Hammond Innes - The Lonely Skier

Engles seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then his eyes lighted up with that infectious enthusiasm. ‘That’s wasting it, Joe. You can get more drama into it than that. And to hell with the girl. Listen — suppose Mayne here wanted to murder Blair. He’s a good skier. Blair isn’t. A snowstorm comes up. Mayne’s leading. He bears right after crossing the glacier — not by mistake, but by design.’ I scarcely heard what he said after that. I was watching Mayne. At the mention of ‘murder’ he had stiffened. He glanced quickly at Keramikos. His eyes were blank and he passed his tongue once or twice across his lips.

‘A night out there in a storm, and he’s bound to freeze to death,’ I heard Engles saying. ‘The perfect murder. Can’t be proved. But, by a freak chance, Blair comes back. It’s a lovely situation. We’ll write that into the script, Neil,’ he added, turning to me.

Keramikos thrust his head forward. ‘This hypothetical case,’ he said. ‘It is most interesting. But why should Mayne wish to kill Blair?’

‘Ah! That is what we have to work out,’ Engles said. Then he turned to me. ‘Come on, Neil,’ he said. ‘We’ll get this down whilst the idea is clear in our minds. Where can we go? What about your room? Any heating?’

‘There’s an electric stove,’ I said.

‘Good!’

As soon as we were outside the door I said, ‘Whatever induced you to produce that murder idea?’

‘Well, it wasn’t a bad idea,’ he said, grinning up at me as we mounted the stairs.

‘No,’ I said. ‘It wasn’t at all a bad idea. In fact, it’s exactly what happened. Mayne tried to murder me.’

‘Yes, I guessed as much.’

‘How could you?’ I said. We were in my room now.

‘Your unwillingness to talk on the phone. And what I know of Mayne.’

I shut the door and switched on the electric heater. It was very cold and the snow was piling up against the window, so that it was almost impossible to see out.

‘What do you know of Mayne?’ I asked.

He gave me a quick glance as he seated himself on the bed and produced a packet of cigarettes. ‘That can wait for the moment, Neil. Let’s hear what’s been happening up here. The last message I got from you was the cable giving details of the auction. It was that and the photograph of the bunch downstairs that brought me over here. Let’s start with the auction.’

When I had given him a full description, of the sale, he asked me to give him all the information on Mayne, Keramikos, Valdini and Carla. I started with Carla. I told him all that she had told me about herself. ‘And you believed her?’ he cut in.

‘I saw no reason not to,’ I replied. ‘She’s pretty sensual, but that’s no reason why she shouldn’t really have been in love with Stelben.’

He gave a cynical laugh. ‘That woman in love! She’s never loved any one but herself. She’s clever and she can handle men. She’s twisted you round her little finger, Neil.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I said angrily. ‘It’s a perfectly reasonable story.’

‘Reasonable!’ He laughed outright. ‘It’s about as reasonable as a tiger migrating to the Antarctic. What use would that woman have for a secluded villa on top of Col da Varda? She has two interests only in life — and money is the chief one. The trouble with you, Neil, is that you know nothing about women and are as gullible as any man I have ever met.’

I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Have it your own way,’ I said. ‘But do you expect me to have second sight? How should I know whether she’s telling the truth or not? Suppose you give me all the information you have about these people. Then I’d have something to go on.’

He smiled. ‘All right, Neil — a fair point. That’s Carla and Valdini. What about Keramikos?’

I told him what Keramikos had said of Mayne, of the meeting in the slittovia machine-room and how the Greek had denied that he had searched my room.

‘Anything on Mayne?’ he asked after that.

‘Only what Keramikos told me, and then that ski trip yesterday.’

He considered for a moment. ‘You haven’t done badly at all, Neil,’ he said with a sudden friendly smile. Again he paused. Then he said, ‘Suppose it was Mayne who searched your room that night? Would that have given him grounds for wanting to get rid of you?’

‘Hardly,’ I said. And then I remembered the sheet of typescript in my typewriter. ‘Yes, it might,’ I added. ‘I’d written a report for you. It was an account of what Keramikos had told me. Whoever it was who searched my rooms had had a look at that.’

He nodded. ‘And suppose the man that Keramikos had talked with that night was Mayne? Could it have been Mayne?’

‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘I didn’t really see him. But he was tall enough. It could have been.’

‘And if it was, then Mayne would have drawn certain conclusions from the fact that you were not in your room. Yes. I think it must have been our friend Mayne.’

There was a pause then. He seemed to have come to the end of his questions. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘It’s about time you gave me some idea of what’s going on here.’

He considered the point. Then he said, ‘You’ll be surprised at this, Neil. I know less than you do really. I know the background of Mayne and the Greek. But I don’t know how they fit into the Carla-Valdini set-up. There’s tension there, I can see that. But why? No, the only thing I know that you don’t is the reason they’re all here. And the less you know about that the safer you’ll be. I don’t think you’re in any real danger now that I’ve arrived. For the rest, I think it will all resolve itself — with a little help. This place is just about snowbound. Everybody who is interested in Col da Varda is cooped up inside this hut.’ He laughed and there was a devil of excitement lurking in his dark eyes. ‘We’ll go down and start stoking up the fires. Whatever I say, or whatever I do, Neil — don’t interfere. Just keep in the background and watch the fireworks.’ He got up abruptly then and opened the door. ‘And don’t say anything to old Wesson about this. All his thrills are on celluloid. If he met one in real life, he’d have a fit.’

When we returned to the bar, only Carla and Mayne were there. Carla was still drinking Strega and, judging by the flush on her cheeks, she had had quite a number whilst we had been out of the room. Mayne had recovered his ease of manner on cognac. Aldo was behind the bar. ‘Due cognac,’ Engles ordered.

‘Si, si — subito, signore.’

‘Where’s Wesson?’ Engles asked Mayne.

‘Gone to develop some negatives for you.’

‘And Valdini and the Greek?’

‘They have gone to see him develop,’ Carla answered. ‘But why Stefan is interested when he knows the pictures are not pornographic, I do not know,’ she added with a laugh.

Mayne was watching Engles — watching and waiting for him. The tension between them was uncomfortable. Engles drank in silence for a moment. Carla said nothing. She watched the two of them, and there was a gleam in her eye that I did not understand.

It was Mayne who made the first move. I don’t think he could stand that silence. ‘Have you thought out why I should want to kill Blair?’ he asked. He tried to make his voice sound casual, but the tremor in it betrayed tense nerves.

Engles looked at him. Then he turned to Carla. ‘You remember last night, when you told me what Mayne really was — you said he had double-crossed you?’

Carla nodded, and her eyes gleamed like those of a cat in the dark. Mayne set down his drink. His hand clenched as though about to hit out.

‘Would it interest you to know,’ Engles continued smoothly, ‘that he is not content with double-crossing you — he plans to murder you?’