Piper Went to the office on Saturday morning although he had little inclination for work. He felt raw and tired after a restless night and the cold seemed to have got into his bones.
It had taken him hours to fall asleep. When at last he had dozed off his dreams had been haunted by Fritz Haupmann’s dead face: Haupmann lying in the slime of the Thames with repulsive creatures scurrying in and out of his open mouth.
All night long his accusing eyes had given Piper no rest. When daylight came his plea to Quinn still echoed in Piper’s mind: “… Destroy me if you must but leave them alone … I beg of you.”
At half past eleven Superintendent Mullett phoned. He asked, “Still feel guilty because of what you told Haupmann?”
Piper said, “If you must know—yes. But wasn’t it you who wanted to forget the subject?”
“That was before they found Haupmann’s coat and hat on the docks. Since then things have changed to quite a big extent.”
“How?”
“Well, you don’t deserve it but, for the sake of your peace of mind, I’ll tell you. In the first place I’m convinced that someone was keeping Haupmann company when he wrote his suicide note—someone who supplied him with both writing paper and envelope.”
“What makes you so convinced of that?”
“There’s no similar stationery either at his home or his office. More important, however, is the piece of information I got from his secretary.”
“I thought you told me she didn’t know anything that helped at all.”
“Ah, but that was when she was at the hysterics-and-smelling-salts stage. Took it pretty badly at the beginning. Of course, nearly every secretary’s in love with her boss … especially when she’s plain, single, and past forty.”
Piper said, “You’re too fond of making generalisations … but never mind. What did you learn when you went back and talked to her again?”
“Seems Haupmann received two personal phone calls on the afternoon of the day he disappeared,” Mullett said. “One was at four o’clock. Was that when you phoned him?”
“Yes, it would’ve been about four.”
“Somehow I thought so. … Now, after a certain amount of prompting, his secretary remembers a second phone call just before five o’clock. She didn’t recognise the caller’s voice in either case, but she does know that they were two different people—”
“—who wouldn’t give their names.”
“That’s right.”
“And Haupmann left his office soon after he got the second call,” Piper said.
“Yes, that’s the whole point. No matter how much you might’ve scared him he stayed where he was for at least an hour. But not many minutes after phone call number two he left in a hurry.”
“Did he say anything to her on his way out?”
“She asked him where he was going and he said he’d suddenly remembered an urgent business appointment … and he didn’t expect to be back before the factory closed at six o’clock. She could sign any letters she thought should go that night.”
When Piper remained silent, Mullett asked, “Well? Alters the complexion of things, doesn’t it?”
“Very much. What I can’t understand is that there was nothing faked about the letter you found in his coat pocket.”
“Quite true. But there’s many a slip ’twixt the suicide note and the suicide act. I’m now willing to bet that Fritz Haupmann didn’t make a hole in the river.”
“Then where is he?”
Superintendent Mullett said, “Don’t ask silly questions.”
Quinn rang just before noon. Piper told him about the second phone call.
He said, “That’s taken a load off my mind. It wasn’t nice to think I might’ve driven him to do it.”
“Maybe he hasn’t done it at all. Mullett feels confident that Haupmann’s still alive: says he’ll bet on it.”
“Mullett never bets with real money,” Quinn said. “Whatever happens he makes sure he can’t lose.”
“Do you think he’d lose in this case?”
“I must have notice of that question. Meantime, do what the late Herbert Henry Asquith used to advise: Wait and See. Going anywhere this evening?”
“Not that I know of. Why?”
“I’d like to come round about seven. We can have a chat and then maybe I’ll take you for a drink—or two.”
“We don’t need to go out for a drink,” Piper said. “I’ll buy a few bottles of beer on my way home and—”
“Not the same thing, not the same thing at all. I can’t drink except on licensed premises. Beer has a different taste, somehow, when you’re not standing propped up against a bar. Besides …”
“Yes?”
“I might have something to discuss with you that’ll need a clear head. Depends how I get on between now and then.”
“Where are you going?”
“Snooping. I got an idea this morning—a very cute idea.”
“About what?”
“The identity of the party who tampered with Haupmann’s car. If I’m right, it was indeed someone very close to Fritzie.”
“Who?”
“The very last person you’d think of,” Quinn said. “See you about seven o’clock.”
Piper tidied his desk, phoned his barber for an appointment early in the coming week, and then prepared to leave. He had his coat on when there was a knock at the door.
Before he had time to call out, Gizelle walked in. She said, “I hope you don’t mind my coming to see you like this. I know you weren’t expecting me … but I’ve been to the factory and I had a sudden wish to talk to you.”
She looked as if she had been crying. Piper vaguely wondered why that surprised him.
He said, “I’m very glad to see you. Come and sit down.”
“But you look as if you were just about to leave. I won’t detain you if you have somewhere——”
“Nowhere particular. Some trivial shopping … and then lunch.”
