The Melting Man rc-4 Page 14

  By midnight nothing had happened, except that I was colder than I thought I would be and wished I'd brought some brandy out. I sat there, thinking about a quick nip and how it was only a few yards away. The more I thought the colder I became — the chalet was up around the twelve hundred metre mark where the nights are chill at the end of September — and I was tempted to go and serve myself. It was only fifty yards to the chalet. I'm glad I didn't because Tony would have walked in on me as I had my hand on the bottle.

  I had to give him full marks for his approach. Either he'd been to the chalet before or Mimi had briefed him. He must have parked his car well down the road and approached on foot. The first sign he gave me was a quick flicker of a torch away in the pines, a hundred yards to my right. I got it out of the corner of my eye, which, in my job, is what corners of eyes are for. Then there was just the darkness, the odd hoot of an owl and the noise of a plane droning overhead. The next flicker was when he hit the drive; brief, but enough to give him his surroundings.

  I slipped out of the Mercedes and went cautiously down through the pines on my right. Ahead of me somewhere he had to be crossing left-handed to the chalet, even if he were going to avoid the front in favour of a side or back entrance.

  Actually, he opted for the front entrance. When I was down level with the parked Volkswagen, I saw the torchlight come on and stay steady as he cowled it with one hand and examined the door. I'd locked the door and the key was in my pocket. That wasn't giving him any trouble. The torchlight went off and I could make out his bulk against the night sky as he worked on the door. He jemmied it, and well. There was just one quick scrunch of wood and steel going and then silence, and Tony standing there, waiting and listening. Nobody could tell me that this number was an amateur. I kept my fingers crossed and hoped the poodle wouldn't set up a racket inside and scare him off. The poodle was silent, stuffed with food still, and sleeping secure on that phoney reputation which dogs have conned mankind with since the first cave. Ask any TBN man.

  Happy in his work, Tony pushed the door open and went in. I gave him a few moments and then I went after him. I slipped through the front door and at once saw his torch doing a low sweep round in the main room, the door of which was wide open.

  I went gently to the door, flicked on the lights and raised the twelve-bore, holding the sights on his head as he turned quickly.

  'Just keep your hands where they are. It's not my house and I don't mind blood on the carpets.'

  He blinked at me through his steel-rimmed glasses and then gave me that babyish grin of his and a fat chuckle. It didn't fool me. He had only one way of expressing any emotion.

  I went up and around him carefully. He was wearing rubber-soled canvas shoes, black trousers, a thick black sweater and for relief, a pair of white cotton gloves. From the corner of his left-hand pocket the handle of the jemmy stuck out. From behind him I reached out and retrieved it, slipping it into my coat pocket. Standing back I tapped his trouser pockets with my left hand, holding the gun in the right, barrel end pressed hard against his back. There was nothing bigger than a packet of cigarettes and a lighter in his pockets by the feel of it.

  He said, 'I've got nothing but the jemmy, but I can see you're the thorough type, like my old man. Nothing on chance.'

  I said, 'You can tell me about your father some other time. Turn around.'

  He turned, beaming a Pickwick smile at me.

  'Pull your sweater right up, but keep your hands in sight.'

  He pulled his sweater up. He wore a singlet underneath and a leather belt round his trousers.

  'Anyway, I've got nothing against you.'

  I nodded to him to drop the sweater and said, 'Now, sit on the floor, keep your legs crossed and your hands at the back of your head. It's a tiring position but if you talk fast you won't have to hold it long.' I had memories of this room with its polished floor and sliding chairs.

  He sat on the floor and I went three yards away from him and sat on the edge of the table, the shotgun cradled in my lap, covering him. Just then the poodle began to bark its head off. They time it well — the moment real trouble is over.

  Tony, hands behind his head, said, 'That's a dog.'

  'Don't be fooled. It's only the impression it likes to create. Now, give me the story from the moment you held up that payroll and then went away like bats out of hell in the Mercedes. I don't want any colourful matter about your emotions of the moment or unnecessary details. Just a plain unvarnished tale. I want to know what happened to the car, and what happened to Otto. Not that I care about him — the car's my concern. But it would be nice to hear that he's dead. And don't worry about my saying anything to the police. I'm in private business and I just want that car.'

