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Bond thought, was as tricky as a barrelful of anacondas. His type was
usually described as one who had difficulty in catching the eye of a
waiter. Mr Lempke would have had problems catching the attention of a
pickpocket, even if he had just flashed a wad of money and crammed it
into the sucker pocket at his hip.
Fredericka rode up the chair lift with Inspector Ponsin, while Bond drew
the heavy Bodo Lempke who certainly carried enough weight to tip the
double set of chairs slightly. It was a beautiful, short ride up the
slope during which Lempke remained silent except to remark on the cause
of death.
`You were told of the tetrodoxin, yes?" `Yes." Fight innocuousness with
blandness.
`Exotic, no?" `Very." `Very exotic?" `Exceptionally." `So." At the First
viewing point, several policemen, uniformed and plainclothes, were doing
what Bond presumed to be yet another careful search of the area which
was marked off with more crime scene tape. A small group of men and
women stood beside the long, log hut which was the restaurant.
They looked dejected, as well they might: with the chair lift closed,
their usual business would have dried to a trickle of probably
discontented policemen looking for they knew not what.
The air was fresh and clear, while the view from this vantage point was
almost other worldly. Bond had his own reasons to feel overawed by
mountains. For him, their grandeur an overworked word when people
described the peaks and rocky graphs of the world's high places was
tempered with respect. His parents had died on a mountain and, since
childhood, while he was often moved by the beauty of the crags, bluffs
and jagged outcrops of stone reaching towards the sky, he was also aware
of the dangers they represented. To him they were like wanton beautiful
women beckoning sirens waiting to be conquered, yet perilous, requiring
deference and care, like so many of God's great wonders.
In spite of the warm sun, he shivered slightly, turning to see that
Fredericka had come from the chair lift to stand close beside him.
She had said he would feel something strange and frightening in this
place, and she had been right. Sites of sudden death, or evil, often
gave off signals of fear, just as old places houses, stone circles,
ancient churches seemed to hold good or evil vibrations trapped in walls
like inerasable recordings. Fredericka's eyes gave him an I-told-you-so
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look, and Bodo Lempke coughed loudly.
`I show you where the body was found, yes?
Where murder happened. Always good for the laugh." He treated them to
his mirthless smile and set off, guiding them between the tapes that
marked a pathway to a small enclosure. The screens which the police had
originally set up around the body were still in place, and signs of
sudden death remained two gashes in the soft springy turf where Laura
March's shoes had scarred the ground when her legs had involuntarily
shot out and stiffened as the deadly capsule poured the poison into her
bloodstream.
`We have snapshots." Lempke reached into the pigskin folder.
`They're not exactly your average holiday snaps, are they?" Bond leafed
through the stack of eight by ten glossies, all of which showed Laura
March in death at this very spot. Apart from an unnatural rigidity, she
looked oddly peaceful.
`Sleeping beauty, yes?" Bodo took back the photographs.
`Dead beauty,' Bond corrected, for, in life, Laura March had been
undoubtedly attractive. He felt irritated by Bodo's seeming
callousness, but tamped down his anger. Cops the world over seemed to
develop a hard second skin when it came to sudden death.
Lempke turned and pointed up the smooth green slope, towards a small
outcrop of rock.
`When the forensic folk examined the body first, they drew my attention
to the bruise on the back of her neck I have snapshots also of that. We
took some bearings from the position of the body, worked out a possible
trajectory. It's up there, sniper's hide." `But you had no idea that
the bruise came from something fired at the victim." `This also is true.
Could have been inflicted from very close, but there were no signs that
anyone else had been in this spot. I used brain." He tapped his
forehead. `I watch sometimes the television of that detective, Hercule
Poirot, by Agatha Crusty..
`Christie,' Bond corrected.
`That's the one. Yes, he calls the brain his little grey cells, no?"
`Yes." `Then also that's what I use. Little grey cells, only I think
mine are possibly pink. I have a liking for red wine. Okay?" There was
really no answer to that, so Fredericka and Bond simply followed Bodo up
the neatly marked track, rising towards the little outcrop of rock,
which was also cordoned off by crime scene tape.
`This is where the sniper laid his eggs." Bodo made a small gesture to
the area immediately behind the rocks.
Laid his eggs? Bond thought, and knew in that moment his first
impression of the man had been correct. Bodo Lempke, with his slept-in
appearance, and feigned naivete', coupled with a disarming misuse of the
English language, was as sharp as a razor blade. He almost certainly
suspected everybody of being guilty of something until he, in person,
proved otherwise.
`You see,' Bodo continued. `You see how the marksman had a clean shot.
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Straight down, sixty metres: a good clear shot with plenty of cover."
`How do you know? Did the shooter leave a calling card?" Bodo gave his
blank stare, followed by the imbecilic smile. `Sure. Of course. People
like this always leave the visiting cards. Part of their stork in
trade. They like you to know they've been here, and this one for quite
a long time was here.
Overnight, in fact.
`Overnight?" `Came up as one person. Went down as someone completely
different. It rained, quite hard, like dogs and cats even, on the day
before Miss March died. The shooter got wet and cold, then dried out
the next day when the sun came out and when his victim rode up on the
chair lift. See, the ground here was softened by rain. He left perfect
marks of his body." Behind the little cluster of rocks there were
indentations which undoubtedly showed that someone had lain there for a
considerable period.
Lempke gave them his fast humourless smile.
`Come, he said, with a conspiratorial wink.
He led the way up the rise to a small clump of bushes, also corralled by
crime scene tape. At the base of the bushes was a shallow hole, around
two feet square and a foot or so deep. `Maybe he planned to come back
for his stuff, but we got here first. I have it in my car.
`You have what in your car?" from Fredericka.
`Everything he needed except for the weapon, of course, and the other
personal items he took down on the following day." `Such as?" `You don't
believe me? You think I'm oaf of detective. Come, I will even buy you
lunch at one of my favourite restaurants here. Captain Bond, you
accompany the pretty lady, I'll follow. Meet you at the bottom, I have
to get these flatfooted policemen out of here. They want to open up the
chair lift this afternoon so that the crowds can come up and admire the
mountain view." And gawp at the place where a lady got herself killed."
`What is gawp?" Bodo kept his mouth open, waiting for the reply.
`A lower-class British term for stare. Like gawping at me with your
mouth open." `So. Good, I learn something new. Gawp. Is a good word."
`You don't like him much, do you?" Fredericka asked as they sat, swaying
down on the chair lift.
`Cunning as a fox, and he knows far more than is good for him." Bond
reached out and took her hand. `Am I forgiven yet?" `Maybe. Wait and
see. I'll tell you tonight." Ah." `What interests me, James, is that
this policeman seems to know much more than we were led to believe."
`Bozo Lempke." `His name is Bodo, I think, James." `I know; but I like
the name Bozo better. Bozo the clown. Lempke drove like a
short-sighted racing driver well past his prime. Rarely had Bond felt [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]