"No, no, signore, never." Rosa was talking more fluently now, as if it were a relief to put her anguish into words. "But yesterday ... yesterday after lunch, he talked for a long time to Pietro, in here. I was in the kitchen, and I heard their voices. Then he came out to me, said that was when he said it. 'I know what I must do now, Rosa,' he said. 'I must see Signor Tibbett tonight. Do not wait dinner for me,' Then he kissed me, and he went out, and I never saw him again until..." Her voice broke in a sob.
Henry persisted, gently, "So it was something that Pietro said to him that decided him? Did you ask Pietro what they had talked about?"
Rosa nodded. "Of course," she said, in a steadier voice. "I came straight in here from the kitchen. Pietro was standing by the radio, looking out of the window. I could see that he was upset. He said that Mario had talked a lot about Heir Hauser, and asked him of things that had happened on the day of the murder: and he said, * It is because you told Papa of Signor Tibbett's visit here this morning that he has this crazy idea'—I had told Mario at lunch, you see, that you had been to see me. ' If Papa does know anything,' Pietro said, ' it is dangerous for him to go to the police.' And I said, 'Pietro, you must stop him. If he knows bad things, he must forget them and say nothing, or he will not be safe.' And Pietro did try to stop him, signore —but it was too late."
"Yes," said Henry, sadly, "it was too late."
"Pietro," Rosa repeated, and there were tears in her voice. "Mad Pietro ... mad Mario ... mad Giulio ... soon I will be all alone..."
"Come now, signora" said Henry, soothingly. "You have had great tragedies, but Pietro is still "
"He is mad, signore, mad—like the others."Rosa looked up at him. "You heard what he did?"
"No," said Henry.
"This morning—" said Rosa— "this morning, with his father lying dead ... I heard him going downstairs early— much earlier than usual. I came after him, and begged him not to go, but he said he must. It was a bet, he said. I pleaded with him, but he said his father would have wished it, and his grandfather, too. I could not stop him, and so he did it."
"Did what?" Henry asked.
"The Gully, signore." Rosa's voice was very low now.
"It was Carlo and the other instructors—they bet Pietro he would not go down the Gully this morning, before ski school. Last night, they came here and told him the bet was cancelled—I heard them. But Pietro would not have it. ' A bet is a bet,' he said. That is what Mario's father said, and he died."
"But Pietro did not die," said Henry.
"It will be the same with him as with all the Vespis," said Rosa wearily. "They do not die in their beds."
Henry was glad to get out of the tragic oppressiveness of Rosa's parlour into the snowy brightness of the street. The snow was falling lightly now, and the mist had dispersed. He walked through the village to the Olympia, and met i Emmy in the doorway.
"Nice timing," she remarked cheerfully. "I'm ravenous. Let's have some food."
"You look like a dog with two tails," said Henry. "Did you find out something interesting?"
"I'll tell you when I've ordered my lunch," said Emmy, tantalisingly.
They found themselves a corner table, and ordered tagliatelli verdi, a speciality of the restaurant, washed down by a bottle of Soave. When the waiter had departed for the kitchen, Henry said, "Come on, now. Tell me."
"Considering I only had about two hours," said Emmy, not without a certain smugness, "I think I did jolly well."
"But what?"
"Wait for it," said Emmy. "Let me tell it my own way."
"All right, but get on with it."
"Well," she said, "I started off by asking at the station about restaurants, and there is only one decent one. So I went along there, and by great good luck the waitress remembered them—partly because they were in late for lunch, and partly because Roger asked her where the ski shops were. She thinks they left the restaurant at about three."
"That would be right," said Henry. "The Colonel said they were in Immenfeld by two."
"There are two ski shops," said Emmy, "so I tried them both. The first one is almost next door to the restaurant, so I guessed he'd have gone there. They remembered him, too. They said he inquired about some ski sticks, but didn't buy anything."
"Did you check on the time with them?"
"Of course," said Emmy. "They thought it was soon after three."
"Good," said Henry. "What did you do then?"