  'Wow! You had me fooled. That letter from Max, so-say.' He rolled his eyes in his horrible laughing manner. 'Yes, you're a number.' His face went serious. 'But you know, you got Mimi really upset with that letter. I had a terrible time with her, 'cos I didn't really want to do it. But she says if it's true bliss and a bright future we want, which it is, then there's nothing but come here and knock this Max off. I had to give in.'

  I said, 'Why be squeamish about Max? You'd already got your hand in with Otto. Come on, now. Start talking.'

  'But I didn't do anything to Otto. He did it to himself.' He started to chuckle. 'Yes, he did it to himself. I never laughed so much in all my life. It was real funny. Mind you, it was convenient, too. I mean, seeing that Mimi and me had decided anyway to give Otto his cards — on account of we loved one another. He was wanting out anyway, chiefly because of the baby. Even so, he'd have made trouble. But we were prepared to face that. Course of true love. Two hearts beating as one. My old man was pretty cynical about all that, of course. You'd think I'd be, too, wouldn't you? You know, just four legs in a bed, any bed, any four so long as two of 'em are yours and the others are a nice shape. But in our family sons must go by opposites. I'm a faithful man, you know. One woman's all I want.'

  'Congratulations. Now get on with the bloody story.'

  'Of course, of course.' He started to laugh, tears squeezing out of his eyes, and there was no doubt that it was genuine. I couldn't wait to be let in on the joke. There's nothing more annoying than people laughing and you right out in the cold as to why. He looked up at me, hands behind his neck, sitting there like a Buddha, and he wobbled his big head with joy. 'He was drunk, you know. Not stoned. But… well, well away. That's why it happened. Mind you, he was always like that after a job, excited, wings on him. You know feet right off the ground. It takes you all ways after a job. Me, well, I don't alter much — except I get bad heartburn. Never anything more.'

  I said firmly, 'If you don't come to the point I'll—'

  'All right. All right now. Just wanted you to know how it was. Yes, Otto was well away. That's why I never liked him driving, but he always would. Anyway, we took off in the car. We were only going to use it for about ten kilometres. Not safe otherwise. We had another waiting for us up in the mountains, ready for the switch and the ditch. The switch and the ditch!' He started to chuckle again and it rumbled around inside his throat like a caged bear trying to get out. I sat there and ordered myself to be patient. He had only one way of telling a story and there was nothing I could do about it. If it had been his gallows-side confession he would have laughed through it in his own good time until any priest would have wanted to crack him one and skip the final absolution.

  He looked up at me, tears in his eyes, and said, 'It was the funniest thing you've ever seen.'

  'It wasn't — because I didn't see it. But come on, tell me, and make me laugh.'

  'Well… there was this place up in the mountains. Up a dirt road through woods to a lake. We'd left the other car there. Otto sang like a bird all the way there. Man, he was wild. You know, I think when he did a job there was something sexual about it for him. I was talking to Mimi about it—'

  'Come to the point.'

  For a moment he looked piqued, really hurt
, like a fat, jolly boy who'd been reprimanded unjustly.

  'Well… the other car was there, so we off-loaded the stuff into it, and then Otto ran the Mercedes close to the edge of the lake. It was an open slope, about ten yards of it, down to the lake edge and over a ten foot drop into deep water. Nobody goes up there much. Just a few fishermen. It's a beautiful spot. A good place to spend a day…' He rocked with a sudden outburst of fresh giggles. 'A great place to spend the rest of your days.'

  In a minute he was going to tell me what size the trout ran to and I was going to clout him over the head with the shotgun.

  He saw the look in my eyes and sobered up a little.

