Katerina's Secret (20 page)

‘You'll be there, won't you, Edward?'

‘Yes, close to you and keeping an eye on you, though I shouldn't make the most vigorous of bodyguards.'

‘But you'll be there,' she said. ‘I will come.
But, oh, poor Boris Sergeyovich. I'm so sad, Edward, so sad.'

‘Yes,' he said, remembering with a deep twinge of regret his suspicions of the doctor's part in Katerina's life. ‘I feel so sure, Katerina, that someone was always close, always in a position to observe something of your routine here. Did Dr Kandor make a practice of going out to the cliff?'

‘He went out sometimes. Not in a routine way. Just sometimes.'

‘Sometimes was enough to mean once too often.'

Katerina's eyes registered plain, unhappy understanding.

‘You really believe someone pushed him, don't you?' she said.

‘Pushed him or hit him from behind. Someone who was watching from those pine trees and came very quietly out of them. Yes, the opportunity was there. It was a very expedient way of disposing of the doctor. To have shot him would have meant a murder hunt. Now there's only an accident to investigate, a fall from the top of the cliff, and the coroner might only have to decide whether it was misadventure or suicide. Do you realize, Katerina, that had we gone over the cliff several days ago, no
alternative verdict would have been considered – it would almost certainly have been recorded as death by accident.'

‘I have put you in danger too, haven't I?' she said.

‘I shouldn't want to back away,' said Edward, ‘and don't intend to.'

‘I think I'm a little fatigued,' she said.

It was more than that, thought Edward. It was shock and incredulity that Dr Kandor was dead, and her mantle of mourning was heavy.

‘Go and rest,' he said.

‘You'll wait here for me, you won't go?'

‘I shan't go, Katerina.'

‘Thank you.' She pressed his hand gratefully and went into the villa.

The servant, Sandro, was down near the green gate, with the Alsatian. He turned as Edward called to him. He came up to the terrace, his wiry frame energetic, his dark face sombre.

‘M'sieur?' he said.

‘I shall be taking the countess to the hotel,' said Edward. ‘She'll stay there for a while. You understand?'

‘I understand, m'sieur,' said Sandro in good French.

‘Are you from Bulgaria, Sandro?'

‘Excuse, m'sieur?'

‘I wondered if you came from the countess's country,' said Edward.

‘Of course, m'sieur,' said Sandro, but his eyes were blank.

Edward thought it necessary to say, ‘I'm a friend, Sandro.'

‘I know, m'sieur. Anna also knows. Thank you, m'sieur.'

‘You're a gardener,' said Edward.

‘That is so.'

‘Do you know the hotel gardener?'

‘I have seen him, m'sieur. I could not say I know him.'

‘He's a White Russian,' said Edward.

‘So I've heard, m'sieur.'

‘He's an excellent gardener.'

‘Then he's an honest man,' said Sandro.

‘Thank you,' said Edward.

Sandro nodded and left the terrace. The Alsatian stayed with Edward. Edward sat, willing to wait as long as necessary for Katerina to reappear. He must go into Nice again and make further enquiries at Heriot's. He could, of course, report the incident on the road to the police. But however wise that might be, he knew Katerina would be quite against it. And
her secrets were her own until she decided otherwise.

The autumn days, which had been so serene, had lost their aura of enchantment. Peace and beauty were receding before the advance of murder and malice. A very fatal accident had happened to Dr Kandor. With him out of the way, an accident equally fatal was no doubt awaiting Katerina.

Why? Who was she? A deposed aristocrat with high connections?

Anna came out to say the countess was quietly resting.

‘Good,' said Edward.

‘Ah, but so terrible – the doctor – terrible,' said Anna mournfully, her eyes red. ‘Now what will happen?'

‘Nothing, I hope,' said Edward. ‘I'm going to take the countess to the hotel for a few days, to give her time to think and to make decisions.'

Anna's broad face looked troubled.

‘There is so much more to her life than a few days in an hotel,' she said.

‘Is there, Anna?'

Her eyes became as blank as Sandro's.

‘She has said she will go with you?'

‘Yes,' said Edward.

