‘Have you followed de Niverville’s career, Dr Carrier?’ he asked, one connoisseur to another.
‘Yes,’ Carrier said.
‘Interesting painter,’ Salter said, trying to remember a single fact about him.
‘Yes,’ Carrier said.
So much for art, the key that opens all doors, thought Salter. ‘Now, sir,’ he said, ‘I want to ask you a few questions about Professor Summers. First, I’d like you to tell me what happened when you were all together on Thursday. You were with Professor Summers for dinner, I think. Who else was there?’
‘Usher, Dunkley, Marika Tils and I. That’s all. Nothing happened. We just had dinner.’
‘Wasn’t it unusual, Professor, for Summers and Dunkley to be having dinner together?’
‘Yes.’
There was a long pause.
‘Well?’ Salter’ asked.
‘Yes, it was unusual.’
‘Then why were they together?’
‘We all were.’
‘So you say. But normally Dunkley and Summers avoided each other.’
‘Yes.’
‘But not this time.’
‘No.’
Jesus Christ. ‘Mr Carrier. I’m trying to find out who killed a man. I’d be glad of any help. Could you tell me, please, why, on this particular night these two old enemies were together?’
‘Summers invited him along with the rest of us.’
‘Ah. Why?’ Could you perhaps offer an interpretation? Rack your trained, scholarly brain, Salter thought.
‘He said that tonight was his night. He said the gods were smiling on him. So he insisted we all go out to dinner. Including Dunkley.’
‘What did he mean by “The gods were smiling”?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘He never said?’
‘No. He just seemed very happy.’
‘I see. He just said, “The gods are smiling; this is on me”?’
‘I don’t remember exactly what he said. We were all having a drink in a bar after the last paper.’
‘All of you, including Dunkley?’
‘Yes. He had just read a paper.’
‘Read a paper?’
‘Yes. On favourite epithets in John Clare’s poetry.’
‘I see. Read it to other people, you mean. Lectured, like.’
‘Yes.’
‘And 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