Page 80 of Marble Hall Murders

‘No. It was more of a window-shopping expedition.’

‘You did not by any chance visit apharmaciein the Rue Lafayette?’

‘Why would I have wanted to do that, Mr Voltaire?’ Harry snapped. ‘I’m not sure I even know where the Rue Lafayette is, and I didn’t go into any pharmacy.’

‘Did you meet anyone?’

‘No – and I’m not sure anyone will have seen me, although I did spot Elmer in the Place Masséna. I don’t think he saw me though. He was in a tearing hurry, making for the gallery.’

‘What time was that?’

‘A little bit before half past twelve.’

Judith got to her feet. ‘We’ve had enough of this!’ she announced. ‘You come into our house making unfounded allegations. You have no evidence apart from a photograph that you say was in Miss Carling’s possession. What’s that got to do with Harry? She could have been carrying a photograph of the pope and would you have added him to the list of suspects? If she was infatuated, that’s her problem. Harry is a very good-looking man. But I don’t see why we should stay here a minute more.’

Pünd was unperturbed. ‘I have one more question, if I may,’ he said.

Harry glanced at his wife, who had moved to stand at his shoulder. He had clearly enjoyed her brief tirade and seemed more relaxed than he had when the interview began. ‘Please go ahead, Mr Pünd,’ he said.

‘It is not a question for you, but for your wife, Mr Lyttleton.’ He paused briefly. ‘How well did you know Alice Carling?’ he asked.

Judith looked puzzled, as if the question was irrelevant to everything that had gone before. ‘I hardly knew her at all.’

‘And yet you had met her how many times?’

‘I can’t say. She was there when the will was read – and I can’t for the life of me understand what my mother was thinking of when she made that arrangement. I may have seen her once or twice last year. But I hardly ever spoke to her.’

‘That is exactly what I would have thought.’ Pünd looked pained, as if he was unwilling to continue. ‘But as we were speaking just a few moments ago, you asked a question. You wanted to know at what time Miss Carling was picked up from her village. You made the point that it could not possibly have been your husband driving the car.’

‘That’s right. It’s a ludicrous suggestion. So what’s your point, Mr Pünd?’

‘Only that I wonder how you knew that Miss Carling lived in a village.’ Pünd smiled. ‘She could have lived in Nice or in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, which is much more than a village and would, I think, be described as a town. She could have lived in a farm in the middle of the countryside. If you and your husband knew nothing of her personal life, how did you come to that conclusion?’

There was a stunned silence. Judith looked by turns shocked, angry and physically sick, steadying herself by gripping the back of her husband’s chair.

Harry took over. She had defended him and now he did the same for her. ‘I think you’re reading too much into it, Mr Pünd,’ he remarked languidly. ‘I doubt if Miss Carling was earning very much money. If she didn’t have a car, she’d have to live somewhere near her office and Saint-Paul-de-Vence is surrounded by villages.’

‘It still struck me as more than a random observation, Mr Lyttleton.’

‘I didn’t mean anything by it,’ Judith insisted. ‘I have no idea where the silly girl lived. It could have been a pigsty for all I care. And we’re not answering any more of your questions, so you might as well leave.’

*

‘She is lying,’ Pünd said.

He and Voltaire had left through the back of the house and were walking in the garden. In front of them, they could see the gazebo where Lady Chalfont had died. A gardener was crossing the lawn with a wheelbarrow, but otherwise there was nobody around.

‘She also lied to us when we first arrived at the chateau,’ Pünd continued. ‘She was present in London when her mother asked for my help, but she claimed she had told no-one: “I didn’t think it was important.” And yet Lady Chalfont had impressed upon me the urgency of her request. Later, Judith Lyttleton claimed that her mother often kept secretsand that she had forgotten all about it. This makes no sense. And there is something else.’

‘What’s that?’ Fraser asked.

‘At the clinic in London, it struck me that she was nervous. It was almost as if she knew what was going to happen.’

‘It’s just annoying that the two of them seem to have a secure alibi for both the time Alice Carling was picked up and the time she was murdered,’ Voltaire said. ‘I’m going to check out the Royal Riviera and I’ll talk to those people they claimed they met. I’ll also visit the church where Dr Lyttleton gave her talk. I’ll let you know what I find – but I have a feeling they have an alibi that is as solid as rock.’

‘It’s almost as if they arranged it that way.’

‘Yes. You could say that.’