‘But why did you send for me?’ asked Dame Beatrice. ‘I told Honfleur the Chinese stuff was stolen.’
‘To ask you to help me if Vittorio ever find out where I am living now. I was afraid of him, but now – no more!’
CHAPTER 15
So Does Basil Honfleur
« ^ »
Well, that was a tale and a half, if you like!’ said Laura, when, leaving a greatly comforted Conradda, they were on their way home. ‘How much of it was moonshine, do you suppose?’
‘We may find that out when we have had another talk with Basil Honfleur.’
‘Yes. If what Conradda says is true, Honfleur certainly had not finished with Vittorio when he told us he had sacked him.’
‘Let us examine her story and see exactly what she has told us.’
‘It hasn’t helped much, has it?’
‘Well, as you point out, if what she said is true, it does not look as though Basil Honfleur has been entirely frank with us.’
‘And you think he’s been in cahoots all the time with Vittorio over this thieving and smuggling racket. In other words, he has never been the innocent party he pretends to be. Even allowing for the fact that he may be going to lose his job when this merger takes place, it hardly seems worth the risk, especially as it put him in Vittorio’s power.’
‘People have different ways of looking at these things. As for Conradda, well, it appeared that she knew nothing of Vittorio’s death.’
‘It’s not important either way, is it?’
‘Not unless she killed him.’
‘Oh, not any red herrings, please!’
‘I apologise. Next, Conradda stated very definitely that she knows a gang of thieves and smugglers have been in operation and that the stolen antiques are sent to Ireland and on to America.’
‘Means the thieves must have clients over there who are willing to buy as soon as the stuff is landed.’
‘Yes, that much is clear. Then she told us that Honfleur visited her – and this is where I find her story difficult to credit – and asked her to hide his stolen property. That, I think, was a lie.’
‘Very hard to swallow, certainly. I thought so at the time she said it.’
‘She has a devious mind. Then she went on to tell us what is much more likely to be the truth.’
‘That Honfleur tried to flog her some of his hot merchandise. The question, I suppose, is whether he knew it was hot when he bought first of all from Vittorio. After that, of course, he was completely trapped and had to carry on. So we tackle Honfleur again and push him hard, I take it.’
‘That depends upon how the interview goes. At any rate it should be an interesting one. Have you ever wondered why the drivers Noone and Daigh were murdered?’
‘I thought that’s what we’ve been wondering ever since the board of directors called you in to investigate their disappearance. It seems clear enough, I think, that they must have got wind of the thieving and smuggling, kicked up about it, or, at any rate, refused to co-operate, and so had to be liquidated because they knew too much and were honest men. Isn’t that the way you see it? That makes it all the more certain, to my mind, that Knight was implicated, otherwise he’d have been killed as well. Do you think Knight carried out the murders and not Vittorio?’
‘I do not think it was Knight who hit upon the hiding-places for the bodies.’
‘But it was Knight who murdered Vittorio, wasn’t it?’
‘Well, thieves have fallen out before now. What intrigues me is that the scene of operations shifted to Scotland as soon as Knight reported for duty at the end of his so-called sick-leave. I am also interested in the fact that his disappearance lasted such a comparatively short time.’
‘What do you deduce from that?’
‘Only that it was unnecessary for him to disappear for a longer period,’ said Dame Beatrice, leering aggravatingly at her secretary. ‘It all begins to fall into place rather nicely,’ she added. ‘And now for Basil Honfleur.’
‘You think he’s Carstairs, don’t you?’ said Laura suddenly. Dame Beatrice surveyed her with admiration and amusement.
‘I have never had much doubt about that,’ she said.
‘Then – then…’ said Laura.
‘Yes, you are right about that, too,’ Dame Beatrice assured her, but without mentioning the subject about which Laura had guessed correctly.
‘One thing occurs to me,’ said Dame Beatrice when she and Laura and the bodyguard were seated in Honfleur’s office, ‘and that is the recollection of a sentence in your letter which resulted in Conradda Mendel’s visit to you when you invited us to dinner.’
‘Oh, yes? I don’t remember putting anything of importance in the letter.’ He shifted his position in his chair.
‘You do not remember specifying that I should bring with me somebody who had an interest in ceramics?’
‘Oh, that! What of it? It was only because I thought it only fair that Vittorio should have an opponent when it came to putting a value on those delftware dishes I suggested you should bring with you.’
‘So Vittorio guessed, if he did not already know, that Miss Mendel was an expert in that field, did he not?’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea.’
‘Well, but, immediately the visit was over, Vittorio persuaded Miss Mendel to go with him to his lodging so that she could inspect a very valuable collection of Chinese pottery.’
‘I see nothing significant in that.’
‘Subsequently you yourself called at her London shop and put two rather extraordinary suggestions to her.’
‘Good Lord!’ said Honfleur, with an unconvincing shout of laughter. ‘You make me sound like Casanova!’
‘Such was not my intention. First you made the strange suggestion that she should hide some property for you —’
‘I never did!’
‘Which you either knew or suspected had been stolen —’
‘Never! Who’s been telling these lies?’ There was no doubt about his discomfiture.
‘And when, very sensibly, she refused, as you must have known she would, you then tried to sell her some of the stolen goods. Jade carvings and jewelled snuff-boxes were mentioned, I believe. At this, she became so much alarmed that she sold up her businesses and fled to America, where, I presume, she has friends.’
‘This is all moonshine, you know. I mean, whether she sold up and went to America is beside the point. For all I know, she herself may have been a receiver of stolen goods and was afraid the police were after her. Nothing would surprise me less, but to suggest that I had anything to do with any doubtful transactions is not only derisible, it’s actionable and I don’t advise you to repeat it.’
‘Your advice comes a little late in the day.’
‘What! You don’t mean you have repeated it? If you have, I’ll sue you.’
‘Why not sue the police while you are about it? Sit down and refrain from agitation. We know all about Mr Carstairs, I may tell you.’
‘Carstairs? I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ It was a bold attempt at bluster, but Honfleur’s cheeks had fallen in, his lips were trembling and his tell-tale hands were being clasped and unclasped in the agitation against which Dame Beatrice had advised him.
‘While we have been talking,’ she said, ‘my guardian angel, from his modest seat near the door, has taken one or two photographs of you. The light is excellent in here. When these photographs are shown to Mr and Mrs MacGregor White, Carstairs’ next-door neighbours, I have no doubt they will recognise an acquaintance who sometimes is at Saighdearan and sometimes – possibly more often – is not.’
‘Look,’ said Honfleur, after a long pause during which Dame Beatrice regarded him with the bright gaze of a bird waiting for a worm, ‘I’d better tell you all about it. One thing I swear. I swear it on my soul.’