The Dead Mountaineer's Inn (24 page)

“We'll all be there someday,” Moses barked suddenly.

“Amen,” concluded Du Barnstoker politely.

I looked at Brun. The girl was hunched over with her nose buried in her mug. The door opened again and Luarvik L. Luarvik appeared, accompanied by the owner. The owner smiled gloomily.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “Please allow me to introduce Mr. Luarvik Luarvik, who joined us last night. He suffered an accident on the road, and naturally we would not refuse him our hospitality.”

Mr. Luarvik Luarvik indeed looked like a man who had suffered a terrible accident and was very much in need of hospitality. The owner had to take him by the elbow and literally push him into my old seat next to Simone.

“Very nice to meet you, Luarvik,” Moses croaked. “There are no strangers here, Luarvik—make yourself at home.”

“Yes,” said Luarvik, looking with one eye at me, and with the other at Simone. “Wonderful weather we're having. A real winter …”

“Nonsense, Luarvik,” Moses said. “Less talk, more eating. You look exhausted … Simone, would you mind telling the one about the maître d' again? He ate someone's filet, if I remember right …”

At that moment, Hinkus finally appeared. He walked in and immediately stopped. Simone started telling the story
about the maître d' again, and while he was explaining that said person had not eaten any filet, that in fact quite the opposite had happened, Hinkus stood in the doorway, and I watched him, trying at the same time to keep an eye on the Moseses. I did, but that didn't get me anywhere. Mrs. Moses ate her cookies and cream and listened admiringly to the troublemaking bore. Mr. Moses did turn one bloodshot eye in Hinkus's direction—but he did so with complete indifference, and then returned to his mug. Hinkus, on the other hand, was having a hard time controlling his expression.

At first he looked completely dazed, as if someone had hit him over the head with an oar. Then his face became clearly overcome with joy, a sort of excitement—he even smiled suddenly, just like a child. Then his smile turned into an evil grin and he stepped forward, clenching his fists. But to my great surprise, he wasn't looking at the Moseses. He was looking at the Barnstokers: first in confusion, then with relief and excitement, and finally with spite and a sort of gleeful malice. He caught me looking at him and relaxed slightly, lowering his gaze as he went over to his seat.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Hinkus?” Du Barnstoker asked, bending forward considerately. “The air here …”

Hinkus glared at him with insane yellow eyes.

“I'm all right,” he answered, sitting down. “But then how about you—how are you feeling?”

Du Barnstoker leaned back in his chair in surprise.

“Me? Thank you …” He looked first at me, then at Brun. “Perhaps I have said something wrong … touched on … In that case, I beg …”

“Didn't work out, did it?” Hinkus continued, furiously stuffing a napkin into his collar. “Fell through, didn't it, old man?”

Du Barnstoker was in a state of complete confusion. All
talk at the table had stopped, everyone was looking at him and Hinkus.

“Really, I'm afraid …” The old magician clearly had no idea what to do. “I was only inquiring after your health, nothing more …”

“Of course, of course, we'll drop it,” Hinkus responded.

He took a big sandwich in both hands, maneuvered a corner into his mouth and proceeded to chew on it without looking at anyone else.

“There's no need to be rude!” Brun said suddenly.

Hinkus glanced briefly at her and then immediately looked away.

“Brun, my child,” said Du Barnstoker.

“B-blowhard!” Brun said, striking her knife against her plate. “Maybe if you drank less …”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” the owner said. “All this is foolishness!”

“Don't worry, Snevar,” Du Barnstoker said quickly. “This is nothing more than a little misunderstanding … Nerves are strained … The events of the night …”

“Didn't you hear me?” Brun asked menacingly, pointing her black lenses at Hinkus.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” the owner interjected authoritatively. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention. I am not going to talk about the tragic events of last night. I understand: yes, nerves are strained. But let us remember, first of all, that the investigation into the unfortunate fate of Olaf Andvarafors is safely in the hands of Inspector Glebsky, who, by a happy coincidence, happened to be in our midst. Secondly, we must not be enervated by the fact that we find ourselves cut off from the outside world …”

Hinkus stopped chewing and raised his head.

