Читать книгу Death on the Riviera - Ernest Elmore - Страница 22

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It was about half an hour later when they saw him come in. There was no mistaking his identity. Every detail of his appearance tallied exactly with the description given by the Englishmen. Meredith threw a quick, meaning glance at Strang and muttered:

“O.K., m’lad. This is it. Stay here. I’ll try and nab a bar-stool next to him.”

In this Meredith was unlucky. After ordering his customary glass of vodka, the man glanced up and down the length of the bar and, after a moment’s hesitation, sidled on to an empty stool between a snowy-haired, dandified old roué who was doddering, half-asleep, over a half-empty bottle of Veuve Clicquot, and a brassy-haired, middle-aged woman, whom Meredith judged to be English. Edging his way cautiously through the crowd, the Inspector took up his position as close to the group as he dared.

For five minutes or so nothing happened. Then suddenly the moon-faced foreigner jogged his elbow against the Englishwoman’s arm just as she was about to take a sip from her cocktail glass. The liquid slopped on to the bar-top. Instantly the fellow was all apologies. Whipping out a large silk handkerchief he began to dab up the mess and, in a few seconds, the couple were engaged in animated conversation. Too far away to catch what they were saying, Meredith was perfectly content to bide his time. This, he realized, was merely the opening gambit in the little game that was about to be played.

Presently the man ordered another round of drinks and the conversation became not only more animated but far more intimate. Ten minutes later the Englishwoman, after visible protests from her companion, returned the compliment. Thereafter their voices dropped to a conspiratorial murmur and their heads came closer and closer until they were almost touching.

Then, abruptly, the ill-assorted couple seemed to come to a decision. With a polished, practised gesture the man draped the woman’s sequin wrap about her plump, naked shoulders, helped her from the bar-stool and ushered her obsequiously towards the revolving-doors.

In a flash Meredith swung round on Strang, still seated at the corner table, and jerked his head towards the exit. Strang rose, joined his superior and, without a word, they strolled across the bar and thus out into the broad moonlit square. The lamps were already gleaming among the exotic trees and flowering shrubs, where the beautifully-tended gardens sloped down to the fantastic towers and cupolas of the floodlit Casino. The warm, caressing air was redolent of the scent of heliotrope and, somewhere in the half-dusk under the palms, a fountain was plashing. But the romantic magic of the Mediterranean night left Meredith unmoved. His eyes were fixed on the couple, now a little way ahead, as they moved at a leisurely pace towards the Casino.

“Looks as if they’re going to make a night of it, eh, Strang?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised, sir. Probably going to try their luck at the tables.”

“No—hang on!” exclaimed Meredith, puzzled. “They’re not going into the Casino. They’re heading for that car-park to the left of the main-entrance. Here, step lively, m’lad, else they’ll give us the slip.”

Quickening their pace the two officials were just in time to see their quarry clamber into the rear seat of an immensely dignified and old-fashioned Rolls Royce that was parked close to the pavement. Meredith turned excitedly to Strang.

“You parked our own car somewhere nearby, didn’t you?” Strang nodded. “O.K. Then nip along and get the engine started. I want you to re-park on the far side of the road just opposite. That’ll give us a chance to make a quick follow-up if this chap pulls away in a hurry. Get me?”

“Yes, sir. And then?”

“Sit tight in the driving-seat with the engine running.”

No sooner had Strang dashed off when Meredith, with a studiedly casual air, strolled slowly past the Rolls and took up his position under a nearby lamp-post. Pulling a newspaper from his pocket, he began ostensibly to scan it. As Meredith had anticipated the light from the lamp cast a reflected glow into the interior of the car and he was able to see quite clearly all that was taking place in the back-seat. It was just as he’d expected. From a voluminous spangled handbag the woman pulled out a cheque-book. Coincident with this her companion whipped out a fountain-pen and almost thrust it into her outstretched fingers. Then, as the woman was filling in the cheque, the man took out a fat wad of notes and began hurriedly to count them. A few seconds later the exchange was made and, after a brief conversation, the man opened the car-door and with a short bow helped the woman to alight. A final flourish of his hat, another little bow, a quick furtive glance around and the man jumped into the driving-seat, slammed shut the door and started up the engine.

At that moment Meredith saw the little black “sports” come to a standstill on the far side of the road. A few seconds later he’d ousted the Sergeant from the wheel and the chase was on.