IZ SSC The Inspector Zhang Short Stories Page 13

  “So here is the big question, Mr Mercier,” said Inspector Zhang. “You walk out of the room now, but when exactly did you walk into the room?”

  Mercier said nothing.

  “You did not arrive with Miss Berghuis.”

  “He was already in the room when we got there,” said the manager. She gasped and put her hand up to her mouth. “My God, he was in there the whole time.”

  “Apparently so,” said Inspector Zhang.

  Mercier stood up and tried to get out of the door but the two uniformed policemen blocked his way. Mercier turned to face Inspector Zhang. “This is ridiculous,” he said.

  “Now Mr. Mercier, I am going to make two predictions, based on what I think happened,” said Inspector Zhang. He nodded at Mercier’s jacket. “I am certain that you are carrying the murder weapon. You have had no chance to dispose of it so it must still be on your person. And because I do not believe that you planned to kill Mr. Wilkinson, I think that the weapon is actually something quite innocuous. A pen maybe.” He registered the look of surprise on Mercier’s face and he smiled. “Yes, a pen. But I also think that you have a camera, perhaps even a small video camera. Am I right?”

  Mercier didn’t answer but he slowly reached into his inside pocket and took out a black Mont Blanc pen. He held it out and Inspector Zhang could see that there was blood on one end. Sergeant Lee stepped forward and held out a clear plastic evidence bag and Mercier dropped the pen into it. Mercier then reached into the left hand pocket of his trousers and took out a slim white video camera, smaller than a pack of cigarettes.

  Inspector Zhang took the camera from him. “And Miss Lulu, she is in this with you?”

  Mercier looked away but didn’t answer.

  “She is not involved in the murder of course. She doesn’t know that Mr. Wilkinson is dead because he was still alive when she left the room.”

  Mercier nodded. “She doesn’t know.”

  “Because you never planned to kill Mr. Wilkinson, did you?” said Inspector Zhang.

  Mercier rubbed his hands together and shook his head.

  “You were there to blackmail Mr. Wilkinson?”

  “Blackmail?” said Miss Berghuis.

  “It was the only explanation,” said Inspector Zhang. “He was in the room when Mr. Wilkinson arrived with Miss Lulu. I am assuming that he wanted to video them in a compromising position with a view to blackmailing him. He was a married man, after all. And divorce in America can be a costly business. The only question is whether Miss Lulu was party to the blackmail, or not.”

  Mercier nodded. “It was her idea,” he said.

  “You were her client?”

  “Sometimes. Yes. Then she said that she had this rich customer who treated her badly and that she wanted to get back at him. She wanted to hurt him and get money from him. She said she’d split the money with me.”

  “So she suggested that you hide in the closet and video them together?”

  “She had been in his room before and she knew I could easily hide in the closet. She called me when she was on the way back to the hotel and I was in position when they arrived. She made sure that he could never see me. It was easy. But then she was supposed to get him into the shower so that I could slip out, but he wouldn’t have it. He said that his wife was due to phone him so he practically threw her out of the room. Then he phoned room service from the sitting room so I couldn’t get out, and then his wife called. I was stuck there while he took the call.” He ran a hand over his face. He was dripping with sweat. “Then it all went wrong.”

  “He opened the closet? He found you?”

  Mercier nodded. “He shouldn’t have, but he did. All his clothes were in the suitcase and his robe was in the bathroom. I don’t know why he opened the closet, but he did and he saw me.”

  “So you killed him?”

  Mercier shook his head. “It was an accident.”

  “You stabbed him in the throat with your pen,” said Inspector Zhang.

  “He attacked me,” said Mercier. “He opened the closet door and saw me and attacked me. We struggled. I had to stop him.”

  “By driving your pen into his throat?”

  Mercier looked at the floor.

  “I think not,” said Inspector Zhang. “If you stabbed him at the closet, there would be blood there. The only place where there is blood is the bed. Therefore you stabbed him on the bed.”

  “We were struggling. I pushed him back.”

  “And then you stabbed him?”

  “My pen was in my top pocket. He grabbed it during the struggle and tried to force it into my eye. I pushed it away and it…” He fell silent, unable or unwilling to finish the sentence.

  “You stabbed him in the throat?”

  Mercier nodded.

  “And then rather than leaving the room, you hid in the closet again?”

  “I didn’t know what else to do. I knew that he had ordered room service so I couldn’t risk being seen in the corridor.”

  “So you waited until the room service waiter discovered the body and while he was phoning the front desk you slipped out of the closet?”

  Mercier nodded. “I went through to the next room but there was someone in the corridor so I couldn’t leave and I had to pretend that I’d just arrived. It was an accident, Inspector Zhang. I swear.”

  “That’s for a judge to consider,” said Inspector Zhang. “There is one more piece of evidence that I require from you, Mr. Mercier. Your handkerchief.”

  “My handkerchief?”

  “I notice that unlike your colleagues you do not have a handkerchief in your pocket,” said the inspector. “I therefore assume that you used it to wipe the blood from your hands after you killed Mr. Wilkinson.”

  Mercier reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a blood-stained handkerchief. Sergeant Lee held out a plastic evidence bag and Mercier dropped the handkerchief into it.

  Inspector Zhang nodded at the two uniformed policemen. “Take him away, please.”

  The officers handcuffed Mercier and led him out of the room. Inspector Zhang nodded at the two evidence bags that Sergeant Lee was holding, containing the pen and the handkerchief. “You can send them to your friends in Forensics,” he said.

  “I will,” she said.

  “I suppose it does prove one thing,” said Inspector Zhang. He smiled slyly.

  “What is that, Inspector?” asked the Sergeant.

  “Why, that the pen is indeed mightier than the sword,” he said. He grinned. “There is no need to write that down, Sergeant Lee.”

  THE END