Ericourt’s face had darkened.
“Bring me those photographs right away. Blasi will go up and stay with you until we send an officer. You won’t be left by yourself in this house or go out alone until this matter has been resolved.”
Eidinger walked towards the stairs looking perplexed. Blasi followed him. Just as they crossed the hall, a woman’s scream came from above, a sharp screech of fear that rooted them both to the spot.
Eidinger was the first to come to his senses and run up the stairs. Blasi hurled himself after him. All of a sudden he felt Ericourt violently push past, breathing heavily.
On the first floor landing they heard a muffled whine.
“Carry on… it’s further up…” panted Ericourt.
Blasi bounded up to the attic landing. There he met Eidinger, who was rubbing his forehead. At his feet was a tray, the kind used for developing photographs. The screams had stopped.
Blasi took out his lighter and used it to illuminate the space behind the half-open door. A single glance was enough to reveal the female form pressed against the back wall. He heard Ericourt’s voice behind him once more.
“Come out with your hands up,” he ordered. He had taken out his revolver.
Betty Iñarra appeared in the doorway. Blasi looked at her in astonishment, holding the lighter in his hand like a tiny torch of truth. The flame singed his fingers and he put it out, cursing.
“Who else is in there?” asked Ericourt.
“No one,” said Betty firmly.
“What were you doing there?”
“Tell them,” implored Eidinger. “There’s no point hiding it now.”
“Be quiet,” thundered Ericourt. “I’m the one talking. What were you doing in there and why did you scream?”
“There was someone else in there,” stammered Betty. “I thought he was going to attack me but he escaped…”
“That’s impossible,” protested Eidinger.
“What were you doing in there?” asked Ericourt for the third time.
“I was hiding. I came to see señor Eidinger and we were on the first floor when you arrived. I told him it wouldn’t do for you to find me here. He asked me to wait up here until you’d gone. When he went downstairs I looked for a safer place to hide and found this attic room. I opened the door and went in…”
Betty ran her gaze, which seemed a plea for help, over the three expectant men.
“I couldn’t see anything. The only light was a slit from that opening in the window. All of a sudden I sensed I wasn’t alone. I felt my heart stop and I tried to calm down and convince myself it was only fear, but just then the slit of light divided in two. I couldn’t help screaming, then the door opened and a man ran out. I was in the dark again. I stretched out my hand and grabbed something. The door creaked and I threw what I was holding with all my strength at whoever was coming in. I didn’t realize it was señor Eidinger. I’m so sorry.”
It was funny to apologize for having attacked someone and almost split his head open in such circumstances. Her good education took over at that moment, making her forget the aggressive self-confidence she usually adopted around others.
“Is that true?” said Ericourt to Eidinger.
“Yes, it’s true.”
“What was she doing in your house?”
Betty and Eidinger exchanged a brief glance.
“Tell him,” he pleaded.
“I came to see a picture I was interested in buying.”
She looked like a shaggy dog that had accidentally fallen into a bathtub of water.
“It can’t be true,” Eidinger insisted. “If someone was in there they can’t have got out of the house. The back door is secured with a padlock and no one could have gone out the front without passing us.”
“Search the attic,” Ericourt ordered Blasi. “Bring the photographs.”
Blasi went into the attic room. The window was closed as usual. Eidinger had followed him. He heard an exclamation of surprise and turned. Gustavo was looking in horror at the workbench.
“They really have taken them,” he murmured. “Run, do something.”
“What? I don’t suppose I’ll find the suspect on the street corner.”
Ericourt’s head appeared round the door.
“Come out of there,” he said. “We’ll search the attic later. Lock the door and give me the key.”
They walked downstairs with Ericourt bringing up the rear, clutching his revolver. When they were in the hall he ordered Blasi to conduct a full search of the house, taking Eidinger with him.
“And call the station. Have them send the fingerprint team and a female police auxiliary. You come with me,” he said to Betty, directing her into the living room.
She faced him with serene courage, like a soldier resigned to battle.
“What was the picture you mentioned? How did you know about it?”
“Señor Czerbó told me about a picture of señora Eidinger’s, an engraving of the symbol for Scorpio. I came to see it this morning.”
“And señor Eidinger received you without any objection. Did he know who you were?”
“I called yesterday afternoon to tell him I’d be coming.”
“What did you do with the photographs? You came here looking for them.”
Betty frowned.
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You and your accomplice had a plan. Eidinger would be sure to call the police after you threatened him. Your visit would coincide with ours. You let your accomplice in and helped him escape, didn’t you?”
Betty pursed her lips.
“No, that isn’t true. No.”
“Was it Czerbó?”
“No.”
Ericourt walked over to the window and lifted the blind to look out into the street. He drummed his fingers on the glass.
“In a moment,” he announced, turning suddenly, “our people will be here. If you have the photographs with you we’ll find them. If you’ve hidden them somewhere in the house we’ll also find them. You’d better tell the truth.”
“I have told the truth,” Betty replied curtly.
Blasi, who was at the living room door again having concluded his search with Eidinger, caught these last words and looked at Betty with distrust and resentment.
“The back door was padlocked,” he said. “I’ve called the station. They’re on their way.”
“Fine, in the meantime check the garden to see if there are any footprints. They might’ve thrown the photographs out the window.”
Betty smiled ironically.
“Why did the young lady call you yesterday?” the Inspector asked Gustavo.
“To ask if she could visit. She was interested in the Scorpio picture, she said. I asked her to come at this time. I’ve been thinking about it: why would she warn me if she was coming to my house to steal the photographs?”
“Leave the hypothesizing to me. That’s my job,” Ericourt reminded him.
With his eyes fixed on the floor, Eidinger looked the sorry picture of a man who deep down is in turmoil.
“I’d better explain myself. I understand that it was a mistake not to do so sooner, but try to understand me. Frida was my wife.”
An impatient gesture from Ericourt told him he would do well to skip any unnecessary detail.
“What I mean is, I’ve tried to talk as little as possible to stop any publicity about things I wasn’t sure of. Frida’s guardedness and reticence had made me suspicious of late. I guessed she had a secret and I decided to watch her behaviour and her movements. Frida was keen to track down certain people who had emigrated from Germany, and I know it’s stupid but I was overcome with jealousy every time I saw her worry about one of them. All the same, events proved me wrong and I always ended up convinced of her fidelity.”
He paused.