A Stabbing Death in Luxor: The Further Adventures of Professor Hilary Tamar

By Howard E. Hallengren

A Stabbing Death in Luxor or the Further Adventures of Professor Hilary Tamar is essentially a murder mystery. The story is told entirely from the viewpoint of Professor Tamar who, along with five of her associates, all barristers in London, comprise a group which has solved several crimes in the past. Professor Tamar becomes suspicious of a client of one of the barristers and soon uncovers a $2.5 million embezzlement scheme.
Before the crime is even discovered, one of the embezzlers drives away from a bank in Switzerland with $2.5 million in gold coins loaded in his car, waving to the bank officials as he leaves. Very shortly thereafter, one of the embezzlers is dead, and Professor Tamar begins a more thorough investigation of the embezzlement and this death.
Since one the embezzlers is Egyptian, the story soon shifts to Luxor, Egypt, where Professor Tamar and associates soon assemble. A detailed investigation is described, at the conclusion of which the reader is given a possible solution to the more recent stabbing in Luxor, but is left with a question as to its actual cause. The reader is also left with the question as to what the proper pronouns should be for Professor Tamar.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669844013

Howard E. Hallengren

Howard Hallengren was born in Chicago, Illinois and attended public high school there before winning a scholarship to Princeton University. He graduated from Princeton with honors in English literature and immediately began work at the First National Bank of Chicago. He rose to become Chief Investment Officer of the Bank in the 1970’s. He left First Chicago in 1982, joining the Chase Manhattan Bank in New York, where he served as Chief Investment Officer in International Private Banking. Both at First Chicago and at Chase, Mr. Hallengren traveled extensively worldwide and became particularly interested in ancient Egyptian civilization as revealed in the tombs and temples around Luxor. He left Chase in 1992 and formed his own company, Falcon Real Estate Investment Company, Ltd. and served as Chairman of this company until his retirement in 2012. Following retirement, Mr. Hallengren wrote his first novel, Reminiscences of An Accidental Embezzler, which received critical praise. His current novel, A Stabbing Death in Luxor, is based on experiences during his banking career, as well as his interest in Egypt and Luxor.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

M y scholarly endeavors at Oxford had kept me fully occupied for several months after reaching an agreement with my barrister friends and the American, and I had had no opportunity to consider a trip to London. However, the progress I was making in my analysis Causa in the Early Common Law now required that I seek confirmation of one of my theories by doing some additional research at the Public Record Office on Chancery Lane in London. Accordingly, I contacted my old pupil Timothy Shepherd, who was formerly associated with 62 New Square, and asked if I might again use the extra bedroom at his flat. Timothy indicated that he was only too happy to accommodate his former tutor particularly since he would be traveling on the continent during my proposed visit to London.

Arriving in London on a Tuesday afternoon, I decided, after getting settled in Timothy’s flat, that it was too late to begin serious scholastic studies. I, therefore, went straight to the Corkscrew Tavern, the dimly lit wine bar that was visited so frequently by my friends from 62 New Square. On entering this establishment, I was soon able to discern my friends seated at a table in the rear, all of them seemingly gazing at an almost empty bottle of Sancerre. As I approached the table, Selena looked up and said, My dear Hilary, what an extraordinary surprise. I believe that I speak for my associates when I say that the idea of your being in London had simply not occurred to any of us. After a rather long pause, she added, Please do join us.

As I may have remarked in the past, Selena’s voice has a remarkable combination of silkiness and melodiousness, but with an underlying sharpness that is slightly unsettling. I am never certain that one can simply accept at face value whatever it is that she has said.

Cantrip, on the other hand, having been educated at Cambridge, has no subtlety whatsoever. There can be no doubt about what he means by his comments even though they are usually expressed rather inappropriately and with severe distress to the English language. I say, Hilary, we had rather given up on you. After that fiasco with your American, we had not expected that you would show your face around here again for quite some time.

I tried to ignore Cantrip’s remark and seated myself at the table. Rather than debate him, I elected to change the subject by saying, I was really hoping to stop here simply to offer greetings and perhaps to have a glass of wine. But I noticed when I came in that you were all deep in thought, and it might be best if I just sat quietly and permitted you to continue your meditations.

