She looked questioningly up at Philippe again.
‘Your husband is a very clever man,’ he said. ‘He obviously got someone to impersonate you on Sunday afternoon and Monday morning so that he would have a perfect alibi and the authorities would know where to look for your body.’
‘But who could he have got to do it?’ Alice asked, then, furrowing her eyebrows she said, ‘Wait a minute… something’s coming back to me. Remember I told you how I thought that Ross and Alex had carried me by my feet and shoulders, and that there was something strange about Alex? Well I remember now. Alex was wearing my yellow suit and a blond wig!’
‘Surely you are not saying a man could have impersonated you?’ Philippe scoffed. ‘I do not believe it. You are much too feminine. No man could ever come close!’
‘Thanks for the compliment,’ Alice said, ‘but you don’t know Alex. When he first came to work for us, I suspected he was just a tiny bit effeminate. To be honest, I thought Ross had chosen someone like that specially so that I would feel safe when he was away, I was flattered. Now I come to think of it though, he’s about my size and I can easily see him being able to pass for me in the right clothes and a wig.’
‘But what about your beautiful eyes?’ Philippe persisted. ‘He could never imitate those!’
‘Sunglasses!’ Alice said triumphantly. ‘Let’s face it, every woman with long blond hair and sunglasses looks exactly the same. It’s the classic stereotype! Even men with sunglasses and long blond hair sometimes get whistled at in the street. All anyone ever sees is the hair and the glasses, not the face or the figure.’
‘Maybe you are right, but for now it does not matter anyway. What matters is that he has established a perfect alibi for himself and no one is going to believe he tried to kill you.’
‘You’re right,’ Alice sighed. ‘But you know, I still can’t believe he did it. What possible reason could he have?’
‘I can think of about five hundred million reasons,’ Philippe said menacingly.
‘You’re kidding. You think it’s my money he’s after?’
‘Certainly, what else? How long ago was it that you inherited your father’s company?’ he asked.
‘About four months,’ Alice answered slowly. ‘It was just before the school holidays.’
‘And how long do you think it would have taken him to plan the perfect murder?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Then I will tell you… about four months.’
Alice looked away, trying to come to terms with what he was saying. ‘But I’m always giving him money! If he wanted more that badly, why didn’t he just ask me for it?’
‘Because he wanted it all, not just some of it,’ Philippe said. Then shaking his head, he added, ‘He must have an incredible ego.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because only someone with a massive ego would put his wishes above the life of another person, and, he is supremely confident. Read the rest of it.’
Turning back to the paper, Alice read, ‘Monsieur Webley hurried back to Chamonix on Tuesday to help in the search for his wife, but found that due to bad weather conditions on the glacier, the search was about to be suspended. Determined to find her, Monsieur Webley put out a radio appeal for volunteers to form a search party and offered a reward of ten thousand Euros. Answering his call, hundred of men with dogs are now scouring the Mer de Glace in search of Madame Webley and the reward money. As darkness fell last night, no sign of the missing woman had been discovered.’
‘You’re right,’ Alice said angrily. ‘He’s so damn sure I’m on that glacier and so desperate to prove me dead so he can collect the money, he’s willing to do anything, including risking other people’s lives. But it’s going to backfire on him.’
‘In what way,’ Philippe asked.
‘Because he’s given me the perfect excuse to divorce him, and he won’t get a dime.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Philippe said quietly, sitting down opposite her. ‘Like I said before, no one is going to believe you survived being thrown out of a plane. When you do eventually go home, he will just look like a concerned husband who has been searching for his lost wife, not a murderer. You, on the other hand, could be made to look very bad.’
Alice was shocked and asked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Imagine what a clever lawyer could do with the situation,’ he said. ‘While the loyal Sir Ross desperately searches the mountains for his lost wife, sparing no expense, offering a large reward, the unfaithful Lady Webley is shacked up in the south of France with another man.’
‘That’s outrageous!’ Alice snapped.
‘Maybe, but he could easily turn the whole thing around and divorce you for adultery. He could claim half of your company and maybe even get custody of Charles.’
‘But nothing has happened!’ Alice insisted.
‘We know that,’ Philippe said, ‘but who are they going to believe, a seemingly adulterous wife making wild accusations of attempted murder, or a dedicated, heroic husband?’
‘There must be some way of proving what he did to me,’ Alice said angrily. ‘We can’t just let him get away with it! If he ever got his hands on Sanderson’s it would be a disaster! It’s not so much the money I’m worried about, it’s the stability of the company and the job security of thousands of people, I have a responsibility to them. He would spend money like a drunken sailor and the company would be bankrupt within a year! And another thing, the only way he’d ever get Charles is over my dead body!’
‘Calm down,’ Philippe said. ‘We will find a way to stop him. We have a little time to think about it while they search the glacier. After all, they are not going to find you, are they? Let’s have our breakfast, do some shopping, then we can talk about it again later. I am sure we will be able to think of something.’
Alice sighed and put the paper down. ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘you’re the doctor.’
By coincidence, David Wiseman was reading a translated version of the same syndicated story in The Times while he ate his breakfast on the Calais-Dover ferry. To say he was both shocked and highly suspicious would have been an understatement. He put the paper down, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to get his thoughts in order.
Ever since he’d left old lady Schutz in Weggis, his FBI-trained mind had been going over and over what she’d told him, trying to rationalize her very strong arguments. He could easily believe, having met Webley, that he was capable of murder. He’d met his type plenty of times before. And now, he thought, the second wife, who just happens to be worth five hundred million dollars, has mysteriously disappeared. That’s mighty convenient for Webley.
He put his glasses back on and re-read the story, hoping to pick up something he might have missed, but there was nothing. He knew for sure that Webley was on the boat on Sunday night, because that was where he’d met him. He was also sure Webley would have a watertight alibi for the whole of Monday. That meant there had to be someone else involved, someone who could bump his wife off and make it look like an accident. But one thing was certain, from what he’d learnt and seen of Webley, this was no accident.
He was still thinking it through when the announcement was made asking all foot passengers to make their way to the rear of the ferry for disembarkation.
The two men who had been following David had switched roles during the sailing. The man who had been driving the car now followed him onto the courtesy bus and into the terminal building, where he stood in line at the Avis car rental desk while David filled out a form. As soon as the tail had noted the registration number of the rental car, he hurried out of the door and joined his colleague in their car outside. David came out a few minutes later struggling with his luggage, and after looking around for a moment, headed across the road to the small lot where the rental cars were parked. He soon found the blue Rover, stowed his luggage, and gingerly pulled away from the ferry terminal in the unfamiliar right-hand-drive car, following the signs for London. His tails followed, still at a discreet distance.