"So do I. I would think they'l have to, now. He's his father, and he's come al the way from America. Surely they'l have to do something, won't they?"
"I'm sure they wil ." I wondered what. "Are you seeing him again before Monday?"
"No. I asked him if he wanted to come here for something to eat tonight, but he said no. He wasn't exactly gracious about it, but I can't pretend I'm disappointed."
"I can't say I blame you." On impulse, I asked. "What are you doing tonight? Not staying in by yourself, are you?"
"No, I'm seeing some friends at Debbie's. And in case you're interested, she doesn't like Marty's father, either."
"So I gathered." I felt a stab of jealousy. Anna must have spoken to the girl before she telephoned me. "Wel , I'm glad you're going out.
It'l do you good."
"That's what Debbie said. I don't real y feel like it, to be honest, though."
"Nonsense. You deserve it after putting up with that awful man al afternoon." I hesitated. "Are you doing anything tomorrow?"
"Not so far. Why?" I felt ridiculously nervous. "If you're not, I wondered if you might like to go out somewhere?"
"It's nice of you to offer, Donald, but I better not. I'm not sure what Marty's father's doing. He might want to meet me again, or something."
"Of course. I only wondered. Wel , you know where I am if you want to get in touch." I was glad she could not see me. My face was burning like a schoolboy's. After I had put the telephone down I told myself that I was over-reacting, that she had not thought anything of either my offer or her refusal. But that did little to ease my embarrassment.
To take my mind off it, I thought about Marty's father, indulging in self-righteous anger against him. His entire attitude, particularly his treatment of Anna, was deplorable. There was simply
no cal for it. I spent a while contemplating scenarios in which I told Westerman exactly what I thought of him, while Anna stood by as a grateful witness. After half an hour of such juvenile fantasies, I felt much better. Until I remembered the reason he was here in the first place.
I wondered what, if any, effect he would have on the investigation into Marty's disappearance. Hopeful y none, but it was a situation I would rather have avoided. Then I wondered how Zeppo would react to the news.
I decided not to tel him.
Monday lunchtime came and went without sign of Anna. I found it difficult to concentrate on the everyday chores of the gal ery. Even when a garish and enthusiastic American came in and bought one of my more expensive pieces for cash, I found myself resenting the intrusion.
I had not spoken to Anna again. On Sunday, despite her refusal of my offer to go out, I had cal ed around to see her. But she was not in.
The doorbel rang hol owly, and there was that indefinable quietness about the flat that said it was empty. I left feeling the same way.
It was after two o'clock before she arrived at the gal ery, and my relief at seeing her was instantly tempered with anxiety for what might have occurred.
"Sorry I'm late. It took longer than I expected."
"That's al right. Did you have any luck with the embassy?" She took her coat off and hung it up. Her motions were slow and deliberate, as though she were very tired. When she turned to face me again, I noticed she had faint black smudges under her eyes. I wondered how long they had been there. "Sort of," she said. "Wel , not even sort of. Yes, we did." She gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I'm not quite with it today."
"What happened?" She took a deep breath and sat down. "The embassy have final y agreed to get involved. Marty's father did al of the talking. I just sat there like a jel yfish. He told them that he'd spent time and money to come over here, so the least they could do was take it as seriously as he did. He went on about how it was completely out of character for Marty to do something like this, and said he
could supply written references from the university and half a dozen other sources to back him up, if need be. Anyway, to cut a long story short, they final y agreed to give us their backing when we went to the police, if we needed it. So that was where we went next. Marty's father demanded to see the detective inspector instead of the sergeant I'd spoken to last time, and got al high and mighty with them. It was a bit embarrassing, real y. But it worked, I suppose, so that's the main thing. Marty's now been moved on to a "high priority" category.
That means that instead of just having him on file, now the police wil actively start looking for him."
"How wil they do that?" I hoped my tension did not show.
"Circulate his description to other divisions, try to trace his movements. General y make more of an effort, I suppose. I don't know how much good it'l do, but at least they're trying."
She kneaded her eyes with one hand. "I don't know what's the matter with me. I should be relieved that they're actual y doing something at last, but I'm not. I know I'm being stupid, but now the police are taking it seriously, it seems to make it more real. As though something must have happened to him." I found it easy to reassure her. From what she had said, the police could search from now to judgement day without finding anything. "I think that's probably just reaction," I said. "The fact that the police have started to look for him isn't going to alter where he is, or why he went, is it? Al it means is that you have a better chance of finding him sooner."
"Oh, I know that, real y. It's just …" She shrugged. "Wel , like you say, it's probably reaction. And Marty's father doesn't help."
"I take it he's no pleas anter
"You could say that. And I'm in his bad books more than ever now. I stayed at Debbie's on Saturday night, and didn't get back to the flat until Sunday afternoon. He phoned about ten minutes after I'd got back in, and said that he'd been trying to get hold of me since the night before. It wasn't anything important, but he made it clear he disapproved of me being out. He didn't actual y accuse me of being unfaithful, but he might as wel have." She shook her head, exasperated. "I wouldn't mind so much, except it's the first time I've been out since Marty went missing. And I probably wouldn't have gone at al if he hadn't upset me so much."