Her smile disturbed him. Without pausing to think, he asked, “Have you had lunch yet?”
“No, I was actually on my way home.”
“Then would you care to join me?”
She looked at him doubtfully. She said, “It’s very nice of you. …”
“Not at all. I don’t like eating alone … although most of the time I have to. You’d be doing me a favour.”
Conflicting emotions showed in the smiling blue of her eyes and she took a few moments to make up her mind. At last, she said, “All right … so long as you’re in no hurry. I’d like to talk to you first.”
“By all means. Take as much time as you want.”
“It would be better if we talked here where we needn’t be afraid of someone overhearing us … wouldn’t it?”
“We certainly won’t be interrupted,” Piper said. “After twelve on a Saturday everybody goes off for the weekend.”
He closed the door and waited until she was seated before he went back to his own chair. Once again he had a feeling of breathlessness: this time even stronger than it had been that other Saturday afternoon.
It made no difference what she wanted to talk about. The fact that she had turned to him when she was faced with trouble was enough. He might be deluding himself but he felt that she needed him, that she was looking to him for something she had been unable to get from Leonard Cusack. …
Strange how those were almost the exact words that Fritz Haupmann had used: “… The young men she knows can’t give her what she’s been seeking, but you can. You are what she needs.”
Perhaps a man with a presentiment of death had a heightened awareness which gave him some kind of insight. … But Haupmann was not dead. Haupmann had escaped retribution.
The suicide note was meant to deceive his enemies. They would think he had jumped into the river.
It was a convenient answer. Maybe that was what was wrong with it. Maybe it was just too convenient.
Mrs. Haupmann’s behaviour must hold part of the answer. No woman in her position could act as she had done unless she was glad to be rid of her husband … or losing him was the lesser of two evils. Either way, everything pointed to the fact that she knew what had happened to him.
On the outer perimeter of Piper’s mind he glimpsed the nebulous thought he had had once before. He asked himself: “Isn’t there another answer? Isn’t it possible that she only thinks she knows?”
In that moment when he felt he was getting near to the truth, Gizelle pulled off her gloves and massaged the backs of her hands. As if she had been following his train of thought on a parallel course, she said, “My mother tells me you were with that Scotland Yard man when he called at the house yesterday.”
“Yes, that is so. Superintendent Mullett asked me to accompany him.”
“Why did he want you to be there when he questioned her?”
“I’m not quite sure. I think he merely invited me to go along because I was discussing the case with him in his office when he decided to visit her.”
Gizelle shook her head and made a small mouth. She said, “I’ve a feeling that he had another reason … but it doesn’t matter.”
Then she looked straight into Piper’s eyes and asked, “What’s your opinion of my mother?”
Piper said, “I’ve had no opportunity to form an opinion. Yesterday was the first time I ever met her and the circumstances then, to put it mildly, were somewhat unusual.”
“But didn’t you think she behaved very strangely—even in those circumstances?”
“It’s difficult to say. As you probably know she started off by not being honest with the superintendent and that, of course, didn’t create a very favourable impression.”
“Which you see no reason to change,” Gizelle said.
In the same matter-of-fact voice, she added, “Before you deny it out of courtesy, let me say I’m not blaming you. I don’t understand my mother, either, these days. She’s been a completely different person since the other night when you advised us to get in touch with the police because he—hadn’t come home.”
“I can appreciate the effect all this has had on her,” Piper said. “It must’ve come as a great shock.”
“Yes, I suppose it did.”
“I’d like you to know I’m very sorry about your father.”
Without any feeling, Gizelle said, “He wasn’t my real father. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I learned a few days ago that he was your mother’s second husband. I must say I was surprised to hear it.”
“Why?”
“Oh, just his general attitude towards you. Silly of me, perhaps, but I hadn’t imagined that a man could be so fond of his stepdaughter. From the way he talked you might’ve been his own child.”
She played with her gloves as if she needed to give her hands something to do. Then she said, “No one could’ve had a better father. That’s what makes it so hard. I feel terribly disloyal. Whatever it was he once did he was always kindness itself to me.”
“We have no proof yet that he ever did anything wrong,” Piper said.
“Do we need proof? Isn’t it enough that he committed suicide because he couldn’t face the consequences?”
“That’s merely how things look at the moment. Until we know all the facts—”
“What more do we need? I realise now that for weeks he must’ve been living in fear. It’s the only explanation for the change I saw in him.”
She stared at Piper questioningly. He had a feeling that she wanted him to disagree with her.
Then she went on, “It wouldn’t be so bad if he’d committed some crime for which he could’ve been sent to prison. I’d have stood by him and so would Mother. To think otherwise would be quite ridiculous. We loved him … and he knew that. He never had any reason to doubt it.”
