‘She might offer them to a jeweller who’s less than scrupulous and asks no questions.’
De Silva shook his head. ‘There’s no one in Nuala who deals in expensive stones. The only jewellery you find up here is in the bazaar and most of that is cheap trinkets. No, if Ranescu’s telling the truth and Miss Lane wants the best price for her ill-gotten gains, she will need to be in Kandy or, better still, Colombo.’
‘I wonder if she really has stolen them.’
‘What makes you doubt it?’
‘Florence is very suspicious about whether the count is telling the truth and she may be right to mistrust him.’ She shrugged. ‘But then one must make allowances for the fact that she dislikes him intensely.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘He had the temerity to call Angel an annoying little creature and she heard the remark.’
‘Ah, that would be enough to banish him from her good books forever.’
‘Absolutely.’
De Silva mopped up the last of the spicy sauce on his plate. ‘That was delicious. Well, if Nadar and I are to have any success with this search, I suppose we shall have to get on with it, but it’s late and I deserve a rest, so it will have to wait until morning.’
‘What about Sergeant Prasanna?’
‘He’s still looking for the body. A shame as he might be more useful here, but Nadar tries his best and the experience will be good practice for him.’
‘So what will you do?’
‘I’ll have to check at the station before the train leaves tomorrow morning in case Miss Lane does try to escape that way. I think it’s more likely she will. She’ll need to have found a car and chauffeur to take her to Nanu Oya, but it’s not far and many people travel there. It will be much less conspicuous than arranging for someone to drive her all the way down to Kandy. A booking for that is far more likely to be remarked on and she will expect us to be checking with the hotels that provide chauffeur services. There’s only Nadar and myself to do it, but we can use the telephone. We may as well search the bazaar as well. She might need money and be trying to sell some of the less-valuable pieces of jewellery there.’
‘Poor Ralph Wynne-Talbot. It must be very hard for him having to wait like this. I hear from Florence that Lady Caroline is terribly anxious about him.’
‘Let’s hope he doesn’t have to wait much longer.’
‘What happens if you never find the body?’
‘Mrs Wynne-Talbot will have to be declared missing, presumed dead. Not a very satisfactory outcome.’
‘If I were in Ralph Wynne-Talbot’s place, I think I would find it even worse never to know what happened to my wife. None of us want to be the one left behind, but at least a funeral is a fitting way of taking the first steps towards coming to terms with one’s grief.’
He squeezed her shoulder. ‘Goodness, this conversation has taken a very solemn turn. We need to go dancing again to cheer ourselves up.’
‘Indeed we do, but all the same the poor man’s predicament reminds me how lucky I am to have you.’
He gave her a mischievous smile. ‘I’m glad you appreciate it.’ Yawning, he got to his feet. ‘I think I’ll have an early night. That bench at the train station was as hard as granite.’ He rubbed the small of his back. ‘Next time, Count Ranescu can do his own chasing after his lady friend.’
Chapter 16
The next morning, de Silva called in briefly at the police station to explain the situation to Nadar. He left him telephoning hotels and set off for Nanu Oya, but no one resembling Laetitia Lane took the Kandy train.
He beat an irritable tattoo on the Morris’s steering wheel as he drove back to Nuala. His resources were far too slim; it was very likely this woman would give them the slip but what could he do about it?
At the station, Nadar was just replacing the receiver.
‘Anything to report, Constable?’
‘I’m afraid not, sir. But the gentleman who wanted to speak to you on Thursday telephoned again. He still wouldn’t leave his name.’
‘Well, I certainly haven’t time to waste on him now. You’d better go home and change into some clothes that will make you less conspicuous. I want to make a search of the bazaar and we mustn’t draw attention to ourselves.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘When you come back, I’ll show you a photograph of Miss Lane. She may have adopted some sort of disguise but it should help us a little.’
