JК
The English Assassin :: Silva Daniel
Страница: 22 из 209”
Baer made a careful inspection of Gabriel’s seized possessions. “I don’t see a tram ticket among your things. Surely you purchased a ticket before you boarded the streetcar?”
Gabriel shook his head: guilty as charged. Baer’s eyebrows shot up. The notion that Gabriel had boarded a tram ticketless seemed more horrifying to him than the possibility that he had shot an old man in the head.
“That’s a very serious offense, Signore Delvecchio! I’m afraid you’re going to be fined fifty francs!”
“I’m deeply sorry.”
“Have you been to Zurich before?”
“No, never.”
“Then how did you know which tram would take you to the Hauptbahnhof?”
“It was a lucky guess, I suppose. It was heading in the right direction, so I got on.”
“Tell me one more thing, Signore Delvecchio. Did you make any purchases while you were in Zurich?”
“Purchases?”
“Did you buy anything? Did you do any shopping?”
“I bought a pair of shoes.”
“Why?”
“Because while I was waiting to get into the villa, my shoes became soaked in the rain.”
“You were panicked. You were afraid to go to the police, desperate to get out of Zurich, but you took time to get new shoes because your feet were wet?”
“Yes.”
He leaned back in his chair and knocked on the door. It opened, and an arm appeared, holding an evidence bag containing Gabriel’s shoes.
“We found these in a toilet at the Hauptbanhof, buried in a rubbish bin. I suspect they’re yours. I also suspect that they will match the set of bloody footprints we found in the entrance hall and the walkway of the villa.”
“I’ve already told you I was there. The footprints, if they do match those shoes, prove nothing.”
“Rather nice shoes to simply toss away in the toilet of a rail station. And they don’t look that wet to me.” He looked up at Gabriel and smiled briefly. “But then, I’ve heard it said that people who panic easily often have sensitive feet.”
IT was three hours before Baer entered the room again. For the first time he was not alone. It was obvious to Gabriel that the new man represented higher authority. It was also obvious that he was not an ordinary detective from the Zurich murder squad. Gabriel could see it in the small ways that Baer deferred to him physically, the way his heels clicked together when, like a headwaiter, he seated the new man at the interrogation table and moved unobtrusively into the background.
The man called himself Peterson.
Baer made a careful inspection of Gabriel’s seized possessions. “I don’t see a tram ticket among your things. Surely you purchased a ticket before you boarded the streetcar?”
Gabriel shook his head: guilty as charged. Baer’s eyebrows shot up. The notion that Gabriel had boarded a tram ticketless seemed more horrifying to him than the possibility that he had shot an old man in the head.
“That’s a very serious offense, Signore Delvecchio! I’m afraid you’re going to be fined fifty francs!”
“I’m deeply sorry.”
“Have you been to Zurich before?”
“No, never.”
“Then how did you know which tram would take you to the Hauptbahnhof?”
“It was a lucky guess, I suppose. It was heading in the right direction, so I got on.”
“Tell me one more thing, Signore Delvecchio. Did you make any purchases while you were in Zurich?”
“Purchases?”
“Did you buy anything? Did you do any shopping?”
“I bought a pair of shoes.”
“Why?”
“Because while I was waiting to get into the villa, my shoes became soaked in the rain.”
“You were panicked. You were afraid to go to the police, desperate to get out of Zurich, but you took time to get new shoes because your feet were wet?”
“Yes.”
He leaned back in his chair and knocked on the door. It opened, and an arm appeared, holding an evidence bag containing Gabriel’s shoes.
“We found these in a toilet at the Hauptbanhof, buried in a rubbish bin. I suspect they’re yours. I also suspect that they will match the set of bloody footprints we found in the entrance hall and the walkway of the villa.”
“I’ve already told you I was there. The footprints, if they do match those shoes, prove nothing.”
“Rather nice shoes to simply toss away in the toilet of a rail station. And they don’t look that wet to me.” He looked up at Gabriel and smiled briefly. “But then, I’ve heard it said that people who panic easily often have sensitive feet.”
IT was three hours before Baer entered the room again. For the first time he was not alone. It was obvious to Gabriel that the new man represented higher authority. It was also obvious that he was not an ordinary detective from the Zurich murder squad. Gabriel could see it in the small ways that Baer deferred to him physically, the way his heels clicked together when, like a headwaiter, he seated the new man at the interrogation table and moved unobtrusively into the background.
The man called himself Peterson.