“With a forged passport.”
“I said a monk, not an angel. On the next day, day four? No, wait a minute. Back to the message, how was it delivered to the hotel? Phone?”
“By messenger service. They said it was dropped off in the office around nine P.M. by a middle-aged woman, Asian, nothing special that they could recall. She wore a scarf of some sort. We’re looking, but I don’t think it will be a fruitful search. There are many such women.”
“Well, they can’t all be Lilley or Lulu, Luis.”
“Alas.”
“So, what we can assume is that someone knew the phony baker was in this hotel within a few hours of his registering.”
“An assumption, but not a bad one.” From his expression, it was clear he hadn’t considered this before.
“Let’s return to day four.”
“He goes out early, smiles at everyone, gives a tip to the doorman. He doesn’t come back until ten thirty at night.”
“Where was he all day?”
“We’re checking.”
“It’s been more than two weeks. Macau is a small place. You’re still checking?”
“In the glory days, we followed people as regularly as you breathe, Inspector. In olden times, we had staff. Now, we only do it if there’s a reason.”
“And a forged passport isn’t a reason?”
“It is, unless it isn’t.”
No sense in going through that door. “You would know if he went to a casino anytime on day four?”
“We would.”
“He didn’t.”
“Again, none of the big ones. As I’ve suggested to you, those are well covered-staff, cameras, whatever. However, there are a few other places, more private. He might have been to one of those.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“I have an open mind.”
“Maybe he went to church and prayed all day? Maybe he left the island?”
“There is a single report of someone of his description arriving on the ferry from Hong Kong Airport, the last one of the evening.”
“Very vague. No follow-up?”
“The ferry was unusually crowded. That Thursday night, a lot of people came in. Plus, the schedule had been disrupted; an earlier boat had engine problems, so they were pressed to overload the final one.”
“Lucky it didn’t capsize.”
“Lucky.”
“No record of him coming through Immigration? Shouldn’t be hard to find a Dominican passport.”
“He could have used more than one. People do, I hear.” Again, the charming smile. “At eleven fifteen that night, he had a visitor.”
“At last.”
“A Russian.”
“Tall.” I didn’t want it to be the girl I’d met coming down the stairs.
“Seemingly. Well dressed, wearing a coat and a hat and very, very good high heels. It was a chilly evening and had started to rain soon after he returned.”
“You know this was a Russian because…”
“She spoke Russian.”
“Someone heard her?”
“She was overheard, yes.” Luis’s eyes searched the room.
“You have her picture?”
“No. Well, yes, a passport picture was recovered. It had been in the water for several days.”
“In the water. Something else you skipped over.” Kim had mentioned it to me; Luis had not.
“You can imagine it was not in the best shape. We can restore it partially, mostly around the edges. We think someone may have scratched out the nose.”
“How was this visit arranged? He called her?”
“No calls. Maybe he met her somewhere during the day and issued an invitation. Maybe they were old friends.”
“I see. An old high-heeled friend waltzed through the lobby at eleven fifteen at night, took the elevator to the executive floor, and no one stopped her? Some security.”
“There are other entrances, other ways. Not everyone wants it known they have such visitors. It could be a problem for some people, I suppose. Besides, eleven fifteen at night is like noon around here.”
“And the next time she is seen, it is in a Pegase 60, or some suitcase, in pieces?”
“Almost.” Luis rubbed his hands together until I thought his long fingers would burst into flames.
“There’s more.”
“Some.”
Luis was not, I could tell from the look on his face, prepared to be much more forthcoming than that. Neither of us said anything, which defeated the purpose of all the soundproofing. Finally, I decided to jump in.
“I heard the woman showed up in pieces a week ago. That she was carried in a matched set of luggage through the hotel lobby at seven A.M., dumped in the harbor in a four-wheeler, a red Lancel which floated for a few days before being picked up by the police, who were tipped off by a Japanese camera crew waiting there to film the whole thing and ask a lot of embarrassing questions. True?”
All right, I added the detail about the Lancel. Major Kim had said the bigger suitcase was red, and I’d seen a red Lancel once at a train station in Paris being pulled along by a tall woman with long legs. You don’t forget a suitcase like that. I figured it couldn’t hurt to wave something specific in front of Luis. Maybe he would tell me I was wrong and let slip a few details. One thing I already knew-the bigger suitcase wasn’t a Louis Vuitton, because Louis didn’t want anything to do with four-wheelers. That wouldn’t have stuck out, except Kim had told me that the murderer had carried out the body in a matched set of luggage. Luis hadn’t mentioned anything like that. Something was beginning not to add up.
Luis seemed to be wondering about the addition, too. He looked puzzled. “I don’t know where you got that, Inspector, but it’s not even close.”
“Which part do I have wrong?”
“This is an open investigation.”
“I thought you said it was an open-and-shut case.”
“We’re still on the open part.”
“One thing we haven’t discussed-Penza. What’s your interest in him?”
“He is a murderer, Inspector. Isn’t that enough?”
“Yes, murder is usually more than enough. Apart from that, I mean. This case has odd crosscurrents. From what you say, there are a lot of questions still unanswered, and yet you already have a confession waiting to be signed. I have to wonder what’s behind this. That a person has bad taste in hotel rooms isn’t a crime, is it?” I stood up. “My best to Lulu.”
