here?”
“It’s at my apartment.”
“Perhaps it wouldn’t inconvenience you if we collected it to-night.”
“Well, all right.” I lit a cigarette and took a pull at my glass. I needed the drink. “Why the sudden interest in the camera, Lieutenant?”
“On reflection, it strikes me as odd that there was no film in it.”
“You’ve got around to that rather late in the day haven’t you?”
He lifted his shoulders.
“At first I thought it was possible la signorina had forgotten to put a film in the camera, but since then, I have talked with an expert. Bearing in mind that the footage indicator on the camera showed that twelve feet of film had been exposed, it would seem from that there had been a film in the camera, and that the film had been removed. I’m not familiar with cine cameras. I realize now that I shouldn’t have parted with it quite so soon.”
“Well, there’s no damage done. You’ll have it to-night.”
“You have no idea who could have removed the film?”
“Not unless it was la signorina herself.”
“The film was removed apparently without the film gate being opened. That would mean the film would be exposed to the light as it was being taken out and therefore ruined. La signorina would scarcely do that, would she?”
“I suppose not,” I leaned back in my chair. “I thought this business was all buttoned up,
Lieutenant. Now you seem to have some doubts about it.”
“The doubts have been forced on me.” Carlotti said. “La signorina bought ten cartons of film. They are missing. The film in the camera is also missing. I examined this apartment this morning. There are no private papers of any description here. Considering la signorina stayed here for nearly thirteen weeks, it seems odd that she apparently didn’t receive or write a letter, never had any bills, kept no diary or telephone numbers: odd, unless, of course, someone has been in here and taken her personal papers away.”
“I noticed that myself,” I said, setting my glass down on the table. “She could have had a tidy-up before she left, of course.”
“That is possible, but unlikely. You are here to close up the apartment?”
“Yes. Chalmers told me to get rid of all her things.”
Carlotti studied his immaculate finger-nails, then he looked directly at me.
“I am sorry to disturb your arrangements, but I must ask you to leave everything for the moment as it is. I intend to seal up the apartment until after the inquest.”
I had to challenge this, although I was pretty sure now what was going on in his mind.
“What’s the idea, Lieutenant?”
“Let us say it is normal routine,” Carlotti said mildly. “It is possible there may be an investigation after the inquest.”
“But I understood from Chalmers that the coroner had agreed to record a verdict of accidental death.”
Carlotti smiled.
“I believe that was his intention, based on the present evidence, but as the inquest is not until Monday, it is possible further evidence may come to light that will alter the situation.”
“Chalmers won’t be pleased.”
“That is unfortunate.”
It was obvious now that he was no longer in awe of Chalmers.
“You have spoken to your chief?” I said. “I believe Chalmers has also had a word with him.”
Carlotti tapped ash from his cigarette into his hand and then dusted the ash on to the carpet.
“My chief agrees with me. It is still possible that la signorina’s death was an accident but the missing films, this American who was seen in Sorrento, the fact that this apartment has been stripped of all personal papers, forces us to conclude there are grounds for an investigation.” He puffed lung-scorching smoke towards me. “There is another point that puzzles me. I hear from la signorina’s bank manager that she was made an allowance of sixty dollars a week. When she arrived in Rome she had with her a small trunk and a suitcase. You have probably seen the contents of the closets and drawers in the other room. I am wondering where the money came from to buy all these things.”
It was pretty obvious that he had already begun to dig into Helen’s background, and I remembered June’s look of fear when she begged me not to do this thing.
“I can see you have some problems on your mind,” I said as casually as I could.
’Perhaps we could go over to your apartment now and collect the camera,” Carlotti said, getting to his feet. “Then I need not bother you again.”
“Okay.” I stood up. “Come with us, Gina. We’ll have dinner after I’ve given the camera to the Lieutenant.”
“Perhaps you would be kind enough to let me have the key to this apartment?” Carlotri said. “I will return it to you within a few days.”
I gave him the key, which he handed to Anoni. We moved out into the corridor. Anoni didn’t come with us. He remained in the apartment.
As the three of us descended in the elevator, Carlotti said, “That car number you were inquiring about. It had nothing to do with la signorina?”
“I told you: this guy nearly clipped me. He didn’t stop. I thought I had got his number correct, but apparently I hadn’t.”
