Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 34, No. 13 & 14, Winter 1989

Another frown. “They found them so quickly? In one day? Fast work for bureaucrats. And you are investigating his death?”

“Not exactly, m’zee. I am conducting a related, but separate, inquiry.”

“And what might that be?”

Discretion. “There are certain individuals in the government who believe that Robert Atlee returned here for a specific purpose. I have been assigned to determine—”

“The gold,” said Daniel Tsuto. Abruptly, he smiled. “This was the reason the secret ministry helicopter came here last night?”

Truly, certain secrets were hopeless in a township this size. Andrew smiled back. “Yes, m’zee.”

Daniel Tsuto’s laugh was raspy, smoky. “If they wanted to keep it secret, why land it at the airport, where the entire Township might see it? Why not land it somewhere outside?”

Andrew shrugged. “I don’t know, m’zee.”

The old man shook his head. “Fools. That fat swine Ronald Nu, I suppose? He still searches for the gold?”

“Still?” Rather unsettled at hearing a minister called a fat swine, no matter how aptly.

“He was here, in the Township, during The Troubles,” said Daniel Tsuto. “After Abraham took the gold. He sat, in fact, exactly where you sit now. And he was conducting—” another smile “—a separate inquiry, just as you are. He’s very fond, you see, of separate inquiries.”

“He was here in what capacity, m’zee?”

Just then, the door to the house swung open and Daniel Tsuto’s granddaughter emerged into the yard, carrying two large glasses of limeade. Smiling, she gave one to Andrew, who thanked her, and gave the other to Daniel Tsuto. “I had to go to the duka,” she said. The shop. “We were out of limes.”

“That bandit overcharges,” said the old man.

“Limes cost four times as much in Sweden,” she said cryptically.

“Because they make them out of snow.” He turned to Andrew. “She spent an exchange year in Sweden. Eating snow and counting her toes to make sure they hadn’t fallen off.”

She smiled at Andrew. “Grandfather doesn’t approve of Sweden.”

“Free love and snow. No wonder they kill themselves so often.” He smiled at the young woman. “Thank you, Joanna.”

She nodded, smiled again at Andrew, and left.

Daniel Tsuto turned to Andrew. He sipped his limeade. “In what capacity, you ask. He’d been here earlier that day, part of the official G.S.U. investigation, asking whether I’d seen Abraham. I’d told them no. Later he returned by himself. Told me he was seeing some girl in town, a nurse, who swore she’d seen Abraham near my house. Then he hinted he was more than he seemed. Well, that much I never doubted. He looks and acts like a buffoon, but he’s as sly as a jackal. A very dangerous man, sergeant. Take care with him.”

“What did he mean, ‘more than he seemed’?”

“He was implying that he was an officer of the secret faction within the G.S.U., the ‘freedom fighters.’ ” The old man’s lips curled with scorn as he said the phrase. “He suggested that his only concern was Abraham’s welfare. If I could help locate Abraham, Nu would help him escape.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The same thing I’d told the others earlier. That I hadn’t seen Abraham.”

“Do you think it likely he told the truth? About being an officer of the secret faction?”

The old man shrugged. “I know he told the truth. He was the man who tried to recruit Abraham into this group.”

Andrew took a sip of limeade. “Abraham Mayani told you this?”

A small nod. “Yes.”

“When?”

The old man lifted a hand and waved it vaguely. “Sometime long before.” He leaned slightly forward. “Did you know, sergeant, that Abraham’s father and sister were murdered?”

“Yes. No arrest was ever made.”

The old man nodded. “They were murdered only two weeks after Abraham refused to join Nu’s organization.” He sat back.

Andrew sipped again at his drink, found that it tasted suddenly sour. “You think,” he said, “that Ronald Nu ordered the murders.”

“Not ordered. No, a subordinate might later talk. I believe he killed them himself.”

“To anger Abraham Mayani. To bring him into his group.”

“Exactly.”

“Did Mayani believe this?”

“Bah. Abraham. He was a fool. Running around the countryside. Blowing up bridges. A boy playing at pirates and cowboys. Lawrence of Arabia.”

“What should he have done, then?” Andrew asked. “Joined the freedom fighters?”

“Freedom fighters.” More scorn. “Oh yes, very well-intentioned, very noble souls, most of them. Until they finally obtained the pie for which they’d been fighting. Then of course they became politicians, and split it up among themselves.” He picked up his limeade, brought it to his lips.

Andrew asked the old man, “What do you think he should have done, m’zee?”

Daniel Tsuto set down the glass. Suddenly he smiled. “Who can say, sergeant? Certainly not an old man like I. He should have studied flowers, perhaps.” He waved his hand toward the wall of flowers. “Planted roses.” Another smile. “Who can say?”

Andrew said, “What do you think happened to him?”