Ragwort, always the gentleman, said, Of course we’d like you to have a glass of wine with us, Hilary. Permit me to get another bottle. It was usually very difficult to get the attention of this group since barristers do seem to enjoy hearing themselves talk. I know that on a number of occasions I have had quite important matters about which I wanted to educate the group, only to find it almost impossible to break into their frequently inconsequential discussions. On this occasion, however, the group lapsed into silence again as soon as Ragwort headed off to the bar.

I broke the silence by inquiring, I can only assume that there must be some problem at 62 New Square which is casting such a pall on the four of you. Your silence this afternoon is certainly most unusual.

The silence continued for another minute or two before Selena responded, Yes, Hilary, I think you can assume that. We seem to be going through a period in which we have not received quite as many referrals from instructing solicitors, and this has led Henry to be more than usually difficult as to our expense reports.

Julia, who was not a partner at 62 New Square, now seemed to awaken from her reverie and added, I don’t think Henry has ever fully appreciated just how hard all of you work and how necessary it is that you be able to slip out now and then for a little relaxation.

Well, I think the old boy’s gone too far this time, and I think we need to put him in his place. This comment of Cantrip’s caused Selena to grace the table with her most patronizing smile. And how do you propose to do that, Cantrip?

Well, why don’t we descend on his office and remind him exactly who the boss is?

Ragwort returned to the table at this point and, after refilling everyone’s glass and bringing an extra glass for me, joined the conversation. I don’t think it would be a very good idea to irritate Henry. It would probably be particularly inappropriate to remind him that he is not the boss since we would be making a legal distinction that, I believe we all know, is not in fact the case. Irritating Henry could have far worse consequences than irritating the temporary typist. I suppose the problem would go away, or at least diminish, if we were able to secure some additional work from our solicitor friends.

Since it was out of the question for a barrister to actively seek additional work, this being the clerk’s responsibility, Ragwort’s suggestion did not seem to point the way to any solution to the problem.

Selena now turned to Julia who continued to surprise me by looking remarkably composed this afternoon. She had spilled only a relatively small amount of her wine, and at least half of her ashes had been successfully deposited in the ashtray. Patting Julia on her arm, Selena said, We are all quite envious of Julia right now since she is the only one of us who has been able to obtain a new client in the last few days.

Or weeks, Cantrip added glumly.

Yes, Hilary, but I’m afraid there’s no story in it for you. This is an American who was referred to me by Tancred’s, but all he wants to do is create a holding company in the Channel Islands so he can move some money there from London—and quite a lot of money, I gather—and then transfer it on to Switzerland.

I was surprised at Julia’s statement and asked, You don’t find it unusual, Julia, for an American to want to move money out of one tax haven and into another? Julia murmured in a voice so low that I barely heard her, They’re not tax havens. They’re offshore financial centers.

Ragwort broke in to say, Julia has been too interested in the fact that her new client is an American to think about anything else. She has been trying to convince him that he should pay to bring her to New York so they could discuss the matter in more depth there. He, however, has resisted this suggestion, particularly since he is actually here in London right now.

Am I to assume that Julia has developed a new American attachment?

Julia shook her head quite vigorously and said, Oh no, Hilary, my new client is quite elderly. I believe he is in his late fifties or perhaps even sixty. There could be no question of my having anything but a professional relationship with him.

Selena added, As you undoubtedly know, Hilary, Julia’s interest in the opposite sex generally stops somewhere in the twenties. Her interest in going to the United States would appear to be connected with the young man she met some months ago in Cannes. Julia, of course, did not dispute Selena’s comment.

Since the conversation seemed to be lagging once again, I asked Julia if she knew why her new client wanted to move a large amount of money out of the Channel Islands and into Switzerland. The American would not have to pay any local taxes in the Channel Islands and banks in both Jersey and Guernsey are famous for their adherence to the highest standards of confidentiality. Moving money to Switzerland, under the circumstances, would seem to accomplish very little. A scholar would feel obligated to seek out some rational explanation for such a move.

Julia inhaled deeply on her Gauloise and said, Hilary, it’s not my concern as to the client’s motives. I assume that the entire matter was discussed with my instructing solicitor. I will now carry out my instructions to create the new entity in Jersey or Guernsey, and that will be the end of it, although we still need someone to create the corporation here in the UK.

It is one of the imperfections of the English legal system that this division of responsibilities between solicitor and barrister can sometimes lead to an incomplete understanding of a given situation.

