“Not really. We’ve just exchanged a few words with them.”
“That’s all rather vague. If you don’t know their names—”
“I do. They introduced themselves. It’s something like French or Trent. Mr. and Mrs. Trent, I think.”
“We will, of course, look into the matter,” replied the detective, incredulously. “But I suggest you do not rejoice too soon.”
The next morning, the investigators questioned Anthony’s girlfriend. Maggie Lester’s freckled features were pretty enough, and would have been even more attractive but for her rather listless appearance. Her exquisite tan complemented lovely blond locks and, thought Dr. Twist, she made a fitting companion for the handsome Anthony. But at that precise moment, having heard what the police had to say, it was obvious that her ardour for the actor had cooled.
“You must understand, miss, that in view of the circumstances we can no longer keep silent about your relationship,” announced Christopoulos.
“I thought not,” sighed the young woman. “Anyway, I always knew he wasn’t the man for me.”
“Why did you stay with him, then?” Charles Cullen could not help but ask.
“To have a good time. He’s amusing and rich, and that’s good enough for the time being.”
Christopoulos cleared his throat and continued: “You are naturally free to live your life as you wish, but whether you like it or not, you are implicated in this matter and must therefore answer all our questions.”
“Oh,” said Maggie. “I thought the case was solved already.”
“Meaning?”
“It was that woman who did her husband in, wasn’t it? And who says it was in a fit of anger? I always did think she married him for his money.”
“We haven’t reached that point yet,” said Christopoulos. “There are several points which need to be cleared up, including your own testimony, Miss Lester. According to your statement, you were visiting the monastery on the hill at the time of the incident. That seems strange—”
“What’s strange?” demanded Maggie defiantly. “That I visited a monastery? I’m a practising Christian, however curious that might seem to you.”
Christopoulos smiled nervously.
“That’s not what I meant, miss. What I found strange was that the visit took place in the morning and, according to the hotel personnel, you have never been seen before noon, except when accompanying your friends on a boat trip.”
“I don’t deny it. But I’d been planning to see the monastery for some time now, and since the idea didn’t appeal to Tony or Rachel or even her husband, I thought it would be a good moment to go.”
“All right,” said the policeman, consulting his notes. “But that’s not the problem. We’ve questioned the priests and none of them can remember you. Don’t you find that strange? There weren’t that many people there yesterday morning. We gave them your description and — forgive me for saying this — there aren’t that many pretty girls running around the monasteries.”
For a moment Maggie Lester appeared disconcerted, but then she grinned broadly.
“I remember what happened. The first time I turned up they wouldn’t let me in because I’d forgotten you had to cover your arms and shoulders. I went back to the hotel — not in a good mood, I can tell you — and, so as to be sure, the next time I tied my hair in a bun and put on a long black robe like the women around here. So it’s more than likely they didn’t recognize me the second time. But you can ask the gatekeeper, he’ll remember my first visit: He looked me over from head to toe and stared at me a long time.”
“What time was this?”
“When they opened, around nine o’clock.”
“And at what time did you return to the monastery?”
“Somewhere around half an hour later,” replied Maggie, evasively. “Just enough time for me to change and walk the round trip.”
“Well, you certainly didn’t dawdle on the way, because it’s a good ten-minute walk from here to the monastery.”
“I have strong legs and I love to walk.”
“And to swim as well, someone told me?”
“Yes, I used to swim competitively. So did Rachel, by the way.”
“Did you know her before you met Anthony?”
The girl’s expression darkened.
“Yes, and I don’t mind telling you that even in sports there was already an intense rivalry between us. It was through her that I met Tony.”
“Did you know at the time that there was something going on between them?”
Maggie shrugged her shoulders.
“Of course not, otherwise… I’m broad-minded, but there are limits.”
Christopoulos nodded and continued: “Let’s talk about when you went back to the monastery, around nine-thirty. Did that gatekeeper you talked about recognize you?”
Maggie Lester smiled and shook her head.
“I doubt it. I didn’t look the same, so he didn’t give me a second glance.”
“And when did you get back to the hotel?”
“At about eleven, which is when I heard the dreadful news.”
Christopoulos seemed on the point of asking another question when the telephone rang. He listened expressionless for a minute, and when he replaced the receiver he seemed somber and perplexed.
“Rachel Syms has been eliminated from our list of suspects,” he announced. “Five minutes before her lover found the body, Portman was still alive.”
In the early afternoon, Dr. Twist and Charles Cullen went down to the “Blue Lagoon” via the steps, which clung to the side of the cliff amidst a fragrant vegetation buzzing with cicadas. From time to time, gaps in the greenery opened up to reveal magnificent views of the azure sea. As they rounded the base of the promontory to reach the cove they could see a small wooden landing-stage surrounded by boats. They took the path along the shore and stopped at the spot where Portman had died.
“Well, there don’t appear to be many solutions to the puzzle,” declared Twist.
“I’d settle for one,” replied Cullen.
“Did you hear what the Trents had to say this morning?”
“Yes, they’re quite definite in their statement, which bears out precisely what Rachel Syms claimed. It was they who arrived by boat just as Rachel was walking away from her husband, shortly before ten o’clock. They’re a retired couple who live in a hotel across the bay and who come here regularly at that time because it’s a good place to dive, which they like to do before continuing down the coast. They moored their boat to the landing-stage while Portman was sitting close by, staring at the sea. He nodded to them as they walked past. He seemed his usual affable self, although he appeared preoccupied. After they had completed their usual three dives, which took less than ten minutes, they walked back and, as they passed Portman again, asked him if all was well. He replied that life was full of ups and downs, at which point they boarded their boat and cast off. According to them it was then ten past ten.”
“And five minutes later Portman was found dead, beaten over the head with a monkey wrench.”
“That’s according to Anthony Stamp’s testimony, and it looks as though he’s been lying through his teeth. After all, from what we now know, who else could have committed the crime?” Charles Cullen asked, looking at the surrounding scenery. “Apparently, no one. Particularly since the Trents claim they didn’t see any boats, swimmers, or anyone else while they were in the cove. Which would leave less than five minutes for any other killer to act. It’s simply not possible. I’m afraid Anthony Stamp’s fate is sealed.”
Without saying a word, Dr. Twist walked the length of the path to the diving board, picking his way carefully over the slippery surface.
“My goodness, do you realize how deep the water is here? I can’t see the bottom.”