Strike Out Where Not Applicable by Nicolas Freeling Page A

he saw you standing there with a golf club in your hand, it looked either lunatic or sinister. Since the evidence seemed to point to Bernhard’s having got off the horse – and he hadn’t got off complaisantly to make hitting him easier …
    Whereas this weight … You had it in your hand and it hardlyshowed. Should anyone meet you walking round the corner there was nothing to catch the eye. If you put it into a largish handkerchief – or scarf – and held that by the corners you had a good weapon, didn’t you, that could be slid into a pocket in a second if the need arose. The need hadn’t arisen, and you just chucked it away. Nobody noticed and in three days it had acquired enough rust to make it look as though it had been there a week or two. Yes, he rather liked the weight.
    The afternoon of a working day is dead, in a restaurant. Hotels stay open in a somnolent way, cafés go on serving beers and icecream for anyone along the road that takes a fancy to stop, but a restaurant shuts its doors and sleeps. In the White Horse the girls had served Marguerite and Saskia their coffee and gone home; Ted the cook had turned his stoves out, cleared all remnants of food into the larder, and left his apron on the just-scrubbed table. The women had piled the last of the washing-up into the sink and scarpered. Saskia made herself a second cup of coffee and turned the machine off, and complete silence settled like dust upon the whole house. It threw into relief the tiny sounds of Saskia stirring a lump of sugar, the squeak of the cork that Marguerite was pushing back into Bernhard’s last bottle of mirabelle, still half full, and the distant fridge motor clanking to a stop.
    â€˜Maybe a drink will do me good. I’ve been so nervous all morning I could scream.’
    â€˜It’s sort of disquieting not knowing,’ agreed Saskia, in a calm, unworried voice.
    â€˜First all those mysterious hints dropped this morning – I still don’t know what to make of half that – and then having him back for lunch …’
    â€˜I can’t say I took to him personally, but I think he’s relatively harmless.’
    â€˜It’s silly to say harmless. They go on digging and digging at people, listening to every sort of silly gossip – how can one feel safe?’
    â€˜We could try and have a discreet word with Mr Mije and see whether he couldn’t be choked off, possibly?’
    â€˜I don’t think so – he’s a separate department. Anyway he said he’d got instructions from the Officer of Justice – Mr Mije couldn’t do anything about that.’
    â€˜Well there’s no use in worrying.’
    â€˜I only wish 1 knew what that stupid Maartens has fixed in his head.’
    â€˜Still, he’s a doctor – they have to be discreet – the professional secret. It would be much more Francis that I’d be uneasy about – he’s always such a loose talker.’
    â€˜Marion I feel sure I can rely on. And I’m convinced, you know, there’s nothing in it really. But if that awful man comes back I don’t know what I mightn’t say.’
    â€˜Listen, darling,’ said Saskia, ‘you’re tired and overwrought. He said, after all, that the funeral can go ahead, and there’ll be an end of it as far as the gossip is concerned.’
    â€˜I’ll have to change and go and see those funeral people.’
    â€˜Tomorrow’s closing day – you can go and do that then. It would be foolish to do that now when you’re overtired. I’ve a much better idea.’
    â€˜Oh, Sas, no.’
    â€˜But it’ll do you good – think how it will rest you. You can have a nice sleep and you don’t have to come down this evening at all – there are only six bookings, so far.’
    â€˜But Sas, we shouldn’t – especially now.’
    â€˜Don’t be such a goose –