The Christie Caper - Carolyn Hart [72]
Saulter reached out for the diagram and studied it.
“Not an innocent bystander.” Laurel admired the high gloss of her pink nails.
“Obviously not,” Max agreed. “But it makes our investigation simpler. If Bledsoe’s the victim, the possible perpetrators are on a short list. A very short list.” He picked up the top sheet and flourished it.
A roll of thunder added dramatic emphasis.
Lady Gwendolyn looked toward the balcony in some surprise. “It was quite clear today.”
“Clouds often roll in after dark. Should have a pleasant rain pretty soon.” Max glanced quickly at Annie. She had no trouble reading his thought. If there was anything Max enjoyed as much as an afternoon amatory frolic, it was a rainy night frolic. She gave him a tiny wink.
Lady Gwendolyn pushed back her chair. “Believe I’d better trot to my room. I left the balcony doors open.”
Henny assured her it wasn’t necessary, explaining briskly, “Offshore breeze at night. Balconies face the ocean. The rain won’t blow in.”
Lady Gwendolyn nodded absently. “Good-oh. It’s always best to consult the natives. Now, young Max, let’s take a look at you list.”
Annie scanned the list before handing it to Lady Gwendolyn.
“Why not Fleur Calloway?” Annie asked.
Several voices spoke at once, but Saulter’s predominated. “Seems obvious the gunplay at your bookstore and the roof incident are connected. A little hard to believe in two separate attackers, and Ms. Calloway was definitely inside Death on Demand when the gunfire broke out.”
Lady Gwendolyn studied the list, then looked at Saulter. “I presume you’ve interviewed all the suspects?” Her tone indicated her confidence this was a totally unnecessary question since Chief Saulter obviously was a first-class police official.
Saulter favored her with a weary but pleased smile.
No flies on Lady G. when it came to dealing with men.
Saulter put down his fork, casting a regretful glance at the empty steak-and-kidney pie dish, and heaved a sigh. “Sure. I’ll tell you, those people have got zippers for lips. You’d think they’d taken a crash course in how to talk to the cops and say as little as possible. For Christ’s sake, I’ve never had an investigation where I’ve got as little out of a bunch of suspects. Just name, rank, social security number. Oh, sure, they admit knowing Bledsoe. But nobody will give an inch that they had it in for him. Damn mystery people, they know all the tricks. Good guy/bad guy didn’t work with them. Pretending I knew all about their last run-in with Bledsoe, that didn’t work. I’m up a creek without an oar.”
Lady Gwendolyn put down her wine goblet with a decisive click. “I have in mind a possible solution.”
Everyone looked at her.
“First we must accept the obvious: we face a multi-faceted problem.”
Annie marveled at the force of personality unleashed upon them. Such a dumpy, soft, gentle-looking elderly lady, but there was no mistaking the authority, the eagerness, and the competence with which she faced problems.
“Mr. Bledsoe has survived two murder attempts. We must forestall a third.” Her tone was resolute.
Even Henny was willing to take her lead here. “Lady Gwendolyn’s absolutely right. It’s just like Poirot in The ABC Murders. Why, look at it! The attempts on Bledsoe’s life—in effect, they are like the warning letters. If we go at it right, we will be able to prevent a murder.”
Lady Gwendolyn reached over, gave Henny an approving pat on her hand. “That’s the right spirit.” She looked confidently at the chief. “We have begun our investigations. We are using the facilities at Confidential Commissions to amass information about the individuals attending this conference who are linked to Bledsoe. However,” a meaningful pause, “our task has been both simplified and further complicated by Bledsoe’s attack on Christie.”
Annie leaned forward eagerly. Now they were getting somewhere.
“First, we must refute this scurrilous calumny. Annie can contribute here.” Those lively eyes, shining with intelligence, focused on Annie.