Chapter Thirteen.
Why Didn't They Ask Agatha?
The casino at Monte Carlo is a large, white, rococo building in the South of France. It is steeped in history, tradition, and international fame. When Agatha Christie visited in late 1924, she was instantly taken by the glamour and decadence of the dowager queen of all gambling establishments. Even though she did not gamble, there was no denying the attraction of the roulette table. Was it the excitement? Or the optimism of hoping the tiny ivory ball might fall into the slot of choice. Or maybe the challenge of beating the percentage in favour of the house, 2.7 in this case.
As she entered the casino, she was greeted by a few friends who were holidaying in the area. The renowned author looked like her usual glamorous self in a dress influenced by Egyptomania. The Western World was seized with Egyptomania when King Tutankhamun's tomb was discovered in 1922. The Egyptian King appeared to be dressed in pure gold sequins and had nets of faience beads spread over him.
Immediately sequins and beading became all the rage, and Agatha's sleeveless knee-length chemise dress was heavily sequined with a beaded hem. She visibly twinkled in the lights of the house. Her short bob framed her face and she had applied heavy khol around her eyes in the style of Clara Bow. Her shoes were new and highly fashionable shoes with a low heel and several straps. She wore a long string of pearls as per usual.
"Dah-ling! You look mah-velous!"
"Frankie! Long time, no see."
The two friends linked arms and headed to the bar.
x
It was in the summer of 1924 that one Charlie Wells, a Londoner, had taken on the bank of Monte Carlo and won. He had settled down at one of the roulette tables and had promptly won with almost every spin of the ball. Pandemonium broke out when he returned the next night and proceeded to break the bank for an incredible second time. He seemed to be operating with a purposeful system. The full numbers he bet on were below ten, and he would play for hours. Croupiers and Management stared in awe and incredulity when he came a third night running and broke the bank again! By midnight he had won a cool million Francs.
Back in London, Wells became a celebrity. Now very rich, he gave lavish parties, ate at the best restaurants, and loved the ladies. He was insatiable and had a full sex life. He sometimes slept with two or even three of the most beautiful women in society at the same time.
As bold as ever, he returned to the casino in November and picked up where he had left off. Amazingly, he bet on number five again and again, winning in five successive spins in ten minutes. He walked away with 100,000 Francs.
Management was suspicious of the staff and interrogated the croupiers and checked the tables. No tampering was found. In London, people began to sing about Wells. The man who broke the bank in Monte Carlo became a big hit. Wells always denied he had a system and said it was pure luck he won so often. But Lady Luck is a fickle jade and most didn't believe him.
Which was when Agatha Christie came into the picture.
x
The casino is surrounded by beautiful colourful gardens and a huge terrace with breathtaking views of the Mediterranean. Monte Carlo is a suburb of Monaco, built around a little bay on the East. The casino is an immense and stately building, carved in white stone, and containing several splendid apartments. Gambling goes on from noon till past midnight. The interior is composed of decorative crystal chandeliers and stunning artwork, which creates a bright yet soft atmosphere. The windows are also made of stained glass and you will also find decorative sculptures and allegorical paintings.
Agatha looked up to admire the crystal chandeliers that hung from the opulent gold and frescoed ceilings above. And the chatter, the sound of cheers and laughter filled her ears. She walked past the abundance of craps tables, watching the gamblers on the edge of their seats as their hopes of winnings rested on the roll of dice.
"Darling Agatha. There you are."
Agatha felt the heat and the smoke of the house and she waved her fan in front of her face. She turned to her friend who looked radiant in a slinky evening dress in gold and silver with a jagged hem. The gown was tight at the waist and together with the cascading center neckline, her unfettered breasts were suitably thrust out.
"What's new?" Agatha asked as she sipped champagne from a flute.
The renowned author of The Mysterious Affair At Styles had met Lady Frances Derwent at various parties and social events and considered her one of her trusted friends. They were much alike, embracing the Jazz Age and enjoying life as any man might do.
The young English woman, known to her friends as Frankie, was a whip-smart socialite whom Agatha described as a clever, unflappable woman with a flair for fun and gaiety. She was the daughter of Lord and Lady Marcham who resided in Derwent Castle in Marchbolt, Wales. Frankie also had a London residence in Brook Street Mayfair. She was tall, slim, and dark. In her late twenties, she had an air of cool efficiency, much like Christie herself. She was the kind of young woman who could care for herself perfectly wherever she went. She had poise and efficiency and was very attractive. Her eyes sparkled and her burnished short hair had neat waves.
"Oh, much of the same. Traveling, partying, fucking. You know."
"Sounds like fun. Who are you with?"
"Smitty, Jinks, Strangely Brown, and my latest beau, Alfred Duggan. He's the son of Lord Curzon. Frightful bore, but he knows a thing or two about oral sex."
"Result!"
"Quite. So. I told you on the telephone about a certain fellow who seems to be cheating the casino out of millions. My father, Lord Marcham has been approached by the manager of the casino, Rene Leon, for advice. They are old friends and Rene is at his wits end. The police cannot act as there is no evidence of any wrongdoing. I stepped in and told them straight. Why didn't they ask Agatha? Being the utter brainbox she is, she will solve the case. And here we are."
"Right. Champagne Charlie himself. The man who broke..."
"...the bank at Monte Carlo. Yes. Think you can find out if the chap is a cheat?"
Agatha drained her glass just as they were approached by a worried-looking man in a tuxedo.
"Ah, here he is. Agatha, let me introduce you to the manager. Monsieur Leon. Rene, this is Madam Christie."
"Enchante, Madam. Another glass?"
"Merci. Very civil of you."
Leon bowed and then wrung his hands.
"Madam. The casino has lost millions in revenue. Because of one man! This Engleesh must be cheating. It ees impossible."
"There has been no impropriety among the staff?"
"As far as I know. We change croupiers often. Wells cannot beat the odds."
"Does Wells always use the same table to bet on?"
"Oui. Always the same. But we 'ave checked it and it is in order."
"Tell Agatha the odds, Monsieur."
Leon nodded and fingered his stiff collar.
"Each spin of the roulette ball should give a 50/50 chance of winning if one bets on red or black. If red comes up 20 times there is no reason why the ball should not fall on red 40 times or more. There are no magnets involved, nor any other means of manipulation. The ball cannot be influenced. Therefore, Wells has come up with some other means of winning."
"We are all staying in the upstairs rooms. As is Wells. We haven't seen him yet. What do you say?"
"I'll do my best."
x
The little group from England had dinner and chatted amongst themselves. The cuisine of the Mediterranean repertoire of the casino was inspired by the recipes and produce of the Riviera, translated it into a modern, light, and energetic version.
