The Final Solution: A Story of Detection by Michael Chabon Read Free Book Online Page B

the slightest attention to his companion, a squat, sunburned man who introduced himself, without explanation for his presence at the interview, as Mr. Sackett, managing director of the Research Dairy. Aside from giving his name and title Sackett said nothing. But he lit his cigarette like a soldier, hastily, and listened with an air of one accustomed to seeking flaws in strategies. It was doubtful, thought the old man, he had ever been near an actual cow.
    "We had some hope that you might be able to tell us that," the old man said.
    "I? You suspect me?"
    "Not at all," the inspector said earnestly. "Not for a moment."
    "No more," the old man said, "than we believe you to be conducting elaborate mathematical surveys of the height of the church tower in the fourteenth century."
    Ah. That one found a chink. The light died in the lenses of his spectacles. Parkins glanced at Mr. Sackett, whose meaty face in its absolute expressionlessness was as eloquent as a fist.
    "Gentlemen," Parkins said after a moment. "Inspector. I assure you that I had nothing to do with the death of Mr. Shane, nor with the disappearance of that admirable bird. I have either been in my bed or in the library here for the past two days, though I can offer no proof of that statement, I'm afraid. I can, however, prove to you that my researches are genuine. Let me just run back and fetch my notebook, and I'll show you-"
    "What is the current height of the church tower?" the old man said.
    "One hundred and thirty-two feet, six inches," said Parkins at once. He smiled. Mr. Sackett tapped the ash from his cigarette.
    "And in 1312?"
    "I should say seventeen feet shorter, though that remains to be proven."
    "A difficult question to settle?"
    "Frightfully," Parkins said.
    "And doubtless an important one."
    "Only to Dryasdusts like me, I'm afraid."
    "Bruno, I gather, has provided you with some key insights."
    "I don't understand."
    "The numbers," Inspector Bellows said. "You keep track of them. Write them down."
    The hesitation was brief, but the old man had been lied to by some of the greatest liars of his generation, among whom modesty did not prevent him from including himself. His nearly thirty years spent almost solely in the company of creatures whose honesty could not be impeached seemed to have had no ill effects on the sensitivity of his instrument. Parkins was lying his head off.
    "Merely for my own amusement," Parkins said. "There's nothing in them. Just a lot of nonsense."
    A delicate, inexorable lattice of inferences began to assemble themselves, like a crystal, in the old man's mind, shivering, catching the light in glints and surmises. It was the deepest pleasure life could afford, this deductive crystallization, this paroxysm of guesswork, and one that he had lived without for a terribly long time.
    "What does Bruno know?" he said. "Whose numbers was he taught to repeat?"
    "I'm afraid we don't concern ourselves with such questions here," Mr. Sackett said quietly.
    "Am I to understand," the old man said, "that Mr. Parkins is an employee, or as it were a fellow, of your facility, Mr. Sackett? Is there some vital connection between Norman church architecture and the milking of beef cattle of which I am unaware?"
    The inspector sought valiantly to cover his laughter with a cough. Mr. Sackett frowned.
    "Detective Inspector Bellows," Sackett said, his voice softer than ever. "I wonder if I might have a word with you."
    Bellows nodded and they stood up and went out into the hall. Just before he left the room, Mr. Sackett turned and aimed a warning look at Mr. Parkins, whose cheeks colored.
    "I take it I am about to be warned off," the old man said.
    But the rime of light had returned to the lenses of Mr. Parkins's spectacles. He smiled thinly. The tap dripped into the basin; a cigarette in one of the choked ashtrays burned to the filter and filled the room with an acrid smell of hair. A moment later the inspector came back into the room, alone.
    "Thank you, Mr.