Over the High Side by Nicolas Freeling Read Free Book Online

would not accept.’
    â€˜I don’t like having squalid ideas either,’ said Van der Valk calmly. ‘I’ve got to remember though that he was murdered – we keep coming to that. Most people are decent, have standards of ethics, values, scruples. But nearly all murders are as well committed by decent honest people. I wouldn’t suggest that Mr Martinez pinched a tin of peas in a supermarket.’
    â€˜Or that he caught somebody else who did,’ she said bitterly, ‘and was killed in a scuffle. I wish you’d understand. I don’t try to stop you doing your job, but leave me a few rags of peace and self-respect. He has a right to some private life – to be left in peace.’
    â€˜I won’t pester you any further, Madame.’ The phone rang as he got up to let her out. ‘Hold the line,’ he said irritably, he was not quite happy with her, and he was not quite happy with himself. ‘Good-bye, Madame.’
    â€˜I’m sorry – I was a bit sharp.’
    â€˜That was quite understandable. Good morning, Madame … yes, who is that?’
    â€˜Rivieren-Laan bureau,’ went a cheerful young voice. ‘You wanted to know something about a car.’
    â€˜So I did. Well?’
    â€˜Well nothing, really. I mean a patrolman saw it two days running parked on the wrong side, and he was asking in the houses around. So we checked the number back here. Rented car – you know – so we let it go.’
    â€˜You mean Hertz or something – rented to a foreigner?’
    â€˜Right – these tourists, you know, leave a car anywhere and say they hadn’t understood the notices – what can one do? Just thought you’d like to know.’
    â€˜All right. Give me the number and the date, in case I need to check it.’
    Cheeky boy. Not very ruffled – it had no importance – Van der Valk picked up his hat to go and have a stroll around the Harbour Building in Amsterdam.
    *
    Martinez was not altogether unknown, meaning the police photograph Van der Valk had in his pocket wasn’t. He had often ‘popped in and out’. After a couple of false starts, inquiry led Van der Valk quite easily to an office called ‘Lindbergh Import-Export Agentschap’ where in an air-conditioned room, comfortable and prosperous, he found Mr Fritz Niemeyer.
    Young middle-aged, thick-set, athletic, dark wavy hair, handsome bluff teeth and eyes, easy smiling manner. Very frank and forthcoming.
    â€˜Delighted to see you, Commissaire – cigarette? – coffee? – I was meaning to come and see you, didn’t quite know who or where nor how to go about it. I was going to get my secretary on the job and you turn up just like that – detective, what? – ha ha. Yes, I saw it in the morning paper – poor old Vader.’
    â€˜Vader? – no thanks, not just now.’
    Niemeyer, very relaxed, snapped a lighter, lit a long American filter-tip, looking just like a colour-spread in
Life
(‘one of Amsterdam’s dynamic young businessmen’), and swung his chair from side to side.
    â€˜We had a family relationship – sort of half-way-ex-son-in-law, that’s me. Briefly his former wife married again and I was the result.’
    â€˜Divorce?’
    â€˜Lord, no, Vader didn’t divorce. Very Catholic. Annulled, my dear Commissaire, Vatican Court, Rota or whatnot, I’m a bit vague, except that it costs more than divorcing, takes longer and is a lot more trouble. But has a lot of prestige. Sortof thing Italian aristocracy does – typical Vader,’ laughing, remembering suddenly about the death and straightening his face in a hurry. Van der Valk reassured him by grinning – yes, it did sound the Martinez style, the grand manner.
    â€˜Won’t say there wasn’t ill feeling to begin with,’ went on Niemeyer lightly, ‘but when I grew up that was all forgotten. I met the