1958 - Not Safe to be Free (22 page)

Sophia saw Jay and joined him as the elevator doors opened.

They rode up to the second floor without exchanging a word, conscious of the attendant who kept looking at Sophia with furtive admiration.

It wasn’t until they had left the elevator and while Jay was unlocking the door to their suite that Sophia said in a tense, low voice, “Well? What have you been doing?”

“Arranging things,” Jay said, opening the door and standing aside. “As I said I would.”

Sophia entered the lounge, crossed over to the cocktail cabinet and poured a brandy to which she added a lump of ice and some soda water. While she was making a drink, Jay closed the door and moved over to sit in one of the armchairs.

She turned and faced him.

“Well? For heaven’s sake! Don’t try to be mysterious! What have you done?”

How tense she looked! he thought. Smart as she is, she wouldn’t have been able to have handled this thing the way I did. She would either have paid those two blackmailers for the rest of her days or she would have given up and weakly submitted to being arrested. It would never have crossed her mind to have silenced them.

“I have arranged things, Sophia,” he said. “Everything is now all right.”

His smug little smile made her want to slap his face, but she controlled herself.

“Don’t talk like a fool!” she said angrily. “How can everything possibly be all right? Those two . . .”

He held up his hand.

“I said I would arrange things and I have arranged them. The photographs and the negatives are destroyed. I destroyed them myself.”

She stared at him.

There was something about him she hadn’t ever seen before. There was this smug little smile, but his cocky air of confidence disturbed her.

She sipped her brandy, then she sat down, frowning at him.

“You’ve destroyed them? But how?”

“I went to the hotel,” he said airily. “I talked to the woman. She was difficult, of course, but I went prepared. Blackmailers are always cowards. I frightened her and I frightened Kerr.

They gave me the photographs and the negatives and I burned them.”

“You? You frightened that woman! I don’t believe it!”

Sophia’s scorn made Jay flush angrily.

“A callow boy like you couldn’t frighten such a woman!”

“Don’t you think so?” Jay’s lips were in a tight smile. “I’m not saying it was easy, but I did it.” He put his hand into his hip pocket and took out the razor. He opened it and let the light from the reading lamp glitter on its blade.

Sophia caught her breath sharply.

“You see? It even frightens you,” Jay said softly. “It’s odd—people have a horror of sharp steel. I threatened them with this. It had the required effect.”

Sophia felt a little sick as she stared at him. Sitting there, his face pale, his eyes hidden by the dark glasses, a cruel smile on his lips and the razor in his hand, he looked horribly dangerous.

“Put that thing away!” she said her voice was husky.

Jay closed the razor and began to tap his knee with it.

“So you have nothing to worry about, Sophia. You can forget the whole thing.”

“You insane fool! Even if they gave you the photographs and the negatives that won’t stop them going to the police and telling them!” Sophia burst out angrily.

He flinched.

“Of course, you are still thinking of yourself, Sophia,” he said, “but I assure you it is going to be all right. They won’t say anything. I can promise you that.”

“But why are you so sure?”

“I just know.” He paused and cocked his head a little on one side. “You can forget the whole thing. You do understand, don’t you? It would be better if you forgot all about it.”

She stiffened. The note in his voice was distinctly hostile.

“Is it my turn now to be threatened?” she asked.

His meaningless smile moved into place.

“After all, Sophia, you are now the only person who can do anything about this business. The other two won’t and you are the only other one who knows about it. If you hadn’t returned when you did, everything would have worked out very well, so it does make it a little difficult between us, doesn’t it?”

“I would like to get this quite clear, Jay,” Sophia said. “Are you threatening me?”

He opened the razor and stared down at the glittering blade.

“I don’t think it is necessary to threaten you, because you are clever,” he said. “After all, if you did give me away, I would have to involve you as an accessory. You wouldn’t want to go to prison, would you?”

She was suddenly so angry that she threw caution to the wind.

