Murder on the Clifftops Read online

  ‘I’m staying with Merv,’ Chrissie declared, clinging firmly to his hand.

  ‘I’ll go and tell Philippe what we’re doing,’ said Iris.

  Jack nodded. ‘Good idea. All right, everyone? See you later, back here.’

  They scattered and Melissa found herself left with Rose, Daphne, and the two girls Sue and Janey. Just as the men had turned to Jack for leadership, so these four seemed to expect her to take charge of them.

  ‘Where do we start?’ asked Rose.

  ‘Some of us could try the woods on either side of the track leading down to the road – away from the belvedere.’

  ‘You mean, near the clearing where Fernand was unloading his rails?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Where is Fernand?’ asked Daphne.

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Melissa uneasily. ‘I heard Alain this morning telling him to clear some dead timber. That was when they had the argument. I haven’t seen him this afternoon.’

  ‘I heard a chain-saw going a while ago,’ said Daphne.

  ‘Is that what it was? It sounded like a motor-bike,’ said Janey.

  ‘Fernand went off in the tractor soon after lunch,’ said Sue. ‘I saw him getting it out when I went to the car to get a book I’d left there. Listen, that sounds like him now.’

  As she spoke, the tractor came snorting into the yard in a cloud of fumes with the trailer, piled high with logs, rattling and bumping behind it.

  ‘Well, it looks as if he did what he was told after all. I’ll go and have a word with him.’ Melissa crossed the yard and waited while Fernand backed the trailer into a corner, switched off the tractor engine and jumped down. His face lit up when he saw her.

  ‘Madame, ça va?’

  ‘Fernand, have you seen Monsieur Gebrec?’

  ‘Yes, at nine o’clock this morning. He ordered me to cut this lot immediately’ – he laid heavy stress on the word, his mouth twisted in a sardonic grin – ‘and I told him it would have to wait till this afternoon.’ Fernand seemed in a high good humour at the thought of putting one over on Monsieur Gebrec. He unhitched the side of the trailer and a quantity of logs fell clattering to the ground.

  ‘Monsieur Gebrec has not been seen since nine-thirty this morning,’ said Melissa. ‘Do you know where he might be? Monsieur Bonard is very concerned.’

  ‘No idea, Madame. Perhaps in Alès, visiting his mother?’

  ‘I don’t think so. His car is still here.’

  Fernand indicated with outspread hands and a jerk of his shoulders that the whereabouts of Monsieur Gebrec were a matter of total indifference to him. He went into the shed where he kept the tractor and came back with his crowbar, with which he began levering more logs from the trailer to the ground. The sun was pouring into the courtyard and his brawny arms glistened with sweat. Melissa watched for a few seconds as he worked, apparently impervious to the heat, then turned back to where the others were waiting.

  ‘He doesn’t seem to know anything,’ she told them. ‘Let’s get started. Daphne, will you take Janey and Sue and search the woods?’ Obediently, the three set off. Melissa turned to Rose. ‘Shall we check the gardens and outhouses? Where’s Dora, by the way?’

  ‘How should I know?’ said Rose with a shrug. ‘She’s hardly speaking to me at the moment – except to accuse me of stealing her golf-clubs.’

  ‘Because of Dieter, I suppose?’

  ‘Why else?’

  They crossed the courtyard and went into the garden. From the far side of the swimming pool they caught sight of Dora sitting on the terrace, reading. She lifted her head and stared across, her face expressionless.

  ‘One of us should go and tell her what’s happening, don’t you think?’ suggested Melissa. ‘It’d seem a bit rude to walk past without saying anything.’

  ‘She’d only have herself to thank,’ said Rose waspishly, then added, with a smile suggestive of a cat with newly sharpened claws, ‘anyway, I doubt if she’d know who it was with her reading glasses on.’

  ‘Just the same, I think I’ll put her in the picture.’

  Dora, her eyes hard and her face wooden, received the information with a curt nod.

  ‘Well, she didn’t exactly overreact,’ said Melissa as she rejoined Rose.

  ‘All these years I’ve known her and I never realised what a nasty temper she has,’ said Rose.

  ‘Perhaps you’ve never crossed her before?’

