They came to Baghdad - Agatha Christie [76]
Victoria nodded.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He’s dead.’
‘When did he die?’
‘In Baghdad. In the Tio Hotel.’ She added quickly, ‘It was – hushed up. Nobody knows.’
He nodded his head slowly.
‘I see. It was that kind of business. But you –’ He looked at her. ‘How did you know?’
‘I got mixed up in it – by accident.’
He gave her a long considering look.
Victoria asked suddenly:
‘Your nickname at school wasn’t Lucifer, was it?’
He looked surprised.
‘Lucifer, no? I was called Owl – because I always had to wear shiny glasses.’
‘You don’t know any one who is called Lucifer – in Basrah?’
Richard shook his head.
‘Lucifer, Son of the Morning – the fallen Angel.’
He added: ‘Or an old-fashioned wax match. Its merit if I remember rightly, was that it didn’t go out in a wind.’
He watched her closely as he spoke, but Victoria was frowning.
‘I wish you’d tell me,’ she said presently, ‘exactly what happened at Basrah.’
‘I have told you.’
‘No. I mean where were you when all this occurred?’
‘Oh I see. Actually it was in the waiting-room of the Consulate. I was waiting to see Clayton, the Consul.’
‘And who else was there? This commercial traveller person and Carmichael? Any one else?’
‘There were a couple of others, a thin dark Frenchman or Syrian, and an old man – a Persian, I should say.’
‘And the commercial traveller got the revolver out and you stopped him, and Carmichael got out – how?’
‘He turned first towards the Consul’s office. It’s at the other end of a passage with a garden –’
She interrupted.
‘I know. I stayed there for a day or two. As a matter of fact, it was just after you left.’
‘It was, was it?’ Once again he watched her narrowly – but Victoria was unaware of it. She was seeing the long passage at the Consulate, but with the door open at the other end – opening on to green trees and sunlight.
‘Well, as I was saying, Carmichael headed that way first. Then he wheeled round and dashed the other way into the street. That’s the last I saw of him.’
‘What about the commercial traveller?’
Richard shrugged his shoulders.
‘I understand he told some garbled story about having been attacked and robbed by a man the night before and fancying he had recognized his assailant in the Arab in the Consulate. I didn’t hear much more about it because I flew on to Kuwait.’
‘Who was staying at the Consulate just then?’ Victoria asked.
‘A fellow called Crosbie – one of the oil people. Nobody else. Oh yes, I believe there was someone else down from Baghdad, but I didn’t meet him. Can’t remember his name.’
‘Crosbie,’ thought Victoria. She remembered Captain Crosbie, his short stocky figure, his staccato conversation. A very ordinary person. A decent soul without much finesse about him. And Crosbie had been back in Baghdad the night when Carmichael came to the Tio. Could it be because he had seen Crosbie at the other end of the passage, silhouetted against the sunlight, that Carmichael had turned so suddenly and made for the street instead of attempting to reach the Consul General’s office?
She had been thinking this out in some absorption. She started rather guiltily when she looked up to find Richard Baker watching her with close attention.
‘Why do you want to know all this?’ he asked.
‘I’m just interested.’
‘Any more questions?’
Victoria asked:
‘Do you know anybody called Lefarge?’
‘No – I can’t say I do. Man or woman?’
‘I don’t know.’
She was wondering about Crosbie. Crosbie? Lucifer?
Did Lucifer equal Crosbie?
III
That evening, when Victoria had said good night to the two men and gone to bed, Richard said to Dr Pauncefoot Jones:
‘I wonder if I might have a look at that letter from Emerson. I’d like to see just exactly what he said about this girl.’
‘Of course, my dear fellow, of course. It’s somewhere lying around. I made some notes on the back of it, I remember. He spoke very highly of Veronica, if I remember rightly – said she was terrifically keen. She seems to me a charming girl – quite charming.