Cantrip now interjected, So, Hilary, since we’re talking about Americans, what’s with your American, the one who was going to take Sarah Caudwell’s place and was supposed to make bucketsful of money for us? After that meeting here and after he rejected the plot for your next work of fiction, we aren’t at all surprised that he seems to have skipped.

My dear Cantrip, I am sorry that you did not appreciate our prospective benefactor’s reason for not wishing to collaborate on the scholarly treatise that had been proposed. You will recall that Ragwort’s case—the one in question—had involved the death of not one, but two private bankers, one in Luxembourg and one in Zürich. While we all felt that this was an interesting and instructive case and I thought that my analysis leading to the solution of the case was particularly brilliant, we need to understand the American’s reluctance to underwrite, so to speak, that particular story. He had spent many years as a private banker himself, [although how he came to his present affluence I really couldn’t say], and he did not particularly care to be involved in an analysis that centered upon the deaths of two people who were coworkers, in a sense. I realize that such a degree of sensitivity is perhaps unknown at Cambridge, but it is entirely understandable from an Oxford or scholarly viewpoint.

Hilary, all I can say is that you’re having another one of your loopy spells. To my way of thinking, this old guy just didn’t want to do all the work that would have been involved and so he came up with that phony excuse. You’ve really got to be loopier than he is to buy it.

Selena now added, You will recall, Hilary, that we all had rather serious reservations about entering into this arrangement, but you had assured us that your American would perform, and we all hoped that it might be more productive for those of us from 62 New Square than your previous arrangement with Miss Caldwell. So far, at least, that has not proven to be the case.

I decided that Selena was being deliberately provocative; therefore, I ignored the all too obvious mistakes in her pronouncement. My dear Selena, I can assure you that as soon as the barristers at 62 New Square get back to work and provide me with a sufficient challenge, my American [as you persist in calling him] and I will produce a historical treatise that will provide us all with a quite nice sum of money—bucketsful—to use the Cambridge idiom. Some of it might even be in American dollars, and we can make use of one of those tax shelters that Julia is always planning.

Ragwort now turned to Cantrip and said, I say, Cantrip, have you noticed that Hilary and Henry get to sound more and more alike as they both grow older? All they can talk about is working harder and strange ideas like that. Neither can seem to realize that they are speaking to up-and-coming young English barristers. There should be an intellectual disconnect here that would keep these ideas apart.

During the next several days my research at the Public Record Office took a great deal of my time, and I also found it necessary to spend some time in the Reading Room at the British Museum. As a result, I had no further contact with my friends at the Chancery Bar. However, returning to Timothy’s apartment one afternoon, I was delighted to find that he had returned from the Continent after the conclusion of his legal proceeding, and he suggested that I should be his guest at dinner. Naturally, I protested that I should be taking him to dinner since I had been a guest in his apartment for almost a week, but he insisted that there was no way that he could ever repay me for all the knowledge I had imparted to him when I was his tutor at Oxford.

We went that night to Guido’s, which was a favorite dining spot of many young barristers, and were being led to our table when Timothy and I, almost simultaneously, spotted Julia. She was accompanied by a rather distinguished-looking gentleman, but one could tell, upon looking at Julia, that she was somewhat uncomfortable. As soon as she saw us, she waved rather vigorously, cigarette in hand, strewing ashes everywhere and almost upsetting her wineglass. It seemed rather clear that she wanted us to join her. Timothy, who was of course an old colleague of Julia’s, bent down and kissed her on both cheeks, which seemed to be a Continental custom, and there were then introductions all around. Julia insisted that we join them, saying, I am sure Mr. Wenner will be pleased to meet you since I’ve already told him so much about you both. After a pause, she added, Well, perhaps a little more about Hilary than about Timothy, but that’s only because Hilary has, how shall I say this, been involved in so many things. I smiled since I assumed Julia meant her comment as a compliment.

Her companion turned out to be her new client, Kurt Wenner, the one who wanted advice on transferring money from London to the Channel Islands to Switzerland. Timothy immediately began telling Julia about the legal proceeding in Paris, and I, therefore, took the opportunity to speak with Mr. Wenner. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, I said, I gather that you are a visitor here in London, Mr. Wenner. He gave a slight nod of his head but said nothing more, so I continued, Your accent is so difficult to place, that I am a little puzzled. Clearly there is a slight Germanic accent, but it seems to have been modified quite a bit.