Piper said, “Yet he couldn’t turn to either of you when he was in trouble.”
Her eyes misted with tears and she looked at him miserably while she fumbled in her bag for a handkerchief. She said, “It must’ve been something very bad—something that he knew we could never forgive. …”
“And I think your mother knows what it was. Have you tried asking her?”
“In a roundabout way—yes. But she won’t talk to me about—him. It’s as if there was a wall round her, shutting me out. She doesn’t even show any grief over what’s happened.”
“Crying can’t alter the past,” Piper said. “When Superintendent Mullett questioned her she said she suspected that there had been another woman in her husband’s life. Do you think it’s possible?”
“No. I told her I didn’t believe it when she tried to hint the same thing to me. What I don’t understand is why she wants people to think he’s gone off with somebody else. She almost behaves as if it didn’t matter to her.”
“Perhaps she’s trying to prevent something worse happening.”
“How could anything be worse? No matter what he’s supposed to have done, when I think of how he must’ve felt…”
She dabbed her eyes and put the handkerchief away and brought out a powder compact. While she studied her face in the mirror Piper sat watching her.
She was so very lovely to look at. … He had only to forget Fritz Haupmann, to take what the gods offered and ask no questions.
With her he might find happiness again. If he really wanted he knew he could strengthen the tenuous bond between them. If he really wanted. …
… Does it matter why she came to see you? Why should you suspect that she only wants to find out how much you know? There are things that you would rather not reveal. Why should she not be allowed her secrets? …
Gizelle closed the powder compact and dropped it into her handbag. She said, “I was speaking to someone at the factory this morning and she told me the police had questioned her about certain phone calls that Mr, Haupmann received during that last afternoon. It seems there were two.”
Piper said, “I heard about them from Superintendent Mullett.”
“Has he found out where they came from?”
“The girl in the office didn’t know. All that Mullett could get out of her—”
“I know what she told him,” Gizelle said. “She repeated the whole conversation to me. That’s really what made me come to see you.”
“If you’ve already got the whole story there doesn’t seem to be—”
“All I got was her side of the story. Naturally, Superintendent Mullett wouldn’t confide in her … but he might’ve confided in you.”
“About what?”
“The private phone call she says Mr. Haupmann received at four o’clock that afternoon. There was another one about five but it’s the first one I’m interested in.”
Piper knew he had his back to the wall. If there was ever going to be anything between him and Gizelle Haupmann he dared not hide the truth from her.
He asked, “Why does the first telephone call interest you more than the second?”
“Because Superintendent Mullett concentrated on the second one. He seemed to know that somebody had phoned Mr. Haupmann around four o’clock even before she mentioned it.”
“What conclusion do you draw from that?”
“Well, obviously he must know who the person was.”
“Why?”
“Because Miss Drabble—she’s the secretary—didn’t recognise the voice although she’s been there for years and she knows pretty well everybody who’s in the habit of phoning the office. Do you follow me?”
“Not entirely. What’s so special about the call that Mr. Haupmann received at four o’clock?”
In a changed tone, Gizelle said, “Just this: a minute or two after he took the call Miss Drabble went into his room and she found him sitting at the desk with his head in his hands. When she spoke to him he sat up … and she says she’s never seen anyone look so ill.”
There seemed no purpose in evading the issue any longer. Piper asked, “What is it you want to know?”
“The name of the person who phoned Mr. Haupmann. Superintendent Mullett must know—and I think he may have told you.”
… Only a few days ago he was her father—a kindly, loving and indulgent father. Now she refers to him as Mr. Haupmann. What does she know or suspect that’s made her change so much…?
Piper’s last defences began collapsing one by one as fast as he tried to shore them up. It’s no business of yours now. You’ve done the job that the Cresset paid you to do. You protected their interests: now protect your own.
She’ll never find out. Mullett won’t talk … and neither will Quinn. One little white lie won’t kill you. …
Then the unequal battle in his mind was over. He had known all along what the outcome would be.
He said, “Mullett didn’t need to tell me.”
Gizelle’s lips had already shaped themselves around their next question. In a small hushed voice, she asked, “Why?”
“Because I was the person who phoned Mr. Haupmann.”
Whatever else she had thought he was going to say, that was not the answer she had expected. There was open disbelief in her eyes.
She said, “If that were true you’d have admitted it straight away. You hadn’t any need to hide the fact that you spoke to him. What was your real reason for trying to keep it from me?”
“I preferred you not to know.”
“Why? Because what you said distressed him so much?”
“Yes. Until I heard that he’d received a second phone call I thought I might’ve been the reason he’d committed suicide.”
In a pinched voice, Gizelle asked, “How could you have been the reason?”
“Quite simply. I told him the brakes of his car had been tampered with and only luck had saved you from being killed. Next time you wouldn’t be so lucky. After that his wife would be attended to. Then finally it would be his own turn.”
