Murder on the Clifftops

by Betty Rowlands

  ‘He was in charge of the overseas purchasing department of Monsieur Bonard’s company, I understand.’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I am the administration manager.’

  ‘That must bring you into contact with the senior people in all the other departments. Did you ever notice any friction or ill-feeling between Alain Gebrec and any of his other colleagues? I know that Monsieur Bonard is very anxious to know exactly how and why he died,’ Melissa went on persuasively. ‘Anything you can remember may help to solve the mystery.’

  ‘There’s nothing in particular that I can tell you. Of course, everyone knew . . .’ Darmel broke off in sudden embarrassment and mopped his head yet again.

  ‘About his relationship with Monsieur Bonard?’ prompted Melissa.

  ‘Well, yes. We called him the old man’s blue-eyed boy, but it didn’t cause any trouble. Monsieur Bonard’s private life is his own affair. When it comes to business matters, he never shows favouritism.’ The last words were spoken with a sudden warmth; plainly, Philippe Bonard was highly thought of by his employees.

  ‘And did Gebrec,’ Melissa hunted for the right words, ‘ever show any interest . . . personal interest . . . in anyone else in the company?’

  ‘No, but I have heard gossip once or twice, about . . . pretty boys.’ The corners of Darmel’s mouth turned downwards. ‘People say he used to be seen in gay bars in Avignon and other places.’ He wrinkled his nose as if he had detected an unpleasant smell.

  ‘Did Monsieur Bonard know about them . . . the pretty boys?’

  Darmel shrugged. ‘Possibly. It made no difference. For him, Gebrec could do no wrong. To be fair,’ he added, ‘Gebrec had an excellent brain and first-class managerial skills, although he was not, I think, particularly well liked among his subordinates. Several people expressed satisfaction when he left the company in Avignon to help Monsieur Bonard with his new venture.’

  ‘So Monsieur Bonard was prepared to overlook his . . . shortcomings?’

  ‘It would seem so.’ Darmel managed a faint smile, more at ease now that his own relationship with Alain Gebrec was no longer under scrutiny. ‘Perhaps, Madame, you would be kind enough to conduct me to the office of the secretary? I have much work to do, to learn my new duties.’

  Eighteen

  After handing Monsieur Darmel over to a less than welcoming Marie-Claire, Melissa returned to her book. She began to wish she had never bought it; chapter after chapter yielded no clue and concentration became increasingly difficult. She had almost made up her mind to abandon the search when a familiar but totally unexpected name caught her eye. She read on in a state of mounting excitement, oblivious now to her surroundings, so that the young gendarme sent by Officer Hassan to request the favour of a little of her valuable time had to clear his throat twice to attract her attention.

  When she entered the library, Hassan was standing by the window. He greeted her with his customary effusiveness, but she thought he looked tired and a shade dispirited.

  ‘Madame Craig, it is so good of you to come,’ he began.

  ‘Not at all.’ Melissa sat in the chair facing the table where he had been working, but he remained on his feet, pacing restlessly to and fro. ‘Have you made any progress?’

  ‘Alas, almost none. My men have combed the area between the house and the belvedere, but they have not recovered the missing golf-club of Madame Lavender. In a search of the outbuildings, a crowbar was found which could, perhaps, have been used as a weapon. It has been sent for examination, but it is heavily soiled with grease and sawdust, and there is no reference in the report of the médecin légiste to either substance being found on the body. Still, we must leave no avenue unexplored.’

  ‘Of course not,’ agreed Melissa gravely. ‘What about your, er, interrogations? Have you learned anything significant?’

  ‘That is what I should like to discuss with you, Madame. If you will kindly bear with me, I will give you a résumé of each interview and invite your comments.’

  ‘By all means.’ She was bursting to tell him that her reading had at last yielded some results, but decided to await the right moment. It was plain that Hassan was even more eager to share his thoughts with her and she was equally anxious to hear what, if anything, he had discovered.