‘Perhaps – yes – perhaps for a few days.'

‘I think so, Anna.'

‘Yes – yes – thank you,' said Anna and went back into the villa.

Edward wondered when the police would arrive. He was sure they would come. They would not leave the matter in the hands of the local gendarme. He winced at the thought of Katerina enduring their questions and going through everything again with them.

An inspector and a gendarme arrived from Nice an hour and a half after Katerina had gone to rest. They came by car and Sandro let them in, opening up the rarely used front gates. The inspector had a paternal look and bright, shrewd eyes. Edward introduced himself, while Sandro went to ask Anna to inform the countess.

‘I'm Edward Somers, staying at the Corniche. I'm a friend of the countess.'

‘You're a friend, m'sieur,' said the inspector, ‘but not here when it happened?'

‘No, I was at the hotel, having lunch,' said Edward.

‘Do you know who was here?' asked the inspector.

‘The countess and her servant, Anna, and both were in the house.'

‘Yes?' said the inspector, which was to tell Edward he could not possibly have known who was in the house and who was not.

‘Yes,' said Edward, which was to tell the inspector not to start off on the wrong foot.

‘Is he also a servant?' asked the inspector, indicating Sandro, who was calming the bristling Alsatian.

‘Yes. That's Sandro. He and Anna are the only servants. Sandro, by the way, was in the village at the time.'

‘Thank you, m'sieur,' said the inspector, showing a slight smile of gratitude for this piece of unrequested information. ‘Pardon me.' He descended to the lawn to engage Sandro in a lengthy dialogue, the gendarme accompanying him.

Katerina reappeared. She had changed into a lemon-coloured costume with a matching little hat and veil. The veil was up. Edward could think of no woman more exquisite. Her eyes were dark with mourning for Boris Sergeyovich, but she held herself upright. Her glance at the little group on the lawn was one of sad regret that there had to be more formalities. She turned to Edward.

‘I thought perhaps I should have dressed in black for my doctor,' she said, ‘but felt he
wouldn't want that. Thank you for waiting. I have packed a case and shall be ready to go with you as soon as the police have left.'

‘I'm very pleased,' said Edward.

The inspector and the gendarme came up to the terrace.

‘Countess Varna?' enquired the inspector of Katerina.

‘Yes, I am Countess Varna.'

‘I am Inspector Cartier from Nice.' The inspector made a little bow. ‘Allow me to express my sympathy for this tragedy. I regret the formalities necessary, but I hope I shall cause you no distress. First, I'd like to see Dr Kandor.'

Katerina closed her eyes for a moment.

‘Anna will take you up to his room,' she said.

The inspector and the gendarme were taken up. Katerina remained on the terrace with Edward.

‘It's unavoidable, I'm afraid,' said Edward gently.

‘I know, and there'll be an inquest, of course, which I shall have to attend.'

‘I'll go with you.'

‘Will there be many people?' she asked.

‘A few, I imagine.' He smiled faintly. ‘You can wear black then, with a veil.'

‘Edward,' she said emotionally, ‘I'm so grateful – I'm in need of someone close, someone very kind and understanding – I should feel very alone without you.'

‘I feel very inadequate,' said Edward.

‘No, you are my tower of strength, very dear friend,' she said, ‘and I'm so glad you're here.'

He wanted to take her into his arms. Instead he said, ‘Celeste will be very happy to have you at the hotel. She'll give you love and care.'

‘Love is precious, isn't it?' said Katerina. ‘I—' She was interrupted by the reappearance of the inspector and gendarme.

‘Thank you, Countess,' said the inspector. ‘I'm now able to advise you that the body can be placed in the care of the undertakers. I regret very much so terrible an accident. He was your own doctor?'

‘Yes. For many years.'

‘I'd like to see the place he fell from. Would you be so kind as to show me?'

‘I can't show you the exact spot,' said Katerina, ‘only the cliff top.'

‘Of course.' Inspector Cartier's sympathy was sincere. Edward was aware of the effect Katerina could have on people. She walked down the terrace steps. She turned and looked up.

‘Please come, Edward.'