He smiled briefly and said, Well, I suppose that’s what comes from living in New York and Los Angeles for so many years. I was born in Zürich, but I’ve been in the States now for almost twenty years. I have tried to get rid of the accent, which I believe you would have to say is Schweitzer Deutsch, but it is quite a difficult thing to do.

I would imagine it is. Do you come to London often?

Not as often as I would like. I’m here on business this time, but my wife or I should say my ex-wife and my daughter are coming over from Zürich so we can have a short family reunion here in London, and then we are going on to Switzerland.

You’re in business then in New York?

Yes, I work for the Second National Bank of New York, in their International Private Banking Department.

Trying to find out why anyone, even a large and famous private bank, would want to transfer funds from one tax shelter to another, I ventured to say, Of course, that would explain why you would be meeting with Julia, one of those international tax planning matters.

Well yes, as a matter of fact it is. But it has nothing to do with the bank. It’s a private matter.

Do forgive me. I did not mean for one moment to inquire into your private business affairs.

That’s perfectly all right. Julia or I should say Miss Larwood has told me what an inquiring mind the famous Professor Tamar has, so I would expect you to ask all kinds of questions.

I was momentarily stopped by his use of the adjective, and I finally managed to say, "Well, I hardly think famous is appropriate at this point. Being well-known and highly thought of within a rather specialized academic community hardly qualifies one for the adjective famous. One does hope that when one’s dissertation is published one will have earned somewhat greater recognition, but I don’t think a scholar can expect fame in the age in which we now live."

Mr. Wenner smiled slightly and seemed to think about my comment for a minute or two before saying, My own objective is not fame, in fact, quite the contrary. I would much prefer to attain material well-being, and I actually try to avoid the spotlight. I suppose I shouldn’t say it, but I don’t care very much what other people think of me, and I imagine that is because I have a rather high opinion of myself. But I should say, Professor Tamar, that famous is certainly a term that could be applied to the exploits that Miss Larwood has told me about, and in which you were the central protagonist.

I felt I should show a little humility and merely say, Well, one tries to help where one can.

No no no, Julia has told me of a number of the cases you have worked on and particularly how helpful you were in carrying out her plans for the solution of that murder over in Venice. She said she was being held in jail and needed someone to set the trap for the actual murderer. It was quite clever of her to have thought the whole thing though with the telephone call and all, and she insists that her plan would not have been successful without your help.

I could only manage to reply, Yes, wasn’t it clever of her.

Of course I was somewhat annoyed by Julia’s version of the events in Venice, but I had become accustomed to having others claim credit for my scholarly exploits. However, I wondered what significance I should attach to Mr. Wenner’s continually referring to Julia by her first name. It could be an American’s typical lack of respect for the proprieties, but he did not appear to me to be a typical American. Rather, he seemed to be the epitome of the distinguished, conservative Swiss private banker. Julia had clearly indicated that her relationship with him was purely professional. I wondered if he felt the same.

Timothy finally concluded his seemingly interminable recounting of his Parisian experience, and we proceeded to order dinner. The rest of the dinner was unremarkable, but as we were leaving Guido’s, Julia pulled me aside and said, I’m afraid Mr. Wenner is worse than the late Edward Malvoisin. I assume, Hilary, that you remember him from the adventures down in Jersey. Mr. Wenner seems to feel that he is absolutely irresistible as did Malvoisin, but he takes liberties that Malvoisin never thought of. After a pause, as Julia tried to refasten the top buttons of her dress that had unaccountably come apart, she added, His hands seem to show up in the most unexpected places.

Under the circumstances, Julia, I would think that it might be well if Timothy and I were to stay with you this evening. Where were you planning to go next?

Mr. Wenner had suggested that we go back to his hotel for a drink. I believe he’s staying at the Ritz on Piccadilly. Yes, I think having you and Timothy join us might be a good idea.

I was not sure that Mr. Wenner thought it was a good idea, but when Julia suggested that we all stop for an after-dinner drink, he graciously invited us to the Ritz. I had always liked the public rooms at that hotel. Their salmon-pink coloring was rather soothing and despite the renovation a few years ago, there was still a certain elegance about the place. Mr. Wenner insisted that we have champagne, and I noticed that he ordered something that members of the faculty at Oxford would generally find to be beyond their means. I almost suggested to him that he order something else since the thought of Julia spilling such an expensive wine bothered me. But I refrained from doing so since money apparently was not a problem for Mr. Wenner. He had insisted on paying for the dinner at Guido’s; he was staying at the Ritz; he ordered the most expensive champagne; and he was planning to transfer a large amount of money out of the UK. My analytical mind kept telling me that I should know more about him.

