Safer Dead

‘Early the next morning you were on the hill waiting for your husband,’ I went on. ‘He thought you were in Paris, and it must have been a shock to see you sitting there, apparently admiring the view. He was so surprised he didn’t notice the shotgun, lying by your side. He only saw it when it was too late. Probably he leaned from his horse to ask you what you were doing there, when you shot him. You had to act quickly. You had probably got yourself a pair of corduroy slacks and a leather wind cheater like those Dillon wore. You hid the gun, then you put on Dillon’s crash helmet and goggles, ran down the hill to where he had left his motorcycle and drove to the harbour. People saw you, as you wanted them to see you, and they mistook you for Dillon. All you had to do was to leave the motorcycle in a shed that was seldom used, change into clothes you had probably left in the shed, and catch the first train to New York where Royce was waiting for you. You knew Latimer would send a cable to the George V hotel with the news, and Frances had been instructed that if a cable did come, she was to return at once. Royce was there to meet her. You took her place outside the airport.’

Without taking her eyes off me, she reached for the whisky bottle, splashed whisky into the lipstick-smeared glass and drank some of it. I saw her hand was unsteady.

‘Now Frances had to be taken care of,’ I went on. ‘Royce took her to Welden. He was a reluctant killer. He didn’t want to wipe her out unless he had to. He wanted to make sure first that you were going to get away with it: that your nerve wouldn’t crack if police pressure was put on you. So he persuaded Frances to alter her appearance, take another name and get work at the Florian club. By then Frances must have known she had made herself an accessory to murder. She was probably so scared she did what she was told to do. Then Joan Nichols called on you. It must have been a shock to you and to her when she found you weren’t the girl she had worked on in Paris. She probably tried to put the bite on you. You told Royce what was happening, and he decided both Frances and Joan had to go. He gave Flemming the signal to go ahead, and Flemming went ahead.’

I paused and watched her set down her glass. She seemed suddenly relaxed now, and she rested her elbows on the bar, the gun held loosely in her hand.

‘And you can prove all this?’ she asked mockingly.

‘Yeah, I can prove it,’ I said. ‘You made it too complicated. The more complicated a case becomes the easier it is to unravel, providing you get the essential lead. I got it when I learned how alike you and Frances Bennett were. I could see then how you fixed your alibi. You had a big advantage: the police were on your side. If you had kept your head and done nothing after

Frances’s death you might have got away with it. When I started to stir up the past, you panicked. When Flemming called you and told you someone was making inquiries, and that Hesson had talked out of turn, you told Flemming to fix Hesson and me. When you heard I’d been to see Hartley you panicked again. In Hartley’s filing cabinet there were sketches he had made of Frances, sitting on your balcony. You thought I would see the likeness between you two, but you forgot I might get the information from Latimer. You went to Hartley and tried to get the sketches from him. Maybe he wouldn’t part. Maybe he realized that Frances had supplied your alibi. Anyway, he called me and asked me over. Were you hiding in the room when he called?’

She nodded. The fixed smile went away, leaving her face bony and old looking.

‘And you shot him,’ I went on. ‘His servant heard the shot and ran upstairs, trying to get away from you. You followed him and shot him too. You thought you’d get away with it as I was on my way over and you knew Lassiter was keeping tabs on me. You thought I was going to be your fall guy as Dillon was.’

‘And I have got away with it, Mr. Sladen,’ she said. ‘The police still think you killed Hartley; and they are still looking for you. This is where we came in, isn’t it? Have you quite finished?’

I had been talking solidly to gain time, and now I knew I had bought all the time I was going to get. In a second or so she would shoot. The range was about fifteen feet. Even with a .22 fifteen feet could be difficult shooting if the target was on the move.

While I had been talking I had also been frantically trying to find a way out of this jam. I was within ten feet of the light switch, and it looked an awful long way away. If I could get to the switch and turn off the light I had a chance.

‘Let’s talk about a deal,’ I said, bracing my muscles. A big cushion lay on the settee by my side. As casually as I could I let my hand drop on it while I stared at her, trying to hold her attention away from my hand.

‘No deals, Mr. Sladen.’ She lifted the gun, her knuckle turned white as she took up the slack of the trigger. ‘I think you’re bluffing. Anyway, you’ll be safer dead.’

III