James Chase - You Find Him, I'll Fix Him

“You had better take charge of these,” he said, putting the box on the table. “They must be given to il Signor Chalmers. Perhaps you will give me a receipt?”

He lifted the lid. In the box were some pieces of jewellery. There were two rings: one of them had a large sapphire stone; the other had three diamonds. There was a collar of diamonds and a pair of diamond ear-rings. I don’t know much about the value of jewellery, but even I could see that these would be worth quite a lot.

“They are very nice,” Carlotti said. He sounded a little wistful as if he coveted the jewels. “It is fortunate no one broke in here while the place was unguarded.”

I remembered the tall, broad-shouldered intruder.

“Where did you find them?” I asked.

“They were on her dressing-table for anyone to steal.”

“They’re genuine? I mean, they’re not paste?”

“Of course they are genuine.” He frowned at me. “I should say at a rough guess they are worth three million lire”

While he was scribbling out a receipt for me to sign, I stared at the box and its contents. On her dressing-table for anyone to steal! I felt a little chill of uneasiness crawl up my spine. It didn’t seem then that the intruder I had seen had been a sneak thief. Then who had he been? The sound of the telephone bell startled me.

Carlotti answered it.

He said, “Si… si.… si.” Listened for a long moment, then grunted something and hung up.

Grandi came into the room. His face wore an expectant expression.

Carlotti lit a cigarette before saying to me, “They have just had the autopsy report.”

I could see something had upset him. His eyes were uneasy again.

“Well, you know how she died,” I said in an attempt to bridge ever the long pause that followed.

“Yes, there is no doubt about that.”

He moved away from the telephone. I could feel his uneasiness the way you feel the touch of a hand in the dark.

“Is there anything else?”

I was aware that my voice had sharpened. I saw Grandi turn to look at me.

“Yes, there is something else,” Carlotti said and grimaced. “She was pregnant.”

It was close on three-thirty by the time Carlotti had completed his examination of the villa and his interrogation of the woman from the village.

I didn’t see her.

I could hear the faint sound of their voices as he talked with her in the kitchen. I remained in the lounge, smoking cigarette after cigarette, my mind a squirrel cage of panic.

So Helen had been pregnant.

That would be the final nail in my coffin if they ever found out who Douglas Sherrard was. I knew I was not only innocent of her death, but also of her pregnancy, but if ever the facts came out, no one would believe it.

What a mad, crass stupid fool I had been to have ever got tangled with the girl!

Who had been her lover?

I thought again of the broad-shouldered, mysterious intruder I had seen the previous night. Was he the man? It was possible. It was obvious now that he hadn’t been a thief. No thief would have left three million lire’s worth of jewellery on the dressing-table.

I went on turning this situation over in my mind, watching the clock on the overmantel, knowing in another half-hour I would have to give Chalmers the details of her death.

The more I thought about it, the more acutely conscious I became that one false step would be my complete finish.

Carlotti came into the lounge as the hands of the clock on the overmantel moved to three forty-four.

“There are complications,” he said gloomily.

“I know. You said that before.”

“Do you think she was the suicide type?”

The question startled me.

“I don’t know. I tell you, I don’t know anything about her.” I felt compelled to drive this point home so I went on, “Chalmers asked me to meet her at the airport and take her to her hotel. This was about fourteen weeks ago. Since then I have scarcely seen her. I just don’t know anything about her.”

“Grandi thinks it is possible that her lover deserted her.” Carlotti said. I don’t think he paid much notice to what I had said. “He thinks she threw herself off the cliff in despair.”

“American girls don’t do that sort of thing. They’re too practical. You will have to be careful how you suggest a theory of that kind to Chalmers. He might not like it.”

“I’m not suggesting it to il Signor Chalmers, I’m suggesting it to you,” Carlotti said quietly.

Grandi wandered in at this moment and sat down. He stared at me with cold, hostile eyes. For some reason or other, he didn’t seem to like me.

“Make all the suggestions you like to me,” I said, looking steadily at Carlotti. “It won’t help you one way or the other, but be careful what you say to Chalmers.”

“Yes,” Carlotti said. “I understand that. I am relying on you for help. It seems there was a love affair. The woman has told me that the girl came here two days ago. She came alone. She told the woman that she was expecting her husband to join her the following day - that would be yesterday. The woman says there is no doubt that she was expecting him. She was very gay.” He broke off to stare at me. “I’m telling you what the woman said. Women are very often reliable concerning such matters.”

Go on,” I said. “I’m not arguing with you.”

“This man was supposed to be arriving at Sorrento from Naples at three-thirty. La signorina told her she was going to meet the train, and she was to come in at nine in the evening to dear up the dinner things. The woman left the villa at eleven in the morning. Between that time and the rime it was necessary for la signorina to leave to meet the train something happened either to prevent her from meeting the train or that made her change her mind about meeting it.”

“What kind of thing?”

He lifted his shoulders.

“She may have received a message. There is no record of her receiving a telephone call. I don’t know. I think it is very possible she learned somehow or other that her lover wasn’t coming.”

“You’re guessing,” I said. “You’ll have to watch out not to guess with Chalmers.”

“By then we may have some facts. I am trying theories.” He moved restlessly. I could see he was perplexed and unhappy with tile situation. “I am seeing if Grandi’s theory fits that in a fit of

depression she killed herself.”

“Does it matter?” I said. “She’s dead. Can’t this be put through as an accident? There’s no need to broadcast the fact that she was pregnant, is there?”

“The coroner will have the autopsy report. There is no way of keeping it quiet.”

Grandi said impatiently, “Well, I have things to do. I have got to find this man Sherrard.”

I felt as if someone had touched the back of my neck with a splinter of ice.

“I am going to call il Signor Chalmers,” I said, trying to make my voice casual. “He will want to know what is happening. What shall I tell him?”

The two men exchanged glances.

“It would be wise to tell him as little as possible at this stage of the investigation,” Carlotti said. “It would be unwise to mention this man Sherrard, I think. Couldn’t you say that she fell off the cliff while using her cine camera, that there will be an inquest and a full investigation and until then…”

The telephone interrupted him. Grandi lifted the receiver, listened for a moment, then looked across at me. “It is for you.”

I took the receiver from him.

“Hello?”

Gina said, “Mr. Chalmers phoned through ten minutes ago. He said he was flying out right away, and you are to meet him at 18.00 hours at the Naples airport to-morrow.”