The champagne had just been served when a dark, foreign-looking young man approached the table. The man addressed our host, saying, Kurt, I saw you come in and I hope you don’t mind if I join you and your friends. Mr. Wenner did, in fact, look as if he minded a great deal, but again his well-cultivated manners came to the fore, and he rose and introduced us to a Mr. Imad El Qasim. After we were all re-seated, Mr. Wenner offered a rather brief explanation of Mr. El Qasim. Imad is a business associate of mine, and we are currently working together on a number of things. It turned out that Imad was an Egyptian who was also living in New York. The nature of their business relationship was not made clear, but Julia let slip that she was glad to meet Mr. El Qasim since she had run into his name so often. Apparently he was involved with Mr. Wenner in the various accounts he was opening in the Channel Islands and Switzerland.

Trying to find out more about him, I ventured to say, "I always find it interesting to note how many different ways an Egyptian or Arabic name can be transcribed into English. There are quite a few ways in which your name could be spelled with a Q or with a K, and with one s or two. Perhaps you could give me your card, and I could see how your name has been Anglicized." I believe that Imad was about to do so when Mr. Wenner, with a slight shake of his head, caused Imad to tell me that he was sorry, but he did not have any cards with him. My curiosity about this whole situation continued to increase.

We soon finished our second bottle of champagne, most of which had been drunk by the five of us, although a good deal of what had been in Julia’s glass now mingled with her ashes on the tablecloth. I nodded to Timothy to suggest that it was time for us to leave. and after saying good night to our host and his associate, we escorted Julia back to her apartment, which was just off Park Lane near the Dorchester. On the way, I asked her about Mr. El Qasim, and she confirmed that he was a signatory on the accounts being opened in the Channel Islands. Under my questioning, she also told me that he was another employee in the International Private Banking Department of the Second National Bank of New York. This information only deepened my concern, and I ventured to say, Doesn’t it seem odd, Julia, that two employees of a major American bank are here in London opening accounts in the Channel Islands, and I assume Switzerland as well with the intention of transferring a large amount of money out of the UK? And this is apparently private business and not bank business.

Hilary, I think you have a very suspicious mind. You’ve spent so much time working on those little mysteries in which you and Miss Caudwell were involved that you imagine that there is something unusual or illegal in the most common occurrence. There are hundreds of reasons why people would transfer money from one offshore financial center to another, and I’m sure that Timothy will confirm that the most common reason is simple tax avoidance. If I had my copy of the Finance Act here in the car, I could show you paragraph after paragraph that has been written trying to put limits on these transfers. But when Inland Revenue comes up with a new regulation, it is a great challenge for me and my peers at the Bar to find ways around that regulation. And we are usually successful. So, Hilary, I’m far more worried about Mr. Wenner’s wandering hands than I am about any possible illegal activity in which he might be engaged. Anyway, my instructing solicitors should be concerned about these matters, not me.

Timothy confirmed what I already knew, that tax avoidance was a major, if not the sole, reason for places like the Channel Islands to exist. But that still did not explain the present case to a mind trained in the scholarly approach. There was a silence for a few minutes until Julia, who must have been thinking about the matter, finally said, Of course, Hilary, I do not understand why Mr. Wenner and Mr. El Qasim are forming a corporation here in the United Kingdom, and naming themselves as officers and directors. From a tax-planning viewpoint, that makes no sense at all. It would seem to me to be quite counter-productive.

CHAPTER 2

F or the next several months, I was fully occupied with my duties at Oxford. The term was drawing to a close, theses were being submitted by my students, tests were being prepared, and finally, grades were being determined for the students. In addition, I was continuing to work on my analysis Causa in the Early Common Law and felt that I had now reached at least the halfway point in what was to be a defining moment in my scholastic career. But when all the theses had been read and the tests graded, I decided that I must have a respite from the rigors of academic life, and I again contacted Timothy to see if I might spend a few nights at his flat in London. As usual, Timothy was only too happy to oblige, and I, therefore, set out for London once again with no thought other than to escape from my heavy obligations at Oxford.

