Vince May - Presumed Dead

‘A fine gentleman?’ David scoffed. ‘I’ve got to say, the more I hear about it, the more suspicious her death gets. I might have a word with this lawyer myself if he’ll see me. Is his office here in town?’

‘It used to be, but he has been dead for over ten years now. His son took over the business and moved it to Lucerne, but he would not be able to help you, he was not even working with his father when this all happened.’

David was disappointed. ‘I guess there’s not much more I can do here, but I’m going over to England to visit her grave later this week. I’ll see what I can find out over there.’

The old woman smiled. ‘You do that. Do it for the Baroness. She became a foolish woman after the Baron died, but she did not deserve to be murdered.’

David stood to leave then realized he hadn’t touched his coffee, which was now cold. ‘Sorry, I guess I was so wrapped up listening to you that I forgot to drink it.’

‘Never mind, it’s not important. The important work for you lies in England.’ She got up, wrote her telephone number on a small piece of paper, and as they said goodbye, pressed it into his hand. ’If you find anything, please call me and let me know before you leave for America.’

He promised he would.

Frau Schutz called her husband in to say goodbye, and as the old man was showing him to the door, he said quietly, ‘Do not take too much notice of what my wife has just told you. She has been going on about the Baroness like this for years.’

‘You never know,’ David said, ‘she could be right.’

‘Maybe, but I doubt it. That kind of thing only happens in stories.’

David laughed. ‘You’d be very surprised. Living over here you’re insulated from the horrors of the world. Where I come from this kind of thing happens every day.’

‘Then I am very glad I do not live in your world, Mr Wiseman,’ the old man said, shaking his head.

They shook hands and parted. David crossed the street and walked slowly back to the hotel along the lake shore thinking about what the old woman had told him. Add all that, he thought, to the impression I got of Webley the other night, and you could easily start to believe there’s something to it. He decided to reserve judgement until he got to England and could ask a few more questions.

He got back to the hotel and checked out. His plan for the day was to visit the Schloss, then drive on up to Calais where he would stay over before catching a morning ferry to Dover. As he pulled out of the hotel car park, the two men who had been watching him all morning followed at a discreet distance.

Back in Chamonix, the rain was now torrential and the clouds were so low that the top of the Jardin du Mont Blanc Hotel, the tallest building in town, was lost to view. Ross arrived at the headquarters of the PGHM and was shown into the duty officer’s room. The uniformed man obviously recognized the solider in Ross, because he stood up and saluted. Ross shook his hand then asked in his best schoolboy French, ‘Parlez-vous anglais?’

‘A little, Monsieur,’ Batard replied, sitting back down behind his desk.

‘What’s the status on the search for my wife?’ Ross asked, sitting opposite him.

‘You told the manager at the hotel that Madame was planning to walk to the Charpoua Glacier, so this morning we have started our search there. We have established that she took the train from Chamonix up to the Montenvers terminus on the Mer de Glace, several of the staff remember seeing her. After that, she could have walked onto the glacier or back down to the town.’ He stood up and stepped over to a large-scale map hanging on the wall. ‘We have already covered the two paths from Chamonix to the Montenvers terminus, here and here,’ he said, tracing the winding paths on the map with a wooden pointer. ‘We have also covered the paths from Montenvers down onto the Mer de Glace, here and here. My men have discovered no sign of her at all.’

‘What about the helicopter?’ Ross asked. ‘Have you called that in yet?’

‘The helicopter has done one flight along the length of the Mer de Glace and up the Charpoua Glacier, but the visibility became too bad to continue so it has returned.’

‘Yes, I caught a bit of that weather on my way into Geneva this morning. Any idea how long it’s forecast to be bad?’

‘This time of year, Monsieur, it can last for days or even weeks. The weather in the mountains is very unpredictable. This morning when my men set off it was bright sunshine, now they are reporting blizzard conditions on the Mer de Glace with heavy snowfall higher up.’

‘But they’re still up there searching, aren’t they?’ Ross asked anxiously.

‘Yes, but not for much longer. The fresh snowfall makes it very dangerous because the snow that is already up there cannot support the weight of the new snow, then we have avalanches. Your wife is classified as Missing at the moment, so we go on searching, but if she is not found by nightfall, I will have to reclassify her as Missing, Presumed Dead, and call my men back.’

‘But you can’t just give up!’ Ross protested. ‘She may be lying hurt somewhere. You must go on searching!’

‘Look, Monsieur,’ Batard said sympathetically, taking his seat again and leaning across his desk. ‘If your wife was hurt sometime yesterday on the glacier and spent the night up there in the open without special clothing, she is very unlikely to have survived.’

Ross bowed his head and looked as sad as possible, but inside, his brain was working overtime. The spot he’d original chosen to dump Alice had been perfect. She would have hit the steep mountainside directly above a treacherous, high level path, then bounced and slid another eight hundred feet down into a rocky ravine, where her broken, twisted body would have come to rest among the boulders near a well used trail. Whoever found her there would assume she’d fallen from the upper path. But something had gone wrong.

Just as he’d been sliding her out of the door, her rucksack had caught in the doorframe and with all her kicking and fighting it had taken precious moments to free her, during which time the autopilot had flown the plane more than two miles. He’d worked out she must have ended up somewhere near the Charpoua Glacier, but God alone knew exactly where. I’ve got to get them to carry on the search, he thought, before she gets buried under all the new snow. No dead body means no official record of death, no reading of the will, no probate and no money. If they don’t find her now, it won’t be until the spring thaw next year, which will be much too late. I want that money now!

Batard was speaking again. ‘I am afraid I can not order my men to continue the search in these conditions, but if they choose to volunteer, then that is a different matter. They may want to stay out for a little longer, they are very dedicated.’

Ross’s head snapped up, ‘Volunteers! I think you’ve got it! There must be plenty of guides and climbers around here who would be willing to search if I put up a big enough reward, but it would need coordinating properly.’

‘If you can get me the men, I am happy to organize the search for you,’ Batard said. ‘But I must warn you, the longer she is out there, the less chance we have of finding her alive.’

‘I understand,’ Ross said sadly, ‘but I can’t just do nothing, can I?’ Then, after a short pause he rubbed his hands together and said, ‘Now, to business. What’s the best way to get our volunteers?’

Batard thought for a moment then said, ‘I will telephone La Compagnie de Guides, they will let all their members know. To reach other climbers it would probably be best to make an announcement on CHUT FM, the local radio station, I will call them also. How much were you thinking of offering as a reward?’