I knew too, that if I did lie down on the investigation, Chalmers would know. He would get rid of me and put someone else on the job.
I knew also that if Carlotti suspected that Helen had been murdered, no one, let alone Chalmers, would stop him hunting for the killer.
I levered myself out of my chair and went over to the telephone.
I called Maxwell.
The operator told me there was no answer from the office, so I asked her to put me through to Maxwell's hotel. The clerk told me Maxwell was out. I said I would call again and hung up.
I lit another cigarette and wondered what my next move was to be. It seemed to me that I had to go ahead with the investigation. I decided to go around to Helen's apartment. There might or might not be something there that would give me a lead on this set-up.
I locked the camera away in a drawer in my desk, and then went down to where I had left the Lincoln. Not bothering to get my car from the garage, I used the Lincoln. It took me twenty minutes to reach Helen's apartment block. I lugged her suitcases into the automatic elevator and then along with me to her front door.
As I took out the Yale key Chalmers had given me, I glanced at my watch. The time was twenty minutes to eight o'clock. I pushed open the front door and walked into the hall.
A very faint smell of her perfume gave me a spooky feeling as I crossed the hall and walked into the sitting-mom. It seemed only a few hours ago that she and I were talking together about our planned stay in Sorrento: only a few hours since I had kissed her for the first and only time.
I stood in the doorway and looked across the room to the desk where the ten cartons of films had stood, but they weren't there. There had been a remote possibility that she had forgotten to have taken them to Sorrento. That they were not on the desk underlined the fact that someone had stolen them from the villa.
I moved into the room and looked around. After a moment's hesitation I went over to the desk and sat down before it I opened one drawer after the other. There were the usual things you expect to find in the drawers of a desk: notepaper, blotting-paper, ink, rubber bands and so on. I found all these, but I didn't find one personal paper, bill, letter or diary anywhere. It took me several moments to realize that someone must have been here before me, and had made a clean sweep of every used scrap of paper in the desk. Had it been the police or the same person who had stolen the films?
Uneasy in my mind, I went into the bedroom. It wasn't until I had looked into the various closets and into the drawers of the bureau that I saw what a tremendous stock of expensive clothes Helen had owned. Chalmers had told me to get rid of all her things, but looking at the dozens of dresses, coats, shoes, three drawers full of underwear and a drawer crammed with costume jewellery, I saw the job was too big for me to tackle alone. I decided I'd have to get Gina to help me.
I returned to the sitting-room and called her on the telephone. I was lucky to catch her. She told me she was just going out to supper.
"Could you come over here?" I gave her the address. "I've a man-sized job for you to tackle. Take a taxi. When we're through I'll take you out to dinner."
She said she would be right over.
As I hung up I noticed on the wall, near the telephone, a telephone number scribbled in pencil: I leaned forward to stare at it. It was scarcely visible, and it was only because I had switched on the table lamp that I had seen it. It was a Rome number.
It occurred to me that Helen wouldn't have scribbled it on the wall unless it had been important to her, and a number she had called frequently. I had looked for a list of telephone numbers when I had searched her desk, but hadn't found it. The fact there were no other numbers written on the wall seemed to me to be significant.
On the spur of the moment, I picked up the receiver and called the number I regretted my impulse as soon as I heard the burr-burr on the line. For all I knew this might be X's number, and I didn't want him to suspect I was on to him so early in the game. I was about to replace the receiver when I heard a click on the line. My ear-drum was nearly shattered by a voice that bawled in Italian: "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
It was the most violent, undisciplined voice I had ever heard or ever want to hear over a telephone line.
I held the receiver away from my ear and listened. I could hear the faint sound of music: some throaty tenor was singing E lucevan le stelle, probably over the radio.
The man who had answered the telephone shouted, "HELLO? WHO IS IT?"
His shattering voice was more than life-size. I flicked my finger-nail against the mouth-piece of the receiver to hold his attention.
Then I heard a woman say, "Who is it, Carlo? Must you shout so?" She spoke with a strong American accent.
"No one answers," he returned in English and in a slightly lower tone of voice.
There was a violent click as he slammed down the receiver.
