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."
"S屑, s屑," 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 tr懈s 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.
Everybody turned out to be one more guest than Tracy had anticipated. She had invited the Baroness Howarth, an attractive young heiress, and when Tracy saw the baroness arrive, she walked over to greet her. The greeting died on Tracy's lips. With the baroness was Jeff Stevens.
"Tracy, darling, I don't believe you know Mr. Stevens. Jeff, this is Mrs. Tracy Whitney, your hostess."
Tracy said stiffly, "How do you do, Mr. Stevens?"
Jeff took Tracy's hand, holding it a fraction longer than necessary. "Mrs. Tracy Whitney?" he said. "Of course! I was a friend of your husband's. We were together in India."
"Isn't that exciting!" Baroness Howarth exclaimed.
"Strange, he never mentioned you," Tracy said coolly.
"Didn't he, really? I'm surprised. Interesting old fella. Pity he had to go the way he did."
"Oh, what happened?" Baroness Howarth asked.
Tracy glared at Jeff. "It was nothing, really."
"Nothing!" Jeff said reproachfully. "If I remember correctly, he was hanged in India."
"Pakistan," Tracy said tightly. "And I believe I do remember my husband mentioning you. How is your wife?"
Baroness Howarth looked at Jeff. "You never mentioned that you were married, Jeff."
"Cecily and I are divorced."
Tracy smiled sweetly. "I meant Rose."
"Oh, that wife."
Baroness Howarth was astonished. "You've been married twice?"
"Once," he said easily. "Rose and I