Blond Baboon by Janwillem van de Wetering Page A

collecting some very useful information, so Bergen had suffered a stroke once, so what.
    “An affair with an employee, mat must have been unpleasant for you. What was Mr. Vleuten’s position in the firm? Was he a salesman?’
    “Sales director. He did very well for us. Some of our largest accounts are his work. The baboon was never an administrator and I don’t think he could have run Carnet and Company, but he was certainly doing spectacular work in his own field.”
    The commissaris was lighting a small cigar. His voice had crossed the border between being conversational and amiable; the tension that de Gier had originally felt in Bergen’s reactions was easing off.
    “Yes, sales,” the commissaris said, waving his cigar. “A business can do nothing without them, but good sales can be spoiled by bad administration. Did Mr; Vleuten aspire to become the head of this firm, was he a rival to you in any way?”
    “No. The baboon didn’t aspire to be anything other than what he was but he was a rival nevertheless, a most powerful rival, because Elaine was pushing the baboon right into my chair. And there wasn’t just the business aspect to deal with. The baboon was Elaine’s lover and she was cuddling him right here in this office, holding his hands, nibbling bis ears, gazing into his eyes. You used the word ‘embarrassing’ just now, that’s what it was, embarrassing. I felt a complete fool in my own office the minute the two came in. The baboon was always polite and charming, of course, but Elaine’s behavior made me sick to my stomach. If I brought in some business, and I do that all the time, of course, the matter was completely ignored even if it was a contract involving a million guilders, but if the baboon sold a kitchen table and four matching chairs to a dear old lady running a store in the country we all had to sing the national anthem.”
    The policemen laughed and Bergen laughed with them, pleased with his little joke.
    “So?”
    “So I had to drive die matter to its peak. I simply couldn’t stand it any longer. We had a meeting, the three of us, and I offered to resign and sell them my shares. It was a big risk, for I could have lost out easily, but I was still gambling on Elaine’s insight. She must have known that my experience was important to the company’s future and that the baboon had only proved himself as a salesman, never as an administrator. But she didn’t blink an eye.”
    “Really? But the baboon left and you still are here.”
    Bergen’s right hand played with die hem of his jacket.
    “Yes. He surprised me. He got up and walked over to that typewriter over there and wrote his letter of resignation. It was very decent of him. He had the whole company in the palm of his hand for a minute but he blew it away. Even if he couldn’t have administered the business he could have found somebody else to do that part of the work. We were doing very well. He was, in fact, refusing a fortune.”
    “And he left with nothing?”
    “Just a few months’ wages. Elaine offered him a year’s income but he refused. I offered to accept his resignation in such a way that he would have qualified for unemployment benefits but he refused that too. He just shook my hand, kissed Elaine’s cheek, and left. I haven’t seen him since.”
    “Not even in the street?”
    “No.”
    “And Mrs. Camet? Did he break with her too then?”
    “Yes, but she tried to make contact again. I heard her phone him. He’s a good carpenter and she wanted him to fix something in her house. He may have come and the relationship may have continued in some way but I don’t know, I always preferred not to ask.”
    The commissaris got up and walked over to a window. “Not the sort of man who would have pushed her down the garden stairs.”
    “No. The baboon isn’t a violent man.”
    “Are you, sir?” The commissaris had turned to ask the question. It was asked in the same level tone he had used before but bis eyes