"After that—" Emmy went on, but she was interrupted by the arrival of the steaming dish of green pasta. When they had helped themselves liberally to the delicious ribbon9 of tagliatelli and butter, Emmy took up her story again, with her mouth full.
"After that," she said, "I tried all the shops in the main street. It didn't take terribly long, because it's only a small place. There are the usual assortment of food shops and ski shops and general tourist places, like there are here."
She paused to eat some more, and then resumed. "I found that he went into the other ski shop, too—to have his skis waxed. He said he had forgotten to bring his own wax. They were very vague about the time—in the middle of the afternoon, they said."
"Well, say that took him until about half-past three, or a little after. It still leaves nearly an hour before the train back."
Emmy went on. "He may have bought some cigarettes— the woman was very vague, but she thought she remembered an Englishman in a blue anorak. But there was another shop he definitely did go into, and he bought something there, and I bet you can't guess what it was."
"All right, I'll buy it," said Henry. "Go on."
"Well, there's a sort of mixed stationers and household shop, with newspapers and cards and souvenirs and a few books—you know, like the one near the church here."
Henry nodded.
"And," Emmy went on, "he went in there, and he spent a lot of time looking at cards and books and things, and in the end he bought a book, and the girl remembered what it was."
"Don't tell me," said Henry.
"Yes," said Emmy, triumphantly, "it was Cora Teresa, by Renato Lucano!"
After lunch, Henry said, "I'm going down to the ski school now. I want to see Pietro."
"Anything you'd like me to do?" Emmy asked.
"Go skiing," said Henry. "I'll see you back at the hotel for tea."
At the office of the ski school, however, he had a disappointment. The weather conditions had been so bad in the morning that Pietro had decided to abandon the class at half-past eleven. He had returned with his pupils to the Bella Vista for an early lunch, with the idea that if the snow and mist cleared they would set off at two o'clock and tackle a long run. A call to the Bella Vista proved that this had, in fact, happened.
Henry inquired if Roger was there, but was told that he and Gerda had both left early in the morning, taking packed lunches with them.
Frustrated, Henry went down the village street to the Police Station. Here he found Spezzi, considerably elated by the report on the gun, which had just come in.
"It's Hauser's, no doubt about it," he said. "They have traced the purchase from the number. And both bullets were fired from it. No fingerprints, of course. One can't really expect any. Everybody wears gloves in the snow."
"Well, I'm glad that's cleared up," said Henry. And he went on to report on his interview with Rosa Vespi.
Spezzi was immensely interested. "You did better than I did," he confessed, a little ruefully. "I called there early this morning, when poor Mario's body had only just been brought from the mortuary. What with that, and the fact that Rosa was in a state about some escapade of Pietro's, you can imagine that I got nothing but hysterics. I was planning to return this afternoon, but you have done the job for me." He paused. "So it was something that Pietro said that made him certain, was it? Have you seen Pietro?"
"I've tried," said Henry, "but I can't get him until this evening. Shall we talk to him together when he gets back?"
"With pleasure," said Spezzi. He rang the ski
school office, and left a message for Pietro to report to the Police Station as soon as he got in.
Henry then went on to relate Emmy's discovery in Immenfeld, which impressed Spezzi considerably. "Very nice work," he commented. "It was an inspiration on your part to think of that. This book is an important piece of evidence."
"Perhaps," Henry said. "Actually, it was something else that my wife found out that interested me more."
Spezzi looked at him sharply. "lam concerned with the book," he said. "This Mr. Staines of yours—always lies, and more lies. Soon we shall find out the truth. And yet for all that, I am sure it is the girl who is guilty. It must be."
"Have you made your time-table yet?" Henry asked, anxious to change the subject.
"It is just completed." Spezzi indicated a pile of typewritten sheets on the desk. "Wait. I will add the information you have just given me."
He took out his fountain pen, and wrote quickly on the top copy of the time-table. "Were you able to get accurate times from Signora Vespi?" he asked, as he wrote.
