Death in Berlin (33 page)

‘No. What was there to notice?’

‘She was convinced that you had, and that there was only one way to make sure that you didn’t eventually tell someone. It seems that you went down to the garage that evening just after she had got back from the swimming-pool, and that there were three things you might have noticed. First, that the engine was still hot although the car was supposed to have been back well over half an hour. Secondly, that the handle of the door on the driver’s side

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was smeared with green paint - she cleaned it off next day with petrol, still without knowing that it had any connection with Mademoiselle. And lastly, that the speedometer had clocked up a higher figure than it should. You evidently made some idle remark during supper that night about always remembering numbers, and a guilty conscience suggested to her that you were hinting that you had spotted it.’

Miranda said bitterly: ‘Then she had it all planned!’

‘Oh, no,’ said Simon gently. ‘She was afraid of you giving her away; and then when her husband left that night, he kissed you. That’s right, isn’t it?’ Simon lifted an interrogatory eyebrow.

‘Yes. But it was only …’

‘It was only the last straw. She told us that it all jumped into her mind then and there. Her husband had gone out and there was no one else in the house. But the next day there would be a resident batman. If she could just get her hands on the bracelet and the diamonds, and dispose of you at the same time, it would all be over and she would be safe. If you disappeared, suspicion might point to you. And if you were never found you might be supposed to have bolted behind the Iron Curtain. But she had to get you out of the house and just where she wanted you without fuss. And then she remembered that the doorbell sounded like the telephone. She was nearly off her head with fear and jealousy, and the cunning of near lunacy suggested it all to her in the space of a few minutes.’

Miranda said stormily: ‘And you knew what she might do and you let me go through all that - that horror! You’re nothing but a cold-blooded, scheming …’ She searched for a word and failed to find one sufficiently opprobrious for her purpose.

‘You weren’t in any danger,’ said Simon mildly. ‘I’d run Wally to earth by then, and had a pretty clear idea of the form. The place was crawling with cops and you were more or less under observation from the second you walked out of the front door. You see we couldn’t be sure where she was heading for - though we had a shrewd idea. So we had to tail you. Once you got to the Ridders’

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house, we knew we were right; and after that we were practically on your heels. Fortunately for us, and thanks to all that loose rubble, your descent to the cellar was so noisy that we were able to sneak down behind you without any trouble, and, after listening to what she had to say, step into the picture in a nice melodramatic manner at the last moment.’

‘And I suppose,’ said Miranda furiously, ‘that it didn’t occur to any of you that she might have pressed the trigger a second before you got it away from her?’

‘It wouldn’t really have mattered very much if she had,’ said Simon, placidly.

Miranda stared at him unbelievingly: rigid with a sudden sense of outrage that had, illogically, nothing whatsoever to do with her terrors of that past night.

Simon observed her reaction with a half smile. There was a

gleam of complete comprehension and a warm, dancing malice in his eyes.

‘One of the things I like about you, Miranda,’ he remarked gently, ‘is that you are so beautifully uncomplicated. Don’t worry, my darling. I wasn’t being callous about your personal safety. I only meant that I had taken the precaution of unloading that weapon and removing all live ammunition from the house, just in case of accidents.’

‘Oh!’ said Miranda explosively. ‘Well if you’re quite sure that you’ve said all you want to say, I think you had better go! I’ve got a lot of packing to do. And I don’t know what you mean by walking calmly into my bedroom in the first place, and I’m not your darling!’

‘Aren’t you?’ said Simon softly. ‘Well I won’t argue the point, but you are wasting your time over that packing. You’ll only have to unpack it all again. As for my walking into your bedroom, I’m afraid you will have to get used to it. I understand it is one of a husband’s privileges.’

‘Oh!’ said Miranda again, on a long breath: ‘You - you’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?’

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‘Very,’ agreed Simon placidly. ‘I generally get what I want.’

‘Miranda,’ said Mrs Lawrence, walking briskly into the room a few moments later, ‘do you know if Captain Lang has left yet, or … Oh, I’m so sorry!’

She retreated hurriedly and closed the door.

‘Well, really!’ said Mrs Lawrence, addressing the empty landing, a bundle of laundry, three regimental prints of unusual hideousness and her immortal soul: ‘You wouldn’t think that after three murders and … Oh well, perhaps they are right. Life is more important than death.’

She shrugged her shoulders tolerantly and went downstairs to explain to her cook in what she confidently imagined to be German, that der Herr Polizisten Capiton Lang would be remaining to luncheon.