Then my mind switched to Pofferi. According to Lu Coldwell, Pofferi had come to the United States to raise money for his murderous organisation. Nancy was his wife. He would have access to Hamel’s fortune to be used to finance the Red Brigade!
I climbed down the tree and walked back to the cottage, my mind busy. As I reached the cottage, I heard the telephone bell ringing. Entering, I picked up the receiver.
“Mr. Anderson,” Jarvis said. “Mr. Herschenheimer heard the shot. He is extremely nervous. I am staying with him. Will you watch the gates? I told him about this unfortunate suicide, but he doesn’t believe it. He is sure an assassin is on the island.”
“Okay,” I said. “Tell him no one will get near him.”
“Thank you, Mr. Anderson. He will be relieved.”
I replaced the receiver, then realizing that Mel Palmer could have trouble getting past the security barrier, I called Mike O’Flagherty at the guardhouse.
I explained the situation.
“I’ve alerted Mr. Hamel’s agent, Mr. Palmer,” I said. “He’ll be arriving any moment. Let him through, Mike. The police will also be arriving. Let them through.”
“Holy Mary!” Mike exclaimed. “The poor man has killed himself?”
“Let Mr. Palmer through,” I said, and hung up.
I went down to the gates and waited. Ten minutes later, a Cadillac pulled up outside Hamel’s gates. I watched Palmer get out of the car, push open the gates and hurry up the drive.
I waited, and while I waited, I thought of the fifty thousand dollars I had squandered. I stopped thinking when I began to think of my future: those thoughts were too depressing.
Around 23.00, a police car arrived. From it spilled Tom Lepski and Max Jacoby. I walked across the road as they got from the car.
Lepski regarded me.
“What’s cooking?” he demanded.
I explained I had been on duty guarding Herschenheimer. I had heard a shot, found Hamel dead, alerted Palmer and was now back on guard duty.
Lepski glared at me.
“Why didn’t you call us?”
“That’s Palmer’s job,” I said. “The suicide note could be damaging. There’s a load of money involved.”
“What suicide note?”
“Hamel was impotent according to the note. The press will love it, Tom. A big selling author of porno, impotent! It’s something only Palmer can handle.”
“You have been up there?”
“I found him.”
Lepski’s eyes narrowed.
“Touch anything?”
“Come on, Tom, you know better than to ask a stupid question. Mrs. Hamel was out on the yacht. She got back around half an hour ago.”
“Okay. I’ll want to talk to you again,” and he and Jacoby hurried up the drive.
Just before midnight, Carl arrived to relieve me.
“Mike told me,” he said. “Excitements, huh?”
“You can say that. The old nut is laying an egg. He heard the shot.”
Carl groaned.
“That means I keep awake tonight.”
“That’s what it means.”
“Had some excitement down on the waterfront this afternoon,” he said, and laughed. “Some joker let off a smoke bomb on the harbour. Man! You should have seen the panic! I was getting a snack at the Alameda bar when the bomb went off! In two seconds, the rubberneckers and all the other crumbs vanished. Some kid, I guess, but you should have seen how fast everyone ran.”
I wasn’t interested.
“I guess I’ll get home,” I said. “See you tomorrow and keep alert.”
Carl laughed.
“Oh, sure.”
“If the cops want me, tell them I’m home.”
“Why should they want you?”
“Why do cops want anything?”
We walked together up the drive.
“Why did this rich jerk want to knock himself off?”
“It happens,” I said, started the car and drove down to the barrier.
O’Flagherty came out of the guardhouse.
“What a thing!” he said. “Why should Mr. Hamel do that?”
“It happens,” I said and gunned the engine impatiently. He took the hint and lifted the pole. I gave him a wave and headed for home.
The first thing I did when I had shut my front door was to pour a double Scotch. I took the drink to a lounging chair and sat down.
The time was 00.30. Should I call Bertha and break the news? I didn’t believe she had sold her apartment and her furniture, but suppose she had? I had a depressing feeling that as soon as she learned there was to be no million dollars, I would see the last of her.
The telephone bell rang.
Bertha?
I hesitated, then got up and walked over to the desk. Lifting the receiver, I said, “Hello there?”
“Mr. Anderson?”
I stiffened. I recognized Joey’s voice.
“That you, Joey?”
“Yes, Mr. Anderson.”
“I’ve been trying to contact you. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Jimbo. Where are you calling from?”
“Mr. Anderson, that man left the Alameda this morning. I’ve been trying to get you.”
“The man who’s hiding there?”
“Yes, Mr. Anderson. I saw him leave. I saw someone throw something from the upper window. It exploded in smoke. There was excitement. While everyone was running, the bearded man came out and got in the boot of a car that was parked right outside.”
“What car, Joey?”
“A Ferrari. There was a woman, driving. As soon as he was in the trunk, she drove off. No one saw, but me. Everyone was running around because of the smoke.”
“What time was this, Joey?”
“Eleven forty, Mr. Anderson.”
“Was the woman wearing a red head scarf and big sunglasses?”
“Yes, Mr. Anderson.”
“Right. Now listen, Joey...”
The line went dead as he hung up.
I replaced the receiver and stood staring down at the carpet.
Nancy had left home soon after Hamel had left for Hollywood. She had returned a little after midday and had left again five minutes later.
I lit a cigarette with a slightly unsteady hand.
She had brought Pofferi, hidden in the trunk of the Ferrari, to the ranch house. O’Flagherty would have waved her through.
Pofferi had been hidden somewhere in the ranch house when Hamel had returned.
Suicide?
I crushed out my cigarette.
Hamel hadn’t committed suicide. Pofferi had murdered him!
Chapter eight
As I sat thinking, the pieces of the jigsaw began to fall into place.
Hamel, enormously rich, had met Nancy (Lucia Pofferi) in Rome, and had fallen for her. He wasn’t to know that she was on the run for two murders. By dying her hair dark and wearing big sun goggles, she had evaded the police hunt, but she knew the net was drawing tighter. Hamel had offered marriage. The fact that she was already married to Pofferi didn’t stop her accepting. By marrying Hamel she had the safe way of escaping from Italy.
Pofferi, also hunted by the police, had been trying to raise funds for his murderous organisation. Nancy would inherit Hamel’s fortune if she became Hamel’s widow. Once she got the money, Pofferi would use it for his organisation. Somehow, Pofferi had reached the United States, and with Nancy’s help, had hidden on the pirates’ island. He had learned from Nancy that Hamel was impotent.
The pair had been patient. They had waited some six weeks before putting their plan into operation. They wanted Hamel to finish his book and collect all those millions on the advances. As soon as he had finished the book, they moved into action.
Nancy knew she couldn’t get Pofferi past the barrier without O’Flagherty spotting him. Probably Pofferi had solved this problem by creating a diversion on the waterfront, hiding in the trunk of the Ferrari, and O’Flagherty had been fooled.