A Long Silence by Nicolas Freeling Read Free Book Online Page B

Roses occupied the metal fence and leaned over the gate, rioted round pergolas and climbed up to the gutters of the roof, embowered the front door and framed the windows.Mr Bosboom when he appeared was better still, a huge bow-legged frog with hornrimmed glasses and a nose like a potato, a shambling walk, a rumbly voice and a waistcoat with a watch-chain across it. More like a man who has spent a life in trade-unions than in jewellery. He glared at Van der Valk through roses and asked, ‘Who are you?’
    No finessing here.
    â€˜Police. Commissaire van der Valk. Need your advice.’
    â€˜My advice is it now? What can I advise the police about?’
    â€˜Rose-growing by the look of it. Not the police – me. In a private capacity. Rose by the name of Prins.’
    Bosboom suddenly looked shrewder, though no less rustic. Shaggy eyebrows came down over the rim of his glasses.
    â€˜Satisfy me.’
    â€˜A young boy of twenty has been employed there. He came to me with a childish tale. I’m not municipal police, I have a special job. I’m not investigating anything. I’m seeking to satisfy my curiosity, and I have a sensation that this boy was asking me for help although he denies it. I’m looking for information. That leads me to you.’
    Bosboom stared, searchingly.
    â€˜Didn’t I see you on television?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Come in.’
    Inside was as honest, old fashioned and clear as champagne. Chintz, lavender polish, and walnut. On the walls hung flower-prints framed by someone who knew his job; one of the few details hinting at a past in the antique business. The name was on the tip of his tongue: Bosboom saw him looking.
    â€˜Redouté,’ he agreed, nodding. ‘Valuable!’ in a tone between sardonic humour and surprise that anyone like himself could possibly possess anything valuable, ‘Tea?’
    â€˜Yes, please.’
    â€˜Mother!’ bawled Bosboom. ‘Tea!’
    â€˜Astonishing,’ looking out at the rose-bushes. ‘If this were June, now.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Bosboom. ‘What can I do for you?’
    Van der Valk explained. Mother appeared with tea, whichhad jasmine in it. A woman with a lot of character, who said absolutely nothing.
    â€˜Well,’ said Bosboom at last, putting down his cup. ‘You realize I’m retired. I owe them nothing. They owe me nothing. Louis I’ll say nothing about, save that I’ve known him and worked with him for thirty years, and that he’s honest. You needn’t look for anything there. He’s a genuine expert, a good business man – that shop wouldn’t be there if he weren’t – and a good human being. Has his share of human weaknesses – like most of us. Enough is enough – no, don’t go reading anything into my words, and I’m not answering any questions. Loyalty still means something to me.’
    â€˜A young man called Saint,’ suggested Van der Valk.
    â€˜A young man called Saint,’ mocked Bosboom. ‘Young dog.’
    â€˜You know him well?’
    â€˜No, thank God. Larry Saint,’ in a mimicry of affectation. ‘Name’s Leopold. Leopold! Leopold Neil, what a name. Old man’s nephew – sister’s son I believe. I don’t know anything about him – don’t like what I see. One of these characters that go about psychoanalysing Christ and His saints – an honest atheist I can respect. But a cynic. No self respect. Undermining everything. Seeing evil in everything. A bad man,’ he said abruptly.
    â€˜You know that you interest me strangely?’
    â€˜That’s all right. Conclude what you please. I don’t know him. I don’t want to know him.’
    â€˜He worked there with you?’
    â€˜No!’ contemptuously. ‘Knows nothing about antiques.’
    â€˜He seems to be running that business.’
    â€˜Then God help the business –