Read Online Kismet by Jakob Arjouni - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jakob Arjouni
Tags: Mystery
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rest.’
After I’d closed the door behind us and propelled Romario in the direction of the kitchen, I asked, ‘When did it dawn on you what a bloody stupid idea it was to set the Saudade on fire?’
‘But … but I didn’t set anything on fire!’
‘Oh, come on, Romario! First thing this morning the boss of the gang, or the coordinator or whatever he is, called those guys’ mobile and asked where they were. Which means he didn’t know they were dead, so he didn’t send anyone to get revenge for them and smash up your place. What’s more, you got out alive. Which you’d hardly have done if the Army of Reason had been involved.’
He shifted restlessly on the spot, making a big deal of holding his bandaged hand as if to say that his quota of rough treatment had been met one hundred per cent. And he kept glancing at the kitchen chairs, but didn’t quite like to sit down uninvited. ‘Maybe someone quite different torched the place. Someone from the offices upstairs, or the owner of the building to get the insurance. Or it was an accident, or …’
I dismissed all this. ‘Insurance, yes, but that was your idea. You were drunk, you realised you were never going to get your place clean after people had been bleeding all over it, and suddenly you had this brilliant idea for getting rid of the extortionists and cashing in yourself in one go. Perhaps you’d had something of the sort in your head for quite a while. I mean, the Saudade wasn’t exactly a goldmine.’
‘The Saudade was like my …’
‘Yes, yes, like your girlfriend. But rather an expensive girlfriend for some time. That doesn’t matter to me. Two things do, though: first, I hate fires and I hate arsonists, specially when they’re lighting their fires in the middle of town among blocks of flats and gas mains. Second, when we saw the Saudade blazing away ahead of us I though you were in it, and it was my fault. That would have been the third death down to me, and it was a horrible thought. Literally sickening. It was only when the caretaker here said some idiot had been trying to get into my flat with the wrong keys that it dawned on me you must have survived.’
Romario had bowed his head and was now trying to glance up at me with the expression of a frightened rabbit, but as he was a good twenty centimetres taller than me he looked more like an alarmed stag, with antlers of lacquered hair sticking out all whichways.
‘I didn’t know where to go. I was afraid to go to my flat, I’m in the phone book, and those murderers were probably waiting for me there. And then.’ He raised his head and looked at me as if to say: very well, this is the truth, here you are and I hope it makes you happy, but don’t forget what a great guy I must be to tell you evenwhen it does me no credit. In fact what he said was, ‘And then the fire spread so fast that I had to leave my wallet in the Saudade. My ID, money, credit cards – all gone. I couldn’t even take a hotel room.’
‘Why didn’t you go to the bank?’
‘My branch is just round the corner from the Saudade, and I really didn’t want to show my face there.’
‘All right.’ I pointed to the chairs. ‘Sit down. Want a drink?’
‘Yes, please. Thanks.’ Slowly and ponderously as an old man, he lowered himself to one of the chairs, his bandaged hand still prominently displayed in what he assumed was the centre of my field of vision. ‘Would you have anything to eat too? I haven’t eaten a thing all day except those salty breadsticks.’
I muttered a yes, put vodka and glasses on the table and slammed down a can of sardines, a can opener, and the packet of crispbread I’d started in front of him. ‘Sorry, but that’s all I have.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ he replied, looking at the sardine can as if he’d seldom thought anything less fine in his life. I poured vodka, we drank, Romario said, ‘Ugh!’ and added, ‘Oh wow, on an empty stomach!’ and then we both relished a
After I’d closed the door behind us and propelled Romario in the direction of the kitchen, I asked, ‘When did it dawn on you what a bloody stupid idea it was to set the Saudade on fire?’
‘But … but I didn’t set anything on fire!’
‘Oh, come on, Romario! First thing this morning the boss of the gang, or the coordinator or whatever he is, called those guys’ mobile and asked where they were. Which means he didn’t know they were dead, so he didn’t send anyone to get revenge for them and smash up your place. What’s more, you got out alive. Which you’d hardly have done if the Army of Reason had been involved.’
He shifted restlessly on the spot, making a big deal of holding his bandaged hand as if to say that his quota of rough treatment had been met one hundred per cent. And he kept glancing at the kitchen chairs, but didn’t quite like to sit down uninvited. ‘Maybe someone quite different torched the place. Someone from the offices upstairs, or the owner of the building to get the insurance. Or it was an accident, or …’
I dismissed all this. ‘Insurance, yes, but that was your idea. You were drunk, you realised you were never going to get your place clean after people had been bleeding all over it, and suddenly you had this brilliant idea for getting rid of the extortionists and cashing in yourself in one go. Perhaps you’d had something of the sort in your head for quite a while. I mean, the Saudade wasn’t exactly a goldmine.’
‘The Saudade was like my …’
‘Yes, yes, like your girlfriend. But rather an expensive girlfriend for some time. That doesn’t matter to me. Two things do, though: first, I hate fires and I hate arsonists, specially when they’re lighting their fires in the middle of town among blocks of flats and gas mains. Second, when we saw the Saudade blazing away ahead of us I though you were in it, and it was my fault. That would have been the third death down to me, and it was a horrible thought. Literally sickening. It was only when the caretaker here said some idiot had been trying to get into my flat with the wrong keys that it dawned on me you must have survived.’
Romario had bowed his head and was now trying to glance up at me with the expression of a frightened rabbit, but as he was a good twenty centimetres taller than me he looked more like an alarmed stag, with antlers of lacquered hair sticking out all whichways.
‘I didn’t know where to go. I was afraid to go to my flat, I’m in the phone book, and those murderers were probably waiting for me there. And then.’ He raised his head and looked at me as if to say: very well, this is the truth, here you are and I hope it makes you happy, but don’t forget what a great guy I must be to tell you evenwhen it does me no credit. In fact what he said was, ‘And then the fire spread so fast that I had to leave my wallet in the Saudade. My ID, money, credit cards – all gone. I couldn’t even take a hotel room.’
‘Why didn’t you go to the bank?’
‘My branch is just round the corner from the Saudade, and I really didn’t want to show my face there.’
‘All right.’ I pointed to the chairs. ‘Sit down. Want a drink?’
‘Yes, please. Thanks.’ Slowly and ponderously as an old man, he lowered himself to one of the chairs, his bandaged hand still prominently displayed in what he assumed was the centre of my field of vision. ‘Would you have anything to eat too? I haven’t eaten a thing all day except those salty breadsticks.’
I muttered a yes, put vodka and glasses on the table and slammed down a can of sardines, a can opener, and the packet of crispbread I’d started in front of him. ‘Sorry, but that’s all I have.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ he replied, looking at the sardine can as if he’d seldom thought anything less fine in his life. I poured vodka, we drank, Romario said, ‘Ugh!’ and added, ‘Oh wow, on an empty stomach!’ and then we both relished a
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