then Summers issued his invitation.’
‘Yes.’
‘And no one asked what it was all about?’
‘Oh yes. We all asked him. But he wouldn’t tell us. He said he would tell us later.’
‘A good dinner?’ Salter knew the answer but was curious to know how long it would take him to get this bugger to tell it.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Did he give you a good dinner?’ That seem clear, sir?
‘Yes. We went to the Maison Victor Hugo. I can’t remember what I had but it was very good.’
‘Did you notice the bill?’
‘Yes.’
In a minute, thought Salter, I am going to take this loquacious bastard back to the office and stick the Oldest Sergeant on the Force on to him. Gatenby would enjoy asking him the four hundred niggling questions he calls interrogation, and with this one it might work. Aloud he said, ‘How much was it?’
‘I don’t know exactly.’
‘Roughly. Give me a round figure.’
‘About a hundred and thirty dollars. Plus the tip, of course.’
‘Cash or card?’ asked Salter, who had already seen the charge slip.
‘He used a Visa card.’
‘And then what?’
‘After a while we went back to our rooms.’
‘Where did you go first?’
‘Marika went back to her hotel right away. About nine o’clock. Then we walked about a bit. Then Summers left.
Then the three of us went for one more drink. Then we walked to the hotel.’
‘You were all staying at the same hotel?’
‘Yes. The Hotel Esmeralda.’
‘But Summers was staying at the Hotel Plaza del Oro or some such name?’
‘Yes. But the rest of us were at the Esmeralda.’
‘And you all went back to bed.’
‘Yes.’
‘And you didn’t see or hear anything of each other, until breakfast the next morning?’
‘I saw Dunkley, of course.’
‘Why, “of course”?’
‘We shared a room.’
‘I see. That’s wonderful. You two have alibis.’
‘I think that is a ridiculous and extremely unpleasant remark, Inspector,’ Carrier said, flaring up in a temper.
‘True, though, isn’t it? And Usher?’
‘He shared a room with a friend of his from another university.’
‘And Miss Tils?’
‘She was on her own.’
‘I see. Well, that seems to be everything you know, doesn’t it? One or two more points. Were you all drunk?’
‘Drunk?’
‘Smashed. Loaded. Pissed. I don’t know the academic term.’
‘We had a lot of wine. But I wasn’t drunk.’ Carrier was still simmering.
‘Who was?’
‘Summers drank a lot more than the rest of us. He was stumbling a little.’
‘Finally, then, you know of no reason why Summers should have been celebrating?’
‘I had the impression that more than one thing was contributing to his state. “Everything’s coming up roses” was what he said once.’
‘Might there have been a woman involved?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Could he have been in love, say?’
‘I don’t see why that should have made him buy us all dinner.’
Salter sighed. ‘Nor do I. But middle-aged men, men of our age, Professor, do funny things, I hear. Thank you. Don’t go out of town without telling me, will you? And don’t talk about this case to anyone, especially the people you were with on Friday night.’
‘Am I under suspicion, Inspector?’
‘At this stage, Professor, we try to keep an open mind.
Salter walked down the corridor until he found Usher’s office, wondering if all the interviewees would be as tight’ arsed. His initial sight of Usher cheered him up. The door was opened by a swarthy little man so covered in hair that only his forehead and nose showed through.
‘Come in, come in, Inspector. Here we go. Sit down here. Cup of tea? If this was Oxford we could have sherry, but here we have to make do.’
Usher was a shouter. His voice was as noisy as a television set tuned for the deaf. His accent was English working class, not quite cockney, for all his aitches were stressed heavily, but otherwise it was classically what the English call ‘common’. As he made Salter comfortable, he moved about the office in giant loping strides that kept him close to the ground; he put a chair in place, settled an ashtray, cleared a space for Salter to write on, and finally seated himself behind his desk, all the while shouting and smiling through his beard, an enormous crescent of yellow teeth splitting his face like a half-moon.
‘You all right now, Inspector? That sun bother you? Move your chair a bit over there. Go on. That’s it. You want something to write on? Take my statement? Har, har. No. You all right, really? Off we go, then.’
When he had subsided, Salter asked, ‘Professor Usher?’
‘Yes, that’s right. The name’s on the door. Smoke? Don’t mind me. I don’t. My kids won’t let me. Har, har. Terrible’n’t? I don’t mind if you do, though. It won’t come this way. No. I suppose you chaps are givin’ it up like everybody else. Funny how it’s changed. I used to smoke forty a day once.’
Usher did a comic cough, and Salter shot through the tiny gap. ‘I wonder if you would corroborate your colleagues’ story of the events of Friday night.’
‘Glad to. Glad to. We met in the bar about half past five, had a drink and left about a quarter past six. P’raps twenty past. No. I’m tellin’ a lie. It was half past six ‘cause they were closing the bar up, you see.’
‘I’ve got the main story, I think,’ Salter shouted. ‘Just one or two
