Trouble in the Alps, page 11
“I don’t want to hear it,” Margot said quickly. She shuddered. “I am just glad it wasn’t me finding her. Poor Eva. She must have drunk too much alcohol and then climbed up that rickety ladder…” She turned to Atalanta. “The doctor is looking at the body right now. They have carried it to her room. Dieter and I were supposed to go on an outing today but I am not certain it is entirely appropriate with this sudden death…”
Raoul said, “We had also made plans.” He glanced at Atalanta. “There is really nothing we can do for poor Eva now, and it is not like we knew her that well. She was just another guest here.”
Theresa looked up at them. “She was not just another guest. She was a friend. We spent a lot of time together. We had even decided that we would—” She fell silent and glanced at Raoul. Then she said to Margot, “Remember ETAM?”
Margot flushed. “That was just a silly little idea. Nothing serious.”
Atalanta assumed that Margot was now even more convinced she had done the right thing not accepting the pills Eva had tried to push on her for analysis. She had seemed eager not to get involved in anything dubious going on at the hotel.
“ETAM?” Raoul queried.
Atalanta was not sure if he was pretending to be in the dark about the meaning of the acronym, or if he had already forgotten what she had told him about it earlier. To avoid discussion, she waved a hand at him and said vaguely, “A project Eva discussed with us. Something she had read about in the newspaper. She was very interested in it. Enthusiastic about it. It is difficult to believe she can actually be dead.”
Margot clutched her purse. “I had better go back to Dieter and tell him we are staying here for the day. He can do some paperwork and I will get back to my novel. I do hope I can get a few words down with all this excitement.”
She turned and left the room. Theresa looked after her with an angry expression. “I don’t think Margot is that sad,” she observed snidely. “After all, Eva was flirting with her husband.”
Atalanta looked at Theresa. “Is that so?”
“You must have noticed yourself. She changed when he was around. She sort of … acted a little silly. I guess she was just always attracted to older men.”
Atalanta recalled Margot telling her about the conversation between her husband and Eva that she had observed from her window. A secretive conversation. Eva had assured her it had been her husband inquiring after her health because he cared so much about her. But what about the exchange yesterday at the reception desk? The one Atalanta had seen with her own eyes? It had left her with the impression that the interaction was not a concerned man asking for a report on his wife’s health.
What had actually happened in the reading room? How had Eva fallen off the ladder? Theresa had suggested a dizzy spell, brought on by too much alcohol. Eva had drunk wine at dinner and at least two cocktails over bridge while Atalanta had been in the room, but she had retired to bed around ten-thirty and Eva might have continued drinking after that.
Had she even fallen off the ladder? Theresa had only assumed Eva had fallen because her body had been found at the foot of the ladder, but what if it hadn’t been an accident?
Had she been in an argument with someone? Perhaps there had been an altercation that had taken a violent and tragic turn? Eva seemed like the kind of person who provoked strong feelings in others.
Atalanta couldn’t help thinking of Franco trying to get a little too personal with her in that very reading room. Had he also tried his charms on Eva? He had been flirting heavily with her while serving drinks during the bridge game and could have followed her to the reading room later to see if she was open to more.
Atalanta tried to imagine the scene: Eva rejecting him, laughing at him because she felt above a flirtation with a bartender. Had he become angry and hurt her?
Theresa dabbed her eyes with a damp handkerchief. “Margot could not stand Eva. She only pretended to be friendly to her. It wasn’t just the way Eva behaved with her husband but also that she was so young and full of life. Margot can’t accept that other people can travel and do things while she is always chained to this old boring hotel and writing her books. She acts like she enjoys writing them because she lives vicariously through them as it were, but I don’t believe her.”
Atalanta nodded, more to keep Theresa talking than to actually affirm her words. It was odd how Theresa had seemed to support Margot against Eva’s unkind attacks when they had been in the village together but now she seemed to have turned against her, painting her in an ungenerous light. But perhaps the shock of finding her friend dead on the floor and assuming she had cried for help without getting any had done something to her. Perhaps it had created a new loyalty that was making Theresa lash out at others who had not been on good footing with Eva?
Maurizio came to the door. He looked in and saw Theresa sitting there with them. He cleared his throat as if he were uncomfortable. “I would like to speak to Signorina Ford a moment. Alone?”
Atalanta glanced at Raoul and then left the room to follow Maurizio down the corridor. He stopped and looked about him to ascertain they weren’t being overheard. Then he said in a low voice, “The doctor looked at the body. She wasn’t killed by an injury sustained in a fall from the ladder. He thinks she was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” Atalanta echoed. She had not expected that at all. It did not fit with her assumptions that the death, if not accidental, had been the result of an impulse during an altercation. Poison suggested premeditation, and that opened up a whole different field of suspects.
“Yes, he can tell by looking at her features – her eyes or something.” Maurizio waved a hand in the air. “There was a cup of tea with her in the room – some horrible herbal concoction like the ones she was always trying to push on other people. The doctor called the police from the reception desk and they will come to take the tea away for investigation.” He clenched his hands. “This is very unfortunate. Raoul is supposed to be recovering in peace, not with a police inquiry going on next door.”