  Rose gave a gleeful chuckle. ‘That’s what Dieter says. Do you know what she said last night, after I’d told her what Dieter and I were planning for next week? She said, “I’d like to break that bloody Kraut’s neck!” She actually swore – and she makes out she’s such a lady!’ She turned to Melissa with a beseeching expression. ‘I’m entitled to another chance of happiness, aren’t I?’

  ‘I . . . well, yes, I suppose so,’ said Melissa, reluctant to be inveigled into taking sides. ‘Perhaps for the moment we’d better get on with this search.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I was forgetting.’

  Their tour of the gardens and orchard revealed nothing. They had just returned to the courtyard and were about to examine the various outbuildings when they heard the sound of running footsteps. The next minute, Jack and Dieter appeared, streaming with sweat and obviously agitated.

  ‘Something’s happened!’ said Melissa, hurrying to meet them.

  ‘We think . . . we’ve found him!’ Jack’s normally ruddy face was the colour of putty.

  ‘Oh, dear, where?’ faltered Rose.

  Dieter, looking even more shaken, struggled to regain his breath. ‘On the rocks . . . close to where we found Wolfgang Klein,’ he panted.

  ‘Is he dead?’

  ‘It looks like it.’

  ‘My God!’ Melissa stared in horror. ‘Perhaps Chrissie was right!’

  The period that followed seemed to Melissa to have an unreal, almost nightmarish quality. It was like some ghoulish rerun of Sunday afternoon, as if the same sequence in a film was being shot for a second time under a different director.

  Rose burst into tears and was escorted indoors by Dieter. Dora was summoned; her appearance, announcing that she was taking her protégée back to the auberge without delay, did nothing to help matters. Rose clung to Dieter’s hand and refused to budge; there followed a heated altercation between Dora and Dieter until Jack intervened and managed, using a quiet diplomacy that further increased Melissa’s respect for him, to persuade them both to withdraw.

  Meanwhile, the second search party returned and joined the others on the terrace. It was there that Philippe Bonard learned the news of Gebrec’s death. At first, he appeared stunned and unable to grasp what had happened. Then, he let out a groan and sank into a chair, his hands over his face and his shoulders heaving as he made superhuman efforts to contain his shock and grief. After a few minutes he raised his head and was now sitting motionless, pale and haggard but controlled, while Iris, her eyes moist with sympathetic tears, stood silently and helplessly by.

  ‘The police must be informed,’ said Jack. ‘My French isn’t up to it, I’m afraid – will you phone them, Melissa?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ She went into the house and made her way to the small suite of rooms that Bonard and his staff of two used as offices. She put in an urgent call to the local gendarmerie, wondering as she did so whether Officer Hassan would take charge of the case. She pictured him, tapping away at his nose and almost gleefully saying, ‘I told you so,’ and felt sick. Her heart went out to Antoinette Gebrec, as yet happily ignorant of the fate of her son, and to Philippe Bonard, whose long-cherished dream had turned to a nightmare, while the man they both loved was lying in a broken, bloody heap at the foot of the cliff.

  She left the room and plodded wearily back. On her way she passed the kitchen. The door was open and she saw Juliette standing alone by the table with a tray-load of crockery in her hands. She appeared mesmerised, as if unable to put it down; her eyes were staring and her face deathly white. Melis
sa went and stood beside her.

  ‘Juliette, this is terrible news.’

  Juliette started violently and several cups toppled to the floor and smashed to pieces. Melissa took the tray from her and carried it to the buffet, while Juliette covered her face with a towel.

  ‘There is a curse on this place!’ she moaned. ‘What is to become of us?’ She began rocking to and fro, whimpering softly.

  ‘Try not to distress yourself,’ said Melissa. ‘You shouldn’t be alone . . . shall I find Fernand and ask him to come to you?’

  The suggestion seemed to agitate Juliette still further. ‘Oh, mon Dieu, the flics will be here again with their endless questions. Who knows what my crazy brother will say to them?’ She grasped Melissa by the hand. ‘Madame, you will not betray our secret?’ she implored.

  ‘Of course not, but surely . . .’

  ‘If the police knew, they might imagine . . .’

  ‘Juliette, don’t worry! Why should anyone suspect your brother of harming Monsieur Gebrec? What connection could there possibly be between him and what happened to Roland so long ago?’