I felt his eyes on my face. We didn’t speak further until we got into my car, then he said, “Can you give me the names of any of la signorina’s friends?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I think I told you already: I scarcely knew her.”
“But you have talked to her?”
The mildness of his tone put me on my guard.
“Of course, but she didn’t tell me anything about her life in Rome. After all, she was my boss’s daughter, and it didn’t cross my mind to question her.”
“Did you take her out to dinner at the Trevi restaurant almost four weeks ago?”
I felt as if someone had given me a punch under the heart. Just how much did he know? Someone must have seen us. I knew I didn’t dare lie to him.
“I believe I did, come to think of it, I happened to run onto her, and as I was going to dinner, I asked her along.”<
br />
There was a pause, then he said, “I see.”
I swung the car into the street where I lived and pulled up outside my private entrance.
There was a pretty tense atmosphere in the car. My hear was bumping so heavily against my side that I was scared he would hear it.
“And that was the only time you took her out?”
My mind raced. We had gone to two movies; we had had at least two or three dinners together.
To gain time, I said, “What was that?”
I opened the car door and got out. He followed me on to the sidewalk.
Patiently, and without much hope in his voice, he repeated the question.
“As far as I can remember.” I leaned into the car. “I won’t be a moment,” I said to Gina. “Wait for me, then we’ll have dinner together.”
Carlotti followed me up the spiral staircase. He was humming under his breath, and I could feel his eyes examining the back of my head.
I walked down the passage that led directly to my front door. I was half-way down the
passage when I saw the front door was standing ajar. I came to an abrupt stop.
“Hello… that’s funny,” I said.
“You shut it when you left?” Carlotti said, moving in front of me.
“Of course.”
We reached the door together.
“Oh, damn! Looks like burglars,” I said, and pointed to the smashed lock on the front door. I made a move into the hall, but Carlotti pulled me back.
“Please… let me go first,” he said curtly, and, moving silently, he stepped into the hall, crossed h with two quick strides and threw open the sitting-room door. I was right on his heels.
All the lights were on. We stood in the doorway and stared around the room that looked as if it had been struck by a hurricane.
Everything was in disorder. Cupboards stood open, a couple of chairs were overturned, all the drawers in the desk hung open, and all my papers were lying scattered on the floor.
Carlotti went swiftly into my bedroom. Then I heard him run down the passage to the bathroom.
I walked over to the desk. I looked in the bottom drawer in which I had locked the camera. The lock had been forced and, of course, the camera was gone.
PART SEVEN
I
It was ten minutes past eleven before I got rid of Carlotti and his mob of detectives who descended on my apartment, dusting everything for finger-prints, poking their noses in every nook and cranny, photographing the splintered door and generally raising all kinds of hell.
I had gone down to Gina, explained the situation and told her not to wait for me. She wanted to stay, but I wouldn’t let her. I had too much on my mind to have her around as well as the police.
She said she would call me in the morning, gave me a worried look, and then went away in a taxi.
Carlotti listened to my explanation about the camera. I showed him where I had put it, and he examined the broken lock of the drawer.
I’m not sure if he believed what I was telling him. His face was expressionless, but I had an idea he was only maintaining his usual polite calmness by an effort
“This is an odd coincidence, Signor Dawson,” he said. “You have the camera for only a few hours, then a thief breaks in and steals it.”
“Yeah?” I said sarcastically. “And he not only steals the camera, but also goes off with my goddamn clothes, my cigarettes, my booze and my spare cash. I don’t call that a coincidence.”
One of Carlotti’s men came over and murmured there were no finger-prints to be found except mine.
Carlotti gave me a thoughtful stare, then shrugged his shoulders.
“I shall have to report this to my chief,” he said.
“Report it to the President if you want to,” I returned. “Just so long as you get my clothes back.”
“The camera is a serious loss, signor.”
“I couldn’t care less about the camera. That’s your funeral. If you didn’t realize until now that
it was important to you, you can scarcely blame me that it’s been stolen. Grandi gave me the camera, and I signed a receipt for it. He told me neither you nor he wanted it. So don’t look at me as if I’ve cooked up this robbery just to get you into trouble.”
He said there was no need to get angry about such an unfortunate affair.
“Okay, so I’m not angry. Would you get your boys out of here so I can clear up and get some supper?”
It took them a further half-hour to satisfy themselves that there were positively no clues left by the burglar, then finally, and with the greatest reluctance, they went away.