He walked beside her over the lawn, the policemen following. They went through the gate and to the bench seat. Beyond the seat was a level area of hard ground, the cliff top. The stepped descent lay on the left.

‘Yes,' said the inspector, standing close to the edge and viewing the rocky fall to the beach, ‘I see. A formidable and cruel drop.' He examined the hard ground. It bore no foot-marks. ‘A man might become giddy and fall, or he might jump.'

‘Jump?' said Edward.

‘Do you know, Countess, if Dr Kandor was in good health?'

‘I've never known a healthier man,' said Katerina in a suppressed voice.

‘Nor I,' said Edward.

‘But all the same, he fell,' murmured Inspector Cartier. ‘Or jumped. We must consider that, Countess. Did he have any unusual worries?'

He had many worries, but Katerina did not say so. They were not, in any case, the kind of worries to make him jump to his death.

‘He did not inform me of any,' she said. Edward, close to her, felt her trembling.

‘There was a lady, I believe, who saw him fall,' said the inspector.

‘Yes,' said Edward, ‘Mademoiselle Dupont, also staying at the Corniche. And there was a boy on the beach, whom Mademoiselle Dupont sent to the village for help.'

‘Thank you, m'sieur,' said the inspector. ‘I'd like to talk to the lady. I'm sorry, Countess, about all the formalities, but it's necessary in such cases to try to establish what facts we can.'

‘I understand,' said Katerina quietly.

‘An accident or suicide?' said Edward, who was sure it was neither.

‘Exactly, m'sieur,' said the inspector. ‘It's an unhappy thing for friends or relatives to be faced with the possibility that suicide was committed, for they naturally think they have in some way failed the dead. It's a consideration, however, we can't set aside. Countess, it's over, our conduct of formalities with you. Thank you for your patience with us. I must go to the hotel now and find Mademoiselle Dupont.'

‘Inspector,' said Edward on an impulse, ‘would you be so kind as to take the countess with you? She's transferring to the hotel for a few days.'

‘With pleasure,' smiled the inspector, ‘with great pleasure.'

Katerina said, ‘Edward, you—'

‘Please go with them, and get Sandro to load your case in,' said Edward. ‘I'll follow in a few minutes.'

In the closed police car she would not be seen. She could transfer to the hotel in an invisible way. If there were eyes around, looking for her, they would not spot her in the police car. They would not even look for her in that. And for him to follow on, walking, that was advisable too. It would look as if he had just left her, as if she was still in residence at the villa.

He spoke to Sandro. Sandro's eyes glittered and he promised to keep a close watch. He would sleep in the garden, he said, not far from the dog.

The inspector was asking questions of Mademoiselle Dupont in Madame Michel's private sitting room. Celeste was seeing to the establishment of Katerina in a ground-floor room next to Edward's, an arrangement which the French girl thought entirely sympathetic and suitable. Edward, having arrived after a slow walk, was talking to Madame Michel in the lounge, which they had to themselves. He was emphasizing the need to take great care of the countess.

‘But of course,' said Madame Michel, ‘her bereavement and her weak heart will command the best care we can give her.'

‘No visitors, I think,' said Edward, and the proprietress looked at him with a slight lift of her brows. ‘Or if anyone does call to see her, I'd be grateful if you'd first refer to me. Failing that, ask the countess herself whether
she wishes to receive the caller. Would you do that, madame?'

‘Very well, m'sieur,' said Madame Michel.

‘She'll stay in her room most of the time. You can serve her meals there?'

‘Gladly. I've never seen her until today, do you realize? One can imagine grace in a countess, but I had no idea the Countess of Varna was quite so superb and beautiful, although Celeste has said so a hundred times. She has wonderful eyes, but so haunting.'

Yes, thought Edward, they are.

‘Madame, might I ask a particular favour of you?' he said. ‘Would you please have the hotel doors locked at night?'

‘Locked?' said Madame Michel. ‘But that has never been necessary, and if guests are out – why do you ask such a thing?'

‘I do ask it, madame, without explaining it.'

‘You've a very special reason for not explaining?' she said.

Edward smiled.

‘Isn't it true, madame,' he said, ‘that in France it's the reason which is important, not the explanation?'