You Find Him – I'll Fix Him

What was he looking for? Certainly not the box of jewels. That had been on the dressing-table and he couldn't have failed to have teen it. Then what had he been looking for?

  After thinking around it for five minutes and getting nowhere I decided to shelve it for the moment and try some other angle that might yield dividends.

  Helen had lived in Rome for fourteen weeks. During that time she had met this man X who eventually became her lover. Where did she meet him?

  I realized then that I knew nothing about Helen's activities in Rome during those weeks. I had taken her out a few times, been to her apartment twice and met her once at a party, but apart from that I had no idea how she had passed her time.

  She had stayed at the Excelsior hotel, and then had rented an expensive apartment off the Via Cavour. Chalmers probably had paid the hotel bill: giving her a little luxury until she had settled down in Rome. It was probable that after staying at the hotel a few days, she was to move into one of the university hostels. Instead, she had moved into an apartment that must have soaked up nearly all of her sixty dollars a week allowance.

  Did this mean that she had met X at the Excelsior, and he had persuaded her to take the apartment, probably paying for it?

  The more I thought about it, the plainer it became that I should have to start this hunt for X in Rome. I knew of a firm of private investigators who had a reputation for thoroughness. It wouldn't be possible for me to dig into Helen's past back-ground without help. My first move would be to consult them. I got to my feet and wandered into Helen's bedroom. I had only glanced into the room previously, but now I examined it in detail.

  I looked at the double bed and felt a little qualm. She had planned this for both of us. I must not lose sight of that. It was obvious to me that her affair with X had petered out and, looking for a new lover, she had selected me. Had she been in love with me or had she been looking for a father for her unborn child? The thought was unsettling, but it was something that was a waste of time to brood on. Only Helen could tell me that, and she was dead.

  Then another idea dropped into my mind. I remembered what Maxwell had said about Helen. She makes a play at arty-thing in trousers. The trouble she gets a guy into! Suppose X had still been in love with her, and she had grown tired of him? Suppose he had found out she had taken this villa and was planning to live here with me? He might have come down to even the score. He might even have thrown' her over the cliff.

  This would be a sweet theory to lay before Chalmers, who was obviously convinced that Helen was a thoroughly decent girl. I couldn't lay it before him without involving myself.

  With this idea nagging at the back of my mind, I spent an hour going through her three suitcases. It was a waste of time, because I knew both Carlotti and Chalmers had been through them and had found nothing. Her clothes carried a faint smell of an expensive perfume that made her memory very alive to me. I was feeling pretty depressed by the time I had completed repacking the suitcases, ready to put in the car when I left.

  I looked over the whole villa, but I found nothing that'd tell me what she had done from the time the village woman had left her arranging the flowers to the time she had died.

  I carried the suitcases down the steps and loaded them on the back seat of the convertible. I returned to the villa and gave myself another drink.

  I told myself that my search must begin in Rome. Here I had found nothing, and as I thought about that, I got another idea. I stood thinking for a moment, then I crossed to the telephone and asked to be connected with Sorrento police headquarters. When I got through, I asked for Lieutenant Grandi.

  'This is Dawson,' I said. 'I forgot to ask you: did you have that film processed? The film in Signorina Chalmers's cine camera?'

  'There wasn't a film in the camera,' he said curtly.

  'No film? Are you sure?'

  'I'm sure.'

  I stared at the opposite wall.

  'If there was no film in the camera, she wasn't using the camera when she died,' I said, speaking my thoughts aloud.

  'That doesn't follow. She could have forgotten to put a film in, couldn't she?'

  I remembered that the indicator on the camera had shown that twelve feet of film had been run off. I knew a little about these cameras, and I knew that when you put a film in, there is a catch that opens the film gate through which you thread the film, and as the gate opens the indicator is automatically set back to zero.

  'I suppose she could,' I said. 'Did Lieutenant Carlotti think anything of it?'

  'What's there to think about?' Grandi snapped.

  'Well, thanks. Just one other thing: there wasn't anything taken from the villa, was there? Besides the jewels, I mean.'

  'We didn't take anything.'

  'Have you finished with the camera and the case? I'm collecting la signorina Chalmers's things now. If I drop by, can I have the camera?'

  'We don't want it any more.'

  'Okay, I'll be along then. So long, Lieutenant,' and I hung up.

  The footage indicator on the camera had shown twelve feet. That meant there had been a film in the camera, and it had been removed by someone who wasn't familiar in handling this type of camera. The film had been forcibly removed, ripping the length of film out of the gate without releasing the gate lock. It meant too that the film had been ruined by taking it out this way, so it followed whoever had taken it out hadn't wished to keep the film. The only purpose for removing the film was to destroy it.

  Why?

  I gave myself another drink. I was suddenly excited. Could this be the clue Chalmers had said I would find, and having found this one, I'd find another?

  Helen wouldn't have ripped the film out of the camera. That was certain. Then who did?

  Then the second clue dropped into my mind the way a leaf floats off a tree.

  I remembered her showing me ten cartons of cine film when I had called at her Rome apartment. I remembered chaffing her about buying so many, and I remembered she had said she intended to use most of the film in Sorrento.

  And yet there wasn't one carton of film in the villa or m her luggage.

  There wasn't even a film in her camera. The police hadn't taken the films. Grandi had said they had taken nothing from the villa.

  Was this the explanation of the intruder I had seen creeping around in the villa? Had he found and taken them? Had he ripped the film from the camera, and then tossed the camera down the cliff face?

  To make absolutely sure, I went over the whole villa again, searching for the cartons of film, but I didn't find them. Satisfied, I locked up the villa, dropped the keys into my pocket, and then, leaving the Lincoln where it was, I walked down the garden path, through the gate and along the path to the cliff head.

  By now it was just after midday and the sun blazed down on me as I walked. I passed the inaccessible villa below. This time I paused to look more closely at it.

  On the terrace, in the shadow of a table umbrella and lying on a lounging chair, I could see a woman in a white swim-suit. She appeared to be reading a newspaper. The edge of the umbrella prevented me from seeing much of her. I could just make out her long, tanned shapely legs, part of the swim-suit and a tanned arm and hand that held the newspaper.

  I wondered vaguely who she was, but I had too many things on my mind to take any interest in her, and I kept on until I reached the place where Helen had fallen.

  Methodically, I searched the path, the rough grass and the surrounding rocks within a thirtyyard radius. I didn't