Dead Men Don't Ski Page 16

  "Good evening, Colonel Buckfast. Good day's skiing?" asked Emmy, in a friendly voice.

  The unhappy Colonel cleared his throat, and was understood to mumble that he hadn't been out that day.

  "Oh, what a shame," said Emmy. "The snow was heavenly."

  Colonel Buckfast hummed and hawed and cleared his throat again. Finally, he managed to say, "Owe you an apology, Tibbett ... business of my wife ... don't know what to say ... shameful..."

  "It's very easy to understand how it happened," said Henry. "I'm sure Mrs. Buckfast didn't mean any harm. And it does her great credit that she came to us with the whole story."

  "No excuse..." muttered the Colonel. "Disgraceful, the whole thing ... disgraceful..." He paused, and then went on, more embarrassed than ever. "Will ... em ... that is ... will the police ... do you think? No right to ask you, of course ... no right at all..."

  "I can't say what will happen," said Henry, with genuine sympathy, "But I promise you I'll-do all I can to see that the affair is forgotten."

  "By God, Tibbett..." said the Colonel, deeply moved. He attempted to find further words to express his gratitude, failed, and was recalled by a peremptory "Arthur! M from his unrepentant spouse. He smiled feebly.

  "Wife..." he explained. "Wants me ... needs support ... time like this ... poor little woman ... damned decent of you, Tibbett..."

  "Arthur, your rum grog's getting cold," said Mrs. Buckfast, ringingly.

  "Ah, yes ... grog ... excuse me..." The Colonel shambled back to his table.

  Roger and Caro were the next to come down. Caro had changed into a pair of brilliant red trousers and a green sweater, which only served to enhance the pallor of her face and the dark circles under her eyes. Roger had his arm round her shoulders, and he gave her a little hug and a reassuring smile as they came in. Caro made straight for the far end of the bar, but Roger restrained her, and steered her firmly over to Henry and Emmy.

  "'Evening," he said. "Lovely day it's been. Perfect snow." Then, seeing the Buckfasts, he called over to them. "Hope you're feeling better, Colonel. We missed you on the slopes."

  The Colonel said something unintelligible into his moustache, and Mrs. Buckfast answered firmly, "Arthur will be quite all right by tomorrow, Mr. Staines. Just one of his silly headaches."

  "The poor old chap looks really ill,"Roger said to Emmy, sotto voce. "What's up with him?"

  "I expect he's been overdoing it," said Emmy, quickly. "After all, he's not as young as he was."

  "Pity," said Roger. "He must have been a superb skier in his day. Well, now, what are we all drinking? Henry? Emmy? Caro?"

  Henry and Emmy protested that their glasses were full, and Caro said, "Nothing. I don't know. Oh, all right, a brandy."

  "Bear up, darling," said Roger cheerfully, and added, to Henry, "This child is feeling the strain. Have you been bullying her?"

  "Oh, Roger, don't—" Caro began, and then stopped,

  "Me?" said Henry. "What an idea. I never bully people."

  "Only your poor wife," said Emmy. "I was up all night writing out his beastly reports." She grinned at Caro, who smiled faintly.

  "By the way,"Roger went on, with rather too-elaborate casualness, "any news from the handwriting experts in Rome?"

  "Not yet," said Henry.

  "I hope they're enjoying themselves with that little lot," said Roger, brightly. "From now on, I have no secrets from the Italian police. In the archives of Rome, carefully filed, you will find an exact account of how many pairs of underpants, gents' natty socks, brothel-creepers "

  "Roger!"Caro interrupted him. "What do you mean?"

  "Only that the local gendarmerie have confiscated my packing list as vital evidence," said Roger. "I thought I told you."

  "Oh, no ... no, they can't have..." Caro had turned from white to green, and suddenly swayed forward on her stool, clutching at the bar for support.

  Instantly, Roger had his arm round her, and Emmy said anxiously, "Caro, are you all right?"

  "Yes ... I'm sorry ... I'm O.K. now." Caro gave herself a little shake, sat up straight, and said, 4< Make that a double brandy, Roger. I feel reckless tonight."

  "Anything you say, ma'am," said Roger. His voice was light, but Henry noticed that he watched Caro with intent and worried care. At this moment, Jimmy came into the bar. He hesitated a moment when he saw Roger and Caro, and then walked over to Henry.

