It would be interesting to go down and see what was happening, he thought. After all it would be a pity to miss any possible excitement after he had set the stage for the actors to strut on.
Finishing his second cup of coffee, he slipped on a singlet, a pair of cotton trousers and pushing his feet into a pair of espadrilles, he moved to the door, then paused.
He remembered the three scratches on his arm and he examined them. They were slightly inflamed and startlingly red against his heavily tanned skin. It would be safer to wear a coat, he thought and going to his cupboard he took out a cotton jacket and slipped it on.
The first thing he noticed when he reached the corridor was the “out-of-order” sign on the elevator. So they had begun the investigation, he thought and he was aware of a growing feeling of excitement. Perhaps, after all, this thing he had done wasn’t going to be such a bore. It had been the waiting that had bored him. Now the police were active, this might turn out more exciting than he had imagined.
Casually, he walked down the stairs. As he reached the head of the stairs leading into the lobby, he paused to look around.
The smooth machinery of the hotel appeared to be working with its usual efficiency. The hall porter was checking through a pile of letters. The reception clerk was writing at his desk. Vesperini, the assistant manager, stood by the revolving doors, apparently admiring the hydrangeas that stood either side of the entrance.
Jay took a few steps that brought him past the telephone booths and where he could have an uninterrupted view of the whole lobby.
There were no signs of any uniformed policemen and Jay felt vaguely disappointed. The hotel seemed to be taking the discovery of a dead girl in one of their elevators with extraordinary calm.
He crossed over to the hotel porter and bought a copy of the New York Times, then, choosing a chair that would give him a good view of the entrance to the hotel, he sat down.
He sat there, glancing at the newspaper, for some fifteen minutes before he saw a tall man, broad shouldered, with a hard face and alert eyes come into the lobby. He nodded to Vesperini who inclined his head in acknowledgement, then walked into the office behind the reception desk.
So that’s it, Jay thought. They’re in there having a conference. I bet they’re absolutely foxed. I wonder what line they are working on.
He took his gold cigarette case from his pocket and lit a cigarette. As he was putting the case away, one of the elevator doors opened and Jean Thiry and Guidet came out.
Guidet had taken Thiry up to identify the girl’s body. The shock of having to see her made Thiry walk a little unsteadily. His face was pale and there was a stunned expression in his eyes.
Jay watched the two men disappear into the office behind the reception desk. He guessed Thiry had been up to identify the body and he felt a morbid curiosity to see how pale the man was. This was becoming interesting, he thought. It was a pity he couldn’t hear what was going on from this chair in the lobby, but at least he was keeping track of the developing drama.
Thiry was being questioned again by Inspector Devereaux who handled him gently, seeing the shock Thiry had had. Thiry had already told him about the message he had received telling him that the girl had gone to Monte Carlo for the evening. Devereaux had got Guidet to question the message clerks, but neither of them could recall who had given the message except that it had come over the telephone.
Devereaux said: “Of course the girl didn’t send the message. It was sent by the killer to gain time. You can make no suggestions as why she was killed?”
Thiry shook his head.
“No. It must have been the work of a lunatic. Who would want to kill her? She was just a kid,” and he blew his nose violently to conceal his emotion.
“So Monsieur Delaney was interested in her future as a star?” Devereaux said, consulting his notes, “and you had an appointment with him at nine?”
“Yes. He wanted to meet her. I had already arranged to meet her in the bar here at six and then I got this message. Feeling Delaney was going to make her an offer, I went at once to Monte Carlo to bring her back, but I couldn’t find her.”
“Naturally. She was dead by then. You left the girl by herself on the beach at around half-past three and you went to the cinema, where you met Monsieur Delaney. That’s correct, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“You saw Monsieur Delaney at nine and explained the girl had gone to Monte Carlo and you couldn’t find her?”
“Yes.”
“This is a very unfortunate thing for you, monsieur.”
“Yes.” Thiry’s face was bitter. “It was her great chance and mine too. The man who did this must be caught and punished.”
“Certainly, but I must have as much help as possible,” Devereaux said. “First, can you tell me if she made a practice of carrying a handbag with her? When she was found in the elevator she had no handbag and this strikes me as curious. Usually, a girl never moves without some kind of handbag.”
“Yes, she had one. It was one I gave her. It was small. She only carried a powder compact, handkerchief and lipstick in it. It was a narrow, lizard-skin bag with her initials on it.”
“She could have left it at her hotel, of course. I must have a search made for it.”
“She wouldn’t have left it at her hotel. I’ve never seen her without some bag or other.”
Devereaux made a note on the sheet of paper lying in front of him.
“There is another thing also,” Thiry went on. “She had a habit of wearing bead necklaces. I suppose the doctor removed her necklace when making his examination. I didn’t notice it when I saw her.”
“A bead necklace? She wasn’t wearing any necklace when she was found in the elevator. I’ll check that. There is nothing else you can tell me? She had no lover?”
“No. She was a serious girl. All she thought about was her career. She knew it was too soon to think of getting married.”
When Thiry had gone, Devereaux gave instructions that a search should be made for the handbag and then he went out into the lobby and crossed over to the hall-porter’s desk.
“Do you remember if Mademoiselle Balu was wearing a bead necklace when you saw her come into the hotel?”
The hall porter thought for a long moment, his face tight with concentration, then he nodded.
“Yes, she was. I remember I thought how well the blue beads looked against her tan: a necklace of big sapphire blue beads, about the size of walnuts.”
“Your memory is remarkable,” Devereaux said. “I congratulate you.”
The hall porter inclined his head, gratified.
Watching, Jay wondered who this man who had come out of the office and was now speaking to the hall porter could be. It was obvious that he was a police officer and there was an air of importance and authority about him. Perhaps he was the man in charge of the investigation.
He studied him.
A hard, shrewd man, he decided and again he felt the chill of excitement run through him.
He became aware that the hotel detective whom he recognized had come into the lobby and had given him a quick, hard stare. Then the hotel detective crossed over to the police officer. Jay, interested, watched the men talk together in low tones, then both of them suddenly turned their heads and looked directly at him.
Jay had been so curious and interested in what had been going on that it hadn’t occurred to him that he was the only non-member of the hotel staff in the lobby nor had it occurred to him that he was in any way conspicuous. Until these two men suddenly turned to stare at him he had considered himself as an invisible spectator, enjoying what was going on without being noticed himself.
With a sudden quickening of fear, he glanced away from the two men and, as casually as he could, he pretended to be reading the newspaper he was holding.