‘It is a possibility which ought to be examined.’
‘A pretty long shot, surely?’
‘Granted.’
‘But I’ve always thought Vittorio was attacked as he lay in bed.’
‘In his surprisingly large pyjamas and his socks and shoes?’
Laura stared at her employer.
‘And the room turned upside-down,’ she said slowly, taking in a new idea. ‘Wrecked, you think, in a fight?’
Dame Beatrice did not answer the question. She said,
‘Once I can establish the identity of Vittorio’s killer, it will leave me free to conduct an awkward and embarrassing enquiry which I have known for some time I shall need to make.’
‘Sounds like another investigation into the doings of Basil Honfleur.’
‘Exactly, and this time without his cooperation and assistance.’
‘Dirty work at the cross-roads?’
‘I fear so. However, these unpalatable tasks have to be faced. My only respite will be the interval between now and the receipt of information from the forensic branch of the Scottish police.’
‘But what gave you the idea that the murderer (I’m still going to call him that) could also have been wounded? Do you think that accounts for the gash on Knight’s neck? How on earth did he manage to stab Vittorio in the back, then?’
‘He had probably learnt some tricks during his Commando training. But never mind that. Those pyjamas have always been a puzzle to me. Vittorio was what I believe you would describe as a dressy little man. Those pyjamas were at least three sizes too large for him.’
‘So what do you think really happened?’
‘I can only surmise. Let us suppose that Vittorio broke into the house, probably by the same means as you did. He knew Carstairs (Honfleur) was not there so he inspected the rooms. Unknown to him, somebody had followed him, somebody for whom he had already made enquiry at the hotel, only to be misinformed of the driver’s name and coach company by the suspicious stripling Wullie.’
‘So Knight killed Vittorio, and all that stuff about the two masked men was so much blah!’
‘Please remember that my reconstruction is hypothetical. I have suggested one more thing to the police, that they search for Vittorio’s own clothes. If I am right, there should be a tear in the shirt and jacket and both should be bloodstained. I think his killer undressed the body, put on to it the only pyjama trousers available…’
‘Those would have been Carstairs’ – or, rather, Honfleur’s – as the bungalow belonged to him.’
‘I imagine so. Knight did not put Vittorio into the pyjama jacket, possibly because he realised it had not a tear in it…’
‘Why didn’t he make one?’
‘He may have thought it might come in the wrong place in the fabric’
‘But if they had a fight when both were fully dressed, how did the bloodstains, whichever man they belonged to, get on to the bed?’
‘Presumably because part of the fight took place with both men rolling on it. The room was not a large one and the bed occupied more than half of it.’
Dame Beatrice, accompanied by her suite (as Laura put it), called at Basil Honfleur’s office without warning and asked to see him.
‘Oh,’ said his secretary, ‘I’m sorry, but he isn’t here. I haven’t heard from him since he left just after you called last time, so I suppose he’s still in Bristol. That’s where he said he was going.’
‘Oh, never mind,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘I expect you can help me. Is Driver Knight back on duty?’
‘No, he’s reported sick again. That knock on the head and a nasty gash in his neck have upset him, and no wonder.’
‘I suppose you have to keep a record of the drivers’ schedules.’
‘Oh, yes, they have to be logged and any comments written against them.’
‘Such as their getting murdered, perhaps.’
The girl, taken by surprise, gave a terrified little giggle and then blushed and stammered out:
‘Well, I wouldn’t put it like that. I should just put, “Killed in the course of duty,” like as though it had been an accident. It looks better – not so crude.’
‘So it does. Are you in sole charge of this office when Mr Honfleur is away?’
‘This time I am.’
‘What about those times when he goes off on his travels to inspect hotels or select new ones, or to investigate passengers’ complaints?’
‘Oh, well, it doesn’t happen all that often, but I log it sort of unofficially in case anything goes wrong and I have to notify the board.’
‘But you are now in sole charge of this office?’
‘Well, I suppose you could call it that, although still responsible to Mr Honfleur and the board, of course.’
‘Of course. But this time you are not responsible to anyone but yourself.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I wondered whether perhaps this time Mr Honfleur did not travel upon the company’s business, but on some private errand of his own.’
Again the girl looked uncomfortable, but she did not giggle. She said,
‘It’s a confidential matter and I don’t give away Mr Honfleur’s business to anybody except the board.’
‘Admirable, and, of course, I have no wish to pry. My errand was to ask where I could find Driver Knight.’
‘Well, I suppose he’s at home, unless he’s gone into hospital. I haven’t heard, not since he sent in another medical certificate.’
‘But you know his address?’
‘Oh, yes, I’ve got it somewhere.’
‘And you know that I am empowered by your board of directors to look into the extraordinary things which have been happening, two drivers murdered and another viciously attacked – or so he claims.’
‘Oh, yes. I’ll find Knight’s address for you. Do you wish me to ring him up and warn him to expect you?’
‘Just as you think best, but it is hardly necessary.’
‘Very well, then, I won’t bother, although all our drivers are on the ’phone. They have to be.’ She went over to a filing cabinet.
‘And will you ask Mr Honfleur to ring me as soon as he gets back? He knows the number,’ said Dame Beatrice, when the girl had written out Knight’s address for her.
‘I though you meant to take Honfleur on the hop when he gets back,’ said Laura, as they drove to the address Dame Beatrice had been given.
‘The police will do that. I do not think Basil Honfleur intends to return to his office.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Certain remarks which you yourself let fall at our last meeting with him.’
‘Don’t tell me I let some cat or other out of some bag or other!’
‘To an innocent man you would not have done so, but Basil Honfleur is anything but an innocent man.’
‘Why, what did I say? Have I gone and put my foot in it?’
‘Far from it. If Honfleur has absconded it makes my unpleasant task just a little easier. You asked him, if you remember, whether he wanted the word “amenities” spelt with one m or two.’
‘I was only kidding.’
‘You surprise me. I would have thought (as I’m sure he did) that you were expressing complete disbelief in his story and considerable contempt for him as a liar. You followed this later by tempting him into a confession that, far from being a free man and a blameless bachelor, he was paying alimony to a discarded wife and was also keeping a mistress. The reasons for his illicit enterprises were thus laid bare. If he was not to keep his employment – and he felt that his prospects were extremely poor once the long-projected merger went through – he had to find another source of income. To be an unemployed bachelor is one thing. To support two homes is another.’
‘Wasn’t Honfleur ever a genuine collector of antiques, then?’
‘I hardly see how he could afford to be. I think that, if we were ever to visit his house again, the Welsh dresser and its dishes, including mine, would be gone and, bit by bit, the far more valuable objects which Conradda saw in Honfleur’s bedroom. She managed, I think to see a hoard which was due to be stored at Saighdearan.’