Read Online Over the High Side by Nicolas Freeling - Free Book Online Page B

via London. They were looking together at a picture that has an interesting resemblance – here, see for yourself: this is a photo from Martinez’ flat. About five years old, his wife says.’
    â€˜I see the resemblance. What is the significance – it’s his wife?’
    â€˜Daughter. Who lives,’ with relish, ‘in Dublin, Ireland. And this time I’ve got something. Two elements. Neither strong but taken together … The time factor – afternoon of the death – and the space factor; this same young man, who hired a car seen outside Martinez’ flat, lives in Dublin. Where Martinez once lived, where three of his daughters still do. Madame Martinez disclaims all knowledge of the man or his car, but shemay be in perfect good faith, because by all accounts Martinez did not tell her about his business affairs, especially when they weren’t going too well. Now we know what he was doing in our town – showing this picture. And why does he go seventy kilometres outside Amsterdam to show this young man a picture so strangely like his daughter? And why is he killed within an hour? Case there surely for an international mandate. Is Ireland in the Interpol net? – must be, surely.’
    The Officer of Justice fell into a profound trance, apparently disagreeable.
    â€˜Well,’ he said at last, ‘there’s grounds for questioning, certainly. But even a mandate for interrogation, to a witness in another country, is still a serious step. You’re a pest, you know that?’
    â€˜Oh I quite agree. But I thought you’d be pleased.’
    â€˜Pleased! – you have this infernal knack of turning things up in other countries.’
    â€˜Haven’t turned anything up there yet. I thought we could get the Irish police to look into it.’
    â€˜Remember that infernal mess in France – woman got machined-gunned. You always get yourself into these irregular positions.’
    â€˜I don’t want to go to Ireland,’ defensively. ‘Haven’t the least interest in going there. Position’s entirely different.’ He spoke with sincerity, but realized at once he was not telling the truth: he would be interested, very, in meeting the lady of the portrait!
    â€˜They can surely ask the fellow questions on your mandate?’
    â€˜I’m none too sure,’ muttered the magistrate irritably, ‘it’s all very circumstantial.’
    *
    â€˜Just my sentiment,’ said Mr Kevin Nolan, Counsellor at the Irish Embassy. He was like a teddybear that has a bald forehead, with tiny round eyes, a curly little mouth, a round padded pleasant face that needed shaving often, a benevolent milky voice. ‘Tenuous, y’know. A pair of glasses, a picture in a museum, a hired car, a changed plane ticket; nothing there that can’t bear a construction of complete innocence. Can’t expectus to believe, can you now, that this young man comes over for a bit of sightseeing, since nothing shows otherwise, kills this Mr Martinez and calmly takes the next plane back. Maybe he does know Martinez and these daughters of his. Comes over here and looks him up – reasonable. Art gallery together – normal. Chap shows him a picture like his daughter – amusing coincidence. And then he forgot his glasses – so do I, often. So did Mr Van der Valk on his own showing: not exactly an indication of guilt is it now?’
    â€˜If I may say,’ said Van der Valk softly while the magistrate fidgeted and a lawyer from the Ministry of Justice smoked a cigar, ‘none of my friends or yours got knifed in the street.’
    â€˜It’s a point, to be sure,’ said the Irishman, ‘a point – no more.’
    â€˜But perhaps the essential point,’ said the lawyer, ‘– the manner of this death. Hardly a premeditated act. The very suddenness of it suggests a violent upheaval. Evidence on Martinez’ state of