  'Well, all you had to do was let off the hand brake and start her rolling. And that's all Otto did. He opened the door, reached in and let off the brake — and the Merc started rolling. Lord, I never saw anything so funny. The car went off before he was ready for it… really it did. Rolled away and the door swings back a little against him and somehow his jacket or something got caught up inside so that he was dragged with it, half in half out. You've got to believe me when I say I tried to get to him. It was instinctive. You see a man in trouble and you go to help — but it was too late. The tipsy bastard lost his head and he yells and pulls his feet up, half in and half out. I think he was trying to get at the brake again to hold the Merc. Before I could do a thing, he was over the side in a damn great splash.' He looked up at me, shaking his head at the comic wonder of it all, his plump face beaming, the little eyes shining with happy tears behind his glasses.

  'And what did you do?' I got to my feet. 'Just stand there and read the service for those lost at sea?'

  'I couldn't do a thing. I can't swim. And the lake, right off the edge there, is about twenty feet deep. Anyway, I knew Otto could swim, so I just waited for him to come up. But he didn't. I gave him fifteen minutes, but no sign of him… so what would you have done? What would any man have done in the circumstances? He was out of my hair, no trouble to Mimi any more — he really didn't like that baby, you know — and I got the full share of the payroll we'd taken. I just got into the other car and drove back to Mimi.'

  'Laughing all the way.'

  He grinned. 'Well, I had to chuckle now and then. Don't tell me you're upset about this? You said you hoped he was dead.'

  'Frankly, I'm delighted. It's just that I'm old-fashioned enough not to show it by a good belly-laugh.'

  Keeping him in sight, I went to the desk and got a pencil and a sheet of paper.

  Tony was a bright boy.

  'You want me to draw a map?'

  I dropped the paper and pencil at his feet.

  'Do that. And make it accurate. If you shove me off with any phoney details, I'll laugh my way to the nearest phone and ring a friend of mine at Interpol. Play ball — and you can shove off from here and I'll forget that I ever met you. You'd be surprise how easy that will be.'

  'You can rely on me. Besides, I got Mimi and the baby to think about now.'

  He sat on the floor and began to sketch out the details of the road and the track up to the lake, giving me a running commentary as I stood behind him.

  Once, he looked up and said, 'What's all the fuss about this car anyway?'

  'My client wants it back.'

  He shrugged. 'Why — O'Dowda could make a better deal with the insurance company?' I went poker-faced.

  'How did you know my client was called O'Dowda?'

  'From Otto, of course, and the car. All the registration papers were in it when I did the respray.'

  'Did Otto know O'Dowda?' Tony shook his head at me sadly.

  'You haven't done your homework. Up to about two years ago Otto was second-chauffeur at O'Dowda's place near Evian. Used to drive the wife about. News to you?'

  It was news to me — and news that suddenly made sense of a lot of things that had quietly puzzled me.

  I said, 'Give me the map.'

  He handed it over his shoulder and I stood back from him. 'What now?' he said.

  'You blow,' I said. 'I'm not having the spare bed mucked up and I'm not making breakfast for two. On your feet.'

  I escorted him to the front door and covered him as he went down the steps. At the bottom he turned and beamed up at me.

  'Done you a good turn, haven't I? And all for free. No charge. Just goodness of heart. Know what, too? I've complete confidence in you. About that Interpol thing, I mean. Keeping your mouth shut and so on. I'm a good judge of character. I said to Mimi after you left, "Now, there's a buono raggazzo who—"'

  'Skip it. I've got all the character references I need.'

  'Okay. And when you finally lift that car out, just say hello to Otto for me.'

  He went and I could hear his rich laughter burbling all the way down the drive. Life should have more characters like him, simple, uncomplicated, always ready to look on the bright side of things, and good with children, too.

  I went back in and packed up my stuff and made myself a cup of coffee against the journey ahead. I should have skipped the coffee because then I would have missed Aristide.

  As I picked up my suitcase in the main room and made for the hall door, I saw the headlights of a car wheel across the window. Not knowing who it was, but having various possibilities in mind, I had only one thought. Almost any visitor at four o'clock in the morning might be interested in the location of the Mercedes. I whipped out the plan which Tony had drawn and shoved it under one of the chair cushions. Then I picked up the shotgun from the table. It was a good gun, a well-used Cogswell and Harrison hammerless ejector with nicely engraved strengthening plates on the walnut stock.

