Strike Out Where Not Applicable

by Nicolas Freeling

  ‘What is this woman’s standing in the household?’

  ‘Manageress, but she has an investment in the business – a part owner. She helped to rescue, before the marriage, a place that had run down in the post-war atmosphere – the man was of German origin. She lives in the house and has a close relationship with the wife. It’s not going too far to call it an alliance, and the man may have felt he was not master, that the alliance was hostile …’

  ‘A lesbian relationship?’

  ‘Possible. The wife, who ran the business and still does, combines energy and decision with a casual laziness in private – the other adopts a protective maternal attitude, and speaks disparagingly of the husband. Both show anxiety, tension about gossip, fear lest their even peaceful ways be disturbed.’

  ‘He put up with all this?’

  ‘Odd isn’t it?’ said Van der Valk, feeling he had made his first point.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘He might have looked for authority in other spheres – naturally blackmail came to my mind. On the surface liked and hail-fellow with everyone, he aroused dislike, which everyone mentions once their confidence is gained.’

  ‘They feel free to mention this dislike?’

  ‘He had a reputation as a gossip, a talebearer. A collector and retailer of malicious tattle.’

  ‘A weak man, he had pleasure in noticing and discussing the weaknesses of others?’

  ‘One might push a hypothesis like that – a hypothesis is all it is.’

  ‘I merely wished to test your awareness of the dangers of doing so,’ said Mr Romeijn almost apologetically.

  ‘All this circle of close acquaintances seem normal enough – Doctor Maartens was willing, guardedly, to give me a little medical background. An even-tenored, pleasant set of lives, settled, without financial worries, no obvious emotional distortions, surrounded with comforts and conveniences – it’s just that which awakens my dissatisfaction. All so smooth, and they all show a state of tension. I can’t say it’s out of the ordinary – I just wonder.’

  ‘A police officer – the mere fact of an investigation arouses embarrassment, worry, hostility.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You aren’t satisfied?’

  ‘No.’

  Mr Romeijn looked at him for some time in silence.

  ‘Very well. Since you wish to convince me, I presume you have more?’

  ‘La Touche. An anxious man, with a sense of inadequacy, needing reassurance. Shouts at clients, who seem to enjoy it, carries violence a stage further in private – he beats up his wife. She told me this with a frankness intended perhaps to disarm me. She cultivates a façade of calm, poise, chic, weary sophistication.’ Mr Romeijn plainly disliked this phrase; since he was quite right, Van der Valk kicked himself in the ankle.

  ‘There is a grown-up son, who got into some trouble – there were violent scenes with the father. The boy left the country with a black-sheep label of sorts.’

  ‘Anything on our files?’

  ‘A charge of fraud that didn’t seem terribly convincing and was later withdrawn. Cheques. There was a rather – halfhearted – enquiry.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘No – Hague.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that this charge was true but was manipulated?’

  ‘I don’t know whose name he was supposed to have written on the cheque.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘A riding-school is of course a hotbed of namedropping, compulsive boasting, anxieties about status.’

  ‘I suppose that might be so,’ with distaste.

  ‘My wife goes there. She genuinely likes horses. My status as an officer of police is sufficient to satisfy snobbery, but since she is French that scarcely interests her. She has given me some amusing lights on behaviour – one striking example of the persistent striving common to many of this group.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘A girl from a village who married a bicycle champion and has pots of money.’

  A small smile stirred an austere mouth.

  ‘I can see how that might be possible,’ he murmured. ‘Unacceptable on both counts.’

  ‘The husband owns a hotel in the district, and though he did not frequent the riding-school he knew both Fischer and his wife professionally. He speaks of both with dislike. A lot of things in this circle are half felt, half seen.’

  ‘And what, Commissaire,’ incisively, ‘do you suggest?’

  ‘You gave me a commission of interrogation, sir, with some doubt. You might consider summoning the people most closely concerned, and examine subsequent statements for inconsistency,’ colourless. ‘The classic method – when one has anything to go on.’