While Nadar was gone, de Silva changed into the traditional clothing he had snatched up before he left home and also fashioned the length of cloth he had brought with him into a turban. It wasn’t much of a disguise and Laetitia Lane had seen him at close quarters, but he would have to rely on the British tendency to fail to distinguish between one Ceylonese face and another. For once, it might be something to be thankful for.
Nadar returned, and in silence at first, they walked briskly in the direction of the bazaar.
It was busy with the start of the week’s trading, but no suspicious sights met their eyes. After wandering around for a while observing passers-by, de Silva decided they should go their separate ways and sent Nadar to try the lake area while he took the town streets.
Outside the cinema, people studied the posters for forthcoming films. Others browsed the windows of shops or went in and out of the numerous guest houses that had sprung up in Nuala to serve the needs of the summer tourists in search of the hills’ cooler climate. Some drank tea or ate cakes and sweetmeats at street cafés.
The area of Nuala where he had started his search didn’t attract many British. Most people were Sinhalese or Tamil, but there were a number of Arabs, probably the merchants who liked to come to Nuala to do business. Out of the corner of his eye, de Silva noticed one particularly tall man dressed in a black robe and a dark turban. He was heavily bearded, and his eyes glittered in his dark-skinned face; the traditional curved dagger gleamed in his belt. A few paces behind him, a heavily veiled woman, presumably his wife, followed with her head meekly bowed.
The couple appeared to be on their way to a nearby guest house, and as the man passed him and turned to go through the doors, de Silva smelt a whiff of something like axle grease. He stopped and waited for the lady to follow and it was then that another scent invaded his nostrils: a luxurious, elegant, expensive aroma. This wasn’t something the lady had bought in the bazaar. Unmistakably, it was French perfume.
He took note of the name of the guest house and hurried back to the station. He had told Nadar to meet him there before dark and the constable wasn’t far behind. The more he thought about the Arab and his wife, the more de Silva’s spirits lifted. Perhaps he was really onto something this time. And if the dutiful-looking wife was Laetitia Lane, who was her companion? Was he the writer of that impenetrable letter he had found at the bungalow?
The brief tropical dusk had turned to night by the time he and Nadar reached the guest house. De Silva had changed back into uniform; he wore the holster containing his gun and had made sure the Webley was loaded. The owner of the guest house gave his badge a wary look when he demanded to know which room the Arab and his wife were staying in.
‘Number two,’ the man said nervously. ‘But I know nothing about them, just that they will stay three nights, perhaps longer. The man has paid the first of the money already.’
‘Have they ordered food?’
The owner nodded. ‘I must have it brought to their room.’
‘We will wait until it’s ready, then you must show us the way.’
‘But, sir—’
‘No arguments. Once you’ve knocked on the door, you will leave everything else to us.’
The food ready, the owner led them up the stairs to the second floor. He stopped at a door decorated with a lopsided metal ‘2’, and knocked.
‘Yes?’ shouted a male voice in Tamil.
‘The food is here, sir.’
‘Leave it outside the door. I’ll collect it in a moment.’
De Silva put a finger to his lips and nodde
d.
‘Yes, sir,’ the man replied. He put the tray on the floor and moved away down the stairs as de Silva indicated.
De Silva positioned himself to one side of the door and motioned Nadar to stand behind him. He cocked his gun and listened intently as footsteps approached.
Laetitia Lane’s eyes widened. She tried to slam the door in his face, but he wedged his foot in the way. Behind her, he saw Major Aubrey drop the cloth that was in his hand and lunge for the table where the curved dagger lay. He had removed his turban and robe along with the beard and now wore only a pair of trousers. Traces of dark-brown greasepaint streaked his face.
De Silva took aim and fired and the dagger spun off the table and flew across the floor. With unexpected presence of mind, Nadar ran over and seized it while Aubrey caught his foot on the edge of a rug and crashed to the floor. The smell of cordite filled the room and de Silva’s ears rang. He hadn’t fired a gun since his Colombo days.
