Tsing-Boum by Nicolas Freeling Page B

stick to that? You’d tell the judge that?’
    â€˜Sure. It’s the truth, whatever you think.’
    â€˜Oh, I accept it,’ said Van der Valk. ‘I guess that’s all. I’ll get my driver to take you back.’
    Zomerlust got up slowly.
    â€˜Speaking of that matter? You mean it? Really? You see, I’m thinking of what would be best. For her. She owes me nothing. It would be best – for her, maybe – if she never saw me again. She’d soon forget me,’ without bitterness. ‘Course, I could only agree if I knew for sure. Not that she’d be looked after, I mean more that she wouldn’t be let down. I don’t know how to say it.’
    â€˜You’re her legal guardian. These things need lawyers. There are formalities.’
    â€˜Damn the formalities,’ muttered Zomerlust. ‘If I trust you I trust you. Go ahead.’
    â€˜This inquiry will take some time,’ said Van der Valk, well aware that this was something of an understatement. ‘We’ll have the opportunity to see something of each other. It can be worked out.’
    â€˜I’d better get back. My section commander …’
    â€˜You want to meet my wife?’
    â€˜You won’t want me sitting drinking tea in your house,’ said Zomerlust with a ghost of a smile, ‘and neither would Ruth.’
    â€˜See you soon, Sergeant.’
    The man picked up his beret; metal winked in the sun.
    â€˜Ruth has a badge on her beret,’ said Van der Valk idly.
    â€˜One of Esther’s. She had a lot. Ruth asked for it.’ Of course. Nurses collected such things, souvenirs of boys they had nursed, been out with, slept with, very likely. There might well have been many, but it was a fruitless thought.

Chapter Eight
    Van der Valk, who had been thinking for some time without its having brought him much further, was scribbling on a piece of paper. It seemed to be a draft for a telegram.
    Department? – Tarn, Lozère, one of those.
    â€˜Military Hospital. Pray write all known details known Marx, Esther, born one, six, thirty-four – no. Pray send urgentest all known. Victim homicide stop. Official inquiry opened stop.’
    He scribbled it out.
    â€˜Marx, Esther, born one, six, thirty-four, victim homicide assailant unknown. Official inquiry opened. Pray furnish all known life and service urgentest.’ He rang for his secretary. ‘Get this into officialese. Find out the Préfecture for that camp and the district. Copies to Police Judiciaire, the military hospital and anywhere else you think of that might be of some use.’
    He took another piece of paper and scribbled some more: ‘Commissaire de Police. Personal. Parallel official request received,’ he had to make this a bit enigmatic, so that it would not arouse any curiosity in the wrong quarters, ‘would be pleased know your unofficial mind stop does bottle champagne interest you stop if desired phone home number after eight stop greetings downtrodden confrère.’
    He had known such little letters succeed before now, childish as they were. Official messages advanced upon their appointed ways, through the bland and anaesthetized digestive systems of official bureaux, and in due course produced bland tasteless replies. It was lunchtime; he went home.
    â€˜I don’t understand this message,’ said the post-office clerk, worried.
    â€˜Where does it say you should? Just count the number of words, son, and spare the intellectual effort.’
    â€˜There is bouillabaisse,’ said Ruth with open eyes; she had just learned the word and was pleased with the sound it made.
    â€˜Good – I’ve been getting anti-French demonstrations the whole morning.’
    â€˜I am delighted,’ said Arlette, beaming.
    â€˜I know how it’s made – Arlette taught me.’
    â€˜Very very good; we will exchange lessons. Words in ou make their plural with an s,