I began to pace the room while I turned over this new information. It looked as if my theory that Carlo had killed Menotti and that Helen had tried to blackmail him was right. But I hadn't as yet a shred of evidence that would convince a jury. It was all theory, but I was moving in the right direction.
I was tempted to go to Carlotti and tell him the whole story. With his organization, there was a chance that he might get at the truth with this theory as a lead.
I resisted the temptation. The moment Carlo learned that I had been to Carlotti, he would produce his mass of evidence against me and that would cook me.
It wasn't the time yet to tell Carlotti the truth. I had to have some real concrete evidence.
I spent the rest of the evening going through Sarti's report again and racking my brain for angles. My hope now, I decided, was to concentrate on Carlo. When I got to Naples, I would go out to Myra's villa and see if I could turn up anything there.
II
Before I caught the first plane out to Naples on Monday morning, I called Gina at her apartment.
"Hello, Ed," she said. "I've been waiting to hear from you. What is happening?"
"Plenty. I can't talk now. I'm in a rush. I'm flying down to Naples in five minutes to attend the inquest. We'll get together when I get back."
"But you keep saying that. I'm sure there is something wrong. I'm worried about you, Ed. Why do you keep avoiding me?"
"I'm not avoiding you! I'm busy! Skip it, will you? I've only got a couple of minutes. Here's what I want you to do. The police have taken the guard off Helen's apartment. The key is with the janitor. Will you get the apartment cleared for me?"
"Yes, of course."
"I'll be back sometime to-morrow and I promise to call you. Can you do something about the apartment to-day?"
"I'll try."
"Tell Maxwell the old man wants it done. He won't raise objections."
"And you will call me when you get back?"
"Yes, of course. So long for now."
I had to run across the tarmac to catch the plane.
I reached Naples soon after ten-thirty. I booked a room for the night at the Vesuvius, had a wash, then took a taxi to the coroner's court.
I was surprised to find I was the only witness to be called. Grandi and Carlotti were there. Grandi gave me a long, gloomy stare and then looked away. Carlotti nodded, but he didn't come over.
Giuseppe Maletti, the coroner, a bald-headed little man with a sharp, beaky nose, avoided meeting my eyes. He kept looking in my direction, but always managed to focus on a spot just above my head at the last moment.
I was called upon to identify Helen's body and to explain why she had been in Sorrento.
The three newspaper men who attended were obviously bored by the proceedings, and their expressions became gloomier as I explained that, as far as I knew, Helen had rented the villa for a month's vacation. There was nothing said about her renting it in the name of Mrs. Sherrard.
As if for something to say, Maletti asked me if I knew if Helen had had a bad head for heights. I was tempted to say she had, but, catching Grandi's sardonic eyes at this moment, I decided it was safer to say I didn't know.
After a few more stock questions that got no one anywhere, Maletti indicated that I could step down. He then called Carlotti.
Carlotti's evidence electrified the three newspaper men and the odd straggler who had come in to pass an hour out of the heat.
He said he wasn't satisfied Helen's death was accidental. He and the Naples police were pursuing certain investigations that would probably prove that Helen had met with foul play. He said their investigations should be successfully concluded by the following Monday, and he would like the inquest adjourned until then.
Maletti looked as if he had been stricken with a sudden attack of toothache. He said he hoped the Lieutenant had substantial reasons for asking for an adjournment, and Carlotti said mildly that he had. After a long hesitation, Maletti granted the adjournment, and scuttled away as if he were scared someone would question his authority for such an action.
The three newspaper men combed Carlorti, but he had nothing to tell them. As they made a bee-line for the door, I blocked their way.
"Remember me?" I said, and smiled at them.
"This is something you can't talk us out of." the reporter for L'Italia del Popolo said. "This is news, and we print."
"Just so long as you print facts, and not opinions," I said. "Don't say I haven't warned you."
They shoved past me and ran for their cars.
"Signor Dawson ..."
I turned.
Grandi was standing at my side. There was a bleak expression in his eyes.
"Hello there," I said.
"Signor Dawson, I hope for your co-operation. We are looking now for the American who was at Sorrento on the day la signorina died. We have found a man who answers to the description we have obtained from witnesses. We are arranging an identity parade. You happen to be of the same height as this man. Would you very kindly consent to be a member of the parade?"
I felt a cold, sinking feeling inside me. "I've got a cable to get off ..."
"It will only take a few minutes, signor," Grandi said. "Please come with me." Two uniformed policemen moved forward, smiling at me. I went with them.
There were ten men already standing in a line: two of them were Americans, one of them was a German, the rest were Italians. They were all shapes and sizes. The two Americans were about my height.
"Merely a matter of a few seconds," Grandi said with the air of a dentist who is about to extract a molar.
A door opened and a thick-set Italian came in. He stood looking along the line, his unshaven face embarrassed. I didn't recognize him, but by his worn overcoat and the leather gauntlet gloves he carried I guess he was the taxi-driver who had driven me from Sorrento to Naples on the mad rush to catch the Rome train.
He looked down the line and his eyes rested on me. I found I was beginning to sweat. He stared at me for about three seconds. They felt like an eternity, then he turned around and went out, slapping his thigh with his gloves.
I wanted to wipe my face, but I didn't dare. Grandi was looking at me and when I met his eyes, he gave me a sour smile. Another Italian was brought in. I knew who he was: he was the attendant at the left luggage office at Sorrento station where I had left my suitcase before walking out to the villa. His eyes swept down the line until they reached me. We stared at each other, then after looking at the other two Americans he went but. Two more men and a woman then came in. I had no idea who they were. They too glanced down the line, their eyes passing over me. They concentrated on one of the Americans at the far end of the line. They stared at him and he stared back, grinning. I envied him his lack of a guilty conscience. I was glad they didn't stare at me as they had at him. I saw Grandi was scowling. Finally they went away.
Grandi indicated that the parade was over. The ten men drifted away.
"Thank you, signor," Grandi said to me as I moved after them. "I am sorry to have detained you."