I was outraged that he could even think such a thing. "He's a despicable little man. Don't let him bother you."
She hesitated. "Actual y, he might have done something to upset you as wel ."
"Me?" Anna nodded, grimacing. "After we'd been to the police station, he insisted on going to see the detective. I thought he just wanted to talk to him himself, to find out how far he'd got. Anyway, Mr. Simpson hadn't found out anything else since the last time we spoke to him, and seemed pleased when I said that the police were final y getting involved. Then, out of the blue, Marty's father suddenly said that now they were, we wouldn't be needing him any more. I didn't know what to say. I was just so surprised. And it was the way he said it. Not "I'm sorry", or "thank you", or anything like that. He just blurted it out! I didn't want to argue in the detective's office, so I waited until we were outside before I asked him what he thought he was doing. He said that Simpson was obviously inept, and that now the police were taking over there was no point risking amateurs clouding the water and ant agonising them. So I told him he stil shouldn't have done something like that without discussing it first with me. And you, because you're paying, after al . But he said there was more at stake than personal pride, and he wasn't going to waste time on etiquette. After that, I couldn't bear it any longer. I said I'd phone, and left him there. If I'd been with him another minute, I think I'd have strangled him."
She looked at me, contritely. "I'm sorry about the detective, Donald.
He had no right to do that." I agreed, but was relieved he had. It was one less factor to worry about. And a considerable expense saved. "Wel , I suppose he is Marty's father," I said.
"And the police have far more resources than a private detective anyway."
"I suppose so. It's just his attitude. I was going to be his daughter-in-law eventual y, so you think he'd at least make an effort to break the ice." She stopped.
"I said "was". Not "am"."
"It was only a slip of the tongue."
"It's the first time I've done it, though." She looked on the verge of tears.
"You've had a trying day. What with the police, and the embassy, and the detective. It doesn't mean anything."
"No." She shook it off and smiled. "Anyway, talking of Marty's father, I've got a favour to ask."
"Yes?"
"I was stupid enough to ask him over for a meal again. This was before we went to the detective's, I might add. It doesn't promise to be a very joyous occasion, but I wondered if you'd mind coming as wel ? I know it's asking a lot, so if you'd rather not it doesn't matter."
"Of course I wil . I'd love to." Westerman or no Westerman, I was pleased that she had asked.
"Oh, thanks. I was hoping you would. It would have been pretty grim with just the two of us."
"Aren't you inviting anyone else?"
"No, I don't think so. The fewer people I inflict him on the better.
Not that I want to inflict him on you," she said, quickly. "But I thought I might not seem so bad if he sees I mix with respectable pil ars of society like you. And he might mel ow a bit with someone his own age." The last comment was unfortunate, but I refused to let it bother me.
Anna had stil invited me rather than anyone else, age notwithstanding.
Flattered, I remembered my protective fantasies of the weekend.
I dared Westerman to bul y her while I was there.
Chapter Sixteen
I had already reached the conclusion that Westerman was congenital y
obnoxious, and his behaviour during the meal at Anna's did nothing to change my mind. I would have expected at least a softening, if not an actual cessation, of his hostility for that night at least. But from the moment he arrived it was clear that there would be no such thing.
"You met Donald briefly on Saturday," Anna said, taking his coat. "He owns the gal ery I work at." Once again he shook my hand without enthusiasm, responding to my greeting with a short nod. Anna's smile was already beginning to look like hard work.
"Would you like a drink?" she asked him.
"No, thank you."
"There's mineral water or fruit juice, if you want something non-alcoholic. Or I can make you a cup of tea or coffee?"
"No, thank you." There was an awkward silence. "Wel , I'd better see to dinner," Anna said, giving me an apologetic glance. She went into the kitchen, leaving the two of us alone.
"We might as wel sit down," I said, pleasantly. I lowered myself on to the sofa. Westerman sat stiffly opposite me. I wondered if he ever relaxed. He showed no indication of doing so now. Neither of us spoke. I felt it was his turn to attempt conversation, and waited for him to say something. However, he showed no inclination of saying anything ever again. As the silence grew, so did my annoyance, and I was tempted to play him at his own game. If not for Anna, I would have. But she was depending on me to help her through a difficult evening, and I would hardly be doing that if I behaved as badly as Marty's father. For her sake I had to be sociable.
Etiquette, about which Westerman clearly cared little, demanded I make some reference to his son. "I was glad to hear that the police are final y doing something to find Marty."
"It's high time someone did." His criticism seemed too broad-spectrumed for my liking. "Yes, Anna had a devil of a job trying to convince anyone to help. That's why we had to resort to hiring a private detective."
"I met him. I thought he was amateurish. Now the police are taking a hand there's no point him getting in their way." There was no trace of apology or gratitude in his voice, and he had the irritating habit of not looking at me when he spoke. His remarks were addressed to a blank space in front of him. "Wel , it saves me further expense, I suppose. I received his bil yesterday. Amateurish or not, he wasn't cheap."
"Then I guess you'l be glad you don't have to hire him any more.