  "I wonder," he said, with unusual seriousness, "if I could have a word with you."

  "Of course," said Henry. "Here or elsewhere?"

  "Elsewhere, if you don't mind. It's ... it's rather private."

  "Secrets, secrets," said Roger, reprovingly. "Or are you thinking of confessing, by any chance?"

  Jimmy gave him a brief look, full of dislike, and said to Henry, "Do you mind coming up to my room for a minute?"

  "Of course not." Henry slid down off his stool. "Look after the old lady for me, will you?" he said to Roger. "I'll be back."

  Jimmy led the way, silently, across the hall and up the stairs to his room. He closed the door carefully, and then said: "I'm sorry to bother you like this, but I'm terribly worried about Caro. You see, I feel responsible for her."

  "She certainly seems to be in a state of nerves," Henry agreed. "Any idea why?"

  "Not really, but I can guess."Jimmy looked unusually grim. "It's all Roger's fault."

  "I understand," said Henry, "that Roger hopes to marry Caro."

  Jimmy nodded, sombrely. "She's a wild one," he said, slowly. "Wild, and stubborn as hell. I've known her since she was knee-high to a grasshopper, and she's always been the same. Her parents don't like Roger but she's absolutely determined to marry him, whatever any of us say. She won't hear a word against him."

  "Yes, I had heard that," said Henry.

  "A few months ago,"Jimmy went on, "Roger started boasting all over the place that he'd found a way of getting rich quick. Caro was delighted, but I didn't like the sound of it, and neither did her father and mother. So we decided that I should have a serious talk with Roger, and see if I could find out what he was up to."

  "And did you get anything out of him?" Henry asked.

  "Not much. He put on a great act about loving Caro desperately and wanting to do well for her sake. I pumped him all I could about this money he was going to make, but all he would say was that it was a hush-hush deal with a Continental firm, and that he was going to arrange the final details while we were here on holiday. Which is why," Jimmy went on, "I'm absolutely certain that Roger was mixed up in some way with Hauser. And now, Caro's obviously nearly out of her mind with worry about something or other, and she won't tell me about it, and..." He paused, and then, with a palpable effort, blurted out, "The fact is, I'm simply terrified that Roger may have killed Hauser, and got Caro involved in some way. I suppose that's the last thing one should say to the police, but you're a reasonable chap, and..." His voice trailed off, uncertainly.

  Henry looked at Jimmy's worried young face, and felt very sorry for him indeed. "I'm glad you told me all this," he said, "and I do sympathise. I'll tell you one thing. I think it's highly unlikely that either Roger or Caro had anything to do with Hauser's death. Mind you, I can't promise. I'm only giving you my opinion on the facts so far. But there is another thing..."

  "I knew there'd be a bloody big 'but'."

  "I don't know myself how big it is," said Henry. "You're certainly right when you suppose that Roger was involved with Hauser."

  "I knew it," said Jimmy. "The fool."

  "However, let's look on the bright side," Henry went on, with a trifle more confidence than he felt. "Now that Roger has seen the sort of mess that these things can lead to, I'm prepared to bet that he'll come to his senses. If you ask me, he really is in love with Caro, and once all this business is over, I suggest that you try to be rather more sympathetic to both of them. I'm sorry," he added, diffidently, "to lecture you like a Dutch uncle, but it's very difficult for someone like you, who has all the security in the worl
d behind you, to appreciate the point of view of somebody like Roger, who is desperately trying to keep up appearances on very little money. Do you see what I mean?"

  Jimmy nodded gravely.

  "The impression I get," said Henry, "is that both those two have decided that the whole world is against them— and that's a very dangerous way to feel. So if you really want to help Caro, the best thing you can do is to be on her side ... and Roger's."

  Jimmy stubbed out a cigarette, slowly. "All right," he said. "I'll try. So long as you're sure Roger is in the clear."

  Henry looked as uncomfortable as he felt. "I can't be sure of anything yet," he said, "but I've given you my opinion. In any case, whatever happens, I'm damn sure Caro will stand by him. I like that girl."

  After dinner, Henry said to Emmy, "Let's talk—I want to clear the rubbish out of my mind."