  I opened the door to the hall, prepared to welcome guests.

  The main house door swung back and Aristide came through. He took off a beret and gave me a half wave with it, and then stood there, shaking his head either in sadness at the sight of me or to get the sleep out of his eyes. Behind him was his driver, a big fellow in a tight blue suit and a peaked chauffeur's cap.

  'The shotgun, my friend,' said Aristide, 'will not be necessary. You were just leaving?' He nodded at the suitcase inside the room door. Then he sniffed the air and said, 'Coffee?'

  'In the kitchen. Help yourself.'

  'You must share it with me.'

  He came down the hall, took the shotgun from me and handed it to his driver.

  'Have a good look round, Albert. Miss nothing.'

  He took me by the arm, steered me into the main room, glanced round, nodded approvingly, and said, 'Always it has been a dream with me to have such a place. Secluded, the mountains, peace, and the air so clean you can wear a white shirt for a week without dirtying it.'

  Albert clumped by us, and I led the way into the kitchen. The poodle greeted me as though I had been away for a month. The cat opened one eye, and then closed it, dismissing the interruption to its sleep.

  Aristide said, 'Excuse me,' and began to make fresh coffee. I found a tin of chocolate biscuits and put them beside him. Not to get into his good books but because I knew he would have found them for himself anyway. I said, 'How did you know I was here?' He said, 'I didn't, but I am glad you are. I was merely informed that this was the address of Max Ansermoz and that the place might be of immediate interest. Personally, I am sure that behind it all was a desire to embarrass you. You are embarrassed?'

  'No more than usual. Who informed you?'

  'It was a woman — on the telephone — and she gave her name as Miss Panda Bubakar. A fictitious name, of course. It is always that, or they remain anonymous.' He gave me a warm smile, and went on, 'There is cream somewhere?' I found him some cream.

  'Did you know,' he said, 'that coffee, which is held in such high esteem in the Middle East, used once to be taken during prayers in the mosques and even before the tomb of the Prophet at Mecca? And at one time the Turks, on marrying, used to promise the woman that in addition to love, honour and a daily bastinado or whatever, she should never go short of coffee, and that we owe that filthy instant stuff to a countr
yman of yours called Washington who, while living in Guatemala — yes, Albert?'

  Albert had appeared in the doorway.

  'It is there, monsieur.'

  'Good. Go back and stay with it. We will be with you in a little while.'

  'What is where?' I asked as Albert disappeared.

  Aristide stuffed a chocolate biscuit into his mouth, gener ously tossed one to the poodle who was walking around on its hind legs, and then said, 'You have had a visitor tonight?'

  'No.'

  'Then it was you who jemmied the front door? The jemmy is on the table out there.'

  I said, 'Do me a favour, Aristide — don't save the main point till last. I've got a long drive ahead of me and want to get off.'

  'You have found where the Mercedes is?'

  'No.'

  'A pity.'

  'Why?'

  'If you had, I might have stretched a point. The main point you were talking about. This is good coffee. Martinique. It was a great countryman of mine, one Desclieux, who under severe hardship brought the first coffee seedling to Martinique. You can always tell Martinique coffee, big grains, rounded at both ends and it is greenish in colour. Did you see Max Ansermoz at all on this visit?'

  'No.'

  'You are becoming monosyllabic.'

  'What do you expect at this hour of the morning?'

  'That you would be in bed, sleeping the sleep of the just. However, it is convenient that you are already dressed. Are you sure that you do not know where the car is?'

  'Frankly, no.'

  'Splendid. If you tell me where it is, you can go, and I shall ignore all that this Miss Panda has said ignore even the evidence of Albert's and my eyes, and even the fact — which I have no doubt the laboratory experts will establish — of your fingerprints.'

  I said, 'I'd better have some coffee to clear my head.'

  Graciously, he poured me a cup and another one for himself. Then he gave me one of his warm, owlish smiles, and said, 'Just tell me where the car is and I will smooth away all difficulties for you. I have the power — and after all I have, too, a certain affection for you. You have had a visitor tonight — otherwise you would not be leaving at this hour. The car, mon ami, where is it?'