"I'm afraid I didn't even try," said Henry. "But when you remember that Mario always goes up on the lift at a quarter to two, you should be able to guess them."
After a minute or so, Spezzi handed the sheet of paper over to Henry, who read it carefully.
9—9.30 a.m. The skiers leave the Bella Vista. Passendell and Miss Whittaker practise on Run One with Pietro. Staines and Col. Buckfast on Run Three.
10.30 (approx) Staines and Buckfast go to the Alpe Rosa, where they join up with Fraulein Gerda.
12.30 p.m. Pietro's class returns to the Bella Vista for lunch. Mario stops the lift, and begins to ski down.
12.45 (approx) Mario arrives home for lunch.
12.55 Staines, Buckfast and Gerda arrive at the Olympia.
1.15—1.40 During this time, Rosa hears Mario and Pietro talking.
1.40 Mario tells Rosa he is going to see Inspector Tibbett, and leaves the house.
1.45 Mario takes the lift up. Rosa talks to Pietro.
1.59 Staines, Buckfast and Gerda leave the Olympia.
2.00 Pietro takes the lift up, followed by the other three.
2.25 They reach the top. Pietro speaks to Mario, overheard by Staines, who tells the others.
2.30 Inspector Tibbett gets on to the lift at the bottom. Buckfast goes back to the hotel for his goggles.
2.40 The skiers set off down Run Three.
2.55 Inspector Tibbett reaches the top of the lift. Mario asks him for an appointment later on.
3.00 (approx) The three skiers go to the Alpe Rosa.
4.30 Baron von Wurtburg returns from Montelunga by car, and goes to the Olympia. (N.B. No times available for the Baron's descent on the lift and departure for Montelunga, but since he lunched at the hotel he may be judged to have left soon after 2 o'clock).
4.35 (approx) Pietro, Passendell and Miss Whittaker take the lift to the Bella Vista, 4.50 (approx) Staines, Gerda and the Colonel arrive at the Olympia.
5.00 Pietro and his class arrive at the Bella Vista.
5.20 The Baron leaves the Olympia.
5.25 The other three leave the Olympia, The Baron starts up on the lift.
5.30 Gerda boards the lift, followed by the Colonel and Staines. Pietro leaves the Bella Vista to ski to the village.
5.32 Carlo telephones Mario.
5.38 Mario boards the lift. Carlo's son brings him coffee.
5.45 Pietro arrives in Santa Chiara, and talks to Carlo.
5.50 The Baron reaches the top of the lift.
5.55 The other skiers reach the top.
6.03 Mario arrives at the bottom of the lift, shot dead.
After ten minutes or so spent in silent perusal of this document, Henry looked up and grinned at Spezzi. "You and your time-tables," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"The first one made the murderer crystal clear," said Henry. "But this one makes the second murder absolutely impossible."
"Impossible?"
"Work it out for yourself," said Henry. "On the face of it, none of the people mentioned on that piece of paper could possibly have killed Mario. And nobody else was anywhere near the scene of the crime. Have you considered that it might have been suicide?"
"You are joking, my friend," said Spezzi, with a little laugh that could not quite conceal his agitation.
"Yes, I am," said Henry, very seriously. "I wish I wasn't."
"But this talk of the second murder being impossible..."
"Everybody concerned," said Henry, "has a perfect alibi—on the face of it. Since Mario was evidently killed, there must be a flaw in one of those alibis, but I'm blowed if I can see it."
"But the people on the lift..."
"Look at the time-table," said Henry. "Your men found the gun under a pylon more than half-way down. If you'll look at the times on your chart, you'll see that none of the four people going up could possibly have passed Mario until they were well over half-way up. So how could anyone have thrown the gun away before they shot the old man?"
Spezzi looked again at the time-table, and then said, "We haven't got definite proof that it was at five-thirty they got on the lift."
