view, and that Ythel was a bit of all right,’ she told drinkers at the bar of the Friendly Fisherman.‘Rumpy pumpy feels like dying anyway when you’ve got a husband like mine.’
Pascoe Deitch ignored the insult. ‘She always was a screamer,’ he put in.
His wife kicked his shin. ‘How come you’re an expert?’
‘When it comes to Lowenna Morgenstern everyone’s an expert.’
Hedra kicked his other shin. ‘ Was an expert. Who you going to be expert about next?’
Pascoe’s expertise, universal or not, caught the attention of the police. Not that he was a suspect. He lacked the energy to be a criminal just as, for all his bravado, his wife believed him to lack the energy to be unfaithful. He masturbated in corners, in front of her, thinking, he told her, about other women – that was the sum of his disloyalty.
‘You could feel this one comin’,’ he told Detective Inspector Gutkind.
‘You knew there were family troubles?’
‘Everybody knew. But no more than usual. We all have family troubles.’
‘So in what sense did you feel this one coming?’
‘Something had to give. It was like before a storm. It gave you a headache.’
‘Was it something in the marriage that had to give? Did the murdered woman have a lover?’
‘Well who else was that lying with her in those pools of blood?’
‘You tell me.’
Pascoe shrugged the shrug of popular surmise.
‘And did the husband know as much as you know?’ Gutkind asked.
‘He knew she put it about.’
‘Was he a violent man?’
‘Ythel?’
‘Ade.’
‘The place is full of violent men. Violent women, too.’
‘Are you saying there are many people who might have done this?’
‘When a storm’s comin’ a storm’s comin’.’
‘But what motive would anyone else have had?’
‘What motive do you need? What motive does the thunder have?’
The policeman scratched his head.‘If this murder was as motiveless as thunder I’m left with a long list of suspects.’
Pascoe nodded. ‘That’s pretty much the way of it.’
That night he went alone to a barn dance in Port Abraham. His wife was wrong in assuming he was too lazy to be unfaithful to her.
iv
Densdell Kroplik generously offered to sell the police multiple copies of his Brief History of Port Reuben at half price on the assumption that it would help with their enquiries. Yes, he told Detective Inspector Gutkind, there were violent undercurrents in their society, but these appeared exceptional only in the context of that unwonted and, quite frankly, inappropriate gentleness that had descended on Port Reuben after WHAT HAPPENED , IF IT HAPPENED – see pp. 35 – 37 of his Brief History . Why Port Reuben had had to pay the price – bowing and scraping and saying sorry – for an event in which it had played no significant role, Densdell Kroplik didn’t see. Nothing had happened, if it happened, here . WHAT HAPPENED , IF IT HAPPENED , happened in the cities. And yet the villagers and their children and their children’s children were expected to share in the universal hand-wringing and namechanging. In his view, if anyone was interested in hearing it, the Lowenna Morgenstern case came as a welcome return to form. In a village with Port Reuben’s proud warrior history, peoplewere supposed to kill one another . . . Where there was a compelling argument to do so, he added, in response to Detective Inspector Gutkind’s raised eyebrow.
‘And what, in your view, constitutes a compelling argument?’ the policeman asked.
‘Well there you’ll have to ask the murderer,’ Densdell Kroplik replied.
‘And what’s this about a proud warrior history?’ Gutkind pressed. ‘There haven’t been warriors in these parts for many a year.’
Densdell Kroplik wasn’t going to argue with that.‘The Passing of the Warrior’ was the title of his first chapter. But that didn’t mean the village didn’t have a more recent reputation to live up to. It was its touchy individualism,
Pascoe Deitch ignored the insult. ‘She always was a screamer,’ he put in.
His wife kicked his shin. ‘How come you’re an expert?’
‘When it comes to Lowenna Morgenstern everyone’s an expert.’
Hedra kicked his other shin. ‘ Was an expert. Who you going to be expert about next?’
Pascoe’s expertise, universal or not, caught the attention of the police. Not that he was a suspect. He lacked the energy to be a criminal just as, for all his bravado, his wife believed him to lack the energy to be unfaithful. He masturbated in corners, in front of her, thinking, he told her, about other women – that was the sum of his disloyalty.
‘You could feel this one comin’,’ he told Detective Inspector Gutkind.
‘You knew there were family troubles?’
‘Everybody knew. But no more than usual. We all have family troubles.’
‘So in what sense did you feel this one coming?’
‘Something had to give. It was like before a storm. It gave you a headache.’
‘Was it something in the marriage that had to give? Did the murdered woman have a lover?’
‘Well who else was that lying with her in those pools of blood?’
‘You tell me.’
Pascoe shrugged the shrug of popular surmise.
‘And did the husband know as much as you know?’ Gutkind asked.
‘He knew she put it about.’
‘Was he a violent man?’
‘Ythel?’
‘Ade.’
‘The place is full of violent men. Violent women, too.’
‘Are you saying there are many people who might have done this?’
‘When a storm’s comin’ a storm’s comin’.’
‘But what motive would anyone else have had?’
‘What motive do you need? What motive does the thunder have?’
The policeman scratched his head.‘If this murder was as motiveless as thunder I’m left with a long list of suspects.’
Pascoe nodded. ‘That’s pretty much the way of it.’
That night he went alone to a barn dance in Port Abraham. His wife was wrong in assuming he was too lazy to be unfaithful to her.
iv
Densdell Kroplik generously offered to sell the police multiple copies of his Brief History of Port Reuben at half price on the assumption that it would help with their enquiries. Yes, he told Detective Inspector Gutkind, there were violent undercurrents in their society, but these appeared exceptional only in the context of that unwonted and, quite frankly, inappropriate gentleness that had descended on Port Reuben after WHAT HAPPENED , IF IT HAPPENED – see pp. 35 – 37 of his Brief History . Why Port Reuben had had to pay the price – bowing and scraping and saying sorry – for an event in which it had played no significant role, Densdell Kroplik didn’t see. Nothing had happened, if it happened, here . WHAT HAPPENED , IF IT HAPPENED , happened in the cities. And yet the villagers and their children and their children’s children were expected to share in the universal hand-wringing and namechanging. In his view, if anyone was interested in hearing it, the Lowenna Morgenstern case came as a welcome return to form. In a village with Port Reuben’s proud warrior history, peoplewere supposed to kill one another . . . Where there was a compelling argument to do so, he added, in response to Detective Inspector Gutkind’s raised eyebrow.
‘And what, in your view, constitutes a compelling argument?’ the policeman asked.
‘Well there you’ll have to ask the murderer,’ Densdell Kroplik replied.
‘And what’s this about a proud warrior history?’ Gutkind pressed. ‘There haven’t been warriors in these parts for many a year.’
Densdell Kroplik wasn’t going to argue with that.‘The Passing of the Warrior’ was the title of his first chapter. But that didn’t mean the village didn’t have a more recent reputation to live up to. It was its touchy individualism,
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