  ‘None at all, Madame, but you know what the police are like, especially that idiot Hassan. After Monsieur Klein’s death he asked Fernand a lot of stupid questions, just because of some village gossip.’

  ‘But that was because Monsieur Klein was German, and everyone knew Fernand was suspicious of Germans.’

  Juliette bent down and began picking up the smashed pieces of china. ‘Perhaps you are right, Madame.’

  ‘Monsieur Gebrec’s death was probably nothing more than a tragic accident,’ Melissa went on, ‘but’ – she hesitated for a moment before saying – ‘there is some talk of suicide.’ It might not have been her place to reveal such a suspicion, but it could help to relieve Juliette’s fears on her brother’s behalf. In any case it would soon become common knowledge.

  Juliette appeared bemused by the suggestion. ‘Suicide?’ she repeated. ‘Why would he do such a thing?’

  ‘It is, of course, only a suspicion and I’m sure you will say nothing until we know for certain. Monsieur Bonard told us that Monsieur Gebrec left the house in some distress this morning. He never came back – that’s all we know at present.’

  Juliette picked up the tray of crockery and carried it to the dishwasher. ‘I must not detain you any longer, Madame.’ It was plain that she had said all she was going to say.

  Melissa went outside to rejoin the others. ‘The police should be here soon,’ she told Jack. ‘They’ll want to talk to you and Dieter right away, of course, as you found the . . . as you found Alain.’ Just in time, out of consideration for Philippe Bonard’s feelings, she checked herself from saying ‘the body’, although it was doubtful if he would have heard. He was still sitting in the same chair, staring into space like a man in a trance.

  ‘What about the others?’ asked Dieter. ‘Rose is still very upset – shall I take her back to her hotel?’ His eyes sought Dora as if throwing down a challenge and Melissa saw her draw herself upright, her nostrils flaring. Like a war-horse about to charge into battle, she thought. Any minute now and they’ll be at each other’s throats again.

  ‘I can’t see any need for everyone to wait around,’ said Jack hastily. He too had read the signals. ‘If we get them to write down their names and where they’re staying, they might as well go back to their hotels. Will you see to that, Dieter? If the police want to talk to any of them, they’ll know where to find them.’

  There was a moment’s hesitation before Dieter said, ‘Okay,’ and went indoors to fetch pen and paper. Dora glared after him for a few seconds before turning away and striding across the garden towards the orchard.

  The minute they were both out of earshot, Melissa said, ‘Jack, what are we going to do about Rose? For some reason or other, she won’t have Dora near her at present.’

  ‘Perhaps you could take her back to the auberge?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Should I have a word with Dora first?’

  ‘I suppose you ought to, but,’ Jack gave an unexpected grin and for a moment the atmosphere of gloom lightened a little, ‘let’s make sure we keep Dora and Dieter apart or we’ll have a third death on our hands!’

  Eleven

  After the trauma of the discovery of Gebrec’s body and Dora’s subsequent clash with Dieter, the exit from Les Châtaigniers was accomplished with minimum fuss, thanks to Jack’s decisiveness and air of quiet authority to which everyone willingly submitted. Melissa drove a pale and silent Rose back to the auberge, and Dora followed a few minutes later. Iris elected to remain with Philippe Bonard for the time being and Jack undertook to drive her back when she was ready.

  As soon as they arrived at the auberge, Rose announced her intention of having a long soak in the bath followed by a lie down. She also made it clear that she preferred to be alone. Sensing that Dora was about to protest, and to avoid further argument, Melissa said hastily, ‘Come along to my room and we’ll have a drink.’

  Monsieur Gauthier obligingly produced a bottle of Côtes du Rhône from his cellar and Melissa led Dora upstairs and installed her in a chair on the balcony. The auberge was built on a knoll and the tops of the nearest trees were below eye level, their foliage a green sea ruffled into waves by the breeze, the rugged backdrop of the mountains softened to a warm gold by the evening sunlight. It was a view to inspire a poet, but its beauty was entirely lost on Dora who, between mouthfuls of wine, stared moodily down at her feet.

