I had no time to dwell on it, though. Just then the female scream rang out a second time, a wail of terror. The head popped out from under my blankets and I found myself face to face with Carmella Friedriksenn.
So Carmella was really Gina Moretti!
“What was that?” she asked before I had a chance to think about the identification.
“A woman screamed,” I told her, not too brightly.
“I’d better get back to my room.” She jumped from the bed and fled, naked, through the bathroom door. I waited a moment and then got up and put on my bathrobe. Footsteps were padding past my door. I poked my head out. “What was that?" I asked.
“A woman screamed.” It was Friedriksenn, and he hadn’t come up with any more of an original answer than I had.
“Which woman?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. I think it came from down here. That would be Maria’s room.”
I followed him down the corridor to the room. The door was closed. Friedriksenn opened it and lit a candle. As the flame illuminated the scene, he gasped. So did I. The secretary was sprawled over the bed. Her head was hanging over one side, and blood was pouring out of her throat.
Friedriksenn crossed over and lifted her head. “Dead!” he announced. “Her throat is slashed so deeply the neck’s almost severed.” His voice was shaky.
I didn’t blame him. I was feeling pretty shaky myself. But not so shaky that I failed to notice a detail that struck me as revealing. Maria’s body was lying face down. And the panties of the Baby Dolls she’d been wearing had been pulled halfway down her legs so that her naked rear was clearly exposed.
Someone beside me had been looking for that scar. That someone had killed in an effort to find it. Killed and failed, for there was no scar on Maria Trendasia’s behind. The scar the killer had been seeking nestled in the crease of the plump left nether-cheek of Carmella Friedriksenn. I knew that now. I wondered if anybody else did.
Friedriksenn called the police. It didn’t take them long to arrive. When they did, the inspector in charge had us all gather in the living room downstairs so he could question us.
“We were all in our own rooms, in our own beds,” Friedriksenn told him.
I knew that wasn’t true. I guessed he was covering the fact that he’d been in bed with Anna Del Vecchio in her room. I figured I could do at least as much to protect his wife’s good name as he was doing to protect his mistress. The pleading look Carmella-—real1y Gina Moretti—shot me settled it for me. I also lied and said I’d been alone in bed.
Thus we were all liars. All except Luigi Tortorizzi! He alone was telling the truth. He was the only one of us who hadn’t had a bedmate. Unless you counted the dead girl, of course.
I knew then that it must have been Luigi who slit Maria’s throat.
But why? Lying in bed after the police had finally left, I tried to put the pieces together in my mind. Albert Tarleton had warned me that the Mafia was trying to prevent the finding of the heiresses. Suppose Luigi was really an agent of the Mafia! If he was, then he had probably guessed my connection with Dombey of Dover. He would easily have figured out that I was on the trail of Gina Moretti. If Dombey of Dover had found out about the scar, then surely the Mafia would have had little trouble getting this information. Despite his big act of pretending that he thought I was queer when he found me examining him in his room earlier, Luigi must have known what I was really seeking. Then he must have tried to beat me to the punch.
As I figured it, Maria woke up, caught him, screamed, and signed her death warrant. Time was running out on Luigi. He had two reasons for killing her once she was awake. First, just to get a look at her behind to see if she really was Gina Moretti. Second, simply on the chance that if she was the heiress, he’d have put her out of the way forever. If I had Luigi pegged right, the fact that he’d killed the wrong girl wouldn’t keep him up nights. He’d try again. He might even kill both the other candidates just to make sure he’d disposed of Gina Moretti. And he sure as hell might kill me just to get me out of the Mafia’s hair. On that cheerful note, I finally fell asleep.
It was past noon when I woke up. I felt guilty about sleeping so late. I felt guiltier when Friedriksenn informed me that Luigi had taken Anna Del Vecchio out for a ride in his sports car.
“Where did they go?” I asked him.
“Down the mountain road. That way.” He pointed. “It’s an excellent road for an expert driver to show off his skill. Full of curves and hairpin turns.”
“Oh, great!” I stood up. “May I borrow one of your cars?" I asked.
“Of course. But what’s the matter, Mr. Victor?”
“Nothing—I hope. I just feel like a drive.”
“Take the Porsche. It’s all gassed up and waiting out in the garage.”
“Thanks.” I left him and a few moments later I was speeding down the road in the Porsche in the direction Friedriksenn said Luigi and Anna had gone.
I opened the car up wide. The engine, one of the world’s finest, purred like a pussycat nibbling its way down a road of sugar-coated catnip. I shifted into fourth gear and the speedometer stayed steady at eighty-five. The tachometer needle wasn’t anywhere near the red yet, so I knew the Porsche didn’t even have its wind up. I upped to a hundred mph, slowed down to eighty for the curves, sixty for the turns, and back up to the hundred on the straightaways.
It was a long, winding road with no end in sight. I drove almost two hours at top speed. The car felt like the engine was just warming up and I enjoyed the driving. But I was beginning to feel like I was really out on a wild goose chase. I had no idea how much of a head start Luigi had on me. I had no idea what I might do if I did succeed in catching up with him. I wasn’t even sure that he was planning to harm Anna. I was all set to give up, to turn around and go back, when my eye was caught by a car in the distance on the road running down the mountainside below the road on which I was driving.
I guessed it was the same road doubling back, as it had done many times in the course of my drive. It zig-zagged its way down the mountain, providing a perfect speedway for the sports car driver. I lost the other car around a bend and then spotted it again as I came around a second one. It went like that for a while, with the car appearing and disappearing until I realized we were now both heading in the same direction on the same stretch of road. Still, I couldn’t be sure if I was gaining or not. I had my foot on the floorboard now, and I kept it there as I whipped the Porsche around the curves. I’d never competed as a racing driver as Luigi had, but I was giving it my all and I had the machinery to do it. Just from the expert way that other car was being driven, I was sure now that Luigi must be at the wheel.
I was right, but I was too late. I saw him head at top speed for a curve, and suddenly one of the doors flew open and a body hurtled from it. By the time I reached the curve, the other car was stopped on the road. I pulled up alongside it. It was empty. I got out and looked over the cliffside. I could just make out a figure crumpled at the bottom of the sheer drop. Closer, I could see Luigi scrambling down the cliffside toward it. I started after him.
I Was only about halfway down when he reached the body. I saw him stoop over and pull up the skirt. Then he pulled down the panties. He looked for an instant and let the skirt fall back. He started back toward the cliff, and that’s when he saw me. He pulled out a pistol and started firing.