“Listen to me, you mad little fool!” she said furiously. “You don’t imagine you are going to get away with this horrible thing, do you?”

“I think I have told you before,” he said, his face set, “I am not mad. I am going to get away with it. Of course you have thought what you imagine is best to be done. No doubt you plan to tell father when we are out of France and persuade him to put me in a home, but I warn you, I’m not going to a home. Rather than that I will give myself up to the police and give you up too.”

“You don’t think you can be allowed to go free after what you have done?” Sophia said. “You are a mental case. You will have to have special treatment. Why, you could do this horrible thing again.”

Then suddenly his inner voice began to whisper to him.

“It would be better if she died,” the voice told him. “It would be safer. With her out of the way, no one would ever know. You can’t trust her. Sooner or later, she will tell your father. You are alone with her. It would be quite easy to arrange. All you would have to do is to stun her, take off her clothes and put her in the bath. They would think she slipped in the bath, hit her head on the taps and drowned. An accident like that so often happens. Do it now. You have time. Your father won’t be up for another half hour.”

As Jay listened to the voice, he glanced at his wristwatch.

The time was twenty minutes to one. He had the time.

“I wouldn’t ever do it again, Sophia,” he said, his voice suddenly mild. “I have got it out or my system now. But if it would satisfy you, I would be willing to go to some doctor and let him talk to me. I can understand you wouldn’t want me living with you and father any longer. I would be prepared to live alone if you would persuade father to let me have my own apartment.”

He saw her hesitate, then she said: “If you are willing to submit to a thorough examination and if you are willing to abide by the doctor’s decision, then I won’t say anything more about this.” She made a little movement with her hand. “But you must have some kind of help and treatment to get you straightened out.”

“You see?” whispered the voice. “She thinks you are mad. You can never have any safety until she is out of the way.”

Behind the shield of his dark glasses, he looked around the room for a weapon with which to stun her. He had now no compunction about killing her. She had brought it on herself. All she thought about was herself. She hadn’t helped him because she was afraid of what would happen to him. She had helped him because she had been afraid of what would happen to her own social position and to his father’s reputation.

He must first reassure her and then, when she was off her guard . . .

“Well, all right, Sophia,” he said as his eyes found the weapon he was looking for. It was a heavy paperweight in silver his father carried around with him that stood on the desk. It was an ideal weapon. He would have to be careful not to hit her too hard, he told himself, but he would have to hit her hard enough to make her unconscious. “I suppose I do want straightening out, as you put it. In fact, it would be a relief to have someone to talk confidentially to and I would welcome living away from father. Do you think you could persuade him to let me have a place of my own?”

“I think so.”

He wished she was a little more relaxed. It was disconcerting to see how closely she was watching him. She was, of course, extremely sensitive to atmosphere. Surely she didn’t guess what was going on in his mind?

It mustn’t be bungled, he thought. He could hear footsteps and voices as people passed the door of the suite, going to their rooms. She mustn’t have a chance to scream.

“So if I agree to those conditions, Sophia,” he said, “then you won’t give me away?”

She got to her feet and put the scarcely touched brandy on the table.

“I’m tired now, Jay. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”

He got up casually and strolled over to the desk.

“You haven’t finished your drink,” he said, his fingers closing over the paperweight.

“I don’t want it. Good night, Jay.”

He glanced at her.

She had reached her bedroom door.

She must be nervous, he thought. She hasn’t once turned her back on me.

“I’m sorry about all this, Sophia,” he said. He began to move slowly across the room towards her, the paperweight held down by his side, out of sight. “I wish I hadn’t done it now. At the time it seemed important. I’ll get straightened out. I’m relying on you to help me.”

He felt his anger rising against her as she didn’t react in any way to this.

She stood in the doorway of her bedroom, watching him, her expression alert.

“Good night, Jay,” she said and before he could reach her, she stepped into the room and abruptly closed the door in his face. He heard the key turn in the lock.

