Read Online Blond Baboon by Janwillem van de Wetering - Free Book Online
Authors: Janwillem van de Wetering
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payment. The money is still here, safely in the bank. I have been complaining about the Pullini price list and I have ignored Francesco when he kept on asking for his ten percent. I’m doing a little blackmailing, I suppose. It isn’t nice of me, but we aren’t always nice in business. I could switch over to the other company in Milan but I don’t really want to do that either. The other company is too big, they might want to start up their own office here sometime and cut me out.”
“Difficult,” the commissaris agreed.
The interview was over, and the commissaris was near the door when he turned around. “Mrs. Camet had a safe, Mr. Bergen, a small wall safe. We opened it with a key we found in her bag. There was a small amount in it, some three hundred guilders. You wouldn’t know if she kept large amounts in that safe, would you?”
Bergen was holding his cheek and massaging it. “No,” he said after awhile. “I know she had a safe and there may have been a lot of money in it from time to time, she did have large amounts of cash sometimes, but I wouldn’t know if there was any appreciable quantity in there last night. It’s not the sort of thing she would talk to me about. Our conversations of the past few years were mostly about what movies to see, we both like the same sort of films.'’
“You never had much social contact with Mrs. Carnet, had you?”
“Not really. I am married, my wife has always been rather jealous of Elaine, and later there was the baboon, of course.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bergen, you’ve been most helpful.”
“Did you notice his face, sir?” de Gier asked as they walked back to the car.
The commissaris was looking at a garbage boat mat was making a sharp corner in the canal. A young man, a boy almost, was turning its large wheel effortlessly and the heavy diesel engine controlling the barge’s screw was churning up a perfect arc of thick frothy waves. Workmen were sawing a broken tree on the other side of the canal, with the boat pulling cables so that the thick elm wouldn’t fall the wrong way.
'Two million trees down in the country, according to the radio,” the commissaris said. “Two million, I wonder how they can guess the number. The whole country is a mess and we have our own to play with. Yes, I noted Bergen’s facial paralysis, sergeant. It must have started before we came, but he was going through a crisis while we talked to him.”
“A stroke, sir?”
“No, I don’t think so, but I am sure he’s telephoning his doctor right now. I thought I would have to cut my questioning off, but I had gone too far already.”
“But if he got upset to such an extent…” De Gier had stopped, but the commissaris kept on walking, and the sergeant had to sprint to catch up with him again.
“He must be guilty?”
“He might be.”
“He might be, sure. And he might not be. We don’t know how involved he was with the lady. And he may have other worries. That Pullini business may be much worse than he made it appear. I would like to see young Pullini. Try and find out where he’s staying after you’ve dropped me off. Don’t ask Mr. Bergen or Gabrielle. Find him through the hotel records. It shouldn’t be difficult to run him down. If he doesn’t expect us to look for him and if we suddenly show up the questioning may be more, what’s the word, ‘deadly’.”
De Gier steered the commissaris’s black Citroen through the narrow alleys near the center of the old city. They got stuck a few times and had to wait for trucks and motorized tricycles unloading, and every now and then they would run into a detour caused by municipal workmen clearing fallen trees. Most of the glass of broken windows had already been swept up. The city still looked desolate, however, and the commissaris’s mood fitted in with the general devastation.
“Bah,” he said as the car turned into its reserved space on the courtyard of police headquarters. “We’ll have to push
“Difficult,” the commissaris agreed.
The interview was over, and the commissaris was near the door when he turned around. “Mrs. Camet had a safe, Mr. Bergen, a small wall safe. We opened it with a key we found in her bag. There was a small amount in it, some three hundred guilders. You wouldn’t know if she kept large amounts in that safe, would you?”
Bergen was holding his cheek and massaging it. “No,” he said after awhile. “I know she had a safe and there may have been a lot of money in it from time to time, she did have large amounts of cash sometimes, but I wouldn’t know if there was any appreciable quantity in there last night. It’s not the sort of thing she would talk to me about. Our conversations of the past few years were mostly about what movies to see, we both like the same sort of films.'’
“You never had much social contact with Mrs. Carnet, had you?”
“Not really. I am married, my wife has always been rather jealous of Elaine, and later there was the baboon, of course.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bergen, you’ve been most helpful.”
“Did you notice his face, sir?” de Gier asked as they walked back to the car.
The commissaris was looking at a garbage boat mat was making a sharp corner in the canal. A young man, a boy almost, was turning its large wheel effortlessly and the heavy diesel engine controlling the barge’s screw was churning up a perfect arc of thick frothy waves. Workmen were sawing a broken tree on the other side of the canal, with the boat pulling cables so that the thick elm wouldn’t fall the wrong way.
'Two million trees down in the country, according to the radio,” the commissaris said. “Two million, I wonder how they can guess the number. The whole country is a mess and we have our own to play with. Yes, I noted Bergen’s facial paralysis, sergeant. It must have started before we came, but he was going through a crisis while we talked to him.”
“A stroke, sir?”
“No, I don’t think so, but I am sure he’s telephoning his doctor right now. I thought I would have to cut my questioning off, but I had gone too far already.”
“But if he got upset to such an extent…” De Gier had stopped, but the commissaris kept on walking, and the sergeant had to sprint to catch up with him again.
“He must be guilty?”
“He might be.”
“He might be, sure. And he might not be. We don’t know how involved he was with the lady. And he may have other worries. That Pullini business may be much worse than he made it appear. I would like to see young Pullini. Try and find out where he’s staying after you’ve dropped me off. Don’t ask Mr. Bergen or Gabrielle. Find him through the hotel records. It shouldn’t be difficult to run him down. If he doesn’t expect us to look for him and if we suddenly show up the questioning may be more, what’s the word, ‘deadly’.”
De Gier steered the commissaris’s black Citroen through the narrow alleys near the center of the old city. They got stuck a few times and had to wait for trucks and motorized tricycles unloading, and every now and then they would run into a detour caused by municipal workmen clearing fallen trees. Most of the glass of broken windows had already been swept up. The city still looked desolate, however, and the commissaris’s mood fitted in with the general devastation.
“Bah,” he said as the car turned into its reserved space on the courtyard of police headquarters. “We’ll have to push
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