‘It doesn’t matter. I want to talk to you.’
‘Come in.’
I opened the car door.
She got out, holding a crimson silk wrap closely to her. She made a lovely, impressive figure of beauty in the moonlight. Silently, we walked together up the path that led to the veranda.
‘I opened the front door, switched on the light and stood inside, wondering what she wanted.
‘She went into the lounge. I followed, closed the door, and turned on the standard lamp by the settee.
‘Would you like a drink or coffee?’
‘Nothing,’ she said curtly, and sat down on the settee. The wrap fell open. She had certainly dressed for the occasion. The white satin dress, the skirt heavy with gold brocade, was fit for a State ball. Diamonds glittered at her throat. A diamond bracelet, four inches wide, imprisoned her left wrist. She seemed determined I shouldn’t forget she was the fourth richest woman in the world.
I poured out a stiff whisky, carried the glass to my favourite armchair and sank into it. I felt tired and a little depressed. All the way from Myra’s bungalow I had been racking my brains to find a way of cracking this case, but it was like hammering my head against a brick wall.
Then, being suspicious by nature, an idea floated into my head. I considered it, decided it was a sound one, got to my feet again, crossed the room and thumbed down an electric switch on the wall. Then I came back to the chair again and sat down.