Blame The Dead

She nodded her long bony head. 'It's an idea, son. But, God damn it, I don't want to antagonise the old bar-sponge. Whatever happens, he's not vulnerable. A chief engineer can't be blamed for a collision. But, like you say, I need his evidence to tie down that log-book.'

I nodded. Kari looked at me curiously; I'd forgotten she hadn't heard of the book until we came here – unless Nygaard himself had mentioned it, which didn't seem likely.

'Okay,' I said. 'But there're still private-detective agencies. International's got a bureau here, and there're others.'

'I thought you were one of them yourself,' Mrs Smith-Bang said calmly. I felt Kari's sudden hot glance without looking into the glare of it.

'Tell you what I'll do, Jim,' Mrs Smith-Bang went on. 'You look around, ask questions, check in with me. If you're not happy at the end of the day, I'll farm it out – right?'

'Well, maybe…'

'D'you want any advance expenses?'

'Je-sus.' As if I didn't have enough employers already. I waved a hand weakly and avoided Kari's icy-hot eyes. 'No advances. And let's see at the end of the day- okay?'

I stood up and tried to look more decisive than I felt. But that's what military training's mostly about. 'Come on, love,' to Kari, and I went out without catching her eye. But she followed.

The chap in the grey apron materialised from nowhere and opened the front door for us. Outside, the cloud had dropped a couple of hundred feet and we were in solid fog. That was going to be fun.

Mrs Smith-Bang poked her long nose out and cackled. 'Great weather, ain't it, Jim? Like the Newfoundland Banks upside down and without Spencer Tracy. Give me a ring, son.' She held out her hand and I shook it and headed for the Volkswagen. Kari muttered something that sounded polite and hurried after me. The engine wound up to its normal nagging whine and we hippedy-hopped out on to the hillside road and plunged into the mist.

She asked coldly, 'Are you really a detective?'

'No. But I've worked for one, or two. Watch the road!'

The car levitated itself back on to flat ground. She shook her head and the long fair tresses swished impatiently. 'Then what are you?'

'Most of the time I'm a security adviser.' She obviously didn't understand what that was, and I didn't rush to explain. 'But we're both after the same thing, right now: finding Nygaard. Agreed?'

She nodded; then, thank God, we ran out of the fog and there was Bergen spread out below, the headlands like fingers of a hand reaching away from us out into the grey sea. She asked, 'What do we do now?'

'Try for Ruud again, I suppose. How did you tackle him before?- what sort of questions did you ask? '

'Oh, just… where was Engineer Nygaard, when did he go… I think that is all.'

And they say women are inquisitive.

'All right. Now we'll try it my way. I won't get rough, but just stay calm, whatever I say, and agree with me.'

There was a trace of suspicion in her face, but that wasn't exactly surprising; I was a foreigner to her country and an outsider to her relationship with Nygaard. But she nodded again.

Thirty-six

Ruud himself opened the door this time. His eyes flicked from her face to mine, puzzled to see us together.

I leaned a casual hand against the door, just to save further ringings and knockings, and said as formally as I could, 'I understand that this is no longer the address of Herr Nygaard?'

The eyes flickered again, the face made mumbling movements. Then,'Ja. He is gone away.'

'Good. Now, all I need for my office is your statement to that effect, all right? May we come in?'

Sheer bewilderment had rotted the defiance he'd been prepared to throw at me. He just let go the door and it creaked open. I said, 'After you.'

His own room was on the ground floor at the back, overlooking a small concrete courtyard with some straggly plants in wooden tubs. The room itself was small, dark, and jammed with furniture and pictures and vases; Ruud was obviously the type who couldn't bring himself to sling anything out. But it was all fairly clean and very neat.

He weaved expertly through it all, his tin leg just missing a chair, a table, a standing lamp, as it always would in his own careful setting. Then he sat in a high-backed chair like a throne, the leg stuck straight out in front. I found myself at a small Victorian table with a heavy tasselled cloth; I put down a handful of papers, took out my pen, and got stuck in before he could object.

'Herr Nygaard first came here when? '

'In… before Christmas.'

'December? You don't remember the exact date?'

'No-o.'

Kari was still standing up, hardly daring to move for fear of knocking something over. I asked her, 'Do you confirm that he came in December?'

She nodded.'Ja.'

'Good.' I wrote it down. 'And he left when?'

Ruud frowned, coughed, and muttered, 'On Saturday.'

'Do you remember if it was morning or afternoon?'

He gave me a resentful glance. 'Morning.'

'Good.' I wrote that down, too. 'Was he alone?'

'What is this about?' A spat of the old anger – maybe of the old concern.

'Only a statement. But you don't know if he went alone or not? – it doesn't much matter.'

There was a long thick silence. Then Kari sat gently on the arm of a green velvet sofa and it creaked like a jungle bird. Ruud growled, 'I think there was an auto.'

'Taxi?'

'I do not know.' Getting stubborn, now.

So, very politely and uninterestedly, I asked, 'Did he carry his own luggage?'

After another pause, he said, 'I do not know.' I heard Kari give a prim little gasp at the obvious lie.

But I played satisfied; actually, I was – so far. 'Fine,' I said briskly, and held up the paper and read from it. ' "Herr Nygaard came to the Gulbrandsen's Seamen's Home last December. He left last Saturday morning. I did not see him go. I do not know where he has gone." Is that correct?'

'I did not say about where he has gone.'

'Well, do you know?'

A low reluctant growl, 'No.'

'Then this is correct. Will you sign, please?'

I gave him the paper and pen. He took them, peered at the paper and then back at me. 'Why should I sign?'

'Isn't it true?'

'Ja, but…'

'We're all going to sign. We're witnesses.'

'Witness? Of what?' The eyes were really hunted now, flickering from one to the other of us and finding no hiding place.

'The truth, you said.'

He crunched the paper, hurled it into a corner, and said something. Kari stiffened, so it must have been quite an interesting something. But it didn't gain him any sympathy.

I stood up. 'It doesn't matter. We both agree on what he said, I think?' The girl nodded; I went on, 'Good. That's all, then, Herr Ruud. Thank you very much. You'll probably hear something before the end of today.' And I moved towards the door.

Ruud said, 'Wait. I…"

I turned back slowly. 'Well?'

T think he went with a doctor.'

'Oh, yes? Whereto?'

'The home for… for drinking, you understand?'

'Alcoholics' home, you mean? Where?'

'On Saevarstad.'

'Never heard of it.'

Kari said, 'It is a small island near Stavanger.'

'Good.' I sat down again and got out another piece of paper.

As we drove away, Kari asked, 'But why did you write it all down again and make him sign?'

'Just to impress him. Now he can never say it wasn't him told us. And that might stop him telling somebody that we've found out. If that matters.'

'I see.' She thought this over. 'You are a bit cruel.*

'Are you glad we know, or not?'

When she didn't answer, I asked, 'How do you get to Stavanger from here?'

'You are going? There is a hydrofoil – but I think it is too late, now. There is an aeroplane.'