You Find Him – I'll Fix Him

  She certainly knew how to take photographs. The scenes of Sorrento that flashed on the screen were first class.From the busy piazza, the scene changed to the villa, and then to the view from the cliff head. I was sitting forward, my heart thumping, watching the screen fixedly. Then suddenly there was a long shot of Setti's villa. I could just make out two men on the terrace. Then the scene switched to a close-up by Helen's powerful telephoto lens. There was Setti, easily recognizable, talking to Carlo, and, a moment later, Myra joined them. So Carlo had told Carlotti the truth. He must have spotted Helen up on the cliff as she took this shot, come up after her, snatched the camera out of her hand and given her a back-hand slap that had sent her off the cliff. Then why had he been so anxious that I shouldn't show this film to anyone since he had already told Carlotti what had happened?

  I got the answer in the next shot. From the terrace the scene changed once more to the cliff head. Carlo was standing with his back to the camera, looking out to sea. He suddenly turned and his dark, blunt-featured face lit up. The camera moved away from him to the direction where he was looking.

  A girl was coming along the path. She waved to Carlo. He went to meet her and, putting his arms around her, he pulled her to him and kissed her.

  The shot lasted about twenty seconds. I was standing up staring at the screen, scarcely believing my eyes. The girl in Carlo's arms was June Chalmers!

V

  Sherwin Chalmers and his wife arrived at the Vesuvius hotel on the afternoon of the Friday before the inquest.

  He and I had a two-hour session together. I told him the story of Helen's past and her life in Rome. I let him read some of Sarti's reports, having taken the report concerning myself out of the file. I told him Carlo Manchini was the man known as Douglas Sherrard.

  Chalmers listened and read the reports, a cigar between his teeth, his face expressionless. When I was through, he tossed Sarti's file on the table, got to his feet and walked over to the window.

  "You've done a good job, Dawson," he said. "This has been a shock to me, as you can imagine. I had no idea I had a daughter who could behave like this. She got what was coming to her. The thing to do now is to try to keep it out of the papers."

  I knew how hopeless that was, but I didn't tell him so. "I'll go along and talk to this coroner fella," Chalmers went on. "He can play it down. I'll also talk to the chief of police. Burn those reports. You've done your job here. Will you be ready to come to New York with me after the inquest?"

  "I'll have a few things to tidy up first, Mr. Chalmers," I said. "I can be in New York by Monday week."

  "Do that." He came away from the window. "I'm pleased with you, Dawson. It's better for the punk to have died. I'm going to see this coroner fella now."

  I didn't offer to go with him. I went downstairs with him to where the Rolls was waiting and saw him drive off, then I crossed over to the reception desk and asked the clerk to send my name up to Mrs. Chalmers. He made the call and told me to go on up.

  June Chalmers was sitting by the window, looking out over the harbour. She turned her head as I entered the small sitting-room and her eyes looked steadily at me.

  "Mr. Chalmers has just told me he is pleased with me," I said, closing the door and moving over to join her at the window. "He wants me back in New York as quickly as possible to take the foreign desk."

  "My congratulations, Mr. Dawson," she said. "But why tell me?"

  "Because I need your approval."

  She raised her eyebrows.

  "Why should I approve?"

  "For the obvious reason that, if you don't approve, you could prevent me taking the job."

  She looked away, opened her bag, took out a cigarette and before I could get out my lighter she had flicked her own alight.

  "I don't understand, Mr. Dawson. I don't have anything to do with my husband's business affairs."

  "Since you know I am the man called Douglas Sherrard, I'm anxious to know if you intend to tell your husband."

I saw her hands turn into fists.

  "I mind my own business, Mr. Dawson. Helen meant nothing to me. I have no interest in her lovers."

  "I wasn't her lover. Does that mean you are not going to tell him?"

  "Yes."

  I took the carton of film out of my pocket.

  "You will want to destroy this."

  She turned quickly. Her face drained of colour.

  "What do you mean? Why should I want to destroy it?"

  "If you don't, then I will. Carlo asked me to get rid of it, but I thought it would be more satisfactory to you if you did it yourself."

  She drew in a deep breath.

  "So the little devil did take another film." She got to her feet and began to move around the room. "Have you seen what is on it?"

  "Yes. Carlo told me to look at it."

  She turned, her face the colour of old ivory, but she managed to smile.

  "So we now know something about each other, Mr. Dawson. I'm not going to give you away. What are you going to do about me?"

  I again offered her the film.