“Our cellars are full, gentlemen!” the owner continued
vehemently. “Every imaginable provision, and even a few unimaginable ones, are at your disposal. And I am sure that when a rescue party breaks through the blockage and reaches us in a few days, it will find us …”

“What blockage?” Hinkus asked loudly, looking around wide-eyed. “What the hell is this?”

“Yes, please excuse me,” the owner said, bringing a hand to his forehead. “I completely forgot that a few of our guests might not know about this event. To be brief: at ten o'clock last night, an avalanche blocked the Bottleneck and cut off telephone service.”

Silence descended over the table. Everyone was chewing and staring at their plates. Hinkus sat with his mouth open—once again, he appeared completely dumbfounded. A melancholy Luarvik L. Luarvik chewed on a lemon, biting into it skin and all. Yellow juice ran down his narrow chin and onto his jacket. My jaw was cramping, I took a sip of coffee and announced:

“If I might add the following: two small gangs of lowlifes have, for some reason, chosen this hotel as the place to settle their accounts with one another. In my current informal capacity, I can take only limited steps. For example, I can gather evidence for when the official police from Mur get here. This evidence has, for the most part, been gathered already, although I would be very grateful to any citizen who gives the investigation any new information. Furthermore I want to make it known to all good citizens that they are out of danger and free to conduct themselves in whatever way they please. As for those persons who make up the abovementioned gangs, I advise them to cease their activities, so as not to worsen their already hopeless situation. I would like to remind you that our isolation from the outside world is relative. Some of you here already know that two hours ago I availed myself of an
offer of Mr. Snevar's and sent a message via carrier pigeon to Mur. Now I expect the arrival of a police plane at any hour, and for that reason remind those persons who are involved in criminal activities that timely confession and repentance would significantly improve their lots. Thank you for your attention, everyone.”

“How interesting!” Mrs. Moses exclaimed delightedly. “That means that there are bandits in our midst? Oh, Inspector, please give us a hint! We'll guess it!”

I glanced over at the owner. Alek Snevar had turned his expansive back on his guests in order to carefully wipe the shot glasses on the sideboard.

Conversation did not resume. Spoons clinked quietly in their cups, Mr. Moses breathed noisily over his mug, drilling his eyes into everyone in turn. No one was giving themselves away, though anyone who had reason to think about their fate was thinking about it. I had let a healthy ferret into this chicken coop, and now just had to wait for something to happen.

Du Barnstoker was the first to stand up.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he said. “I call upon all good citizens to put their skis on and go on a little excursion. The sun, the fresh air, the snow and a clear conscience will surely help fortify and calm us. Brun, my child, come along.”

One after another the guests pushed their chairs back and got up from the table to leave the room. Simone offered his arm to Mrs. Moses—apparently, his memories of the previous night had vanished utterly under the influence of the sunny morning and a thirst for sensual pleasure. Mr. Moses pulled Luarvik L. Luarvik up from the table and stood him up; Luarvik followed behind him, shuffling his feet as he chewed mechanically on his lemon.

Only Hinkus was left at the table. He was eating intently,
as if he intended to fill himself with enough fuel to last a long time. The owner helped Kaisa gather up the dishes.

“Well, Hinkus?” I said. “Shall we talk?”

“About what?” he said gloomily as he ate an egg with pepper.

“About everything,” I said. “As you can see, you won't be going anywhere anytime soon. And there's no need to hang around on the roof anymore, right?”

“We've got nothing to talk about,” Hinkus said grimly. “I don't know anything about your case.”

“About what case?” I asked.

“About the murder! What else …”

“But there's still the Hinkus case,” I said. “Are you done? If so, let's go. We'll go to the pool room: it's sunny in there, and no one will disturb us.”

He didn't say anything. He chewed his egg, swallowed, wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up.

“Alek,” I said to the manager. “Do me a favor, come down and sit in the lobby where you were yesterday—understand?”

“Understood,” said the manager. “You got it.”