As the reverberations died away, Laetitia Lane was the first to recover. She had removed her burka and wore a loose silk robe. There was no disputing that it was her.
‘Why, Inspector de Silva,’ she said coolly. ‘Forgive us for receiving you in such an unfriendly fashion. We weren’t expecting company, but now you’re here, won’t you join us for dinner?’
Chapter 17
Aubrey regained his feet and de Silva noticed that the skin on his chest bore several scars that looked fairly recent. He picked up a shirt and pulled it on. When he spoke, his tone was more hostile than his companion’s.
‘Good evening, Inspector. As the countess says, your arrival is unexpected. I hope you have a good reason for bursting in on us in this discourteous fashion. I would remind you I’m a British officer and the countess is a member of the aristocracy.’
His glance went to the gun. ‘And by the way, I’d be obliged if you’d stop waving that damned thing around.’
De Silva lowered the Webley’s barrel but kept a close eye on Aubrey. He was determined not to fall into the trap of letting the major rattle him.
‘I believe I have a very good reason for coming, Major Aubrey. I have questions for you and Miss Lane.’
If Laetitia Lane was shocked, she concealed it well. A clipped British accent replaced the Italian one.
‘So you’ve discovered my identity, Inspector. Did the count tell you about our little charade? How very ungallant of him. He might have had the decency to spare my blushes.’
De Silva wondered whether this was what she really believed. If so, it indicated that he was dealing with a simple case of jewellery theft. If, however, she had noticed her possessions had been searched, there might be more to it than that. For the moment, he decided to play along.
‘Perhaps if you hadn’t relieved him of a considerable fortune in jewels, ma’am, he might have been more inclined to do so.’
Laetitia Lane threw back her head, displaying her long, creamy neck to its best advantage. She let out a peal of musical laughter. The lady hadn’t been an actress for nothing, thought de Silva.
‘What nonsense. He gave me the jewels to wear while I was with him but they’re still in his possession. If he claims otherwise, he’s a liar.’
‘And a cad,’ added Aubrey. His face had darkened and the veins stood out on his neck.
‘Nevertheless, I must search your luggage.’
Aubrey started forward. ‘How dare you, sir.’
Laetitia Lane put a restraining hand on Aubrey’s shoulder. ‘James, let them search. We have nothing to hide.’
There was a menacing pause. Aubrey glowered; he clenched his fists then finally relaxed them and let his hands fall to his sides. ‘If Letty has no objection, I suppose you may,’ he muttered.
‘But I assure you,’ said Laetitia Lane calmly, ‘you won’t find as much as a single earring.’
De Silva felt perplexed. Either she was a very good actress or as innocent as she claimed to be. Well, there was nothing for it but to start the search. Yet what if the jewels weren’t anywhere readily accessible? He could hardly demand to search Miss Lane’s person.
‘Nadar, go down and tell the owner I want a spare room made ready for Major Aubrey and Miss Lane.’
‘I know our rights, Inspector,’ said Aubrey. ‘I insist we’re present while you search.’
‘We don’t both need to be here, James. I’ll stay.’
‘No, I should be the one to handle this.’
She touched his cheek. ‘Let’s not argue about it. I’m sure I shall be perfectly safe in the inspector’s hands.’
With a show of reluctance, Major Aubrey went to the room the owner offered. Satisfied the door was securely locked, de Silva returned to where he had left Nadar on guard and commenced his search.
Laetitia Lane lounged in a chair smoking a cigarette. She waved it in the direction of the door by the bed. ‘Our cases are in there, Inspector, but they’re all empty. Major Aubrey and I travel light. What we have with us is in those drawers and that cupboard. I doubt your search will take long.’
Noticing how Nadar didn’t raise his eyes from his feet, de Silva decided to spare him the embarrassment of searching a lady’s room in her presence and sent him to check the suitcases.
