You Find Him – I'll Fix Him

  If only I had brought my car! It would have been simple to get to Rome if I had the car. I didn't dare take the Lincoln convertible which I could see as I rounded the bend in the garden path.

  The village woman whom Helen had hired to run the villa was certain to know Helen had brought the car. If it were missing, the police might jump to the conclusion that Helen's death hadn't been accidental.

  I would have to walk to Sorrento, and then try for a train to Naples. I had no idea what time the last train left Sorrento for Naples, but I thought it more than likely that by the time I had covered the five long miles on foot, the last train would have gone. I knew there was an elevenfifteen from Naples to Rome, but I had still to get to Naples. Once again I looked at the Lincoln convertible. I fought down the temptation to take it. Whatever I did, I must not complicate this set-up more than it was already.

  As I moved around the car and towards the drive, I looked back at the dark, silent villa and I got a shock.

  Had I imagined the flash of light that had appeared from within the lounge?

  Moving quickly and silently, my heart hammering, I crouched down behind the car.

  I stared at the lounge windows for a long moment, then I saw again the gleam of white light which immediately disappeared.

  I waited, breathing hard, as I peered over the hood of the car.

Again the light appeared. This time it remained on longer.

Someone was in the lounge with a flashlight!

Who could it be?

  Not the woman from the village. She wouldn't need to creep around like this in the dark. She would have turned on the lights.

  I was now really rattled. Keeping low, I moved away from the car, across the tarmac, away from the villa until I reached the comforting cover of a huge hydrangea shrub. I got behind this, then peered back at the villa.

  The light was moving around the lounge as if the intruder in there was searching for something.

  I wanted to find out who it was. I was tempted to creep in there and surprise whoever it was: probably some sneak thief, but I knew I had to keep out of sight. No one must know I had been to the villas. It galled me to watch the light moving around the room and to know I couldn't do anything about it.

  After five minutes or so, the light went out. There was a long pause, then I became aware of a tall figure of a man who came through the front door. He paused for a moment at the head of the steps. It was now far too dark to see more than his shadowy outline.

  He moved softly down the steps, went over to the car and peered inside. He turned on his flashlight. His back was turned to me. I could see he was wearing a black slouch hat and the width of his shoulders was impressive. I was glad now that I hadn't gone in there and surprised him. He looked big enough to more than take care of himself.

  The light went out and he moved away from the car. I crouched down, expecting him to come towards me and make for the exit at the bottom of the drive. Instead, he went swiftly and silently across the lawn, and I just managed to see that he was heading for the path that led to the distant garden gate before he was swallowed up in the darkness.

  Puzzled and uneasy, I stared after him, then realizing that time was going, and that I had to get back to Rome, I left my hiding-place and hurried down the drive, through the wrought-iron gates and on to the road.

  All the way to Sorrento I puzzled about this intruder. Had he been a sneak thief? Or was he connected in some way with Helen? The question remained unanswered. The only comfort that

I could get from this mysterious situation was that I hadn't been seen.

  I reached Sorrento at ten minutes past ten. I had run, walked and run again, and I was pretty near bushed as I walked into the station. The last train to Naples had left ten minutes ago.

  I had five minutes over the hour to get somehow to Naples. I got my suitcase from the leftluggage office, taking care to keep my head bent so the clerk couldn't get a good look at me, then I went out into the dark station yard where a lone taxi waited. The driver was dozing, and I got into the cab before he woke.

  "I'll give you double fare and a five thousand lire tip if you get me to Naples station before eleven fifteen," I told him.

  There is no wilder, madder or more dangerous driver in the world than an Italian. When one gives him a challenge like this, the only thing to do is to sit right, close your eyes and pray.

  The taxi driver didn't even turn around to look at me. He stiffened to attention, sank his thumb into the starter button, threw in his clutch and tore out of the station yard on two wheels.

  The road out of Sorrento for twelve miles or so is shaped like a coiled snake. There are hairpin bends, tight corners and only enough room for two buses to pass if they stop, and the drivers lean out of their windows and then take it dead slow.