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

“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 fear 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.”

I gave him the key, which he handed to Anoni. We moved out into the corridor. Anoni didn’t come with us. He remained in the apartment.

As the three of us descended in the elevator, Carlotti said, “That car number you were inquiring about. It had nothing to do with la signorina?”

“I told you: this guy nearly clipped me. He didn’t stop. I thought I had got his number correct, but apparently I hadn’t.”

I felt his eyes on my face. We didn’t speak further until we got into my car, then he said, “Can you give me the names of any of la signorina’s friends?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I think I told you already: I scarcely knew her.”

“But you have talked to her?”

The mildness of his tone put me on my guard.

“Of course, but she didn’t tell me anything about her life in Rome. After all, she was my boss’s daughter, and it didn’t cross my mind to question her.”

“Did you take her out to dinner at the Trevi restaurant almost four weeks ago?”

I felt as if someone had given me a punch under the heart. Just how much did he know? Someone must have seen us. I knew I didn’t dare lie to him.

“I believe I did, come to think of it, I happened to run onto her, and as I was going to dinner, I asked her along.”

There was a pause, then he said, “I see.”

I swung the car into the street where I lived and pulled up outside my private entrance.

There was a pretty tense atmosphere in the car. My hear was bumping so heavily against my side that I was scared he would hear it.

“And that was the only time you took her out?”

My mind raced. We had gone to two movies; we had had at least two or three dinners together.