He quickly wiped his hands off on the towel, and went out. I opened the door to the billiard room and let Hinkus go in first. He entered and stopped, standing with his hands in his pockets, chewing a match. I took one of the chairs lining the wall, stood it in the middle of the sunlight and said, “Sit.” Hinkus hesitated a second, then sat and immediately squinted. The sunlight was in his face.

“An old police trick,” he mumbled bitterly.

“That's the nature of the job,” I said, and sat in front of him on the edge of the billiard table, which was out of the sun. “So, Hinkus, what happened in there between you and Barnstoker?”

“What about Barnstoker? What could have happened
between us? Nothing happened. I don't know anything about him.”

“You wrote the note threatening him?”

“I didn't write any note. But I will write a complaint. For torturing a sick man …”

“Listen, Hinkus. In an hour or two the police will fly in. The experts are coming. I have your note in my pocket. It won't be too hard for them to determine that you wrote it. Why aren't you talking?”

With a quick movement he shifted the match he was chewing on from one corner of his mouth to the other. Kaisa was clattering dishes in the dining room, singing something out of tune in her thin voice.

“I don't know anything about a note,” Hinkus said finally.

“Stop lying, Finch!” I shouted. “I know all about you! You're in trouble, Finch. And if you're looking to get off under section 72, you'd better get in line with paragraph D! Make a frank confession before the official investigation begins … well? How about it?”

He spat out the match, rummaged around in his pockets and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Then he brought the pack up to his mouth, pulled a cigarette out of it with his lips, and thought.

“Well?” I said.

“You're confusing me with someone else,” Hinkus answered. “Someone named Finch. I'm not Finch. I'm Hinkus.”

I leaped off the pool table and held the gun under his nose.

“What about that? Do you recognize that? Is it yours? Speak up!”

“I don't know anything about it,” he said grimly. “Why are you harassing me?”

I sat back down on the table, lay the gun next to me on the felt and lit a cigarette.

“Think about it,” I said. “Think fast, or it'll be too late. You slipped a note to Barnstoker, and he gave it to me—naturally, you didn't expect this. Your gun was taken away, and I found it. You sent your boys a telegram, but they didn't get here on time because of the avalanche. And the police will arrive in two hours, at most. Do you see what I'm saying?”

Kaisa poked her head in at the door.

“Can I get you anything? Or is everything all right?” she asked.

“Go on, Kaisa,” I said. “Go.”

Hinkus was quiet; he fumbled around intently in his pocket, before pulling out a box of matches and lighting the cigarette. The sun was scorching. Sweat had appeared on his face.

“You made a mistake, Finch,” I said. “You messed up. Why go after Barnstoker? You frightened the poor old man half to death … Did they really order you to keep him here at gunpoint? Moses! Moses must have been the target! You colossal idiot, I wouldn't hire you as a janitor, let alone give you such a responsibility … And your scum friends are going to get you for this, Finch! Which means that there's only one thing left to do …”

He didn't give me a chance to finish my lecture. I was sitting on the edge of the pool table, smoking as I dangled one leg, the other resting on the floor, like an idiot smugly watching smoke rise through a sunbeam. Suddenly Hinkus, who was sitting on the chair a few steps away from me, leaned forward and grabbed my dangling leg, twisting it sharply as he pulled on it with all his strength. I had underestimated him, frankly. I slid off the pool table and crashed to the floor, all ninety kilograms' worth of face, stomach and knees.

As to what happened next, I can only guess. Basically, after about a minute I came to my senses and found that I was
sitting on the floor, my back against the pool table, with my chin split open, two loose teeth, blood running into my eye from my forehead and my right shoulder aching unbearably. Hinkus was lying nearby, crumpled and holding his head in his hands—standing over him, like St. George standing over the prostrate dragon, was Simone the grinning hero, holding a piece of the longest and heaviest pool cue in his hand. I wiped the blood from my forehead and stood up. I was reeling. I wanted to lie down in the shade and sleep. Simone bent down, picked the gun up off the floor and handed it to me.