I had taken a morning train to London and was therefore completely settled in Timothy’s flat shortly after the noon hour. Since this was a Friday and knowing that my friends at 62 New Square frequently had a rather more civilized lunch on Fridays than on other days, I decided to call at their office to see if I might join them. I made a particular effort to bypass the office of Henry, the senior clerk since he seriously disapproved of the Friday luncheons. Climbing the stairs as quietly as I could, I arrived at the second floor of 62 New Square, where Selena, Cantrip, and Ragwort were officed, only to find the nursery (as the second floor was called) totally empty. There was no indication of where my friends might have gone, and I was therefore required to descend to the first floor and inquire of Henry what he might know of their whereabouts. For reasons that I have never understood, Henry has always seemed to regard me as a distraction and an impediment to the smooth operation of his office. Therefore, it would be an overstatement to say that he was pleased to see me. However, he did tell me, with obvious reluctance, that most of those I had come to see were now next door at 63 New Square apparently meeting with Miss Larwood. Henry either did not know or was not willing to tell me the purpose of this meeting.

When I arrived there, I found Julia, Selena, and Ragwort sitting in Julia’s office, seemingly having a very enjoyable time. The fact that they were in a good mood was clearly apparent when Selena greeted me rather warmly. Hilary, we were just talking about you. We thought that you might enjoy an email that Julia received from Cantrip a few minutes ago. You probably know that email has now become far and away his most important means of communication when he is away, totally replacing the telex of which he was previously so fond. And we—or I should say, Julia—is being overwhelmed by his messages.

I was a trifle upset to hear the news about Cantrip and responded, I had not known that Cantrip was away, by which I assume you mean out of the country. No one seems to have told me that. But I would, of course, be interested to read his message. Cantrip’s messages are always unique, to say the least.

Julia now said, Yes, he’s off in Geneva meeting with that man you met a few months ago, Mr. Wenner. For some reason, which I really do not understand, Mr. Wenner was quite insistent that I come to Geneva to see him. He said this would be for a meeting at one of the major Swiss banks.

I assume, Julia, that you understood that he might have had other reasons as well.

Julia appeared somewhat flustered and, inhaling on her Gauloise, said, Well, fortunately, or unfortunately, Henry had me scheduled to appear before Mr. Justice Welladay, on a very old case that has finally come to trial. And since it was only quite recently that Mr. Welladay had become more understanding of my tax planning activities, every consideration pointed to my staying in London. I must confess that I was surprised when Mr. Wenner then suggested that Cantrip fly over to attend the meeting. Cantrip had been the one who created the UK corporation for him, and Mr. Wenner indicated that he needed someone who was familiar with his affairs. So there was apparently some bona fide reason for needing a barrister in Geneva although what that might be is still not clear from Cantrip’s email.

Taking the email from Julia, I decided to read it aloud even though everyone in the room was already familiar with its contents.

Hotel Le Richemond

Geneva, Switzerland

Bon Jour Larwood:

I have to say that this international tax-planning thing is a little bit of all right. Here I am staying in this very swish hotel, just a stone’s throw from the lake, having meals in this five-star restaurant, getting the best French wines and everything is being paid for by the client. The only trouble is I can’t tell where France ends and Switzerland begins—it’s just like Paris, no one speaks English. But as you can tell from my very sophisticated salutation, I am making every effort to learn the local Frog-speak.

What I don’t understand, though, is this client of yours. Wenner tries to appear as if he is a very refined chap—someone who might have gone to Cambridge or some real upper-class place like that. But let anything go wrong—like he got his fish cooked the wrong way at dinner last night—and you have to be afraid that he might become unhinged and do something violent. And that Egyptian guy Imad is really weird. When everyone is together, he just sits there, rarely ever saying anything, and I catch him from time to time staring at me as if he were about to pounce, for what reason I don’t know.

Julia interrupted my reading to say, You don’t suppose that Cantrip is suggesting that this Egyptian person is somehow interested in him, do you?

Ragwort shook his head slowly as he answered, I have heard that an interest such as you seem to be suggesting is not unknown in some Middle Eastern countries, but I’m sure that Cantrip would never understand if that were, in fact, Imad’s intention. Julia looked at him for a minute as if she were about to say something else, but before she had a chance to do so, I decided it would be best if I were to resume reading.

As to our meeting tomorrow, I keep asking Wenner what it is he wants me to do because if he wants me to give any advice on the Finance Act, I can tell you now that all I know about it is how to spell it. (You can see that I still have as great a sense of humor as ever, despite being among all these strange people—your clients, plus those Frogs.) However, Wenner really tells me nothing, just saying that my presence at the meeting will be sufficient.