"You came and told me of Mario's death at five-past six," said Henry. "By the time we got down to the hall, say a minute later, the Baron and Gerda were already upstairs, and Roger and the Colonel were in the hall. They had all walked up from the lift, and put their skis away. In order to meet Mario before they reached the half-way mark, they'd have had to get on to the lift at 5.40 at the earliest, which means they wouldn't even have arrived at the top by five-past six."
Spezzi brooded gloomily. "What about all the others?" he asked.
"Jimmy and Caro were together at the hotel," said Henry. "So were the three Knipfers—I've checked with Anna: they were all having tea in the bar. Pietro was nearly at the bottom of Run One when Mario got on to the lift. Rossati was writing letters in his office—he saw the people in the bar, and they saw him."
"Mrs. Buckfast isn't accounted for," said Spezzi, suddenly.
"I know," said Henry, "but she was certainly in the hotel. I'll check tip on her. But the whole point is that I'm absolutely certain I've solved this case, in spite of the fact that the second murder has me baffled. The first is clear enough."
"The first is clear?" Spezzi was astounded. "What do you mean?"
"I'll tell you," said Henry. "Have you got a copy of your original time-table and the interview reports? Right. Now, if you study it, you'll see that this is what must have happened..."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It was nearly two hours later that Spezzi firfally got up from his desk, lit a cigarette, and said, "Yes. Yes, of course, it is all clear now. I should have seen it for myself. But what are we to do? And Mario... how was Mario killed?"
"That's what I've been asking myself all day," said Henry. "As for what we should do—I said to you yesterday that I thought our only hope was to give the murderer plenty of rope. We've done that, and I think we can go still further. I suggest you release di Santi, remove all restrictions—except, of course, that nobody must leave Santa Chiara—and wait for developments."
"Perhaps when we talk to Pietro—?" Spezzi suggested hopefully.
"I very much doubt if we shall learn anything that we don't already know," said Henry.
"If only we could have got positive proof of the first murder..." said Spezzi, sombrely.
"If only," said Henry. "But now that Mario is dead, I suppose we never shall—not positive proof. But you do agree with my conclusions?"
Spezzi nodded. "I have no choice," he said.
"There's another thing I'd like to do, with your permission," Henry added. He outlined his plan briefly, and Spezzi said, "Of course, Enrico. Anything you like."
"Other than that," said Henry, "I don't see what we can do but wait—and take the precautions I've suggested."
"You are right," said Spezzi. "But to find how the second murder was achieved—that is the problem. I
wonder if we shall ever solve it?"
"I wonder," said Henry.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door, and a young cardbiniere came in, escorting a very frightened-looking Pietro. His face relaxed a little when he saw Henry.
"What is this, Enrico?" he asked. "They tell me at the ski school that I am wanted here "
"I'm sorry we* had to bring you here," said Henry, "but we couldn't get hold of you before. It's just that we want to ask you some questions, so that we may find out who killed your father."
Pietro looked relieved, and at Spezzi's invitation accepted a cigarette and sat down.
"Will you put the questions, Capitano, or shall I?" asked Henry.
"You, please," said Spezzi. "But in Italian," he added, with a smile.
The shorthand writer was sent for, and while they waited, Henry studied Pietro's face. His father's death had left its mark on the young man. He seemed older and sterner than before, and his expression had a definitiveness, a strength of purpose, that lent him new distinction.
When all was ready, Henry began, "I saw your mother this morning, Pietro. I gathered from her that it was a conversation that your father had with you at lunch-time yesterday that finally decided him to come and see me. Naturally, we are interested to know what was said."
Pietro frowned. "It is quite true, what my mother told you," he said. "But I have been over and over it in my mind. I cannot imagine what information I gave him."
"Tell us what was said."
"I cannot remember every word," said Pietro, "but he asked me all about our tea-party at the Olympia on the day Hauser was shot. He wanted to know what people had said, and when they came and went. He asked me about Rossati and the Baron, too—when they arrived and what they did."
"He knew that Hauser carried a gun in his briefcase?"
"Yes. We all knew that. Fritz had showed it to us, for fun."
"Did he ask you any other questions?"
"No. It was all about that evening."
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