De Vincenzi turned his back on Prospero and headed for the telephone. “Oremus” fell into his seat, staring at De Vincenzi as if paralysed.
The orders given by De Vincenzi were brief. He asked Sani to hurry over with a few officers and the doctor. Cruni was to go immediately to the Albergo Palazzo and station himself in Bolton’s suite. After a few rapid words, he hung up the receiver.
“So… it was Moran’s turn this time?”
“Well who did you think it was, O’Lary? It couldn’t be anyone else, since he was the only one they wanted to kill.”
Prospero’s eyes gleamed oddly. Seated on a low armchair, he gripped his arms, as if preparing to spring up.
“And you think it was Cristiana who killed him? That’s crazy, Inspector!”
“Who said that’s what I thought?”
“Don’t try to trick me! That’s what you think, just as you think she’s the one who killed Valerio. A single murderer committed these crimes. And if you doubted Cristiana after finding the medallion from the dog track beside the mannequins…”
De Vincenzi watched him attentively. Prospero stopped.
“Your theory is most interesting, O’Lary.”
Prospero got to his feet.
“We’ve got to find Cristiana, Inspector. She’s the only one who can prove her innocence.”
“Where shall we look for her, O’Lary? At least you might tell me where you went.”
“Cristiana sometimes arranges to meet her friends at a pastry shop on via Santa Margherita. That’s where I went, and I stayed for over an hour but I didn’t see her.”
“Her friends, Signor O’Lary?”
Prospero avoided De Vincenzi’s gaze. “If you can call them that.”
“The friends in her address book, you mean?”
“Oremus” put a finger to his collar as if he were choking. “You know about that?”
“Oh, God! I’m bound to know something.” He turned his back. “We don’t need to look for Cristiana O’Brian. She may have returned.” He started for the door but stopped when he got to it. “Why don’t you come with me to see the body, Signor O’Lary? I prefer not to leave you alone.”
O’Lary joined him. When they got to the door to the corridor, De Vincenzi drew back to let O’Lary go before him. The little man walked quickly, but he stopped after a few steps.
“Where—where was he killed?”
“That’s right, you don’t know. Come with me.”
Prospero was silent for several moments in front of the body. Then, lowering his head, he whispered, “He survived all kinds of things in America only to get it over here.”
“Did you know him well?”
“Me? I hardly knew him at all. I’ve talked to you about him because everyone in America talked about him and because Cristiana confided in me on the Rex. But it’s the first time I’ve seen him.”
“Of course.” De Vincenzi bent over to rummage in the dead man’s pockets, and stood up again almost immediately. “Wasted effort. I don’t believe we’ll find anything interesting on him.” The sound of steps came from the other end of the corridor. De Vincenzi went downstairs with O’Lary following behind. Sani was there with the other men.
“The body’s on the stairs. Have it removed as soon as the doctor has examined it. The dressmakers will be leaving in a little bit and we can’t humanly expect them to see this. The magistrate will understand. In any case, Sani, do let him know straight away. If he can come promptly, all the better.” He put two officers on guard in the corridor and got into the lift. “Stay here,” he said to O’Lary.
The women were in Cristiana’s room. Rosetta was leaning against the wall near the door, no longer sobbing, though her eyes were still full of tears. The young woman had obviously let it be known that she’d seen the body because Cristiana, still in her hat and fur, looked terrified. Marta and Madame Firmino ran anxiously towards the inspector.
“Is it really Mr Bolton?” Marta asked. “Rosetta says she recognized him by his coat.”
“Well, Rosetta wasn’t mistaken.”
“But why? Why would they kill an American no one knew? And why was he coming up the service stairs? Everything that’s happened here since yesterday is insane!”
De Vincenzi shrugged. By this time he knew that insanity had nothing whatever to do with any of it. The murderer had calculated perfectly, knowing how to make the most of every opportunity with an astonishing readiness and facility. “If I manage to expose them,” he told himself, “I’ll consider myself lucky. My having guessed who it is means nothing at this stage, since not only do I lack an ounce of proof, but to all appearances I’m mistaken.”
He approached the assistant. “Where were you coming from when you saw him?”
Rosetta responded in a broken voice, “I was coming from the atelier. Madame—” and she pointed to Dolores “—had sent me away from the offices but I had to go back down to the first floor, because there wouldn’t have been anyone on the door if any clients had come.”
“Why did you come back up here instead of going to the atelier?”
“I heard Signorina Marta’s voice.”
That must have been just when he’d finished his inspection of the trunk room and Marta and Madame Firmino were standing at the top of the service stairs.
“Did you hear anything before you left the atelier? The sound of a shot?”
“No.”
“Go back to the atelier and don’t say a thing to anyone about what’s happened.” He took her to the corridor and sent her down in the lift. When he re-entered the room, Cristiana was sitting down.
“I’m sorry, Signora, but it’s essential that you go down to the first floor. Madame Firmino and Marta will go with you.”
Cristiana looked at him in surprise, but after a brief hesitation she began removing her fur beret and stood up. She threw her beret and fur on the bed and headed for the corridor. From the doorway she said ironically, “The body wasn’t found on my bed this time, Inspector!”
“Sure enough. But perhaps it was only because of Rosetta that it was left on the stairs.”
The woman flinched, and seemed to shudder convulsively. Her glowing, almond-shaped eyes looked enormous.
“Do you think… do you think they wanted to…”
De Vincenzi pressed her gently. “Oh, no one knows yet what they wanted. But don’t think about that now. One fact is certain in any case: they won’t kill anyone else and you won’t find another orchid.”
Cristiana said nothing. She moved robotically. Madame Firmino and Marta followed behind her and De Vincenzi. De Vincenzi pressed the call button when they got to the lift, and as they waited he asked, “Would you like to tell me where you were today?”
Cristiana revived, and murmured, “You won’t believe me.”
“That doesn’t matter. Tell me anyway.”
“I went to see my husband—the man who used to be my husband. I had Campbell come with me because I was afraid to see him by myself.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“Yes.”
“What time was it?”
“Before three. I’d left the hotel before three. We only said a few words to each other.”
“Did you see him on his own?”
“In his suite?”
“In a sitting room full of flowers.” She smiled sadly. “He loves flowers…”
The click of the lift was heard as it arrived at their floor.
“Well, Edward Moran loved flowers, but there weren’t any orchids amongst the flowers you saw yesterday. I thank you, Signora.”
Alone once more, De Vincenzi went into the trunk room. He took an orchid from the five that were left and returned with it to Cristiana’s room.