Daniel Cooper said nothing.
"As I understand it, you are an investigator for the International Insurance Protective Association, a consortium of insurance companies."
"Some of our European clients have had heave losses lately. I was told there are no clues."
Inspector Trignant sighed. "I'm afraid that is the case. We. know we are dealing with a gang of very clever women, but beyond that - "
"No information from informers?"
"No. Nothing."
"Doesn't that strike you as odd?"
"What do you mean, monsieur?"
It seemed so obvious to Cooper that he did not bother to keep the impatience out of his voice. "When a gang is involved, there's always someone who talks too much, drinks too much, spends too much. It's impossible for a large group of people to keep a secret. Would you mind giving me your files on this gang?"
The inspector started to refuse. He thought Daniel Cooper was one of the most physically unattractive men he had ever met. And certainly the most arrogant. He was going to be a chierie, "a pain in the ass"; but the inspector had been asked to cooperate fully.
Reluctantly, he said, "I will have copies made for you." He spoke into an intercom and gave the order. To make conversation, Inspector Trignant said, "An interesting report just crossed my desk. Some valuable jewels were stolen aboard the Orient Express while it - "
"I read about it. The thief made a fool of the Italian police."
"No one has been able to figure out how the robbery was accomplished."
"It's obvious," Daniel Cooper said rudely. "A matter of simple logic."
Inspector Trignant looked over his glasses in surprise. Mon Dieu, he has the manners of a pig. He continued, coolly, "In this case, logic does not help. Every inch of that train was examined, and the employees, passengers, and all the luggage searched."
"No," Daniel Cooper contradicted.
This man is crazy, Inspector Trignant decided. "No - what?"
"They didn't search all the luggage."
"And I tell you they did," Inspector Trignant insisted. "I have seen the police report."
"The woman from whom the jewels were stolen - Silvana Luadi?"
"Yes?"
"She had placed her jewels in an overnight case from which they were taken?"
"That is correct."
"Did the police search Miss Luadi's luggage?"
"Only her overnight case. She was the victim. Why should they search her luggage?"
"Because that's logically the only place the thief could have hidden the jewels - in the bottom of one of her other suitcases. He probably had a duplicate case, and when all the luggage was piled on the platform at the Venice station, all he had to do was exchange suitcases and disappear." Daniel Cooper rose. "If those reports are ready, I'll be running along."
Thirty minutes later, Inspector Trignant was speaking to Alberto Fornati in Venice.
"Monsieur," the inspector said, "I was calling to inquire whether there happened to be any problem with your wife's luggage when you arrived in Venice."
"Sм, sм," Fornati complained. "The idiot porter got her suitcase mixed up with someone else's. When my wife opened her bag at the hotel, it contained nothing but a lot of old magazines. I reported it to the office of the Orient Express. Have they located my wife's suitcase?" he asked hopefully.
"No, monsieur," the inspector said. And he added silently to himself, Nor would I expect it, if I were you.
When he completed the telephone call, he sat back in his chair thinking, This Daniel Cooper is trиs formidable. Very formidable, indeed.
Chapter 24
Tracy's house in Eaton Square was a haven. It was in one of the most beautiful areas in London, with the old Georgian houses facing tree-filled private parks. Nannies in stiffly starched uniforms wheeled their small charges in status-named prams along the graveled paths, and children played their games. I miss Amy, Tracy thought.
Tracy walked along the storied old streets and shopped at the greengrocers and the chemist on Elizabeth Street; she marveled at the variety of brilliantly colored flowers sold outside the little shops.
Gunther Hartog saw to it that Tracy contributed to the right charities and met the right people. She dated wealthy dukes and impoverished earls and had numerous proposals of marriage. She was young and beautiful and rich, and she seemed so vulnerable.
"Everyone thinks you're a perfect target," Gunther laughed. "You've really done splendidly for yourself, Tracy. You're set now. You have everything you'll ever need."
It was true. She had money in safe-deposit boxes all over Europe, the house in London, and a chalet in St. Moritz. Everything she would ever need. Except for someone to share it with. Tracy thought of the life she had almost had, with a husband and a baby. Would that ever be possible for her again? She could never reveal to any man who she really was, nor could she live a lie by concealing her past. She had played so many parts, she was no longer sure who she really was, but she did know that she could never return to the life she had once had. It's all right, Tracy thought defiantly. A lot of people are lonely. Gunther is right. I have everything.
She was giving a cocktail party the following evening, the first since her return from Venice.
"I'm looking forward to it," Gunther told her. "Your parties are the hottest ticket in London."
Tracy said fondly, "Look who my sponsor is."
"Who's going to be there?"
"Everybody," Tracy told him.