It was Françoise Laval waiting for us in the room, all right. There was no confusion about it this time. Once I had assured Tarleton of this, he hurried off to report to Dombey of Dover. Lucky Pierre left with him, catching a lift back to the hotel. Seems he was promoting a business deal with the bell captain and had an appointment with him. That left me alone with Françoise.
“It is so good to see you again, M’sieur Victor,” she said.
“It’s good to see you too, Françoise.” I really meant it, since I was seeing more of her than I'd managed to see when we’d made love at night atop the Eiffel Tower. She was wearing her working clothes now: a semi-transparent shortie nightgown and lots of luscious bare skin. I restrained myself from picking up where we’d left off that night in Paris. It took some doing, since the way she was undulating that provocatively fleshy body of hers said all too clearly that that was what she expected me to do. I sat down in a chair across from her, rather than on the bed where she was, and turned our conversation back to business. “So now you’re going to get all of the estate left to Brigitte Kelly,” I remarked. “You certainly are going to be a very wealthy girl.”
“All of it? What about Gina? What about Barbara?”
“Gina has renounced her share. And Barbara is dead.”
“Dead!” She was plainly shocked at the news.
“Yes.” I told her what had happened in Lisbon. “That’s why I‘m sticking here with you until we can make other arrangements,” I concluded. “Oh, by the way,” I voiced a sudden thought. “I never did have a chance to really talk to Barbara before her death. I never got to ask her that question I asked you in Paris, the question Gina refused to answer and you refused to answer.”
“What question is that?”
“Just why Brigitte Kelly named you three as her heirs. Remember, you said I should ask Barbara, that she was the only one who wouldn’t object to telling me.”
“And now Barbara is dead.”
“That’s right. Will you tell me, Françoise?”
“All right.” She turned her head away, and her voice was very low when she spoke. “We were Brigitte‘s lovers.”
“What?”
“That’s right. Brigitte was a lesbian. At different times each of the three of us was her lover. It made working in this place much easier for a girl if she was Brigitte’s lover. I didn’t want to do it, and I was ashamed of myself after it was over. I didn’t swing that way, you see. It disgusted me. With a man—anything was all right with me. I was never ashamed for selling my body to a man. But with a woman -- that repelled me. Still, I did it. And I wasn’t the only one. Gina, I think, felt the same way I did, but she went along with Brigitte, too. Only Barbara did it because she liked it. And even Barbara didn’t like it with Brigitte. You see, Brigitte was pretty fat and disgusting in the years just before her death. And she wasn’t too clean when it came to matters of personal hygiene. Still, it was not so bad for Barbara, I guess. After all, she was a lesbian. Yet we were all surprised when Brigitte named us as her heirs. Even when we had sex with her, she had always treated us like dirt.”
“Well, that clears that up. It was a long time ago, and all the money you’re going to get should help salve the guilt you feel.” I was struck by a sudden biological urge. “Is there a john here?” I asked Françoise.
“At the end of the hall.”
I walked over and checked the window. There were heavy wooden shutters on the outside of it. I bolted them. “Lock the door behind me,” I told Françoise as I started for the john. I waited in the hallway outside the door until I heard the lock click. Only then did I move off to the bathroom.
Less than three minutes later, I was back in front of the door to Françoise’s room. I knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Silence. “ Françoise?” I called. More silence. “ Françoise?” Louder this time. My voice bounced off the door, and that was all. “ Françoise! Françoise!” I was shouting now. Still she didn’t reply.
I backed off from the door and slammed into it with all my weight. Again. And once again. On the fourth try it gave a little. On the fifth I went crashing into the room.
She was lying huddled on the floor against one wall. One look and I knew she was dead. Blood was still oozing from the wound in her neck. Only a knife could have made a wound like that. But there was no knife in sight.
I checked the window. The shutters were still bolted. And the door had been locked. I checked the room. No knife. Then how had Françoise been stabbed to death?
I left the room, closing the door behind me. I went out of the house and found a phone booth. I got the number of Dombey of Dover from Information. A moment later I was connected with Tarleton.
He started talking as soon as he heard my voice. Still rocky from the shock of Françoise’s murder, I didn’t interrupt him.
“Complications, Victor. Gina Moretti is here with me right now. She’s split up with her husband. She’ll probably get an alimony settlement, but in Switzerland that could take a long time. Particularly since her husband isn’t cooperating, and he wields considerable influence in that country. The upshot is that she’s come to London to claim her share of the inheritance. However, strictly speaking, she isn’t entitled to it anymore. Remember, she sent us a signed and notarized waiver. If Françoise Laval wanted to be difficult, I don’t think Miss Moretti will have a leg to stand on. I’ve just been sitting here with her trying to explain it, and—”
“Don’t bother,” I interrupted. “ Françoise Laval is dead.”
“What?!”
I told him what had happened. “I think you’d better come down here,” I said. “I'm going to need someone to help me with the local cops.”
“I’ll be right there. I’ll bring Miss Moretti with me. We don’t want to take any chances with her now.”
“I’ll be waiting.” I hung up.
It didn’t take them long. Gina looked as sexy and voluptuous as ever when they entered Françoise’s room. And she hadn’t gotten any shyer, either. “Steve! Darling!” Ignoring the corpse, she threw herself into my arms and began rubbing around as if Tarleton too were dead.
The fact is he didn’t notice. He was too busy puzzling over the murder. “Just like the way Brigitte Kelly was killed," he mused. “A locked room, a corpse with a stab-wound in the back, and no murder weapon. But how? How was she killed?”
“It beats me." I sniffed. Suddenly my nostrils had detected a faint odor they'd missed before--the odor of garlic! I moved about the room. It grew fainter, then stronger. I moved over to where it seemed to be strongest, my eyes darting about. And then they stopped darting because I knew! I knew how Brigitte Kelly had been killed! I knew how Françoise Laval had been killed!
Almost, I blurted it out. But I caught myself. If I was right, then mentioning it aloud would be sure to tip the killers off. No, the thing to do was to trap them. And I had the perfect bait. Gina Moretti! The only person standing between them and three million dollars now!
“Tarleton, would you do me a favor?” I asked.
“Of course, old chap.”
“Would you call the police for me?”
“You mean you haven’t called them yet? For Heaven’s sake, why not?”
“Well, I’m a foreigner in a strange country. I think it would sound better coming from you.”
“My God, it’s not an invitation to tea, you know!” he grumbled. “Oh, all right. I’d better go do it right away. You stay here with Gina."
“Check.” I watched him go. When he was out of sight, I turned to Gina. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” I said. “I’ve been running to the john all night. And now I absolutely have to go again. You’ll be all right if I leave you alone for a few minutes, won't you?”