  ‘Just so. Your suppositions, Commissaire – moonshine. That is, judicial moonshine. To test and sift all this – there’s no nail to hang a case on, and people have a natural distaste for accounting for their private lives – any further suggestion?’

  ‘I would be inclined,’ gingerly, ‘to consider some discreet observation to see if these people have relationships we know nothing of.’

  The magistrate had stiffened, as Van der Valk had known he would.

  ‘I don’t like it, as you know. We don’t like that in this country. Smacks of interference with a subject’s liberties. Unwarrantable sniffing and snuffling – unconstitutional.’

  ‘A riding-school – there’s something dashing and uninhibited about horses, an atmosphere Mr La Touche encourages. It is fashionable there to be outspoken and a bit daring. By the way, the customers had a habit of lunching at Fischer’s restaurant, and meeting there on horseback. Fischer certainly knew many of them well.’

  ‘You think blackmail, do you? Covert rendezvous, flirtations, extracurricular carryings on, hm?’ with irony.

  ‘I don’t know what I think. But I feel convinced that somebody is banking on our impotence all round. We can’t even prove this death wasn’t an accident from the medical evidence, but there is no doubt in the state pathologist’s mind – that is of course his unofficial opinion expressed to me in private.’

  ‘Very well, Commissaire,’ suddenly. ‘I will allow this observation, holding you personally responsible.’

  The fact was that in Amsterdam he had done such things constantly, without any reference to nervous juridical functionaries either. It might be unconstitutional, but if one wasn’t going to sit being impotent, one had to. But here in the provinces it was another matter, and if he put his staff on to something on this scale, there would be talk. It would leak to higher spheres. He would be up shit creek, and without a paddle too.

  And the magistrate had agreed – unexpectedly.

  Did he – like Doctor Maartens – feel something he himself was not properly attuned to? All he could say about this whole business was that it was not quite catholic – and now he would swear that the magistrate himself had just such a phrase lodged behind his sinus somewhere.

  What could it be? Inaudible transmissions came from the bourgeoisie. Janine was right and you could never be one of them unless you were born there.

  ‘Is your staff adequate – trained, I should say – for that kind of thing?’

  ‘No.’ The magistrate showed consternation, which paid him out for ‘that kind of thing’. They weren’t going to open an embassy safe and photostat the contents!

  ‘Then what do you propose to do?’

  ‘Get a few off the retired list. I haven’t enough people anyway that I can take off their normal work. And there are several advantages – more experience, more patience, more time, not fussy about union hours – and much, much more convincing.’

  The magistrate was slightly cheered up by this, but Van der Valk could see him, having unwillingly agreed to the principle, searching for drawbacks of detail that would be a face-saver. Really he had given in much too quickly.

  ‘But an expense,’ querulous.

  ‘We’d think nothing of it, sir, if it was a state visit.’

  A faint smile.
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  ‘Crime is more important than a state visit, is that it?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ soberly.

  ‘Quite true, really,’ as though to himself. ‘Very well, Commissaire, I’ll see what can be done. But I’m holding you personally responsible.’

  As he was going out a voice called him back; not very peremptory, just enough. ‘And – Van der Valk.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Remember how it might sound in court. “The accused was taken under observation.” You know, eh?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  He’s oddly confident, thought Van der Valk, getting his leg down the flight of stone steps. I wish I were.

  He was lucky; he got two of his old staff from Amsterdam, as well as two local chaps recently – but not too recently – retired and picked on their records. Solid chaps. With little cars of their own, knowing the country – and Rademaker and Hendricks, at least, could do this kind of work in their sleep and probably would.

  ‘An easy job,’ he said. ‘All round the clock, and you’ll be in shifts of two, but these are settled people who get eight hours’ sleep and so can you. You can eat and drink as long as you keep the expenses within reason, and your petrol will be allowed of course. Use a very light hand and work from far away. No breathing down necks – I’d rather you missed fine detail than got rumbled. Remember – if you get rumbled there’s a complaint. If there’s a complaint it’s my job. Is that quite clear?’ He had added two of his regular brigade.

