Once out in the open the men broke up and Jay was on his own. He walked quickly to Rue d’Antibes, then crossing the car park, he made his way over to the harbour.
There were still a number of holiday makers taking advantage of the hot, perfect night and they were wandering along the harbour, staring at the lighted boats and Jay mingled with them.
He was in an exalted mood of triumph.
The experiment, he told himself, had succeeded. At one time it looked as if it were heading for complete disaster, but thanks to his ingenuity and his wits, he had pulled the thing off.
He was safe now! He had destroyed the negatives and the photographs. He had silenced two blackmailers. He had left evidence that would prove to the police beyond all doubt that Joe Kerr had killed the girl. One person in a million could have done what he had done! A million? That was ridiculous! Only he could have done it!
He reached the far end of the harbour where he could see Ginette’s boat and he sat on a bollard to wait for her. He had only twenty minutes to wait and he found he was impatient and anxious to see her again.
He was lighting a cigarette and preparing to settle down to wait when a tall, heavily built man strolled over to him and paused in front of him.
“Mr. Jay Delaney?” the man asked.
Jay stiffened. He felt a sudden cold knot of fear form inside him. The man was obviously a police officer and for a moment Jay was too shocked to speak.
Then he said, “Yes, what is it?”
“I’m a police officer,” the man said. “Inspector Devereaux would like a word with you, monsieur. If you will please come with me... ”
Had he done something stupid after all? Jay wondered, his heart beginning to pound. Had he been seen leaving the Beau Rivage hotel?
“Please tell the Inspector that I will see him when I return to the hotel,” he said, aware that his voice sounded stilted. “I have an appointment with someone now. I should be back just after two o’clock.”
The detective made an apologetic gesture.
“I’m sorry, monsieur, but the matter is urgent. The Inspector won’t keep you long. I have a car here,” and he waved to where a black car was parked a few yards away.
There was another detective standing by the car and he began to move slowly over towards Jay.
Jay stood up.
“Well, all right, but I must say this is most irritating.”
The thought that he might miss seeing Ginette made him angry and his anger forced down the fear that had flared up in him.
“I’m sorry, monsieur,” the detective said in his flat, impersonal voice.
Jay walked with him to the car and got in the back seat. The detective sat beside him. The other detective got under the driving wheel and drove quickly off the harbour and along the Croisette towards the Plaza hotel.
Nothing was said during the drive. Jay stared out of the window, reeling very tense and angry, but he had got over his first scare.
If he had been seen leaving the Beau Rivage hotel, it wasn’t likely they would be taking him to the Plaza, but he would have to watch out. This Inspector Devereaux was no fool. He wouldn’t have sent two detectives to look for him unless it was something pretty serious — but what?
The car pulled up a few yards from the Plaza and the two detectives got out, holding the door open for Jay.
“Perhaps you would like to go on in, monsieur,” one of them said. “No point in making the press curious. You will find the Inspector in the assistant manager’s office.”
“Thank you,” Jay said.
He walked towards the Plaza, aware that the two detectives were strolling after him.
So it can’t be all that serious, he thought. If they really thought I had killed her, they wouldn’t let me out of their reach. But I must be careful. This may be a trick to get me off my guard.
He entered the Plaza lobby, which was fairly empty. Most of the people were still in the cinema, and, crossing the lobby, he went to the assistant manager’s office, knocked on the door, turned the handle and entered the room.
Chapter XI
I
Inspector Devereaux was sitting behind his borrowed desk munching a sandwich. It was the first food he had eaten since he had begun the case and he was hungry.
“You will excuse me, monsieur,” he said as Jay came in. “I have had no time for supper.” Regretfully he laid the half-eaten sandwich down on the plate at his side, took out his handkerchief and wiped his fingers. “You will excuse me too for disturbing you.”
“I have an appointment at twelve,” Jay said curtly and looked at the clock on the desk. The time was five minutes to twelve. “Perhaps I may use the telephone? I dislike keeping people waiting.”
“Certainly,” Devereaux said and pushed the instrument towards Jay. “I won’t keep you more than five minutes.”
Jay picked up the telephone book and quickly found the number of La Boule d’Or. He gave the girl on the switchboard the number. He didn’t notice that Devereaux picked up his pencil and wrote down the number on the blotter as Jay gave it to the girl.
Ginette came on the line.
“This is Jay,” Jay said. “I’m sorry, but I am delayed. I won’t be able... ”
“It’s all right,” she broke in. “I was going to call your hotel. I won’t be able to come. We have just heard my father’s brother is dangerously ill and my father has gone to St. Tropez to be with him. I can’t leave the café.”
“I see. I’m sorry. Well, then to-morrow. I’ll come and see you to-morrow,” Jay said, glancing at Devereaux, who was munching his sandwich and appearing to be paying no attention to the conversation.
“All right. I’m sorry too.”
“I understand. Until to-morrow then.”
“Yes.”
Until to-morrow, Jay thought as he hung up. To-morrow seemed suddenly a long way off.
“I’m afraid I have spoilt your evening, monsieur,” Devereaux said.
“It’s all right,” Jay said irritably. “Well? What is it?”
Devereaux finished his sandwich. He again took out his handkerchief and wiped his fingers.
“There is a point I would like to raise with you, monsieur, to do with the statement you made this morning.” He lifted a sheet of paper off the top of his pile of notes. “You said this morning that, after you had spoken to Mademoiselle Balu when you met her on the beach, you didn’t see her again — that is to say, you didn’t see her at any time after she had left the beach. That is correct?”
So that was it, Jay thought. The necklace. This man is no fool. He’s spotted my slip. But I can get out of it. There’s no need to panic.
“Yes, that is what I said and it is correct,” he said and looked straight at Devereaux, again thankful for the blue screens of his sun-glasses.
“A little later I asked you to describe the necklace she was wearing.”
Jay nodded.
“I remember and I described the necklace,” he said quietly.
He saw Devereaux lift his eyebrows as if surprised.
“You described it accurately,” Devereaux said. “Would you now look at this photograph?”
He handed Jay a photograph of Lucille Balu, posing on the beach.
Jay studied the photograph. Of course the girl isn’t wearing the necklace, he thought. It was smart of him to have noticed that.
He laid down the photograph and looked inquiringly at the Inspector.
“Well?”
“You see nothing out of the way in the picture, monsieur?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Jay said and leaned forward and again studied the picture. “Is there something odd about it?”
“She is not wearing a necklace,” Devereaux said, his voice sharpening.