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
“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.”
“I’ll survive,” I said. I saw he didn’t look too pleased and I guessed the last three witnesses could have upset his hopes.
“Did you find the man you are after?”
He looked fixedly at me.
“I’m not prepared to answer that question at the moment,” he said, and, nodding curtly, he went away.
I left the coroner’s court and drove back to the hotel. Going up to my room, I put a call through to my Rome office.
Gina told me that she had arranged with the woman who specialized in second-hand clothes to inspect the contents of Helen’s apartment that afternoon.
“It should be cleared by to-morrow,” she told me.
“That’s fine. Is Maxwell there?”
“Yes.”
“Put him on the line, will you.”
“Ed, you should know this: Lieutenant Carlotti has been asking questions about you here,” Gina said.
I stiffened.
“What sort of questions?”
“He asked me if you knew Helen Chalmers. He wanted to know if the name of Mrs. Douglas Sherrard meant anything to me.”
“Did he? What did you say?” I found I was gripping the receiver unnecessarily hard.
“I told him Mrs. Douglas Sherrard meant nothing to me, and that you did know Helen Chalmers.”
“Thanks, Gina.”
There was an awkward pause, then she said, “He also wanted to know where you were on the 29th. I said you were at your apartment working on your novel.”
“That’s what I was doing.”
“Yes.”
There was another awkward pause, then she said, “I’ll put you through to Mr. Maxwell.”
“Thanks, Gina.”
After a moment or so, Maxwell came on the line.
I told him the coroner had adjourned the inquest until Monday.
“What’s biting him then?” Maxwell asked.
“The police think it’s murder.”
He whistled.
“That’s pretty. What makes them think that?”
“They didn’t say. Cable head office and tell them the facts, and ask for guidance. It’s up to the old man whether they print or not. The other papers are certain to cover it.”
“Well, what are the facts?”
“The inquest is adjourned until next Monday as the police want more time to make further inquiries. They have evidence that points to foul play.”
“Okay. Nothing more?”
“That’s all.”
“I’ll handle it. By the way, Ed, you didn’t by any chance bump the girl off, did you?”
I felt like a boxer who has taken a low punch.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, skip it. I was only fooling. That lynx-eyed cop was asking me questions about you and Helen. He seemed to think you knew her better than most.”
“He’s crazy.”
“I guess you must be right, I’ve always thought cops were crazy. Well, so long as you’ve got an easy conscience, why should you care?”
“That’s right. Get that cable off, Jack.”
Maxwell said he’d get it off right away.
“So long,” he said. “Try and keep out of trouble.”
I said I would.
III