  ‘Valuable experience for you two boys but I hope you haven’t been reading any gangster magazines lately. This isn’t a goddam tail. I’m putting a technical man on the telephone exchange who will, of course, keep track of their calls. You’ll call in hourly as you get the opportunity and he’ll keep you posted.’

  ‘Are we to be disguised?’ asked one of the young sub-inspectors happily, evidently enjoying the idea.

  ‘You do anything you damn well like as long as you don’t turn it into amateur theatricals. If your false moustache gets tangled in your binoculars, you’ve got the wrong disguise. I’m pairing each of you boys with our retired thiefcatchers here and they’ll train you. You are on a motorbike or a scooter – find identities that match that. Mr Hendricks here is a silver-haired business man – what’s your car, Bob?’

  ‘Renault Ten.’

  ‘It’ll do nicely. And you, Will? I’d say myself you were an inspector on the railways.’

  ‘Simca thousand.’

  ‘At least it’s not a Daf – but you’ve been warned,’ with guffaws, ‘if it comes to a chase we’re in the Ferrari bracket. This may go on for some time and six of you to three houses.… Bob, you and Will think of a couple more to relieve you, and work in rotation of course. I leave the cover to you – remember it’s a village, government survey might not be a bad one for this riding-school, stroll about with a theodolite and a measuring-tape.’

  Mr Hendricks, who had been retired three years, was watching Van der Valk the Senior Officer with some enjoyment.

  ‘What tactics, skipper?’ out of the corner of his mouth, tough like Gravedigger Ed from the thirty-ninth precinct.

  Yes, one had to think about that. Van der Valk lit a cigar, rather a good one, a courtesy present from the Officer of Justice for bright pupils. An expensive cigar; it had to be clipped with a pair of nailscissors accustomed to more plebeian use, carefully examined for scar tissue, licked like a baby with a nice mouthful of mama, and a match had to be borrowed to light it. All this was watched with proper respect by the young subordinates, patience by the locals, and cynicism by the two Amsterdammers, who had watched too many Senior Police Officers going all sensual and back-to-the-womb with large cigars in the course of their careers.

  ‘The chappie was murdered. We’re certain, but not the way the Palais has to be certain. He was a fellow who went to trouble nosing out scandal, and that is roughly your starting point. His wife is in business partnership with an older woman who has money in the business and the partnership interests me. The wife is a young woman, vigorous and spirited – more in her than meets the eye.

  ‘La Touche – on the face of things interested in nothing but horses but you find out. The wife is classy, a woman of strong character, exercises fascination on those she meets, which goes for us too.

  ‘Over on the coast is a hotel, small but manicured, called Le Relais du Midi. Owner you all know – Robbie Zwemmer, a boy who has invested his money wisely. His wife is a tiny blonde who likes horses more than bikes. Neither of them find our deceased friend a pleasant subject of conversation. Bob, you’ll coordinate all this. Everything blow-by-blow in the little book and given the stenographer here – typed transcripts available each morning. Midnight to eight in the morning free in principle, unless you’ve some sort of a lead – it’s a healthy habit.’

  The two young policemen of the criminal brigade were listening with faintly dazed suspicion.

  ‘What I don’t quite get, skipper, is exactly what we have to hope for.’

  Van der Valk knocked the ash off his cigar and looked at this imbecile.

  ‘Nobody knows,’ blandly. ‘While I am in this brigade you will call me sir. Mr Hendricks here was teaching me my business when you were sucking tit, and has worn out three hundred and seventy-eight pairs of boots on the tramlines. Us stupid old bastards are wondering whether a collision in outer space will release molecular energy and start hitting you with protons and neutrons, and if you don’t understand that start going to the polytechnic on your free evenings. Since you won’t be having any for some time ask these gentlemen to take you under the wing till you’ve got your knees brown.’ They looked concussed but prudently said nothing.