Although whether your police wil be any more effective, I wouldn't like to say." The way he said 'your police' implied that shared nationality meant shared liability. My dislike of the man was growing by the second.
"How long are you planning to stay?" I asked, trying to change the subject.
"I have to be back in ten days. I'm supposed to be running a business, as Marty's wel aware. I don't have time for distractions like this.
But under the circumstances there didn't seem to be much choice." So his resentment extended to his missing son. If he was concerned about him as wel , he was making a good job of hiding it. I made another attempt to be civil. "I know you're a businessman, but I'm afraid I don't know anything more specific than that. What field are you in?"
"Bathroom accessories."
"Is that retail or wholesale?"
"Both."
"Wel , I hope the American economy is in a better state than ours.
We're in something of a recession over here, at present."
"So I hear."
"Is business quite good?"
"It's better when I can stay and run it."
I abandoned any further efforts to draw him out, and instead tried to establish at least the pretence of common ground.
"Yes, I know what you mean. I'm a businessman myself I smiled depreciatingly. "Wel , if you can cal running a gal ery business. I'm an art dealer."
"I know." He clearly had no intention of helping me with the conversation. And I had nothing left to offer except insults. I held them in check and made one last attempt. Hopeful y in a subject even he would not snub.
"I think Anna's taken al this quite wel . It must have been very hard on her."
"It's been very hard on a lot of people. Including Marty's mother and myself."
"Yes, I imagine it must be. How is Mrs. Westerman taking it?" Westerman looked briefly at me before returning his gaze to whatever it was that was occupying it. "As wel as can be expected. Neither of us wanted him to come here in the first place. American universities were good enough for his brother and sister, I don't see why they weren't for him. And now I've had to come and chase after him because he's had a spat with his girlfriend." This was the first mention of Marty's other family. It was also the first indication of his father's feelings about his disappearance.
"Is that why you think he left?"
"I can't think of any other reason. According to his tutors, his work at the university was progressing wel . He'd no financial problems. He was always emotional y stable in the past. So why else would he walk out?" I felt obliged to object. "I don't know, obviously. But Anna says they hadn't argued at al ." His mouth twisted slightly. It could have been a smile. "So she claims." I knew I was arguing against my own interests, but I could not let that pass. "I hardly think Anna would lie about something like that." He permitted himself another brief glance at me. "So you think it was just a coincidence that this happened just before he came back to America with an English girl he'd only known for a matter of months? I'm afraid I find that hard to believe."
"From what I saw of them, they seemed very happy together."
"Then why did he leave?" Of course, I had no answer to that. I should have been pleased that Westerman had so readily accepted the obvious explanation, but his implied slur on Anna infuriated me. Neither of us spoke again until Anna came in and announced that dinner was ready.
It was a dismal affair. Anna did her best to keep a conversation running, and out of consideration for her I tried as wel . But Westerman steadfastly refused to be drawn into it. I began to wonder why he had come at al . He ate mechanical y and sparingly, speaking only when a direct question was asked of him, and even then answering in monosyl ables whenever possible. Eventual y, Anna had nothing left to say, and I could think of nothing to help her. The meal continued in complete silence, broken only by the scrape and tinkle of cutlery.
Only Marty's father seemed indifferent to it, as though such awkwardness were his natural environment. If he was always so bad mannered, I could wel imagine it was.
"Coffee
?" Anna asked, after dessert was over. Westerman had been the last to finish eating, unconcernedly taking his time while Anna and I sat and waited for him. I expected and hoped he would refuse. There seemed little point in him staying.
He dabbed his lips with the napkin. "I take it black, without sugar."
"I'l help you clear the table," I said to Anna.
Once the kitchen door had closed she leaned against the wal and puffed out her cheeks. "God. I'm real y sorry about this. If I'd any idea it was going to be this bad, I wouldn't have asked you."
"Nonsense. No one should have to suffer that man by themselves for an entire evening."
"It's not your problem, though. You shouldn't have to put up with it."
"Neither should you. I knew what he was like when I accepted." I tried to make light of it. "Besides, it's an experience I wouldn't have missed. It's not every day you can have dinner with the most unpleasant man in the world."
"He's not much fun, is he?"
"I'm afraid not." We grinned at each other like conspirators.
"It's times like this when I wish I kept rat poison. Do you think he'd notice if I put any in his coffee?"
"He might not, but everyone else would think it was a distinct improvement."
We began giggling, trying to smother it so the sound would not be heard in the next room. Suddenly the door opened. Wcs-term an stared at us coldly.
"Am I interrupting something?" Anna's laughter died immediately. But she could not keep from smiling as she wiped tears from her eyes. "No, not at al . I'm sorry, we were just
"I was tel ing her about something that happened at the gal ery," I explained, rescuing her.
Marty's father looked from one of us to the other, then at neither as he spoke. "I came in to tel you not to bother with the coffee on my account. It's late. If you'l cal a cab for me, I'l leave you to enjoy your anecdotes in peace." Anna went through the motions of persuasion. "Are you sure you won't stay for a cup?"
"No, thank you." He turned and went back into the lounge. We fol owed him. He stood in the centre of the room while Anna ordered a cab.
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