Agent in Place by Helen MacInnes

Author:Helen MacInnes [MacInnes, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781781164303

15

“We’ll stop here for a few moments,” Tony said, breaking their long silence, as they reached the Roquebrune road. Georges nodded, found a parking space near a group of small shops, and turned off the Renault’s engine.

Neither had spoken since they left Shandon Villa. The police were still there, questioning the electrician, all interest now focused on what power near the pool area had been turned off, what turned on, when and why. The pool itself was safe enough, all work there completed. Only one section, controlling the lights that would illuminate the trees at one side of the pool, was still under repair. The power-switch controlling that small area was still active. A regrettable oversight, a case of human failure; judgment against which the unfortunate electrician kept protesting. (The power had been off today on all areas of the pool and its surroundings. No, he hadn’t seen this done: he had just assumed it to be so. As for the other electricians, they’d be back tomorrow to clear up the mess they had left: his job was to check the lights on the upper terraces, and that’s where he had been working, hadn’t heard or seen anything.)

Yes, everyone had been thoroughly baffled. And Maclehose gave the verdict that possibly would stand. “An accident, a terrible accident,” he kept repeating. It seemed a plausible explanation: the trees at the dangerous corner of the terrace screened the small pavilion where Maclehose had installed his visitor. “Official guests at the villa, our own friends in the pavilion near the pool—Mattie fixed up the upper floor nicely for them, just no room over at our place. Poor Kelso, he was the first to use our guest-house. Arrived this morning, was only going to stay here overnight. Tomorrow he’d be on his way to Gstaad—always takes a winter vacation—two weeks, he said. Suicide? Ridiculous. He wasn’t depressed. Preoccupied, perhaps. Certainly, he was in a serious mood at lunchtime, seemed ten years older than I remembered him. Just wouldn’t let us plan his afternoon. He said he was going to wait for Rick Nealey’s return. And after that he was going to see his brother. His brother—good God, Lawton, what do we do about his brother?”

And Tony said, “You let him know.”

“Yes. Yes. I’d better call him right away. You are leaving?”

“The police have our names and addresses. They’ll know where they can reach us.” Which was true enough. And if the police wanted to check further than Tony’s hotel or the Sea Breeze, they’d end up at a wine-shipper’s office in London and a journalist’s desk in Paris.

“I don’t think they’ll trouble you,” said Maclehose. And I hope, his anxious eyes were praying, they won’t trouble Shandon Villa either. “No publicity about this,” he added, glancing at Georges. “The less the better, don’t you agree?”

“I agree.”

“Accidents will happen,” Maclehose said miserably. He sighed a deep sigh as he shook their hands, and went back to staring at the figure, covered now by a blanket, as if he could by sheer will-power bid the stretcher-bearers move it out of sight, out of his life.

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