Vesperini put his office at the inspector’s disposal and as soon as the Inspector had seated himself behind the big mahogany desk he asked for the hall porter.
From experience Devereaux knew that the most observant member of any hotel staff was the hall porter. He had found they made excellent witnesses and many a hotel case had been solved because of information supplied by these observant men.
The hall porter had just come on duty and he entered the office and shook hands with Devereaux, with whom he occasionally played boule when the Inspector had an hour to himself.
The hall porter had already heard the news so it wasn’t necessary for Devereaux to waste time explaining what had happened. He immediately launched into his interrogation.
“Can you tell me when this girl came into the hotel?”
The hall porter screwed up his eyes while he thought.
“It would be about four o’clock in the afternoon,” he said finally.
This surprised Devereaux.
“Four o clock in the afternoon? So she had been in the hotel for over fourteen hours. Did she ask for anyone?”
“No. She crossed the lobby and made for the stairs as if she knew exactly where to go.”
“She didn’t use the elevator?”
“No.”
“Then it is possible the room she visited was on the first or second floor? If it had been on the third floor she would have used the elevator.”
The hall porter nodded.
“I agree.”
“Did anyone inquire for her?”
“At about half-past six; one of the press photographers asked if she had left the hotel,” the hall porter said after another long pause for thought. “I told him she hadn’t.”
“Who was this man?”
“Monsieur Joe Kerr,” the hall porter said and from the tone of his voice the Inspector gathered that he thought nothing of him. “He represents an American scandal sheet called Peep: a man I don’t care to see in the hotel. He is a drunkard and his appearance is distasteful.”
Devereaux made his first note on the sheet of paper he had laid before him. He wrote in his neat hand: Joe Kerr, drunkard, pressman, Peep. Asked information re L.B. 6.30 p.m.
“He didn’t say why he was interested in the girl?”
“No. Before then he had given me a thousand franc note to tell him when any of the Delaneys returned to their suite on the second floor. Knowing the man, I was surprised that he should give me as much as a thousand francs.”
“The Delaneys?” Devereaux was a rabid film fan and his knowledge of film stars and producers was extensive. “Would that be the American producer?”
“Of course. Monsieur Delaney, his wife and his son have a suite on the second floor.”
Again Devereaux made a note.
“No one else inquired for the girl?”
“No.”
Devereaux frowned, fiddling with his pencil. He was a little disappointed. He had hoped for more useful information from the hall porter. At least he had something to work on, but he was pretty sure this Joe Kerr had only been interested in Lucille Balu from a professional point of view. After all, Kerr had made his inquiry at six-thirty and the girl had been in the hotel apparently for two and a half hours.
He thanked the hall porter and said that if he could think of any way he could be of further help, he would consult him again.
When the hall porter had gone, Devereaux picked up the telephone and asked to be connected with the bathroom on the third floor where the police surgeon was making his examination.
The girl on the switchboard, who had heard the news and had kept herself informed of what was going on, immediately connected him.
“Have you anything for me yet?” the Inspector asked when the police surgeon came on the line.
“You are always in such a hurry,” the police surgeon grumbled. “However, I can tell you when she died. It would be between half-past three and half-past four in the afternoon: not later and not earlier.”
“She arrived at the hotel a few minutes to four.”
“Then she was killed between four and half-past.”
“Anything else?”
“She was strangled by a brocaded cord — almost certainly a curtain cord. The pattern of the cord has made an impression on her skin. The cord shouldn’t be difficult to trace.”
“Tell Benoit to photograph it immediately. See if he can develop the plate and let me have a print at once. Tell him it doesn’t matter if it isn’t dry.”
“I’ll tell him, but it will delay my examination.”
“The print is important. Anything else to tell me?”
“There are some fragments of skin under the fingernails of the girl’s right hand. She must have scratched her assailant while he was killing her. From the amount of skin, I’d say he would have three pretty deep scratches either on his wrist or his arm.”
Devereaux’s eyes half closed as he nodded.
“That is very good,” he said and hung up. Turning to Guidet, who had been sitting on the edge of the desk, listening, he said: “This may be less difficult than I had thought. I want you to find out where the girl was staying. She worked for the Paris Film Company. They should know. Find out what she was doing yesterday. I want her complete movements, especially between two and four o’clock. Put as many men as you need on the job, but do it thoroughly. I want all the boatmen, the beach attendants, the shop people questioned. They will know her and if she has been seen, they will be able to tell us. Find out where this man Kerr is staying and bring him here. As you go out, tell Cadot I want him.”
Guidet nodded and went quickly from the office.
A few minutes later, Cadot, freshly shaved and wearing his best suit, came in.
“Did you see this girl come into the hotel?” Devereaux asked as soon as Cadot had sat down.
“No. I was patrolling the corridors at four o’clock. It is my usual routine,” Cadot said. “At that hour, very few people remain in their rooms and I take the precaution to have a walk around. With so many strangers in the hotel because of the Festival, it is easy for a thief to slip upstairs.”
Devereaux pulled a face.
“Then it would be easy for a non-resident to use one of the bedrooms in which to kill this girl?”
“I wouldn’t say it would be easy, but some of our clients are careless and leave their keys in the doors. It is possible to use an unoccupied room, but it would be very risky.”
“It is a possibility that we mustn’t overlook, but I don’t think it happened like that. I think the girl was killed by someone staying in the hotel. As she died between four and half-past, her body must have been kept hidden until the killer felt it safe to put her in the elevator. That was a clever move. You can be sure she wasn’t killed on the third floor. The fact she walked up the stairs makes me think it happened on the first or second floors. Can we find out when the elevator was last used before the girl was found?”
Cadot smirked modestly.
“I have already found that out for you, Inspector. The elevator goes on automatic at three o’clock. It was standing on the ground level within sight of the night clerk at that time. Between half-past three and four — he doesn’t remember to the minute — the night clerk says he saw the red light flash up, indicating that someone was calling the elevator from upstairs. Some ten minutes later, the red light again flashed up, showing that the elevator had again been moved between the floors. It is safe to assume I think that the murderer was using the elevator at that time. The elevator didn’t move after that.”
Devereaux made a note.
“During your patrol, did you see anyone in any of the corridors who had no business to be there?”
Cadot nodded.
“Yes. There was a pressman on the second floor. I caught him listening outside Mr. Delaney’s suite.”
“And who was he?” Devereaux asked, pencil poised.
“His name is Joe Kerr. He... ”