Very carefully I hung up. I stared out of the window. Carlo ... and an American woman. It could mean something or nothing. Helen must have made a lot of friends during her stay in Rome, Carlo could have been just a friend, but the telephone number on the wall was puzzling. If he were just a friend, why the number on the wall? He might have given it to her, of course, over the telephone, and not having any scratch pad near, she had scribbled it on the wall. That could be the explanation, but somehow I didn't think so. If this had happened, she would surely have rubbed it out, after entering it in her telephone book.
I jotted down the number on the back of an envelope, then, as I was putting the envelope into my wallet, the front-door bell rang.
I let Gina into the apartment.
"Before we talk," I said, "come in here and look at all this stuff. Chalmers wants me to get rid of it. He said to sell it, and give the money to some charity. It's going to be quite a job to handle. There's enough stuff here to stock a shop."
I took her into the bedroom and stood back while she looked into the closets and drawers.
"This won't be difficult to get rid of, Ed," she told me. "I know a woman who specializes in good second-hand clothes. She'll make an offer for everything and take it all away."
I sighed with relief.
"That's fine. I hoped you'd have the solution. I don't really care what she offers so long as she takes everything and we can get this apartment off our hands."
"La signorina Chalmers must have spent a great deal of money," Gina said, examining some of the dresses. "Some of these have never been worn, and they were all bought at the most
expensive houses in Rome."
"Well, she didn't get the money from Chalmers," I said.
"I guess someone must have financed her."
Gina lifted her shoulders and shut the closet door.
"She didn't get all these things for nothing," she said. "I don't envy her."
"Come into the other room. I want to talk to you."
She followed me into the lounge and dropped into a chair.
"Ed, why did she call herself Mrs. Douglas Sherrard?" she asked.
If the walls of the room had suddenly fallen in on me I couldn't have been more shaken.
"What? What did you say?" I asked, staring at her.
She looked at me.
"I asked you why she called herself Mrs. Douglas Sherrard. Obviously I shouldn't have asked that. I'm sorry."
"How did you know she called herself that?"
"I recognized her voice when she called up just before you left on your vacation."
I should have known that Gina would have recognized Helen's voice. She had spoken to Helen twice on the telephone when Helen had first come to Rome and she had an uncanny memory for voices.
I went over to the liquor cabinet.
"Have a drink, Gina?" I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
"I'd like a Campari, please."
I took out a bottle of Campari and a bottle of Scotch. I fixed myself a stiff drink, and a
Campari and soda for Gina and brought the drinks over.
I had k
nown Gina for four years. There had been a time when I had imagined I had been in love with her. Working with her day after day, most times alone together, had offered temptations to get intimate with her. It was because of this that I had been careful to keep our relations more or less on a business footing.
I had seen a number of newspaper men, working in Rome, who had got too friendly with their secretaries. Sooner or later, the girls either got out of hand or a visiting big-shot had spotted what was going on, and there had been trouble. So I had been strict with myself about Gina. I had never made a pass at her, and yet there was a bond between us, unspoken and unadvertised, that convinced me that, no matter what the emergency might be, I could completely rely on her.
I decided as I fixed the drink to tell her the whole story, not holding back a thing. I had a lot of faith in her opinions, and, knowing the mess I was in, I felt it was time to get an unbilled, outside opinion.
"Would it worry you if I made you my mother confessor, Gina?" I asked, sitting down opposite her. "I have a lot on my mind that I'd like to share with someone."
"If there's anything I can do ..."
The sound of the front-door bell cut her short. For a long moment we stared at each other.
"Now, who can this be?" I said, getting to my feet.
"Perhaps it's the janitor wanting to find out who is in here." Gina said.
"Yeah: could be."
I crossed the room and went out into the hall. As I reached for the door knob, the bell rang again.
I opened the door.
Lieutenant Carlotti stood in the corridor. Behind him was another detective.
"Good evening," Carlotti said. "May I come in?"
III
Seeing him there made me understand for the first time what a criminal must feel like when he is suddenly confronted by the police. For a second or so, I stood motionless, staring at him. My heart seemed to miss several beats, and then began to race so violently I had difficulty in breathing. Had he come to arrest me? Had he found out somehow that I was Sherrard?
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 fe
ar 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."
You Find Him – I'll Fix Him Page 11
