As I write this, there have been no answers as to what took place at her home in Devonshire one week ago. Without wishing to disparage the work of the British police, my partners and I would like to engage you to investigate the crime.

If you would like to call my office on Judson 6–5100, I would be most glad to speak with you.

Yours sincerely,

Edgar Schultz

Pünd read the letter carefully, then laid it down. ‘It is most curious,’ he said. ‘I was speaking of this matter only yesterday.’

‘Everyone’s talking about Melissa James,’ Miss Cain agreed.

‘That is indeed so. It is a story of great public interest and this invitation is as timely as it is unexpected. And yet, on reflection, it seems to me that Devonshire is a great distance from here and the facts of the case, insofar as I am aware, are quite straightforward. I am surprised that the police have not yet come up with a solution.’

‘Maybe they need your help.’

‘That is often the case. But to travel such a distance … ’

‘Whatever you say, Mr Pünd.’ She thought for a moment. ‘But Miss James was a very good actress and you don’t really have anything on your desk at the moment.’

‘What of Mrs Allingham?

‘I thought it sounded rather sordid. I’m sure this would be much more up your street.’

Pünd smiled. ‘Yes, you may perhaps be right.’ He made up his mind. ‘Let us see. If you would be so kind as to book a transatlantic call for this afternoon, we will hear what this man, Herr Schultz, has to say.’

‘Certainly, Mr Pünd. I’ll see to that for you.’

The call was arranged for three o’clock, which would be midmorning in New York. Miss Cain made the connection and was put through to Schultz’s office. Only then did she hand the receiver to Pünd. As he held it against his ear, he heard a low hissing and then, surprisingly clear, a voice with a strong Brooklyn accent.

‘Hello? Is that Mr Pünd? Can you hear me?’

‘Yes, yes. I can hear you. Is this Mr Schultz?’

‘Thank you for calling us, sir. I want you to know, you have a great many admirers here in New York.’

‘You are too kind.’

‘Not at all. If you ever decided to write a book about your exploits, I hope you would allow this agency to represent you.’

That was, Pünd reflected, exactly what he would have expected from a New York agent. Even as he was discussing the death of one of his clients, he was attempting to secure another. He said nothing, ignoring the invitation – and perhaps the man at the end of the line realised he had stepped out of line.

‘We’re all heartbroken by the death of Miss James,’ he continued earnestly. ‘As you may know, she hadn’t acted for some time, but she was about to make a comeback and all I can say is, it’s a great loss to the movie industry. I’m sorry I can’t be in London to speak with you personally but I very much hope you’ll help us out here. We want to know who did this. We want to know what happened. We feel we owe it to her.’

‘And if I do find the truth,’ Pünd said, ‘what then?’

‘Well, obviously, that will be a matter for the British police. But our feeling is we can’t just sit on our butts and do nothing. We wanted to get involved and then some bright spark in the office suggested you and we got in touch straight away. We were lucky that one of our associates was in London this week and he carried my letter with him on the flight. I’m sure you’ll agree with me that we can’t waste any time. We don’t want to let the trail go cold.’

‘It is certainly true that an investigation is at its most effective in the days immediately following the crime,’ Pünd agreed.

‘We’ll pay your usual fee, Mr Pünd. You can ask your assistant to get in touch with our finance department. I can’t tell you how much it would mean to us if you came on board. There are a lot of sharks in this business – male and female – but Melissa was one of the kindest and most considerate people I had the privilege to meet. She never let success go to her head and she never forgot her fans.’

‘When did you last speak with her, Mr Schultz?’

‘I’m sorry? I can’t hear you.’

‘When did you last speak with her?’

‘About two weeks ago. We were discussing a contract for a new film. She was going to earn a lot of money – and it strikes me that may have had something to do with what happened.’

‘It is, I suppose, possible.’ Pünd sounded unsure.

‘Well, I’ll leave the thinking to you. Can I tell my partners that we have an agreement?’

‘You can tell them, certainly, that I will consider the matter.’

‘Thank you, sir. I am truly appreciative. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.’

He rang off. Pünd sat in silence.

‘What did he say?’ Miss Cain asked. She had been sitting opposite him throughout the conversation but she had only heard one side of what was discussed.

‘It is interesting,’ Pünd said. ‘If I decide to take this assignment, it will be the first time I have been engaged by a long-distance telephone call!’

‘You would have thought they could have flown over,’ Miss Cain sniffed.

‘That is true.’

‘Are you going to do it?’

Pünd turned the letter round and tapped his fingers gently against the paper as if there was something hidden inside the words and he was trying to dislodge it. Finally, he nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Only last night this case was mentioned to me and now this has occurred. There is something about the approach from her agents that persuades me that, as you suggested, this could be a case of great interest. Please can I ask you to book two first-class rail tickets to … I believe Tawleigh-on-the-Water is the name of the village? We will also need accommodation in a comfortable hotel.’

Miss Cain stood up. ‘I’ll get on to it straight away.’

‘As a courtesy, we will need to contact the local police and inform them of our arrival, and you can also call back Herr Schultz and inform him that I have decided to take the case.’

‘Yes. I’ll also organise the contract and the payment.’

‘That too. I take it you have no issues that would prevent you from accompanying me?’

‘None at all, Mr Pünd. I’ll pack the moment I get home.’

‘Thank you, Miss Cain. And if you will be so kind as to pick up the train tickets, the two of us will leave tomorrow.’

SEVEN

A QUESTION OF TIME

It took them six hours to reach Tawleigh-on-the-Water, starting from Paddington at mid-day and changing trains twice, at Exeter and at Barnstaple. Miss Cain had made all the arrangements with the efficiency that Pünd had come to admire. She knew the different platform numbers and porters met them at each stop, ensuring that the journey was as smooth as possible. Pünd passed the time absorbed in a study that he had received from the highly respected American Academy of Forensic Sciences: an examination of the so-called ‘Nutshell Studies’ of Frances Glessner Lee, who had constructed intricate models of complicated crime scenes in order to analyse them. His secretary, meanwhile, had brought a library book, A Daughter’s a Daughter, the new Mary Westmacott.

There was a taxi waiting for them at Bideford and it drove them across the Bideford Bridge to Tawleigh just as the sun was beginning to set. The rain had finally cleared and their first view of the village could have been taken from one of the picture postcards on sale inside the chandlery. They drove past a brightly painted lighthouse at the far end of a harbour, a line of fishing boats, the Red Lion pub, then a long crescent of sand and shingle. It was true that there were no children and no sandcastles, no donkeys or ice cream, but they could be easily imagined. A carpet of brilliant red lay shimmering on the water and the waves broke with a soft, gentle rhythm as the moon took its place in the sky and the darkness gathered.

‘You wouldn’t have thought a murder could happen in a place like this,’ Miss Cain muttered as she looked out of the window.

‘It is the nature of murder that it will take place anywhere,’ Pünd responded.

They were staying at the Moonflower Hotel. The taxi drew up but nobody came out to help them with their luggage. Miss Cain rolled her eyes, but Pünd was more forgiving. The hotel was in the middle of a police investigation. It was unlikely that things would be running smoothly.

At least the young girl behind the reception desk was friendlier. ‘Welcome to the Moonflower,’ she smiled. ‘I see you’ve reserved for two nights.’

‘It may be longer,’ Miss Cain warned her.