“I am sorry to hear that, but why are you telling me?” Atalanta’s heart beat fast. She expected him to face her and tell her any minute that he had known all along who she really was and that he wanted her to investigate the case discreetly so there would be no scandal involving his uncle’s name.
But Maurizio said, “You must break the news to Raoul gently. He cannot suffer another shock. I will talk to the police as soon as they get here and explain that they must avoid questioning him if they can. His health is all that matters.”
“I am afraid the police will not agree. For them, all that matters is the fact that a guest in this hotel was murdered. They will want to know who did it and why, and they will do everything in their power to arrive at a resolution of the case.”
“You sound almost as if you have experienced this before,” Maurizio said with a keen look.
“I uh … was a guest at the wedding of the Comte de Surmonne in the South of France. That is where Raoul and I met. The mother of the comte’s first wife died on his wedding day, from a fall in the family tomb. She wanted to look at her daughter’s resting place and … it was at first assumed to have been an accident, but then they suspected murder. As you can imagine, the wedding was called off and all the guests were thrown into turmoil. So I know first-hand how disruptive such a police investigation can be.”
“I see. And Raoul was there too?” Maurizio looked even more agitated now. “The experience of being part of a new murder investigation could jog his memory.”
It didn’t seem like he was too pleased at the idea. Again, Atalanta wondered what Maurizio was hiding. Had Eva been right and he had somehow orchestrated the accident to take Raoul’s place on the team? Did the pills Eva found prove that Maurizio was drugging him?
But Margot had refused to take the pills to her doctor to analyse. What had Eva done next to get help elsewhere?
Atalanta held her breath when she imagined a scenario in which word had got back to Maurizio about what Eva suspected. Or had she confronted Maurizio face-to-face and accused him of what she suspected? Had he taken steps to silence Eva before things went any further?
Had he known she had been poisoned well before the doctor had said it, because he had been the one who slipped the poison into her tea? Atalanta could hardly believe that he would be standing here talking to her about the death without betraying any guilt, but then, she had faced killers before and they had looked like nice, normal people. No one would have suspected them of having an evil bone in their bodies.
And Maurizio came from a family associated with crime. If he was hiding something about Raoul’s accident, then he had every reason to want to keep it quiet, to hide it, even from his uncle.
Or especially from his uncle? Had his own life been on the line because Eva had been digging around, and had he decided that killing her was the only viable solution? It was a risk but perhaps he was confident the police would not be able to work out who had done it. There were plenty of suspects around…
Maurizio said, “Do keep an eye on Raoul as this whole thing starts to unfold. We don’t want him getting worse.”
But what if Maurizio did want him to get worse? The murder could be meant to kill two birds with one stone: remove the threat Eva posed with her enquiries and cause Raoul to relapse.
A staff member came to tell Maurizio that an inspector of police was on his way up, and he took his leave. Atalanta went back to Raoul and stood at the window watching as the cart ascended to the metal platform where Maurizio was waiting to meet the new arrival. He paced nervously back and forth but when the cart came into sight, he stood tall and motionless, as if this were any normal visitor. The man exiting the cart was short and stocky. His hair was invisible under a green felt hat decorated with a bird feather. He wore an ill-fitting green jacket and carried a rifle over his shoulder. He looked more like a hunter than a policeman.
Maurizio shook his hand and guided him to the hotel, talking busily and with many expressive hand gestures.
Atalanta saw the cable car begin to lower back down. She kept staring at the track, deep in thought, when she suddenly spied Franco, carrying a satchel and hurrying towards the departing funicular. He went to the platform and used steps on the side to clamber down. It looked quite perilous, and she held her breath. What was he doing?
Then she understood. On their way up she had seen it. Beside the track there was a set of very basic metal steps that could be used by workers to do repairs on the track, but with the snow still covering these higher regions it had to be very slippery and dangerous. Why would Franco risk so much to get away from the hotel without using the cart?
She excused herself to Raoul and ran down the hall then out of the hotel. She reached the platform to find Franco had only progressed a few steps down. He looked terrified and doubtful. The satchel had slipped off his shoulder and dangled against his leg.
“Franco!” she called out to him. “Don’t do this! There is no need to run away!”
He looked up at her. “How do you know?”
“I know you were flirting with Eva. Perhaps you even had an affair?” She waited a moment and added, “Perhaps you met in the reading room when everyone had gone to bed?”
Franco swallowed hard. “I swear I didn’t do anything to her. She just fainted away in my arms. I put her down on the sofa so she would be comfortable until she came to, but … she was dead.”
Atalanta tried to picture the scene. “You were together when she fainted?”
“Yes. She was in my arms. I was kissing her and … suddenly her body went limp. I put her on the sofa and went to fetch something to revive her. When I returned to the sofa, there was a strange, glassy look in her eyes. I felt for a pulse but there was none.” He blinked fast. “I didn’t know what to do. She was dead. Dead!”