  ‘So, Madame.’ Hassan at last returned to his chair and picked up his notebook. He turned back a dozen or so pages, all covered with cramped handwriting. ‘Let us begin. I first interviewed the proprietor of this establishment, Monsieur Philippe Bonard. He declared that Gebrec returned to the Centre after driving Madame Ash and her party to the Parc de Prafance and reported to him in his office at approximately nine-twenty. During their discussion, which Monsieur Bonard insists concerned nothing but routine matters of business, Gebrec became increasingly agitated and after ten minutes or so he rushed out of the room, apparently on the verge of tears. Monsieur Bonard did not follow him, but shortly afterwards observed him from the window, hurrying towards the belvedere.’

  ‘That would be about the time that Mrs Lavender claims to have seen Dieter Erdle going in the same direction,’ said Melissa.

  ‘Just so. Now, Monsieur Bonard states that he did not follow Gebrec, nor make any attempt to find him, until some time after eleven o’clock, when he went to ask the housekeeper if she had seen him. She declared that she had not and he returned to his office. Shortly after midday, Madame Ash telephoned to say that Gebrec had not come to bring her and her students back to the Centre for lunch. Accordingly, the man Fernand Morlay, who had returned from Alès a few minutes previously, was sent on this errand.’

  ‘And there was still no sign of Gebrec?’

  ‘No. When by four o’clock or thereabouts he had not returned, Monsieur Bonard became uneasy and was happy to accept the offer of some of the students to organise a search, the result of which, of course, you know.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ murmured Melissa. ‘Did you by any chance ask Monsieur Bonard why he did not himself go in search of Gebrec, if he was so concerned at his absence?’

  ‘Naturally.’ There was a hint of triumph in Hassan’s smile. ‘The question appeared to surprise him. He does not, I think, consider it the responsibility of a patron to pursue an employee who goes off in a huff. He would be more likely to expect that employee to return of his own volition, probably with an apology.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right. Still, in view of the close personal relationship between the two men . . .’

  ‘Ah!’ A gleam appeared in Hassan’s eye. ‘You have some observations on that situation, Madame?’

  ‘From remarks I have overheard it is obvious that everyone assumes . . . and according to Monsieur Darmel . . .’

  ‘Who is he?’

  Melissa explained, and repeated her conversation with Gebrec’s replacement. Hassan’s cheeks puffed in excitement as he made more notes. ‘This is very interesting, Madame. We will return to that in a moment. May I now proceed with my next interview?’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘The man Fernand Morlay. I confess, I at first considered him a possible suspect. His antagonism towards Gebrec was observed by several people, including the fierce disagreement of Wednesday morning when he appeared to be threatening him with physical assault. However, he was absent from Les Châtaigniers during the critical period. He left at about nine-fifteen to take his car to Alès to have new tyres fitted – the work record of the garage confirms this – and then he went to a nearby supermarket to do some shopping for his sister. She was able to show the till receipt bearing the date and the time of eleven-thirty. On his way back, he called at the Bar des Sports in Roziac and was seen by several witnesses. I think we can safely eliminate him from this enquiry.’

  ‘I’m glad of that,’ said Melissa impulsively.

  Hassan raised an eyebrow. ‘May I ask why, Madame?’

  ‘I have had several conversations with him and I find him . . . sympathique.’ She wondered how Hass
an would react if he knew the whole story, and was thankful that it would not be necessary to tell him. ‘We share an interest in the history of the region.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I was forgetting. Your new masterpiece – you have begun work on it?’ His eyes lit up at the recollection. ‘If there is any way in which I can help your researches . . . ?’

  ‘Thank you, I’ll bear that in mind,’ she said and he sighed happily.

  ‘It would be a supreme privilege.’ He coughed, tugged his moustache and referred once more to his notes. ‘Now, the housekeeper, Juliette Morlay. She was performing some duties upstairs during the time Gebrec was in Monsieur Bonard’s office. She declares that both men were raising their voices, but she could not distinguish the words. She heard a door bang and the sound of footsteps running down the stairs, but no more. She confirms Monsieur Bonard’s statement that he went to the kitchen later on and asked if Gebrec had been seen. At the same time, he gave her some garments that needed pressing and asked her to attend to them.’

