She preferred the idea of a hit to her shooting Rauff in some jealous rage. Even so, Frosser was still guessing.
‘It was a hit, wasn’t it?’
She drained her coffee cup then folded her arms on the table and stared at the wall again.
There was a knock at the door and Clausen, Frosser’s assistant, came in. ‘It’s all set up, sir.’
Frosser stood up. ‘Please come with me Miss Cassidy.’
She was sandwiched between the two men as they walked the length of the corridor. She knew what was going on the moment they opened the unmarked brown door. Eight other women stood silently in front of a black backdrop. An identification parade.
Frosser left Clausen to organize the line-up and went into the adjoining room where he sat down on a wooden chair, his mind on the latest developments in the investigation.
‘Ready sir,’ Clausen said as he entered the room.
Frosser got to his feet and looked through the one-way glass, a powerful spotlight now illuminating the nine women standing motionless in front of the sombre backdrop.
‘Bring in the first boy,’ Frosser said.
Clausen opened an inner door and a policewoman ushered in one of the children.
Frosser smiled at him. ‘Marcel, right?’
The boy nodded nervously.
‘There’s no need to be frightened, they can’t see us.’ Frosser led Marcel closer to the window. ‘I want you to look very carefully at those ladies and tell me if you see the one you spoke to at the warehouse. Take your time.’
Marcel pointed. ‘That’s her. The pretty lady.’
‘Which number?’
‘Three.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’.
‘Thanks,’ Frosser said and ruffled Marcel’s hair.
Clausen led Marcel out and ushered in Jean-Paul. He also pointed out Sabrina. Clausen ushered in the third witness, a young man with ragged blond hair and a crucifix earring.
‘Herr Dahn,’ Clausen introduced him to Frosser.
‘I believe you spoke to Sergeant Clausen about the identikit photo in the newspaper.’
Dahn nodded. ‘I’m sure it’s the same woman who spoke to Dieter the day before he died.’
‘Dieter Teufel. You worked with him at Lausanne station, I believe?’
‘It depended on the shifts, but I was there the morning she spoke to him.’
‘Take a look through the window and tell me if you see her.’
‘That’s her,’ Dahn said without hesitation. ‘Number three.’
‘Are you absolutely certain?’
‘Would you forget her? She was there with another man but I don’t remember what he looked like.’
‘Do you know what they were talking about?’ Frosser asked.
‘He said she was asking about train schedules but knowing him he was probably trying to chat her up.’
‘And you didn’t see her again?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Thank you for your time,’ Frosser said, opening the door.
Dahn reluctantly turned away from the window and left the room.
Frosser told Clausen to disband the identity parade and then escorted Sabrina back to the interrogation room.
‘The case against you is getting stronger by the minute,’ Frosser said after she had sat down. ‘You’ve been positively identified by two witnesses as having been at the warehouse when Rauff was murdered. Does the name Dieter Teufel mean anything to you?’
Had he been a less experienced policeman he would have failed to notice the split-second flicker of her eyes as she unconsciously reacted to the name. It was as good as an admission as far as he was concerned.
‘He was killed under a train the day after you were seen talking to him. It was initially put down to an accident but now I’m not so sure. Could he have been pushed?’ He let the question hang as he crossed to the wallheater to turn it down. ‘I’ve got enough evidence to convict you but there are still too many unanswered questions. I’m going to get my Lausanne colleagues to reopen the Teufel case. If I can pin a second murder charge on you you’ll be inside for life. And I mean life.’
She bit the inside of her mouth, a nervousness creeping into her thoughts for the first time since her arrest. If she was charged and the case went to court, which must be a possibility depending on how Philpott intended to handle the situation, there was enough evidence to convict her of at least wounding Rauff. The Beretta had been found in her possession but it would be far more difficult for the prosecution to connect her to the FN FAL found in the warehouse. If, however, Frosser managed to plant a seed of suspicion in a jury’s mind that she was somehow implicated in Teufel’s death (it would be virtually impossible to charge her with it), the evidence hinging on the FN FAL could sway the jury against her. It could mean the difference between attempted murder and murder. A murder conviction would land her in a maximum security prison, out of UNACO’s reach. She prayed that Philpott had a few aces up his sleeve.
‘The commissioner will see you now, Colonel Philpott,’ the pretty blonde secretary said after acknowledging the intercom on her desk.
Philpott pressed his cane into the soft pile of the pale-blue carpet and eased himself to his feet.
The man warming himself by the artificial fire as Philpott opened the office door was in his early sixties, with thick white hair combed back from a face creased with the lines of responsibility from sixteen years as head of the Swiss police. Reinhardt Kuhlmann immediately stepped forward to offer Philpott an arm to lean on.
‘Stop fussing,’ Philpott said irritably. ‘It’s only a stiff leg.’
‘It wasn’t bothering you the last time I saw you.’
‘That’s because we were in Miami in the middle of summer. It’s the cold that makes it so damn stiff and bothersome.’ Philpott sat in the nearest of the two armchairs.
‘Coffee?’ Kuhlmann asked.
‘Not if you’ve still got some of that Hennessey cognac tucked away somewhere,’ Philpott replied, extending his palms towards the fire grille.
‘You’ve got a good memory considering you haven’t been up here for eighteen months,’ Kuhlmann said with a smile.
‘Some things in life are worth remembering. Your cognac’s one of them.’
‘You sound like the voice-over for a TV commercial,’ Kuhlmann said and poured a measure of cognac into a balloon glass.
‘Aren’t you having one?’ Philpott asked as he accepted the glass.
‘No alcohol. Doctor’s orders.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Philpott asked with an anxious frown.
‘Ulcers,’ Kuhlmann replied with a dismissive flick of his hand.
‘You’re pushing yourself too hard.’
‘That’s good coming from you,’ Kuhlmann said and sat in the other armchair.
‘Why can’t you accept retirement like everyone else? You’ve got a wonderful wife, not to mention your two sons and their families. I know they’d all want to see more of you.’
‘Neither one of us is the retiring kind, Malcolm, and you know it. How’s Marlene?’
Philpott stared at the cognac. ‘Our divorce came through earlier this year.’
‘I’m sorry, old friend, she’s a good woman.’
‘I wouldn’t disagree with that. She was the perfect tonic after my messy divorce from Carole. At least there weren’t any ugly courtroom scenes this time round. We’re still good friends.’
‘That’s the main thing,’ Kuhlmann sat back and crossed his legs. ‘I’ve made some initial enquiries about your operative. It’s not going to be easy, Malcolm.’
Philpott placed the balloon glass on the table beside him. ‘Meaning?’