As he spoke, the patch of snow beneath his feet shifted and he almost slipped down. He cried out in anguish. His satchel dropped further to rest against his ankle.
Atalanta said, “You have to come back up here. The climb down will be the end of you. It is not worth the risk. You must tell your story to the inspector.”
“Inspector? He is just a glorified gamekeeper. A man without a brain. He will simply assume I had an affair with her and that I killed her in a lover’s quarrel.”
“Why would you do that?”
“He will only be interested to close the case quickly and save the hotel’s reputation. Herr Dulce will put pressure on him to do so. The Dulces always get what they want.” He slipped again and the satchel fell away into the depths below.
Atalanta cried out, “Come back up here! You need not risk your life. I will help you.”
“What can you do for me?”
“I have influence with Maurizio Dulce. Believe me, I will help you.”
Franco looked doubtful but he was obviously too scared to continue down to the bottom. With great difficulty, he managed to work his way back up to where he could reach the step of the ladder to the platform. He pulled himself up and when he at last stood beside her, Atalanta heaved a sigh of relief.
“That was very foolish,” she scolded. “You could have been killed. Just another pointless death.”
Franco’s eyes were dark. “I work in this hotel as a bartender. I am not a rich guest. I am a nobody. Before you came, there was a theft and a maid, Sylvia, was accused. She ran away to escape the false accusation. She was dismissed without them ever having asked her what happened or ascertaining whether she did it or not. And this is about much more than mere theft. If I am arrested, I will never be free again. They will lock me up for murder.” He stared at her with wide eyes like a panicked animal.
“But you won’t be arrested. Let the police do their investigation.” Atalanta put a hand on his arm. “Eva fainted in your arms because she was poisoned. It was probably put in her tea.”
“Her tea? She drank it before I came into the room. The cup was already empty on the table. I came in and I started kissing her right away. Then she—” Franco stared at her. “Poison, you say?”
“Yes. It will have taken some time to take effect, depending on what it was. But the police will find out about that. You must not lose heart. You must stay here and do your work as you always have.”
“They will question me. What do I say? Do I lie and claim I was never near the reading room? But what if they somehow find out I was? I poured her a drink. My fingerprints must be on the glass.” Franco’s eyes darted in all directions. He looked like a skittish horse about to bolt. “I also arranged her body at the foot of the ladder to suggest she had fallen off it. I had to do something to make it look like an accident.” He dabbed his forehead. “It was probably a stupid thing to do. Now I am certainly the main suspect.”
“I will talk to the police before you do to find out what kind of man this inspector is. I will find out whether he is reasonable and has some insight. Then we can decide what to do.” Atalanta looked Franco over. “Tell me one thing. Did you care for Eva?”
Franco sighed. “What do you mean ‘care for’? At least you do not ask if I loved her. Love is the last thing on the mind of a bartender at a hotel. He can flirt with women. He can even steal a kiss. He can have an affair, if he is lucky. That is all. They are rich and well-positioned. They don’t look at a man like me, not for a real relationship.”
“You see many women here.” Atalanta was reminded of Theresa’s pleading looks at Franco – her obvious interest in him while he had been flirting with Eva. “Why embark on an affair with Eva? She didn’t strike me as particularly … kind in her assessment of people. To her you would certainly never have been more than a temporary distraction.”
“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “But she was lively and energetic. She had wild ideas. She expected big things of life. She wanted to move on in the world. I liked that. She made me believe in my potential. She didn’t promise me anything, never said it would last between us. She was realistic like that. But she did tell me I could aspire to more than just being a bartender here. That was nice.” A smile played around his lips before he became serious again. “Who would have wanted to poison her? What for?”
“We have to find out.” Atalanta began to usher him back to the hotel.
Franco said, “Why would you help me? Why do you care about the risk I took in fleeing?”
“Raoul told me you have been nice to him ever since he came here.” The lie came easily. “He needs support. He has been very glum since his accident. I hate seeing him like that.”
Franco nodded. “I tried to cheer him up but I couldn’t do much. I wasn’t allowed to give him any alcohol or involve him in the card games.”
“What card games?”
“Oh, the gentlemen play high-stakes poker at night. Herr Dulce picked that up from his time in Monaco. Just last night they played a few rounds. Herr Bergreiter lost quite a bit of money. He thinks he is good at the game, but he is usually outsmarted.”
“I see.”
Franco sighed. “The game went on and on which is why I couldn’t get away to meet Eva at the time we had agreed upon. I only came to her after midnight. She was cross because she had waited so long. That’s why I started kissing her right away. I wanted to make her forget her anger and…” He swallowed hard. “I just wanted to have a good time with her. I had no idea that it would end like this.”
“Do not think too much about it. I will see what I can do.” Atalanta touched his arm again before they went inside. “I will help you.”
Chapter Eleven
After telling Raoul what had happened with Franco, Atalanta went to look for the police inspector. It turned out he had taken over Maurizio’s office in order to question people and was currently busy speaking to Theresa about the circumstances under which she had discovered the body.