As if Wenner and Imad weren’t bad enough, who shows up here but the former Mrs. Wenner, along with her boyfriend, someone named Paulo. Mrs. Wenner is probably in her late fifties and is old enough to be Paulo’s mother. He, on the other hand, is an Italian truck driver that the American movie magazines would refer to as a hunk. He’s not at all the sort that you would get in a tizzy over, Julia since he is very dark, very Italian-looking, and very muscular—I guess you would have to say that he’s quite the opposite of Ragwort.

I was interrupted once more by Julia, who said, Italians, you know, generally have very large families. Perhaps Paulo has some younger brothers who have more of the Renaissance look, as young Italian boys frequently do.

Selena responded, We’ll have Cantrip inquire for you, Julia. I waited a moment to see if this moment of seeming frivolity was over, and then suggested that I might go on reading Cantrip’s email. Before I could do so, however, Ragwort interjected, I sometimes think we pay far too much attention to Cantrip’s communications. I resumed reading.

Wenner doesn’t seem to like Paulo, but how can you like someone who is clearly sleeping with your ex-wife.

Mrs. Wenner’s name is Ilsa, and I guess she was named after that Ingrid Bergman character in that African picture about fleeing the Nazis and all that stuff. The one that was set in Timbuktu or someplace like that. She’s nothing like Bergman though, more like one of those German officers who made Humphrey Bogart close up his café after all the locals, who were probably drunk, stood up and sang some song or other. (I never understood why the Germans would close a café, just because they didn’t like the way people sang.)

At any rate, all of these people seem to be whispering together all the time, except of course Paulo, who just sits flexing his muscles and admiring himself in a mirror. I was sitting in the lobby of the hotel this morning, trying to look very suave and continental, which as you all know is very easy for me and trying to decipher one of the local newspapers (which was not at all easy since it was in the local dialect) when Kurt (we’ve become quite good chums—on a first name basis) and his ex came down and sat in a little alcove just off to the side. Because I became quite experienced as a crack sleuth during that Daffodil case—you will remember the name I acquired because of that case, Catseye Cantrip—I kept the paper in front of me so I would be almost invisible and could sit and listen to their conversation. They seemed to be having an argument about Kurt’s presence in Switzerland. Ingrid Bergman was telling him that he was running too great a risk being in Switzerland and that he should have chosen some other place to carry out his plan. Kurt told her that that was nonsense since no one could possibly recognize him, and anyway, he would be out of the country in just a matter of days.

They didn’t argue very long though because old Ingrid suddenly told Kurt to be careful what he said since there was someone sitting nearby hiding behind a newspaper. I was a little miffed when Kurt replied, Oh, that’s just Mr. Cantrip, our barrister from London. Why don’t you come over here, Mr. Cantrip, and join us? As I did so, he went on, I thought it must be you when I noticed that you were trying to read the paper upside down. It’s hard enough for an Englishman to read French right side up, but I assume that upside down is quite impossible. While he and Ingrid seemed to think that this was really the funniest thing they’d ever heard, my quick wit saved the day as I explained to them that I had merely been resting behind the paper, not trying to read it.

Kurt ordered coffee for the three of us and we had just been served when someone I had never seen before came up to the table and greeted Kurt. He was introduced as David Green, who was apparently a friend of Kurt’s and who had had business dealings with him in the past. It turned out that Green was a stockbroker with some American investment banking house that had just opened an office in London, and it soon became clear that Kurt had requested him to come to Geneva for our meeting at the bank. I have to say that I was quite impressed with Green since he was fairly young (probably about thirty), rather good-looking in an American way, and you could tell that he was pretty well off. He must have gone to one of the better American universities since he reminded me of a number of my best friends back at Cambridge.

Why Kurt was assembling such a crowd for this meeting was really hard to say. I was beginning to think that I should have had an instructing solicitor here to tell me what was going on. Even old Hilary might have had a thought or two. On the other hand, it’s far more important to have someone from Cambridge who operates in the real world, instead of an Oxford professor trying to figure out things from an ivory tower.

I stopped reading Cantrip’s letter for a moment, trying to decide how to respond to his rather feeble attempt at humor. My companions all seemed to find Cantrip’s comment quite amusing, and they sat smiling while awaiting my response. At this point, I had to agree with him that it was very hard to say what Mr. Wenner was planning, and I finally said, I’m sure, were I there, the answer would be fairly obvious. I went back to conclude reading the letter.

