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

Andrew said, “So Mayani could not have told you about Ronald Nu at that time. Nor could he have told you about it throughout the next year. All of his operations took place in the western part of the country. The closest he came to the Township was the capital, several hundreds of miles away. The only time he could have told you was when he had come back to the Township, and that could only have been after the highjacking.”

The old man said nothing.

“It is possible, of course, that you traveled to the west to meet with him. But I think not, m’zee. You were a teacher, you had your classes here. Your family was here. You were involved with the union.”

Still staring at his roses, the old man smiled faintly. “David Obutu said you were a clever boy, sergeant. You’ve grown into a clever policeman.”

Andrew shook his head. “For the time being, m’zee, I am neither a policeman nor an agent of the ministry. Nothing said here has been said officially.”

Silence from the old man.

Andrew said, “It was a fight, m’zee?”

For a moment Andrew thought he would get no answer. Then, at last, without turning to him, the old man said, “Yes.”

“Here? At your house?”

“Here. In this garden.” His voice empty of emotion. “The two of them had managed to slip past the roadblocks. They stayed the night, hidden in the crawl space under the house. My son disposed of their horses. They fought early the next morning.”

“They fought over the gold,” Andrew said.

Studying his roses, the old man nodded. “Abraham was wounded and weak. Atlee wanted to leave him and take the gold. They struggled. Atlee struck him. I got Abraham’s gun. I forced Atlee to leave. I gave him enough gold to leave the country. He swore he’d come back one day.” Now the old man turned to face Andrew. “I sent my son with him, Joanna’s uncle. To make certain he didn’t return. They reached a freighter in the south. Before he went aboard, Atlee killed him. He strangled him.”

This Andrew had not expected. He frowned. “I’m sorry, m’zee.”

The old man nodded and looked away.

Andrew said, “Your granddaughter knew all this.”

The old man nodded.

“When she learned Atlee had returned, she knew he had come for the gold.”

The old man nodded.

“What did she tell Atlee? In his room?”

“That she was my granddaughter. That a friend of hers had recognized him. That she’d help him get the gold if he’d give her a portion of it.”

“He believed this?”

A quick, faint, ironic smile. “Women were always Atlee’s weakness. Women and greed.”

“The knife was hers?”

A nod. “She brought it back from Sweden, hidden in her baggage. It was a toy, a joke.”

“Did you know she planned to do this, m’zee?”

“No. I knew nothing until this afternoon, when the Harrambee woman came.”

“Why did she confess, m’zee?”

The old man turned to Andrew. “Harrambee was afraid that if you kept asking questions, sooner or later someone else would learn that she told Nu about Mayani. And afraid, too, that you’d learn she told Joanna about Atlee.” Another quick faint smile. “A woman who never learned, in thirty years, the value of keeping silent. She’ll never learn. Sooner or later she would’ve told someone about Joanna.”

Andrew nodded.

The old man said, “And Joanna realized that the search for the gold would continue unless she persuaded the authorities that it no longer existed. There was only one way to do that.”

He frowned. “What she did was wrong, sergeant. Killing Atlee.”

Andrew nodded.

“All my life,” the old man said, “I’ve believed that the ends never justify the means. That violence of any kind is evil. But Robert Atlee killed my son. I will not mourn the man.”

Andrew nodded. The old man turned to his roses.

For a while then, neither spoke. Overhead, the sky had become the color of lead. Night came quickly at that latitude.

Andrew said, “About the gold, m’zee.”

Slowly, the old man turned to him. “Do you care for gold, sergeant?” Only mild curiosity in his voice.

“Not this gold, m’zee.”

The old man smiled that faint smile. “You don’t wish for a Mercedes? For a big new house? For the pleasures of wealth?”

“I have what I need,” Andrew said. And realized, almost with a start, that this was true. Mary, the children. A house, a moped. And action figures into the bargain.

Another smile from the old man. “Wisdom is wealth.”

Andrew shrugged stiffly, felt his face flush. With embarrassment, with pleasure.

He said, “Your granddaughter’s last name is not yours. It will mean nothing to anyone in the ministry. But there is a possibility that Nu, or someone else, will make the connection. You might wish to consider this.”

Eyes narrowed slightly, the old man stared at him for a long moment. Then gave him a single small nod. “I thank you, sergeant. Arrangements will be made.”

He turned his back to his flowers. The silence grew. In the sky, stars were gleaming.

Andrew said, “You have done well with the gold, m’zee.”

The old man frowned. “I hope so, sergeant. I hope so. Difficult to say.”