For a second or two he remained motionless, then he moved silently to the door leading to the outside corridor and turned the key. Would she forget to lock the door between her room and his father’s room?

Moving softly, he crossed the lounge and opened the door into his father’s room. Leaving the door open so he could see where he was going, he crossed the room to the door that led into Sophia’s room. He listened, his head against the door panel. He could hear Sophia moving about in the inner room.

He looked at his watch: the time was now ten minutes to one. His margin of safety was running out. He put his hand on the door handle and began to turn it very slowly. It seemed to take a long time before the handle fully turned.

Had she locked this door?

He pulled gently and as he felt the door move towards him, he stopped pulling and his lips curled into a triumphant grin.

Again he listened.

He heard Sophia clear her throat and then put something down on the dressing table.

He eased the door open a crack, his right hand gripping the paperweight so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He could see into the room now.

Sophia had taken off her evening dress and was peeling off her stockings.

Jay measured the distance between them. It was too great.

She would have time to start to her feet and scream before he could reach her.

He watched her slip on a wrap, then undo her suspender belt and toss it on a chair, then she walked into the bathroom.

He heard the bath water running.

Better wait for her to get into the bath, he thought. He remembered she would be sitting with her back to the door once she was in the bath. All he would have to do then was to move in silently and hit her before she even knew he was in there.

He waited, his breathing fast and hard, his heart thumping.

He glanced at his watch. It was now three minutes to one.

The margin of safety was narrowing.

He stiffened when he heard the bath water stop running and then he heard the unmistakable sound of splashing.

She must be in the bath!

His lips moved into his meaningless smile as he opened the door and moved silently across the bedroom to the bathroom door.

He reached for the handle, turned it and pushed gently.

The door swung silently open.

III

N
ever before in the sordid history of the Beau Rivage hotel had the hotel been so quiet and dark as when Inspector Devereaux drove up in his car.

A small crowd stood outside the entrance, held back by three sweating gendarmes.

Guidet stood just inside the dark entrance and came across the pavement to meet Devereaux.

“Why in darkness?” Devereaux asked, staring up at the dark outline of the building.

“The lights have fused. As soon as we put in a new fuse, it blows.” Guidet sounded exasperated. “I’ve got an electrician checking the wiring. In the meantime we have candles.”

“So he is dead?” Devereaux said, walking into the lobby.

“Yes, he’s dead,” Guidet said. “He hanged himself.”

On the reception desk were five flickering candles that threw a yellow circle of light on Madame Brossette’s gross body lying where it had fallen at the foot of the stairs.

“Hello!” Devereaux exclaimed, coming to an abrupt stop. “What happened here?”

“My guess is she found Kerr, rushed downstairs to call the ambulance and fell,” Guidet said indifferently. “The stairs are dangerously steep. Anyway, it’s saved her getting into trouble with us. She deliberately lied when we asked her if Kerr was here.”

At this moment the Medical Officer, Dr. Mathieu, came in.

He went immediately to the body and made a quick examination.

“Her neck is broken,” he said, looking at Devereaux. “A woman of such a weight . . . such a fall . . .” He shrugged his shoulders.

“And Kerr?” Devereaux asked.

“Upstairs.”

Guidet turned on a powerful electric torch and guided Devereaux up the narrow stairs.

“So he was here all the time,” Devereaux said as he walked into the room beyond the broom cupboard. “No wonder we didn’t find him.”

Lemont was in the room, lighting more candles.

Guidet threw the beam of his torch on Joe Kerr.

Joe hung from the scarlet cord that was fastened to a hook on the back of the door. His long, bony legs were curled up so that the weight of his body had tightened the running noose of the cord. His raddled face was a pale mauve colour; his lips were drawn off his teeth in a snarl of terror.

“He hanged himself with the missing curtain cord,” Guidet said. “I’ve been through his pockets. In one of them I found a blue bead.” He went over to the bedside table and pointed to the bead. “It’s from the girl’s necklace.”