  So they went up to their room, settled themselves comfortably on the bed, and lit cigarettes. First of all, Henry outlined to Emmy all that had happened during the day. She listened intently, occasionally putting a question, but never a comment. When he had finished, she said, "I can't even remember a case with so many motives. Hauser must have been just about the most hated man in Europe."

  "Hardly surprising, when you consider his chosen profession," said Henry. "Now, tell me what you think about it all."

  "Well," said Emmy, slowly. "Since you said you thought Gerda was capable of murder, I've been watching her a lot, and I think you're probably right. But I don't see when she could have taken the gun. Although of course—has it occurred to you that we're all just assuming that Hauser was shot with his own gun? Couldn't there have been another?"

  "There could, of course," said Henry, "but it's very unlikely. We know Hauser had a gun of that calibre, and it has undoubtedly disappeared."

  "When could Gerda have taken it?"

  "Don't forget that she didn't come down to the bar until later than the rest of us, the night before the murder," said Henry. "Roger went up and fetched her, if you remember. She could have t^ken it then. Or there's another possibility. Hauser's luggage was sitting in the Olympia from midday onwards on the day he was killed. The gun could just as easily have been stolen from there."

  "When?"Emmy demanded. "Everybody except you and Hauser were either out skiing or up at the hotel all day."

  "What colour were Hauser's suitcases?" Henry asked, suddenly.

  Emmy frowned. "A sort of lightish brown leather," she said.

  "How do you know?" said Henry.

  "Because ... gosh, I hadn't thought of it till this minute. Of course. I saw them stacked up in the passage at the Olympia when I went to spend a penny. And I wasn't the only one, was I?"

  "You weren't," said Henry. "Caro went to the cloakroom before you arrived, and so did Roger and the Colonel. Gerda, if you remember, went straight through to hang up her anorak before she even sat down at the table. The only people who didn't leave the restaurant were Jimmy, Franco, Maria-Pia, the children and myself."

  "So Gerda could easily have taken the gun," said Emmy, thoughtfully. "Then what makes you think that she's innocent?"

  "My nose—" Henry began, and then he laughed. "I mean, it's just that it doesn't seem in character for Gerda to leave anything to chance. And, as Spezzi has it worked out, the whole thing would have been a series of coincidences. Of course, if it transpires that in some way Gerda knew exactly what Hauser's movements were going to be—then it would be a very different matter."

  "Supposing," said Emmy, slowly, "supposing that the gun was taken for another reason altogether—to shoot somebody else. And then the murderer saw Hauser coming down on the lift, and couldn't resist the opportunity?"

  "I'd thought of that," said Henry. "It's an uncomfortable idea, because if it's so, then the murderer must be planning to strike again, at his original victim. But I really don't believe it. Who else would anybody want to murder?"

  "Well... perhaps Franco had decided to kill the Baron."

  "Pull yourself together, darling," said Henry, kindly. "Think. For a start, Franco didn't know the Baron was coming up here—though I'll admit he might have guessed it: but he's about the only person who had no chance at all of taking the gun. Maria-Pia's evidence clears him for the night before the murder, and he never left the table while we were at the Olympia."

  "Why couldn't he have nipped upstairs and taken the gun while Maria-Pia was talking to Hauser after breakfast?"

  "Because he was in the kitchen, collecting his packed lunch," said Henry. "I've checked with Anna."

  "Of course," said Emmy, "it could have been a conspiracy. Maria-Pia may know very well that he took the gun the night before."

  "Do you really believe that?" Henry said. "In any case, I personally am sure—whatever Spezzi may think— that the gun was in Hauser's possession when he packed. Otherwise he'd have raised hell with Rossati."

  "Rossati hated him, remember," said Emmy. "Perhaps he knew the gun was missing, and hasn't told you."

  "By the time I left him today, he was telling the truth," said Henry, sombrely.

  "Suppose he took it himself? No, that's no good, because he couldn't possibly have done the shooting. Oh dear," said Emmy, unhappily, "it seems to be narrowing down to Gerda, Roger, Jimmy or the Colonel. I don't like it at all."

  "What's your opinion of Roger?" Henry asked suddenly.

  Emmy hesitated. "I can't help liking him," she said.

