“I guess I’ve seen enough,” Conrad said. “If there’s anything to find, your boys will find it.”
“I’ll put that little sentiment in my birthday book and show it to you the next time I pass up a clue,” Bardin said. “Okay, we’ll go down to the pool.”
He went over to the casement windows, opened them and stepped out on to the broad terrace. The full moon was rising and shedding its hard, cold light over the sea. The garden was heavy with the scents of flowers. In the far distance an illuminated fountain made a fairy-land scene below them.
“She went for lights and pretty colours, didn’t she?” Bardin said. “But it didn’t get her anywhere. It’s a pretty crude way to finish your life: having your head hacked off and your belly ripped open. I guess even all this display of wealth wouldn’t compensate me for an end like that.”
“The trouble with you, Sam,” Conrad said quietly, “is you’re class conscious. There are plenty of guys who would envy you your way of life.”
“Show them to me,” Bardin returned with a sour smile. “I’ll trade with them any day of the week. It’s easy for you to shoot off your mouth. You’ve got a glamorous wife, and she can take your mind off things. I’d put up with a shabby home and lousy meals if I’d got me a little glamour. You want to look over my garden fence when the washing is hanging out if you’re interested in female museum pieces. I bet your wife goes in for those nylon nifties that keep knocking my eye out every time I pass a shop window. That’s as close as I’ll ever get to them.”
Conrad felt a sudden wave of irritation run through him. He knew Bardin’s wife. She wasn’t anything to look at; she wasn’t smart, but at least she did try to run her home which was more than Janey ever did.
“You don’t know when you’re well off,” he said curtly, and walked down the gently sloping steps towards the swimming-pool.
III
Close by the forty-foot-high diving-board, Doc Holmes, the two interns, a photographer and four policemen stood on the edge of the swimming-pool, looking down at the water. That section of the water was dyed crimson, the rest of the water was a vivid blue.
As Bardin and Conrad came through the cocktail lounge on to the blue-tiled surround of the pool, Bardin said, “I’ve had one look at this, and I can’t say I’m looking forward to seeing it again.”
They joined the group under the diving-board.
“Well, there she is,” Bardin went on, and waved his hand to the water.
Paul looked at the headless, naked body that lay on the floor of the shallow end of the pool. The savage way it had been mutilated made his stomach suddenly contract.
“Where’s the head?” he asked, turning away.
“I left it where I found it. It was on a table in one of the changing-rooms. Want to look at it?”
“No, thank you. You’re sure it’s June Arnot?”
“No doubt about it.”
Conrad turned to Doc Holmes.
“Okay, Doc, I’ve seen all I want to are. You can get busy now. You’ll let me have a copy of your report?”
Doc Holmes nodded.
Bardin said, “Okay, boys, get her out. Careful how you handle her.”
Three of the policemen moved forward reluctantly. One of them pushed a long boat-hook into the water and groped for the body.
“Let’s talk to Fedor while this is going on,” Conrad said. “Have him up to the house, will you?”
Bardin sent one of the policemen to fetch Fedor.
As he and Conrad mounted the steps on their way back to the house, he asked, “Well, what do you make of it so far?”
“Looks to me as if it was done by someone who is a fairly frequent visitor to the house. The fact he was admitted by the guard puts him out of the stranger class, and the fact he wiped out the whole of the staff who probably could have identified him, points to it too.”
“Unless some maniac got in and ran amok.”
“The guard wouldn’t have opened the gates to him.”
“He might have. Depends on the story the guy told him.”
As they reached the house two policemen came through the front entrance, carrying a stretcher on which was a covered body.
That’s the lot, Lieutenant,” one of them said. The house is clear now.”
Bardin grunted and walked up the steps and down into the patio.
“Do you think Fedor’s in the clear?” Conrad asked as he sat down in a basket chair.
“He’s not the type to cut loose like this. Besides, if he did do it, he’d have to have a damned strong motive. She was his only client, and he made a small fortune out of her.”
“A woman like her would have a lot of enemies,” Conrad said, stretching out his long legs. “Whoever did it certainly hated her guts.”
“She seems to have had some pretty horrible acquaintances,” Bardin said, rubbing his hand across his eyes. “From the hints I’ve picked up from time to time, there was nothing too bad for her to dabble in. Did you know she was supposed to be a special friend of Jack Maurer?”
Conrad stiffened to attention.
“No. How special?”
Bardin grinned. Thought that would make you sit up. I can’t swear to it, but I’ve heard plenty of rumours. She kept it very quiet, but the story has it they were lovers.”
“I wish I could believe that. This is the kind of job Maurer might pull. He’s ruthless enough. Remember that gang massacre he engineered a couple of years back? Seven men machine-gunned against a wall?”
“We don’t know for certain Maurer did pull that one,” Bardin said cautiously.
“Who else did, then? Those men were muscling in on his territory. He had everything to gain by getting rid of them.”
“The Captain wasn’t convinced. He thought it was Jacobi’s mob trying to hang something on Maurer.”
“He knows what I think of that cockeyed theory. It was Maurer, and this killing could fit Maurer too.”
“You’ve got a bug about Maurer,” Bardin said, shrugging. “I believe you’d sell your soul to get him behind bars.”
“I don’t want him behind bars,” Conrad said, a sudden savage note in his voice. “I want him in the chair. He’s been in the world a damned sight too long.”
A policeman came to the patio door, coughed and jerked his thumb expressively.
“Here’s Mr. Fedor, sir.”
Conrad and Bardin got to their feet.
Harrison Fedor, June Arnot’s publicity manager, came across the mosaicpaved floor with a bouncing little rush. He was a small thin man with steady hard eyes, a rat-trap of a mouth and lantern jaws. He grabbed Conrad’s hand and shook it violently.
“Nice to see you here. What’s been happening? Is June all right?”
“Far from it,” Conrad said quietly. “She’s been murdered: she and the whole staff.”
Fedor gulped and his face sagged, then he got hold of himself and sat down in one of the basket chairs.
“You mean she’s dead?”
“She’s dead all right.”
“For God’s sake!” Fedor took off his hat and ran his fingers through his thinning locks. “Dead, eh? Well, goddamn it! I can’t believe it.”
He stared first at Bardin, then at Paul. Neither of the men said anything. They waited.
“Murdered!” Fedor went on after a pause. “What a sensation this is going to be! Phew! I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
“What does that mean?” Bardin growled, his face heavy with disapproval.
Fedor grinned wryly.
“As you didn’t have to work for her for five interminable years you couldn’t know what it means.” He leaned forward and jabbed his forefinger in Bardin’s direction. “I’ll be damned if I’ll cry. Maybe I’ve lost my meal ticket, but I’ve also lost a goddamned pain in the neck. That bitch has been riding me to death. It was either her or me in the long run. I’ve got an ulcer because of her. You don’t know what I’ve had to put up with from that woman!”