“Naturally; it’s the underwater extension of the cliff. That’s why this spot was chosen.”
“It’s a marvelous place,” said Twist, straightening up and looking around. “You feel totally isolated from the rest of the world: The reefs on either side of the cove protect you from intruders and you can’t see beyond the promontories on either side. It truly is a Blue Lagoon: the water is so limpid and suffused with light, it’s an enchanted spot.”
“What’s your point, Twist?” asked his friend, frowning.
“That this spot is isolated and difficult to reach, but it would be easy to hide in the deep water near the diving board, wait for the Trents to leave, then rush Portman and fatally wound him. How long would that take, Charles?”
“No more than a few seconds.”
“Quite. Then all the killer would need to do is disappear back into the hiding place.”
“Then swim under water to make his escape?”
“For a good swimmer, it wouldn’t be a problem, would it?”
“It’s quite plausible, particularly because I doubt that when Anthony Stamp discovered the body, he spent much time inspecting the surface of the water for a murderous swimmer. I think I can see where you’re going with this, Twist.”
“Maybe not.”
“Let’s just say I know who you’re thinking about.”
“Actually, I’m thinking about an object, not a person.”
“Let me guess: a palm tree?… a cool aperitif?”
“No. A ball.”
“Not that damn ball again! I really think you’re on the wrong track there, Twist. We found the owner: a young lad staying at the hotel, who lost it the evening before the murder. He was even scolded by his grandmother for running across the road to try and catch it.”
Cullen nodded towards the edge of the cliff high above their heads: “Ignoring his grandmother, he ran to the cliff and looked over, where he saw the ball hadn’t fallen in the water at all, but was stuck between the rocks. He was quite relieved because he thought he’d be able to collect it the next day. That’s the whole story and you can see it has nothing whatever to do with the murder investigation.”
Dr. Twist expressed some surprise: “Do you mean to say the ball fell from up there?”
“Yes. What’s so strange about that?”
“Nothing. Little boys are always losing their toys in impossible places.”
“So, what’s the point?” said the ex-superintendent, obviously becoming exasperated.
“I think I’ve just realised something important,” replied Twist with a little smile. “Oh, and I must point out something about Tony’s fingerprints. In fact, it’s quite astonishing nobody’s noticed it until now.”
The next day, Christopoulos called the suspects together. Alan Twist and Charles Cullen were also present, as well as two sinister-looking policemen to guard the door. Maggie Lester seemed on her guard; Rachel Syms appeared worn out, as did her lover, whom Christopoulos addressed formally.
“I must warn you, Mr. Stamp, that anything you say may be taken down and used in evidence against you.”
“You’re planning to arrest me?” gasped the actor with a piteous look.
The policeman stroked his moustache gravely.
“To be frank, I should have done so already, even before Dr. Twist confirmed his latest discovery. Be that as it may, we will now proceed with the arrest. I must tell you also that, should you make a confession, it may reduce the charges and even help you avoid the ultimate sanction.”
The young actor clenched his fists and blurted out: “But I’m not the murderer! I just wanted to save Rachel. That’s why I threw away the wrench.”
Rachel Syms gave a deep sigh.
“So you thought I did it?”
“No, I didn’t think so. But now, with all the facts—”
Christopoulos called for silence and took control. He gave a detailed chronological account of everyone’s movements on the morning of the murder. By the time he had finished, Anthony Sharp was holding his head and groaning: “I tell you, somebody else killed him.”
“Who and when?” asked Christopoulos vehemently.
“I don’t know who, but it was just before I arrived on the spot. Remember, I told you Portman’s body was still warm.”
“The Trents didn’t see anyone as they were leaving.”
“Somebody may have been in the water waiting for a suitable moment.”
“We thought of that. Mr. Cullen has some comments on that score. He can explain it himself.”
The retired British policeman cleared his throat.
“My theory rests on the fact that the swimmer was aware the Blue Lagoon would be the scene of a quarrel between the couple, so he or she must be someone close to them. It’s possible to reach that cove by swimming round from the other side of the promontory, which is quite dangerous but can be done in half an hour. Given the murder took place between ten-ten and ten-fifteen, the swimmer must have left the nearest cove, the one below the monastery hill, at nine-forty at the latest, and returned there after the crime. Given that Rachel Syms could not have committed the murder because she was still in the hotel when her lover left, who’s left?”
In the silence that followed, all eyes turned to Maggie Lester, who shot a baleful glance at Christopoulos.
“After all those loaded questions yesterday, I knew you suspected me.”
“I was merely trying to establish that you had no alibi, miss,” he replied with a smile, “which does indeed seem to be the case. Nobody at the monastery can identify you as having been there. You could have acted in the manner Mr. Cullen described. You had the time, the opportunity, and the motive.”
“Which was?”
“Jealousy. To pay your companion back for his infidelity, you committed a crime knowing it would be blamed on him.”
The accusation elicited a cynical sneer.
“Do you think I would have done that because of Tony? Taken all those risks for that… look at him! Out of the glare of the spotlight, he’s just a wimp, good for stealing schoolgirls from their spotty boyfriends. Do that because of Tony? You must be joking!”
Anthony Stamp looked hurt, while Charles Cullen continued: “What’s clear is that there was premeditation, for there were only your prints on the wrench, Mr. Stamp, and that’s significant. As Dr. Twist pointed out, several people on the boat were said to have handled it at one time or another, yet yours were the only prints found. Hence, someone deliberately wiped the wrench clean and waited for Anthony Stamp to touch it so they could take it and use it the following day. I’ll let Dr. Twist explain his theory.”
The elderly detective looked at all the suspects in turn over his pince-nez before picking up the thread.
“It’s quite simple. There’s not much to say except that that manoeuvre reveals the murderer’s strategy. After committing the crime, the killer carefully placed the weapon where we found it. Actually, it may not even have been the real weapon, which could have been an iron bar, but no matter. What is clear is that the wrench was left next to the body so that Stamp couldn’t fail to see it. What, then, would be his reaction? It could only be one of two possibilities…
“The first: do nothing and simply report what he had seen. The circumstances under which the body was found, plus his prints on the weapon, would frame him as the guilty party. The second: throw away the weapon in order to save his mistress, for it was she at whom the evidence pointed. That’s actually what he did, and I’m willing to bet that the murderer banked on it; banked on the police finding the weapon on the rocks or in the sea, at which point the actor would be caught like a rat in a trap, particularly after the Trents’ testimony. Nobody would believe he’d been trying to save his mistress. Any such claim would seem like another lie, digging himself into an even deeper hole. The only worry the killer might have had was that the weapon would not be found, in which case it would seem like an accident, and no harm done.