‘It was clever of you to find us, Inspector,’ remarked Laetitia Lane, as he opened drawers. She was right: there was very little to look through. He’d go through the motions, but it was quite possible she was concealing the pouch with the jewellery under the robe; it was of a very generous cut. He’d have to enlist Jane’s help, but all in good time. Laetitia Lane wasn’t going anywhere now. He’d make sure of that.
‘You flatter me, ma’am.’
‘Oh, surely not. I suppose all my acquaintances in Nuala believe I’m a thief and an impostor.’ She tapped the ash off her cigarette. ‘How shocked poor dear Florence Clutterbuck must have been.’
‘I’ve no idea, ma’am. I wasn’t present when she was informed the jewels were missing.’
‘You’re very diplomatic, Inspector.’ She paused to inhale then let out a puff of smoke. ‘Perhaps the count told you I was an actress? I was in a play in the West End once – a dreadful piece called Murder at Middleton Grange. It flopped and was taken off after a few nights. I played the part of a woman who murdered her unfaithful husband.’
‘Most interesting.’ He closed the cupboard and going to the bed, picked up a pillow and prodded it.
‘Not really, but I do recall one amusing detail. My character suspected her drawers would be searched for the murder weapon. She planned to throw it in the lake the next day but hid it in a drawer overnight. To make sure she knew if anyone tampered with the drawer, she placed a single hair across the join in the wood.’
Ah, so there was more to it than theft.
‘I understand from my wife who is a great reader of detective novels that the strategy you describe is a much-overused plot device.’
She stubbed out her cigarette. ‘I did say the play was dreadful.’
‘May I?’ He indicated the bedsheets.
‘Please, strip it all off if you want. I expect you’ll want your constable’s help with the mattress. I do hope the British government agrees to compensate the owner here if you insist on slitting it open.’
‘I hope that won’t be necessary.’
‘Good.’
She lit a fresh cigarette and he smelt Russian tobacco. ‘Going back to the single hair, I suppose it works?’
‘I imagine so, ma’am.’
‘Then by that analogy, a very small thing might provide a clue in solving a mystery? Say if someone observant was to notice that one of their possessions wasn’t quite as it had been the last time they looked at it?’
De Silva felt sure now. She was thinking of the crocodile-skin bag. She’d noticed that the stitching was too clumsy and guessed someone had tampered with it.
He glanced up and found she was giving him a ravishing smile. ‘What do you think, Inspector? I’d value your professional opinion.’
To his annoyance, he found he was lost for words.
Her smile widened.
Chapter 18
The Morris’s headlights lit up the sweep of drive in front of the bungalow as he returned home to Sunnybank. The door opened and Jane hurried out.
‘Shanti! I thought I heard the car. Where have you been all this time? Archie Clutterbuck has been trying to get hold of you.’
‘Searching for Laetitia Lane, of course. As he wanted me to.’
‘Did you find her?’
‘Yes, and Major Aubrey was with her.’
‘Gracious, so I was right; there is something between them.’
‘That appears to be the case. I found them together in a guest house in town, but so far I’ve had no luck finding the jewellery. She must have hidden it very cleverly. I’ll need to ask you to search her if she doesn’t give it up.’
‘Oh, that won’t be necessary now.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We know where it is.’
De Silva groaned. He seemed fated to waste time over this woman. ‘Where?’ he asked testily.
‘In the guest bungalow after all. You remember I told you how much Florence disliked the count? She insisted on organising a search in case there was some mistake. The count wasn’t pleased at all, but not much stands in Florence’s way when she’s made up her mind about something. Anyway, I was asked to help and even Lady Caroline became involved. I don’t believe she has much time for the count either.’
She chuckled. ‘Angel was in attendance too. Whenever I see Florence, he’s never far behind. We found nothing at first and the count was blustering about how offended he was and he’d a good mind to complain to the governor. Then Angel started yapping. We couldn’t see where he was until I spotted his bottom sticking out from under an ottoman in the bedroom. Florence was in a terrible state. She thought he was stuck and called for some servants to lift the ottoman.’
The Inspector de Silva Mysteries Page 25