I never said she was wearing the necklace. I described it because it happened to fall out of her beach bag while we were talking and I picked it up and returned it to her.
An obvious explanation, but at the same time it could have been a very obvious lie: a lie calculated to cut the ground from under the Inspector’s feet, which it had done.
Suppose it had been a lie?
Then Delaney was obviously suspect No. 1.
It wasn’t until after one that Guidet was able to bring both Sergeant Humbert and Detective Lemont into Devereaux’s office and it was at that moment, as they sat down in easy chairs, facing the Inspector that, upstairs, Jay was making his attempt on Sophia’s life.
Devereaux looked at Humbert, a fat, solid man with a sun-tanned face and clear, lively blue eyes.
“Do you know Floyd Delaney’s son by sight?” Devereaux asked.
Humbert nodded.
“Yes, Inspector. Before this happened, I was on duty organizing the crowd outside the hotel. I got to know the various film people and I know him by sight very well.”
“During the day, did you see him leave and later return to his suite?”
“Yes, Inspector.”
“Did he visit any of the other suites while you were on duty?”
Humbert, after thinking for a moment, nodded.
“Yes. A little after ten o’clock he visited suite 30. The occupier seemed to be a friend of his. They talked for some minutes, then Delaney left. He went to his suite, then came out shortly with swimming trunks and took the elevator to the ground floor.”
Devereaux and Guidet exchanged glances. Both of them were now a little tense.
“You are quite sure he went into suite 30?”
“Absolutely sure, Inspector. I logged it in my notebook.”
“This took place before we searched the suites?”
“That is correct.”
Devereaux nodded, then said: “All right. You can go off duty now.”
When Humbert had gone, Devereaux turned to Lemont.
“Do you know Jay Delaney?”
“No, Inspector, I can’t say I do.”
“He is about twenty-one or — two, good-looking, dark, slightly below average height and wears dark glasses,” Devereaux said. “While you were watching the Beau Rivage hotel did you see a man to match this description go into the hotel either alone or with a woman?”
Lemont wrinkled his sweating forehead, then shook his head.
“No, Inspector, I can’t say I did. Two or three of the men who entered the hotel were screened by the women they were with. I was watching for Kerr and I was paying more attention to those who came out of the hotel rather than those who went in.”
Devereaux nodded.
“Yes. Well, all right. You get off.”
When Lemont had gone, Devereaux said to Guidet: “At least we know Jay Delaney had the opportunity of planting the bead and taking the curtain cord from suite 30. I’m not saying he did it, but he could have done.”
Guidet moved uneasily.
“Aren’t we wasting time, Inspector? Madame Delaney was with him at the time of the girl’s murder. You’re not suggesting she had anything to do with it, are you? Besides, what possible motive could a young fellow... ?”
Devereaux waved him to silence. He was staring fixedly at the telephone that stood on the desk.
“Now, wait a moment,” he said, his voice sharp with excitement. “I believe we can settle this. When young Delaney came in here, he asked me if he could use the telephone. Maybe he’s left his prints on it. We know the print we are looking for. Get Leroy here and get him fast!”
The snap in Devereaux’s voice brought Guidet hurriedly to his feet and he went out of the office.
Devereaux lit another cigarette and sank lower into his chair. His legs ached and his body longed for sleep, but his mind was alert enough.
There was some delay in bringing Leroy, the finger-print expert, from the Beau Rivage hotel where he was still working and it was during this delay that Jay slipped out of the hotel, unseen by the hotel staff, who were at this time fully occupied in handing out keys and taking orders for breakfast. The only man who noticed him leave was Harry Stone and he, seeing the fishing bag, assumed Jay was off on a night’s fishing expedition.
It was a little after two o’clock in the morning that Guidet and Leroy came into the office where Devereaux waited patiently.
As soon as Devereaux saw Leroy, he pointed to the telephone.
“Check that. I’m hoping to find a print on it that matches the one you found on the bead and also on the electric lamp bulb at the Beau Rivage.”
Leroy looked a little startled, but he didn’t say anything. He opened his kit and set to work. In five minutes he gave a sudden little grunt, a sound he always made when he had done a satisfactory job.
“A beauty,” he said. “Yes, you’re right, Inspector. Here it is: on the side of the instrument. Whoever handled the electric light bulb in the Beau Rivage also handled this telephone and he also handled the bead found in suite 30.”
Devereaux rubbed the back of his neck while he stared at Leroy.
“Are you absolutely certain?”
“I’m always certain,” Leroy said cheerfully. “Fingerprints don’t lie. There’s no question of a mistake.”
There was a long silence while Devereaux stared down at his desk. He said finally: “We’d better go up and talk to him if he’s there. Guidet, ask the hall porter if he is in the suite.”
Guidet went out and returned a few minutes later.
“He’s up there and so are his parents.”
“It’ll be interesting to see if he has any scratches on his arms,” Devereaux said, pushing his chair back. “You’d better come, Leroy. I’ll want you to take his prints.”
The three men left the office.
Pausing in the lobby, Devereaux said to Guidet: “Go up there and wait outside the door. I’d better get the clerk to announce us and I don’t want the boy to have a chance of bolting. I’ll give you five minutes before calling the suite.”
Guidet nodded and hurried up the stairs.
While they waited, Leroy said: “This case, Inspector, will make you famous. Your name will be in every paper in every country in the world.”
Devereaux shrugged his shoulders.
“We’ll have to handle the boy tactfully. He may have an explanation. This is dangerous ground. His father has a lot of influence. I hope to goodness you haven’t made a mistake.”
Leroy grinned happily.
“We’ll soon see when I take his prints. I’m willing to bet all the money I own that he is our man.”
“I think you are right.”
Devereaux went over to the reception desk.
“Will you call Mr. Jay Delaney and tell him I want to speak to him and I propose going up to his suite?” he said to the night clerk.
The clerk looked pointedly at his wrist-watch.
“It’s a little late now to disturb Mr. Delaney,” he said. “Won’t to-morrow do?”
“Please call the suite and tell him. I will apologize when I see him.”
The clerk, shrugging, put through the call. There was a delay, then he said: “Will you hold on, please?” and looking Devereaux, he said: “Mr. Jay Delaney isn’t in the suite.”
Devereaux frowned.
“I understood he went up an hour ago.”
“Mr. Delaney senior says he is not in the suite,” the clerk repeated.
Devereaux took the telephone receiver out of the clerk’s hand.
“Monsieur Delaney? This is Inspector Devereaux speaking. Cannes police. I would be glad if you would see me for a few minutes. May I come up?”
“Well, for heaven’s sake!” Delaney sounded irritable. “I was in bed. Well, all right, come up, Inspector, but you mustn’t keep me long,” and he hung up.