  ‘I remember seeing her sponging and pressing some trousers,’ commented Melissa. ‘It was on the Thursday morning, I think.’

  Hassan shrugged as if he considered the point immaterial. ‘I understand that it is quite usual. Monsieur Bonard is very particular about his clothes – you have no doubt observed that he buys none but the very best – and he does not trust dry cleaners.’

  ‘Juliette does a good job – he always looks immaculate.’

  ‘She declined to be drawn on the question of the relationship between her master and the victim,’ observed Hassan, ‘but I am convinced that she is aware of it.’

  ‘I have the same impression.’

  ‘You have had conversations with her?’ Hassan’s expression became eager. ‘You can add something to my findings?’

  ‘Not a great deal.’ Melissa was having a silent tussle with her conscience. On the one hand was her duty to help unmask the killer of Alain Gebrec, on the other her promise to Juliette to remain silent about the family tragedy. Still, Fernand was in the clear, he had a strong alibi and would not be harmed if she were to tell a little of what she knew.

  ‘Please, try to remember.’ Hassan was not going to let go of this one. ‘What exactly did she say?’

  ‘Nothing specific. She was telling me about life under the German Occupation. A member of their family was shot by the Gestapo and I asked if Monsieur Bonard knew about it. She said something about a gentleman not being interested in the private lives of his servants, but when I mentioned Gebrec her manner changed. She did not say in so many words that she suspected a homosexual relationship between them, but I think it’s very likely.’

  ‘And this man Darmel confirms it. I think,’ said Hassan softly, ‘I must have another interview with Monsieur Bonard. Perhaps he has not told me everything.’

  ‘Surely, you don’t suspect him?’

  Hassan tapped his nose with a flourish. ‘Let us say, Madame, that I have not yet eliminated him.’

  Melissa felt as if the world was going topsy-turvy around her. In all the speculation and discussion that had followed the start of the police enquiry, no one had so much as hinted that Philippe Bonard might be the murderer. On the contrary, he had been the object of universal sympathy. Yet, once the possibility had been laid squarely before her, she wondered why it had not occurred to her before. Juliette had heard raised voices; wasn’t it conceivable that Bonard had been tackling Gebrec about his history of infidelity, demanding an end to the succession of ‘pretty boys’, of whom Wolfgang Klein was the most recent but would probably not have been the last? Perhaps the younger man had taunted the elder. Who could tell to what state of frustration Bonard had been driven?

  Hassan was watching her intently as she sat digesting this new and disturbing line of enquiry. ‘May I share your thoughts, Madame?’ he said at last.

  ‘On the face of things, it appears feasible,’ she murmured, almost thinking aloud. ‘The story about Gebrec being distressed, but refusing to say what was wrong, might have been a lie. When he left the office, perhaps Bonard followed him and saw him heading towards the belvedere.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ prompted Hassan as she paused, trying to picture the scene. ‘Please go on, Madame.’

  ‘Dora Lavender’s car is standing in the courtyard with the boot open, but Dora herself isn’t there, she’s on the putting green.’ Melissa closed her eyes, bringing all her visual imagination into play. ‘He sees her bag of golf-clubs and impulsively grabs one and goes in pursuit of Gebrec. He finds him at the belvedere, kills him, pushes the body over the cliff and hurries back to the house.’

  ‘In other words, a crime passionnel, committed on the spur of the moment?’

  Melissa shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she said doubtfully. ‘There are quite a few unanswered questions, aren’t there? What did he do with the weapon? How is it that Mrs Lavender didn’t see him? And what about Dieter Erdle? Mrs Lavender seems quite positive that he was there too.’

  ‘I will come to Erdle in a moment. Let us first consider Mrs Lavender’s statement. She happens to glance up from her golf practice and sees someone whom she believes to be Erdle, but is in fact Gebrec. She calls to him but he does not answer. A few minutes later, Bonard leaves the house, perhaps by the rear door through the kitchen. Juliette is working upstairs, Mrs Lavender has returned to her golf and he makes his way to the belvedere unobserved.’

