it no one ever sent me yet, One perfect limousine, do you suppose?”
Predictably, Leif said, ‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ I wondered whether this evening’s outing would go on his expense account. The prices didn’t prove anything one way or the other The only people I know who enjoy lavish expense accounts are politicians and business executives.
Covertly I studied my companion over the top of my menu. He wasn’t looking at me. One finger nervously stroked his moustache; the other hand beat a restless tattoo on the table as his eyes moved around the room, inspecting the faces of the diners. I had been too preoccupied with my own thoughts to notice that he had something on his mind too. He was looking for someone – possibly John, possibly someone else. But if he was a policeman of any variety, I was a Short Person.
He just didn’t have the right look. I’m not referring to his physical appearance; as we all know from movies and television, undercover cops aren’t supposed to look like cops; they are supposed to look like pushers or hookers or crooks. But all of them have one thing in common – professionalism. They wouldn’t live long if they didn’t know their trade. Leif’s performance as a member of the Special Branch had a few glaring flaws. The way he picked me up, for instance – pretty crude, for a pro. Yet he knew me, my reputation and my background, including the fact that I was on good terms with members of the Munich police. So why didn’t he take me into his confidence if he wanted me to help him? And if he didn’t want my help, why was he hanging around?
There was an obvious answer to that question, but I wasn’t conceited enough to believe it. He was mildly interested, but it was only too apparent that he was even more interested in John. Surely he didn’t suspect me of being John’s confederate. Even if he knew about the Paris affair . . . If he was a police official, he probably did know about it; the whole damned embarrassing business was on record at the Surete. However, the French police had cleared me completely, and if Leif was familiar with that episode he would have every reason to assume I wanted to get even with John. There was only one thing I could think of that might arouse official suspicions of my present trip, and that was the message John had sent. I had flushed it down the toilet in a fit of pique – but the package had been opened before I received it.
Maybe Leif was a cop after all. It isn’t easy for a private citizen to interfere with the mails.
I decided it was time to get a few things off my chest ‘You owe me an explanation,’ I said.
Leif started. ‘What?’
‘You heard me. All you’ve told me is that you are following John . . . No, damn it, you haven’t even told me that much. Were you following him? Is that why you were at the airport – or were you waiting for me to show up? Why didn’t you arrest him when I identified him? Do you suspect me? Was one of your men following me today, and is six to midnight your shift?’
I had Leif’s complete attention now. He quit fiddling with his moustache and folded his hands on the table. He was trying to look cool, but the whitened grip of his fingers destroyed the image.
‘It is known that you have been in communication with Smythe,’ he said.
‘How? Mind you, I’m not admitting that I have; I’m just asking what gives you that idea.’
‘I am not at liberty to divulge my sources. You understand – ’
‘No, I don’t understand. I’m sick and tired of oblique hints and vague accusations. And, what’s more – ’
‘Be quiet!’
My rising voice had attracted attention. Fortunately for me, he had stopped me before my big flapping mouth had made any damaging admissions or accusations.
We glared at one another. Leif was breathing so hard the air from his nostrils made the ends of his moustache flap. After a moment his tight lips relaxed and he chuckled softly.
‘The little kitten spits and hisses,’ he said. ‘It is charming. I suppose many men have told you that you are beautiful when you are angry.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘You’re the first.’
He looked pleased. I guess he thought I was complimenting him. ‘Have you any more questions, little lady?’ he asked.
‘Suppose you answer the ones I’ve already asked.’
‘Certainly. But not here. We will walk, and find a place where we can talk privately.’ When we left the cafe he took my hand and continued to hold it as we strolled along the quay The sun was setting; it would go on setting for hours, hanging around like an unwanted guest. The water reflected the deepening blue of the western sky. The tall masts of the sailing ship
He didn’t suggest a boat ride. He didn’t say anything until we reached Kungstradgarden. Then he announced, ‘This will be suitable,’ and looked around for an empty bench.
There weren’t many. People were watching a chess game, played on a giant board laid out on the pavement, with wooden men several feet high. Children were at play; couples were talking and drinking and making out. Watching one such pair, intriguingly entwined, Leif shook his head disapprovingly. ‘Such people.’
‘“They are the dirtiest of creatures,”’ ‘I said. ‘“And they do not wash themselves after sex.”’
‘What?’
“‘Furthermore, women have the right to claim a divorce. They do this whenever they wish.”’
‘What?’
‘Ibn-Fal-Ibrahim al-Tartushi said that in the tenth ccntury, when he visited Scandinavia.’
‘I do not understand what you are talking about’
‘Everything is relative.
‘We will sit here,’ Leif said, abandoning hope of making sense out of my comments. The bench he selected was in a quiet corner under a clump of lilacs. We sat down. Leif put his arm around me and mashed me against his side.
‘Now we appear like innocent lovers,’ he explained.
‘Uh-huh.’ There were plenty of people around. Two nearby benches were occupied, and pedestrians passed constantly. ‘Now, then,’ I said.
‘Always business first, eh?’ Leif chuckled and squeezed me. My breath came out in a grunt.
‘I am sorry; I forget my strength,’ Leif said, relaxing his grip a trifle.
‘Leif, you’re stalling.’
‘No, no, I don’t stall. Believe, Vicky, I have full trust in you. In your honour, at least. But you are too trusting. What are your feelings for that evil man?’
‘John?’ I hadn’t thought of him as evil. Tricky, dishonest, sneaky . . . ‘I hate the bastard,’ I said.
‘I am glad you don’t love him,’ Leif said. ‘He is not the man for you, my Valkyrie. He is too small.’
I wanted to laugh, but couldn’t because Leif had given me another hug and I was short of breath. When I got it back, I said, ‘Were you following John or waiting for me? Why didn’t you arrest him at the airport?’
Leif’s right hand began making little sorties, hither and yon. The sweater frustrated him at first, but he dealt with it rather ingeniously. ‘I did not arrest him because we must catch him in the act. We have no proof, only suspicions.’
‘Suspicions of what?’
Leif’s left hand, hitherto unoccupied, came swooping around like a cable car on a wire. When the heel of his hand was under my chin, his fingers curled up over the crown of my head. He turned my face towards his. His pupils looked like big chunks of amber. His moustache tickled my nose. My lips parted. I was about to sneeze. He muffled the explosion with a kiss. When he let me go I tasted blood. (That’s not a complaint, it’s only a comment.)
‘You distract me,’ he said gravely.
‘I distract
‘Yes. Have you more questions?’
I will not claim that I had not enjoyed that kiss. It was a masterful performance. I was pretty sure now that Leif was not what he pretended to be and, what is more, I resented his attempt to distract my feeble feminine brain by making love to me. However, his hand was resting on the back of my neck, and I despise characters who blurt out their suspicions to the villain. ‘Then it was you who destroyed Sir Reginald’s suicide note! But that – that means