As though she had something stuck in her throat, Gizelle said, “And he didn’t know who you were?”
“No.”
“So he assumed you must be one of the people he’s been afraid of. …”
Her eyes searched Piper’s face and then she stood up. She asked, “Why did you do it? How could a man like you behave that way?”
Piper said, “I wanted to bring the whole affair out into the open. It had gone too far to remain his private secret. For his own sake—and also to protect you and your mother—I considered I was justified in forcing the issue.”
She tucked her bag under her arm and pulled on one glove before she said, “Don’t bother to show me how righteous your motives were. No matter what you say, I think you behaved abominably … and you only make it worse by pretending you were concerned for my welfare.”
“I’m not pretending at all. Perhaps I didn’t use the right method but I was anxious to see that nothing happened to you … especially after that affair with the car the other night. I knew there might be very little time left.”
“That still didn’t give you the right to do such a terrible thing. You could’ve found some other way.”
“Maybe I could’ve done … but it’s a bit late to think of that now. If only you would try to understand my position you’d see—”
“Why should I? Why do I need to feel any sympathy for you?”
“Because it’s what your stepfather would want. From the very beginning he hoped that you and I would become fond of each other.”
Her anger vanished as if it had been wiped off her face. With startled eyes, she said, “What on earth are you talking about? I’ve never heard such—”
“You’ll just have to believe me,” Piper said. “That’s all there is to it. He brought up the subject that afternoon when I called at the house. You came in to ask him if you could borrow the Rover and he introduced us. Do you remember?”
“Of course I remember. But what’s that got to do with our becoming fond of each other?”
Piper said, “When you left the room he asked me if I’d like to marry you.”
She put a hand to her cheek and stared at him. She seemed to have lost her breath.
He said, “I wasn’t supposed to tell you. But in the circumstances. …”
Very slowly she sat down again. Surprise was giving way to something that could have been amusement.
She said, “I must be dreaming. You don’t seriously expect me to believe that he asked you—a complete stranger—if you’d like. … Oh, no! It’s the most fantastic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“That’s what I told him. But he assured me he wasn’t joking.”
“Weren’t you embarrassed?”
“Very much so.”
“Yet he persisted?”
“Yes. He told me he was afraid something might happen to him. If and when it did he wanted to feel that you’d have a man like me to look after you. Apparently none of your men friends met with his approval … at least, not as potential husbands.”
Gizelle said, “Instead he preferred someone he’d known less than five minutes. And so, between the two of you, everything was fixed. Didn’t anybody think I might like to be consulted?”
“I raised that point—”
“Very good of you.”
“—and he said that would be no problem. He knew you liked me.”
Her teeth showed in a smile that had no warmth in it. She asked, “Just how did he know that?”
“By the way you’d looked at me.”
“Then evidently it’s all settled.”
“I didn’t say that. I’m only telling you what took place between us that afternoon.”
With a wicked light in her eyes, she said, “Don’t try to back out of it. You’ve passed the point of no return. Now there’s only one question that still remains to be answered.” “Go ahead and ask it.”
“Wilt thou take this woman to be thy lawful wedded wife?”
Piper said, “Yes.”
Her smile faded. She sat holding her cheek while she studied him with the same distant query far back in her eyes that he had seen once before.
At last, she said, “I must be as crazy as you are. I think I’ve known all along. I think that’s why I came to see you this morning.”
He got up and came round the desk and stood beside her. He said, “Does that mean you’ll marry me?”
For a long moment she looked up at him. Then she shook her head. She said, “No, I can’t marry you.”
“Why not?”
“It would be a mistake. I could never forget that it might have been you who drove my stepfather to take his own life.”
“There’s no proof yet that he has committed suicide.”
“Supposing we never get proof of what happened? Whatever wrong he did, I knew him only as the kindest man in the world. How could I live with you if I had the thought in my mind all the time that it was you who made him throw himself in the river?”
“I was a fool to tell you,” Piper said.
“No, not a fool … unless it’s foolish to be honest.”
She tucked her handbag under her arm and stood up. With a new kind of smile lending sweetness to her mouth, she said, “I like you for your honesty … I like you for many things. I only wish it didn’t have to end this way.”
Piper had a fleeting picture in his mind of Mrs. McAllister sitting under the dim light above the platform. Once again he could hear the organ playing sombre chords … once again she was saying “… He must live his life to the full … he mustn’t reject the chance of happiness if it comes his way. …”
He took hold of Gizelle by the shoulders as she was about to turn away from him. He said, “I won’t let it end like this.”
She made no attempt to free herself. She said, “I’m sorry … but you know I’m right. Please let me go.”
When he released her, she added, “Unless my stepfather is still alive”—unshed tears glistened in her eyes and she looked down quickly—“ I hope I never see you again.”