Carlotti was the last to leave.
“This is an awkward situation,” he said as he paused in the doorway. “You should never have been given the camera.”
“I know. I can see that. My heart bleeds for you, but I was given the camera and you’ve got my receipt. You can’t blame me for what’s happened. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to lose any sleep about it.”
He started to say something, changed his mind, shrugged his shoulders and went away.
I had an idea at the back of my mind that for a couple of times, he would have accused me of staging the burglary myself just so he couldn’t lay his hands on the camera.
I wasn’t kidding myself. I was quite sure that, although most of my clothes, cigarettes, three bottles of Scotch and a few thousand lire were missing, the thief had broken in only for one purpose: to get the camera.
I did a little thinking while I hastily cleared up the mess in my bedroom and sitting-room. At the back of my mind I had the picture, of the broad-shouldered intruder I had seen creeping around the villa at Sorrento. I was willing to bet that he was the guy who had broken in here and had lifted the camera.
I had just finished tidying up my sitting-room when the front door bell rang.
I went into the hall, thinking Carlotti had come back with a flock of new questions. I slid back the bolt and opened the front door. Jack Maxwell stood outside.
“Hello,” he said. “I hear you have had a burglar.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Come on in.”
He looked at the broken lock on the front door with morbid interest, and then followed me into the sitting-room. “Lost much?”
“Just the usual things. I’m insured… so what do I care?” I went over to the liquor cabinet. “Have a drink?”
“I don’t mind having a brandy.” He dropped into a chair. “Was the old man pleased with the way I handled the write-up about Helen?”
“He seemed to be. Did you have much trouble?”
“One or two of the boys started to ask smart questions, but I told them they’d better talk to Chalmers. They said they’d rather kiss a smallpox case. That guy certainly is one of the best loved in this world.” He took the brandy I handed to him. “Has he gone yet or is he staying on?”
“He left on the three-forty plane from Naples.” I made myself a highball. “Hold everything for a moment. I want something to eat. I haven’t had a thing since lunch.”
“Well, come out. I’ll buy you something.”
“It’s too late now.” I picked up the telephone recover and called the hall porter. I told him to get me a chicken sandwich and bring it up pronto.
“Well, give us the dope,” Maxwell said, when I had hung up. “Did you find what she was doing in that place all alone? How did she die?”
I was careful what I told him, I said it looked as if there was a man in the background, that the police weren’t entirely satisfied that Helen’s death bad been accidental, and that Chalmers had told me to stick around and watch his interests. I didn’t tell him what June had said, nor that Helen had been pregnant.
He sat listening, sipping his brandy.
“So you’re not going home right away?”
“Not for a while.”
“I told you the old sonofabitch would want an investigation, didn’t I? Well, thank my stars,
I’m not involved.”
I said he was lucky.
“What’s biting the police? Why aren’t they satisfied?”
“Carlotti likes mysteries. He always turns molehills into mountains.”
“Does Chalmers think it was an accident?”
“He’s keeping an open mind about it.”
“Do you?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“This girl was a ripe little bitch. You don’t think her boy friend shoved her over the cliff, do you?”
“I hope not. Chalmers would love a set-up like that.”
“There’s bound to be a man in this, Ed. She wouldn’t have taken a villa in Sorrento if she hadn’t a man to share it with. Any idea who he could be?”
“Not the vaguest, but never mind that, Jack. Tell me something: who’s June Chalmers?”
He looked surprised, then grinned.
“She’s a pippin, isn’t she? But if you’ve got ideas about her, I’d forget them. You wouldn’t get to first base.”
“Nothing like that. I want to know who she is. Where does the come from? Do you know anything about her?”
“Not much. She used to be a torch singer at one of Menotti’s night spots.”
I stiffened. Menotti again.
“Is that how she and Helen met?”
“Could be: did they meet?”
“She told me she had known Helen for some years.”
“Did she now? I didn’t know that. I heard Chalmers met her at a party, took one look at her and practically married her on the spot. It was lucky for her that he did. The night club she was working at closed down when Menotti was knocked off. Although the certainly has a shape, she can’t sing for dimes.”
The night porter interrupted us by bringing my sandwich.
Maxwell got to his feet.
“Well, here are your victuals. I’ll be pushing along. When’s the inquest?”
“Monday.”
“You’ll go down, I suppose?”
You Find Him, I'll Fix Him Page 11
