I got to my feet and began to pace up and down. I felt I was at last getting somewhere.
I went over in my mind the conversation I had had with Carlo. He had admitted that he was in Sorrento at the time Helen died. Why had he been there? I couldn't believe he had gone there deliberately to kill Helen. If he had wanted to kill her he could have done it in Rome instead of going all the way to Sorrento. With my mind working like a buzz-saw, I continued to pace up and down. It was several minutes before I remembered the photograph I had seen in Myra's lounge of her in a white swimsuit and which had looked vaguely familiar to me. It was then that I remembered the lone, inaccessible villa built into the cliff face I had seen when I had been looking for Helen. I remembered I had seen a girl, half-hidden by a sun umbrella, who had been sitting on the terrace of the villa. I was sure now that the girl had been Myra Setti.
If Myra owned the villa, Carlo would probably go down there quite often, and that would probably account for the fact that he had been there when Helen had arrived.
I told myself I'd take another look at this villa, after I had attended the inquest.
Feeling I had got as far as I could with Carlo, I aimed my attention to Sarti. There was only one way to make; him hold off, and that was to throw a scare into him, but I didn't kid myself I could do it. If anyone could throw a scare into him, Carlo could, and I suddenly grinned. It seemed to me to be a good idea to play Carlo off against Sarti. It was in Carlo's interest for me to keep clear of the police.
Without hesitation, I dialled Myra's number. Carlo answered the call himself.
"This is Dawson," I said. "I want to talk to you in a hurry. Where can we meet?"
"What's it all about?" he demanded, his voice suspicious.
"Our arrangement for Friday can blow up," I said. "I can't talk over an open line. We've got competition."
"Yeah?" There was a snarl in his voice that I wished Sarti could hear. "Okay. Meet me at the Pasquale Club in half an hour."
I said I would be there and hung up.
I looked out of the window. It was raining again, and as I put on my raincoat the telephone bell rang.
"There's a call for you from New York," the operator told me. "Will you hold on?"
I guessed it was Chalmers and I was right.
"What the hell's happening?" he demanded when he came on the line. "Why haven't you called me?"
I was in no mood to take anything from him right at this moment. It was because he hadn't bothered to keep any kind of control over his rotten little daughter that I was in this jam.
"I haven't time to keep calling you," I snapped back. "But now you're on the line, you may as well know that we're heading for a scandal and a stink that even you won't be able to keep off the front pages of every paper except your own."
I heard him draw in his breath sharply. I could imagine his face turning purple.
"Do you know what you're saying?" he demanded. "What the devil …?"
"Listen: I've got a date and I'm in a hurry," I broke in. "I have indisputable proof that your daughter was a drug addict and a blackmailer. She went round with degenerates and criminals and was Menotti's mistress. It's common talk that it was she who put the finger on him, and she was probably murdered because she was fool enough to try to blackmail his killer."
"My God! You'll be sorry for this," Chalmers bellowed. "You must be drunk or insane to talk this way to me. How dare you tell such lies! My daughter was a good, decent girl ..."
"Yeah, I've heard that one before," I broke in impatiently. "But wait until you see the evidence. I have a list of names of fifteen men with whom she was intimate and whom she blackmailed because she had to have money to buy drugs. This isn't something I've dreamed up. Carlotti knows. There's a private dick who has been shadowing her ever since she arrived in Rome, and he has pages of evidence with dates and details that you can't shout off."
There was a sudden silence at the other end of the line and, for a moment, I thought we had been cut off but, listening carefully, I could hear his heavy breathing.
"I'd better come out," he said at last, and in a much milder tone. "I'm sorry I bawled at you, Dawson. I should have known you wouldn't say anything against my daughter without proof. This is a shock to me. Perhaps it's not so bad as it sounds."
"This isn't the time to kid yourself," I said. "This is a mess and we've got to face it."
"I'm tied up until Thursday," he said, all the iron out of his voice by now. "I'll be in Naples on Friday. Will you meet me?"
"If I can I will, but things are happening so fast, I can't look that far ahead."
"Can't you talk to Carlotti? Can't we get an adjournment at the inquest? I've got to have time to study this thing."
"It's a murder case," I said. "There's nothing either of us can do."
"Well, try. I'm relying on you, Dawson."
I grinned mirthlessly at the opposite wall. I wondered how much longer he would rely on me. I wondered what he would say and do if I told him I was one of the fifteen men who had fooled around with his precious daughter.
"I'll talk to him," I said, "but I don't think he'll listen."
"Who killed her, Dawson?"
"A guy called Carlo Manchini. I can't prove it yet, but I'm going to have a try. It's my bet he killed Menotti and your daughter sold Menotti to him."
"This is fantastic." He really sounded as if he had taken a knock. "Anything I can do at this end?"
"Well, if you can get the boys to dig into Menotti's background," I said, "they might turn up something useful. See if they can get anything on Manchini and Setti. I want a hookup between those two. See if they can get any dope on what Helen was up to and if she did go to Menotti's apartment."
"I can't do that!" His voice rose to a shout. "I don't want anyone to know about this thing! This has got to be hushed up, Dawson!"
I laughed.
"You have as much hope of hushing this up as you've got in keeping an H-bomb explosion quiet," I said, and dropped the receiver back on its cradle.
I waited for a brief moment, then put a call through to police headquarters. I asked if Lieutenant Carlotti was on duty. The desk sergeant said he thought he was in his office. He told me to hold on. After about a minute wait, Carlotti came on the line.
"Yes, Signor Dawson?" He sounded smooth and unexcited. "Is there anything I can do for
you?"
"I'm just checking on the inquest. It's at eleven-thirty. That right?" I said.
"That is right. I am flying down to-night. Do you wish to come with me?"
"Not to-night. I'll catch the early morning plane. How's the investigation going?"
"Satisfactory."
"No arrest yet?"