  "Meaning that you feel you shouldn't?"

  "He's fairly unscrupulous," said Emmy, " and not entirely honest—but I think he's got standards of his own that may not be quite conventional, but are pretty rigid, all the same. I can imagine him killing in hot blood—but not deliberately planning a murder."

  "And what about the Knipfers?"

  "Horrid," said Emmy, promptly. "The girl might be all right on her own, but she hasn't a chance with parents like that But anyway, they're out of the running, aren't they?"

  "It would seem so," said Henry, "but there's no doubt the girl knows more than she will admit—and I've a hunch I know what it is."

  "I don't suppose you're going to tell me," said Emmy resignedly.

  "No, I'm not," said Henry. "Not yet."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  At half-past eight the next morning, there was a knock on Henry's door, and Spezzi came in, armed with a bulging briefcase.

  "I plan to leave the hotel today," he said, "so I have brought you copies of my reports, and the time-table I have worked out. I trust you will find them helpful."

  The young carabiniere loomed up in the doorway, and told Spezzi he was wanted: so the Capitano handed Henry a sheaf of papers and excused himself. Henry said to Emmy, "You'd better go down and get on with your breakfast, I want to study these."

  "I'll stay here with you. I've got a good book."

  Henry read quickly through the neatly-typed interview reports, and glanced at Spezzi's personal exposition of the case—in which the Capitano reached the conclusion that Fraulein Gerda Braun was the guilty party, although positive proof was still lacking. Then he gave himself up to earnest contemplation of the time-table.

  9.00 a.m. Hauser calls Rossati to the dining-room and announces his intention of leaving by the last train. Overheard by all the guests except the Baroness.

  9.15 The Baroness speaks to Hauser in the bar.

  9.20 Hauser pays his bill in Rossati's office.

  9.30-10.00 The skiers depart. Mrs. Buckfast and the Knipfers go onto the terrace. Hauser goes up to pack.

  10.30 Beppi goes to Hauser's room, speaks to him, collects the luggage and takes it to the lift.

  10.35 Hauser speaks to the Knipfers on the terrace.

  11.00 Hauser makes a phone call to Innsbruck.

  (approx.)

  11.35 Hauser takes the lift down to the village.

  12.10 p.m. Mario sends the luggage down on the lift.

  (approx.)

  12.30 Miss Whittaker and Mr. Passendell return for lunch.

  12.35 Ca
rlo takes Hauser's luggage to the Olympia.

  2.30 The skiers depart again. The Knipfers go for a walk. Mrs. Buckfast and Fraulein Knipfer sit on the terrace.

  3.30 Fraulein Knipfer sees Hauser coming up (approx.) the path from the ski-lift to the hotel.

  3.45 Hauser and Fraulein Knipfer take tea in the bar.

  4.30 Fraulein Knipfer goes up to her room.

  Beppi sees Mrs. Buckfast talking to Hauser in the bar. Miss Whittaker and Mr. Passendell arrive at the Olympia for tea.

  4.45 Mrs. Tibbett arrives at the Olympia.

  5.00 Staines and Col. Buckfast arrive at the Olympia. (N.B. A train from Immenfeld gets in to Santa Chiara at 4.55). Rossati speaks to Hauser in the bar, then takes the lift down to the village. 5.20 The Baroness, Fraulein Gerda and the children arrive at the Olympia. 5.30 Signor di Santi arrives at the Olympia.

  6.05 The party at the Olympia pay their bills and leave. 6.10 Hauser leaves the hotel, seen by Beppi and Fraulein Knipfer.

  6.15 The party from the Olympia board the lift, (at the Mr. Passendell first, then the other latest) English, the Baroness, di Santi, the children and Gerda.

  6.16 Hauser gets on to the lift at the top.

  6.17 The lift breaks down. 6.19 The lift starts again.

  6.43 Hauser arrives at the bottom of the lift, shot dead. Gerda, the last of the skiers, arrives at the top.

  6.44 "The lift is stopped.

  Henry studied this document with intense concentration for some time, and then he said, "I owe Spezzi an apology."

  Emmy put her book down. "Why?" she said.

  "Because I teased him about his passion for fixing accurate times." Henry passed the time-table to Emmy. "Take a good look at that," he said.