Well, ma cheri, je suis just about finished with this email since I have to run off and meet everyone for lunch. The meeting at the bank will be immediately after lunch and I will send another communication to let you know what happened. In the meantime, you can rest assured that Ace Investigator Cantrip is watching everything that’s going on, and nothing will escape my ever-alert eye. Voulez-vous and all that stuff.

Cantrip

There was a pause when I finished reading, and I turned to Julia who was lighting her third Gauloise since I had arrived. The office was now becoming heavy with smoke when I ventured to say, It’s too bad, Julia, that Mr. Tancred didn’t tell you more about Mr. Wenner and where his money was coming from. I’m sure you could have done a much better job of tax planning for him had you known that.

Oh, but he did tell me, of course. The money is being transferred from New York, and my advice was to get it out of the UK as quickly as possible. Technically there would be no tax on it since Mr. Wenner is not a UK citizen, but since he is forming a company in London, the Inland Revenue might start looking into it. I strongly urged him to have the money transferred straight to the Channel Islands or to Switzerland, bypassing London, but Mr. Wenner indicated that that would be impossible. So accounts have been opened in London, Guernsey, and Geneva, and there will be multiple transfers, all of which should occur within a matter of days, if not hours. It will really be quite efficient and there should be no question of any tax liability.

I was just considering this new information when Julia’s phone rang. After she answered it, she turned to Selena and said, It’s Henry, and he says he must speak to you right away.

Selena listened for a minute and said, Well, put him through to Julia’s office and I’ll speak to him here. As she waited for the connection, Selena looked at the rest of us and with obvious pride of ownership, said, There’s a call from Geneva and our new phone system permits Henry to put the call through, without the necessity for anyone re-dialing.

The call was apparently connected, and Selena identified herself and listened to a question, finally confirming that Mr. Cantrip was, in fact, a barrister at 62 New Square and was legitimate in every respect. That seemed to be all that the caller wanted to know and the conversation quickly ended.

That was someone calling from the Banque de Genève. Mr. Wenner’s meeting has started—it’s an hour later in Switzerland—and the bank wants to be sure that the people accompanying him are who they say they are. So they are checking on everyone and they wanted to know about Cantrip. That seems very strange. What do you make of it, Hilary?

My heart sank. It was clear now what was happening, but there was no way I could prove it, nor was there any way I could stop it from happening. All I could say was Perhaps we should go to the Corkscrew and have a glass of wine and a sandwich. I don’t think that there is time for anything more elaborate. We should have another email from Cantrip when we get back. And then we will need to prepare ourselves for the consequences of our relationship with Mr. Wenner. My associates clearly did not understand the seriousness of what was happening in Geneva, and they accompanied me to the Corkscrew in very good spirits.

When we returned, Julia checked her computer and found that there was, in fact, another email from Cantrip. We waited while she printed it out after which she handed it to me with the suggestion that I again read his message.

Yoo-hoo, Larwood, Cantrip reporting again, bringing you up to date on all the happenings in Suisse (that’s what they seem to call this place in the local dialect). Well, we had the meeting at the bank (which for some reason, they spell banque). I will never understand how all these European countries are ever going to get together when everything has a different name from one country to the next or is spelled wrong wherever you go.

At any rate, after another fancy meal at the Richemond, Kurt told us that it was time to head for the banque. He suggested that we all walk over since it was not very far, and he would meet us there. When we got there, it turned out to be a pretty posh place and they were clearly waiting for us. We were all led into this really impressive conference room. You know my uncle Hereward belongs to this very exclusive club in London with all that dark wood paneling and with furniture that dates back to sometime around George III. Well, this place looked a lot like his club. The bankers looked like they might date back to George III too—they were the stuffiest bunch I can remember running into since I went to Oxford to cheer for Cambridge at a rugby match a number of years ago and I met some of the faculty there.

The Suisse are sure suspicious people since they asked for my card and David Green’s card and said they wanted to call our offices to be sure we were who we said we were. I really don’t know, Larwood, how you do business with these foreigners. No one back in England has ever asked me to prove I was who I said I was. I guess they must have called Henry or someone because they came back after a while and seemed to accept that Green and I were not imposters. Wenner finally showed up at this point, and the bankers asked both Green and me if we were sure that this was Kurt Wenner. When we both agreed that it was,