Vince May - Presumed Dead

‘Yes,’ Hubbard replied, ‘and he’d have got away with it too if she hadn’t survived. The chances were a million to one against her coming out of those mountains alive.’

‘I remember a story about a tail gunner who bailed out of a burning Lancaster over Germany without a parachute,’ Butcher said. ‘Fell eighteen thousand feet and landed in a snow drift without a scratch.’

‘Yes, I remember that,’ Hubbard said. ‘I wonder if our friend Webley has ever heard the story. Let’s go and tell him it, shall we?’ With that, they headed down to the car park and set off across London to pay Ross a visit.

Alice arrived back at the hotel where the beaming manager was manning the reception desk. She took her key, then asked, as casually as she could, ‘Has a Monsieur Dulac registered? I met him earlier and told him there might be a room available here.’

‘Thank you Madame, yes,’ the manager gushed. ‘He mentioned he was a friend of yours, so we have put him in suite thirty-three, next door to you.’

Alice felt a tingle of excitement run up her spine. ‘Thank you, that was very kind,’ she said, turning away and walking to the lift. As soon as she reached her room she lifted the telephone and dialed the suite next door. When Philippe answered she said in French, ‘Hello Monsieur, this is room service, did you order a woman for lunch?’

‘Alice!’ he cried with delight, ‘come to my room, I’m just getting dressed.’

Alice checked herself in the bathroom mirror, then slipped out of her room and knocked on the door marked thirty-three. Philippe answered the door wearing just slacks and a crisp cotton shirt. As soon as she was inside, she rushed into his arms and he gave her another of his long, passionate, knee-trembling embraces. He’d obviously just got dressed after having a shower and shave because his face was smooth and smelt of spicy aftershave and as she ran her fingers through his hair, she could feel it was still wet. When he finally let her go, she said, ‘It’s a pity I didn’t come over ten minutes earlier.’

‘Now, now… we’re not married yet,’ Philippe scolded playfully.

Alice laughed, then went and sat on the bed while Philippe rummaged in his overnight bag for a pair of socks. ‘It was kind of Captain Batard to introduce us, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, but I nearly died trying to keep a straight face.’

‘Me too,’ Alice said, smiling. ‘Do you think he suspected anything?’

‘No, not a thing,’ Philippe said, pulling a sock over his foot, ‘in fact, I heard him telling that English policeman, Hubbard, that he had inspected the Couvercle Hut and was absolutely certain your story was genuine.’

‘He flew up there and checked?’ she asked.

‘Yes, then he picked me up and spent most of the time telling me how wonderful he thinks you are.’

‘Phew,’ Alice exclaimed, ‘if I’d have known that I’d have been terrified.’

‘He believes us both completely, and with Louisa’s body safe it has all turned out perfectly.’

Alice had forgotten about Louisa in her joy at seeing Philippe again, now she felt guilty and said, ‘Oh Philippe, I’m so happy you’ll be able to get her back. What are your plans?’

‘I’m going to have her taken back to Nîmes by air, then there will be a simple burial at the little church in the village. It is what she wanted.’

‘I’d like to be there if I may,’ Alice said somberly.

‘I’m relying on it,’ he smiled, stepping into his shoes. ‘Now, how about some lunch? You must be starving!’

‘Do you think it would be wise to be seen together?’ she asked doubtfully.

‘I don’t see why not… we have been introduced after all, and by no less a man than the chief of High Mountain Police!’

‘Okay,’ Alice said, still doubtful, ‘but we must make it look like a chance meeting. Why don’t I go up to the restaurant, then you follow a few minutes later. You can spot me sitting there then ask in front of the waiter if you can join me.’

Philippe laughed. ‘We can do it your way if you want, but this is a French hotel, the staff have seen these games played many times before.’

‘Maybe so,’ she said stubbornly, ‘but it would make me feel a lot easier. Do you mind?’

‘Of course not,’ he replied, taking her in his arms again. ‘Anything for you.’ He kissed her, then slapped her bottom playfully, saying, ‘Come on, let’s get going. I want to eat.’

Ten minutes later, the charade was played out and they were seated together in the all-glass restaurant on the roof of the hotel enjoying an apéritif and the spectacular panoramic views of the Mont Blanc range.

Ross had recovered his composure and had been hard at work for about two hours on his account of the last days of Freda’s life when the doorbell rang. Sighing, he put his pen down, got up from behind his antique writing desk and went to answer the front door. By this time, he’d managed to convince even himself that he was innocent of any wrongdoing as far as Freda was concerned, and he was in a belligerent mood as he wrenched the door open expecting to find a journalist on the door step. Instead, he found Hubbard and Butcher. ‘I wondered how long it would be before I saw you two again,’ he said irritably.

‘Can we come in?’ Hubbard asked.

‘If you must,’ he replied, standing to one side. Once they were inside, he led them through to his study, then went to his desk and stuffed the pad he’d been writing on into a draw. Looking up, straight into Hubbard’s eyes, he said, ‘I suppose this is about the exhumation.’

‘So it was you I saw creeping about in the abbey ruins,’ Hubbard said. ‘I thought as much.’

‘I didn’t kill her, you know,’ Ross blurted.

‘Nobody said you did,’ Hubbard replied calmly. ‘We’re here on an entirely different matter.’

‘I didn’t kill Alex either,’ he said insistently.

‘We’ll see about that later. What I’d like to talk about now is the disappearance of Lady Webley. I had a call from the French Mountain Police this morning. It seems that one of their helicopters was on routine patrol this morning and they found her.’

Relief flooded through Ross. At least I’ll be able to get the money, he thought, then let them try to prove I murdered anyone. I’ll hire the best lawyers in the world! Keeping a poker face he said humbly, ‘So it seems I did make a mistake when I identified the other woman. Will I be required to fly over there for another identification?’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Hubbard said, equally poker faced, ‘she’s already identified herself.’

‘What do you mean she’s identified herself?’ Ross asked with astonishment.

‘I spoke with her on the telephone earlier,’ Hubbard said smugly. ‘We had quite a nice chat.’

‘You’re lying,’ Ross screamed, ‘she can’t possibly be alive!’

‘Really?’ Hubbard queried with knitted brows. ‘Why ever not?’

Ross realized he’d said too much again and shut up.

‘Could it be because you and Crawford drugged her then you threw her out of your plane?’ Hubbard asked, looking him straight in the eye.

‘You’re bluffing,’ Ross said scornfully, ‘you’re trying to get me to admit to something you haven’t any proof of.’

‘I’ve got plenty of proof,’ Hubbard replied, ticking the items off on his fingers. ‘Firstly there’s your wife’s sworn statement, then there’s the report from the French police, then there’s the forensic evidence we’re bound to find in your plane… you want me to go on?’

Ross finally realized that he was in serious trouble. There’s no way I’m going to avoid a jail sentence this time, he thought, and no way I’m ever going to see any of that money. He felt his insides crumble as a wave of desolation swept over him, then he had an idea. ‘Where is she now?’ he asked innocently, looking down at the carpet.