  ‘And after killing Gebrec he returns to the house, again unobserved,’ said Melissa musingly. ‘By this time Mrs Lavender has left to keep her appointment in Alès, so he can’t put the weapon back where he found it. It must be hidden somewhere. Why haven’t your men been able to find it?’

  ‘Whoever committed this crime has since had plenty of time to dispose of it elsewhere. It might be lying in a ditch several kilometres away. We have to face the possibility that it may never be found – unless, of course, the guilty person can be, let us say, persuaded to lead us to it.’

  The last words were spoken with a hint of menace, accompanied by a tigerish smile quite unlike the combination of gleaming teeth and exuberant moustache that had caused Melissa to dub him ‘Banana Split’. She felt a twinge in her stomach; she had heard that the methods of questioning used by the French police were sometimes less than gentle. Into her mind’s eye sprang an image of Philippe Bonard under a relentless inquisition, no longer the proud, elegant, successful entrepreneur whom Iris had loved and she herself had come to admire, but a weary and vulnerable old man.

  ‘There is one other point that occurs to me,’ she said, as if in a deliberate effort to divert Hassan’s mind into other channels. ‘I have had several conversations with Monsieur Bonard and I am convinced that the Centre Cévenol d’Etudes represents for him the most important thing in his life. It is the culmination of a lifelong ambition, and Gebrec was his right-hand man.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, I am asking myself which was the more important to him, the success of the Centre or to be rid of a faithless lover.’

  ‘Madame, when one is in the grip of violent sexual passion, does one stop to ask such rational questions?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  While Hassan made more notes, Melissa became aware of the book that she had been holding throughout the interview, one finger still marking the place where she had made her discovery. ‘May I now tell you of something that I have found out this afternoon, Officer. It may be relevant to your enquiry.’

  He put down his pen and spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture. ‘By all means, Madame.’

  ‘Before I tell you, could I ask if you spoke to Dieter Erdle about the matter we discussed yesterday evening?’

  ‘You mean, about the book which caused the contretemps between him and Gebrec? Yes, I did. He insisted that he was merely having a joke at Gebrec’s expense and that, so far as he is aware, it contains nothing of any significance.’

  ‘Then it would be interesting to know what he has to say about this.’ Melissa
opened the book and placed it in front of Hassan. ‘This chapter concerns the activities of certain pastors of the Protestant Church who set up a network of escape routes for refugees from the Germans.’ She indicated a paragraph. ‘This passage refers to the work of Pastor Heinrich Erdle, himself a refugee from Nazi Germany, who was eventually betrayed to the Gestapo and shot.’

  Hassan read the passage twice, tracing the words with a surprisingly well-manicured forefinger. ‘You are assuming, Madame,’ he said after several moments’ thought, ‘that this pastor was a relative of Dieter Erdle?’

  ‘It seems likely, don’t you agree?’

  Hassan shrugged. ‘It may be so, but where is the connection with Gebrec?’

  ‘Supposing it was a relative of Gebrec who betrayed Pastor Erdle?’

  ‘You think that would provide a motive for Dieter Erdle to attack Alain Gebrec?’ Hassan blew out his cheeks and slowly shook his head, plainly sceptical.

  ‘Surely, it’s possible. There was a lot of ill-feeling between them – there must have been something behind Erdle’s taunts.’

  ‘Erdle was quite definite that his remarks were made without prior knowledge, and that Gebrec’s reaction was a surprise to him. The fact that he continued with his taunts confirms your assessment of his character, Madame, but it does not make him a murderer.’

  ‘But,’ Melissa gestured towards the book, ‘doesn’t this prove that he was lying?’

  Again Hassan shook his head, this time almost apologetically. ‘Sad as I am to disagree with one so eminent as yourself, I see it as nothing more than a coincidence,’ he said. ‘In any case, Erdle was nowhere near the belvedere at the critical time.’

  ‘You mean, he has a cast-iron alibi?’

  Hassan’s eyes flickered. ‘I am satisfied that he was not there,’ he insisted.

  ‘He had the best part of an hour to wait before his interview at the factory. Would it not have been possible for him to slip out, drive back to Les Châtaigniers . . . ?’