  ‘We should never have come,’ she muttered after a long silence, ‘and if I had my way, we’d leave here tomorrow. No, tonight . . . right away. I feel as if there’s a curse on this place.’

  ‘That’s exactly what Juliette said,’ replied Melissa. ‘I suppose it’s a normal reaction in the circumstances. Have some more wine.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Dora held out Iris’s tooth-mug, which was doing duty as a wine-glass. ‘This is very kind of you, Melissa.’

  ‘Not at all. I felt in need of a snort myself.’

  ‘We should never have come,’ repeated Dora.

  ‘What made you decide on this trip?’ It was an idle question; Melissa’s mind was far away but, for the second time in three days, she recognised Dora’s need to confide.

  ‘It was Rose’s idea, but I went along with it willingly enough. How was I to know she’d meet that wretched man? The minute she set eyes on him, she seemed to take leave of her senses – and he’s been playing up to her the whole time. Can’t she see what a fool she’s making of herself?’

  ‘I agree it doesn’t seem an ideal relationship, but surely, the more you oppose it, the more . . .’

  ‘She’s always taken my advice before.’ Dora’s mouth compressed into an aggressive wedge. ‘I’ve never known her so obstinate. And now this absurd notion of staying at the centre for an extra week, just to be with him! Well, after this latest upset, I’m going to be firm with her. We’ll leave in the morning. The course can’t possibly go on after what’s happened today, so we shan’t miss anything. I’ll speak to Bonard before we go about a refund for tomorrow and Friday.’

  Melissa stared at her in disbelief. ‘You’re not serious!’ she protested. ‘You can’t pester the poor man about money just after he’s had such a dreadful shock!’

  ‘Business is business,’ said Dora. ‘His fees are steep enough to start with and two days out of ten means we’re losing twenty per cent of our course.’

  Melissa was fast running out of sympathy with the redoubtable Dora. No doubt Bonard was as hard-headed as the next man in matters of business, but to tackle anyone so obviously grief-stricken on such a comparatively trivial point seemed to her nothing short of callous. She found herself pleading on his behalf.

  ‘Don’t you think, in the circumstances . . . perhaps if you were to write when you get home . . . I mean, Gebrec wasn’t just a colleague, he was a close friend.’

  ‘Yes, and we know what sort of friend, don’t we? Oh, I can read the signs as well as anyone
,’ Dora went on in a sudden surge of indignation as Melissa’s eyebrows lifted. ‘If you ask me, that story about Gebrec having something on his mind was just a cover-up. There’s more to this than meets the eye.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean? You’re not suggesting . . . ?’

  ‘That Bonard killed Gebrec? Of course not, he might soil his expensive suit!’ Dora’s lip curled; her eyes were savage. It was plain she begrudged Bonard his affluence. ‘What I mean is, they probably had some sort of . . . lover’s quarrel, Gebrec went storming out in a rage and charged up to the belvedere to cool off. Either he was so upset that he didn’t look where he was going, or he really did jump on purpose.’

  ‘You could be right.’ Melissa, at first sceptical, saw that there might be some truth in Dora’s theory. ‘Maybe Bonard was trying to end the relationship altogether. We may never know for certain.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose we shall.’ Dora’s tone was dismissive, as if the cause of Gebrec’s death was of only passing interest. She stood up and began pacing restlessly to and fro along the balcony. ‘I wonder how long Rose is going to be. I could do with a bath myself before dinner.’

  ‘Would you like me to pop along and see if she’s finished?’

  ‘Would you? I’m afraid, if I go, she’ll only get upset again. It’s so unfair – she knows I always have her best interests at heart.’ The grim set of Dora’s features belied the hurt in her eyes.

  ‘I’m sure it’s only the shock,’ said Melissa, aware that it sounded unconvincing.

  ‘No, it’s all this wretched business over Dieter Erdle. I’ve made up my mind – I’m going to tell him myself that this nonsense has got to end once and for all. I tried to catch him this morning, before we went to our appointments, but he wouldn’t speak to me. I called to him, but he didn’t even turn round . . . pretended not to hear!’

  ‘From what I’ve seen of him, I’d say he’s got rather a perverse sense of humour and enjoys winding people up,’ said Melissa, remembering in particular his brush with Alain Gebrec the previous afternoon over the controversial book.