  ‘We will now adjourn. Before the next lesson the peasants will go to Vietnam and study on the spot what General Giap did to General Navarre, which is a good example how to handle people who think they are brighter than you are.’ A guffaw from old Rademaker, the one who looked as though he had been on the railways for thirty years. The two local inspectors made silent promises to kick the arse of their subordinates at an early date and everyone went home to lunch – non-Commissaires round to Heck’s Lunch Room: rank hath its privileges, as the captain said when they asked what the fifty-seven gin bottles were doing in his cabin.

  Arlette had a shin of veal. She had buttered an oblong pyrex dish, put in a sliced carrot and onion, a clove of garlic, a tiny spike of rosemary and a glass of white wine, and buttered the lid lavishly before shoving the whole thing in the oven. She was washing her spinach, which she did under the bathroom shower, when he came in and noticed a good smell.

  ‘I would like some alcohol for my machine, please; Suze, if there is any.’

  ‘I don’t want to be an old hen, but is that a good idea?’

  He looked at her in a sober way.

  ‘No, I’m not just being exuberant. We’re faced with what could be a stupid fiasco. I’ve nothing to go on and it will be hard work.’

  ‘But what are you talking about?’

  ‘Sorry – of course. I was talking about Bernhard Fischer.’

  ‘You aren’t still going on with that! You’re not going to tell me anything horrible, are you?’ He had always had a rule about bringing work home. It was only since he had been shot that this had changed, but after all the whole nature of his work had changed.

  ‘I must take the lid off the veal.’ She had always agreed with his rule, refusing to sit listening. ‘I am not an indigestion pill, whatever the women’s magazines may say.’

  ‘There isn’t anything horrible. There isn’t anything at all. Did you watch Marguerite, at that funeral?’ tangentially.

  ‘Of course. You want to know what she had on?’

  ‘In a way. How do you see her – attractive to men?’

  ‘Are you asking me?’

  ‘She’d enjoy that, you think? Be alive to it?’

  ‘Be pretty inhuman if she didn’t.’

  ‘But encourage it – give way to it?’ They were s
till shouting through the open kitchen door.

  ‘Try her and see,’ tinkling ice-blocks into glasses and banging the fridge door.

  ‘I just don’t know. I might have to do some trotting round myself tonight – and other nights. Put some cold coffee in my flask, will you, doped up a tiny scrap with whisky, and give me a few codeines in case my leg starts being silly?’

  She softened at once.

  ‘Of course I will. Here’s your drink – nice for me to have an excuse for having one too.’ She never drank unless he did too, saying it would be unfair. ‘We’ve half an hour before the boys get here so I needn’t put the spinach on yet. I’ve new potatoes – terribly expensive still – I’m sorry; go on with what you were saying.’

  ‘Lot of vitality,’ he mumbled. ‘Pretty, warm, still fresh – she’s not much older than you are. That peculiar laziness … but I don’t see her being vegetably contented with that lump of a chap. She might not be unfaithful to him, but … I don’t see her happy with an exclusive woman’s world either. One has the impression the other follows her everywhere wrapping her in cocoons, but would she be happy with no more than that? She might be just indulging the laziness and love of comfort.’

  ‘Are you thinking she’s lesbian – surely not?’

  ‘Why are you sure?’

  ‘I don’t know – I just think she would be a man’s woman.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I wanted to know.’

  ‘Perhaps both. Likes girls too. Some are like that.’

  ‘Are they?’ smiling. She blushed, almost, and wriggled a little.

  ‘Everybody likes her – women too – that’s all I meant. Take Janine now – the women hate her and she hates them. You wouldn’t find her being sweety in a corner with another woman.’

  ‘No, I see that. And Marion?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. If I had to be very honest I’d say she impresses me a bit. So – so reserved.’

  ‘Self-sufficient?’

  ‘Is anybody self-sufficient?’

  ‘Suppose she were threatened in some way.’