Джеймс Чейз - Not Safe to Be Free [= The Case of the Strangled Starlet]

“She didn’t say where she was going when she left the beach?”

“No. I think I said I hoped my father would give her a contract and I believe I asked her if she wanted to live in Hollywood. It was that kind of conversation,” Jay said, gaining confidence.

It was only because he had been rash enough to come down to the hotel lobby that he had been caught up in this interrogation, he told himself. But he must still be on his guard, although now he was sure this police officer was merely making routine inquiries.

Devereaux tapped with his pencil on the desk as he asked, “You returned to the hotel about four o’clock?”

“Yes. I had been on the beach for some time and I decided to have a swim. I returned to the hotel for my swimming trunks.”

“Mademoiselle Balu wasn’t visiting your father, by any chance?” Devereaux asked.

Jay felt his heart give a little kick against his side.

“My father? Why, no. My father was in the cinema at that time.”

“Perhaps she didn’t know that. She didn’t mention that she intended to visit him?”

“Of course not.” Jay was aware that his voice was unnecessarily loud and he controlled it. “There was no question of her visiting my father.”

Devereaux laid down his pencil.

“The reason why I asked, Mr. Delaney, is because we know for certain that she was visiting someone who had a suite on the second floor. You didn’t see her when you went up to your suite?”

Jay’s mouth suddenly turned dry. How on earth had they discovered she had come to the second floor? Had someone seen her? Was it possible someone had seen her rapping on the door of the suite?

“No, I didn’t. I would have told you if I had.”

“Of course. So you went up to the suite, got your swim-suit and left: is that correct?”

Jay saw the trap. It was possible this man knew more than he was making out.

“I was about to leave when my step-mother came in. We talked. She also had the idea of taking a swim. She collected her costume and then left. I left later. I had a letter to write.”

Devereaux nodded.

“And at no time after you had spoken to the girl on the beach did you see her in the hotel?”

“That’s right.”

“Did you see anyone, apart from Mademoiselle Balu, when you walked down the corridor to your suite, monsieur?”

“No. At that time most of the suites are empty.”

“You didn’t notice a man hanging about in the corridor: a man with a camera?”

“A man with a camera?” Jay stiffened. “Why, no. I didn’t see anyone. Was there a man up there?”

Devereaux nodded.

“Yes He was seen by the hotel detective knocking on the door of your suite after you had left. He is a press photographer. His name is Joe Kerr. We are looking for him now.”

Joe Kerr...

The name sounded familiar, then Jay remembered the red, raddled face: the man who had asked him if he could arrange an interview with his father. He must have come up to the suite in the hope of catching Floyd Delaney after Jay had left.

Jay told Devereaux how he had spoken to Kerr on the beach and how Kerr had asked him to arrange a meeting with his father.

Devereaux listened, disappointment clearly showing on his face.

“So he had a reason to be knocking on your door?”

“I suppose he had. No doubt he wanted to talk to my father.”

Devereaux thought for a moment, then laid down his pencil.

“Well, I think that is all, Mr. Delaney. I’m sorry to have taken up your time.”

With a feeling of acute relief, Jay got to his feet.

“That’s all right. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”

“Every scrap of information helps, monsieur,” Devereaux said, standing up. “I wonder if you could describe the bead necklace the girl was wearing?”

“Why, yes,” Jay said, without thinking. “They were big sapphire blue beads... ” Then he could have bitten his tongue out for he remembered that the girl hadn’t been wearing a necklace when she had been on the beach. She had put the necklace on when she had come to the suite!

Devereaux was saying casually: “Sapphire blue? Yes, that was what the hall porter said. The beads must be very distinctive for you to remember them.” He walked round the desk and opened the door. “The necklace is missing. We’re trying to find it. Well, thank you, monsieur.”

Jay walked out of the office and started across the lobby towards the exit. He was feeling cold. What a stupid blunder to have made! he thought. Luckily the police officer hadn’t noticed it. The chances were that he wouldn’t think to check if the girl was wearing the necklace or not when she had been on the beach. If he did he would probably have forgotten that Jay had said he had seen her wearing it. But it was dangerous. By admitting having seen the necklace, he was also admitting having seen the girl when she came to the hotel and this he had denied. A stupid mistake like that could lose a man his life!

“Jay!”

Startled, he looked around.

Sophia was crossing the lobby. She had on a pair of white slacks, a red beach coat and her hair was caught back by a white silk scarf. There was a bony, scraped look about her face that Jay hadn’t seen before. For the first time since he had known her, he realized with a sense of shock, that this girl was as hard as a diamond.

“Why, hello, Sophia,” he said uneasily. “Where are you going?”

“Come with me,” she said curtly and continued across the lobby to the revolving doors.

Then he knew something must be badly wrong and again panic edged into his mind. He followed her out into the hot sunshine.

“Where’s father?” he asked as he fell into step beside her.

“Still sleeping,” she said curtly.

She crossed the road and went down into the Plaza beach enclosure.

At that hour — it was now a few minutes after ten — the enclosure was deserted.

She sat down at one of the tables and waved the waiter who had appeared impatiently away.

Jay sat opposite her. He put his clenched fists between his knees and squeezed them.

“What’s wrong?” he asked huskily.

Sophia opened her bag and took out her cigarette case. She lit a cigarette while she stared at Jay, her dark eyes glittering.

“You might well ask that!” There was a cold fury in her voice that made him flinch. “You contemptible, degenerate fool! You might well ask what’s wrong!”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Jay said, feeling blood mount to his face. “What has happened?”

“A woman telephoned,” Sophia said, keeping her voice down with an effort. “She said she wanted to see me and she’s given me the address of some little hotel in Rue Foch. She knows you did it!”

Jay sat very still.

“What do you mean?” he managed to say. “Who is she? How could she know?”

“She said her name was Brossette and she was the owner of the Beau Rivage hotel. She said I would be interested to see some photographs connected with the affair that happened yesterday afternoon in the Plaza hotel. She said she expected me to come to her place within an hour and she hung up.”

“Photographs? What photographs? What are they of?” Jay said, trying to control the panic that seized him.

“That’s all she said and keep your voice down! Could anyone have photographed you as you took the girl to the elevator?”

“Of course not! Not in that light! They would have had to use a flashlight... ” Then he broke off, remembering what Devereaux had said.

You didn’t notice a man hanging about in the corridor: a man with a camera? He was seen by the hotel detective knocking on the door of your suite. He is a press photographer. His name is Joe Kerr.

Jay recalled the shabby, down-at-heel man with his drink-ruined face: a man capable of anything. He remembered the Rolliflex camera that had hung from a strap around his neck.