“Let’s shoot some pool,” I suggested. “Do you play?”
His sick little eyes looked me straight in the face for the first time.
“No,” he said. “I’d rather get some fresh air.”
He unscrewed the cap again and poured himself a fourth glass. I finished off my roast beef, drank my coffee and got up. Hinkus stared languidly into his brandy.
“Well, don’t fall off the roof,” I said.
He smiled curtly, but didn’t respond. I went back up to the second floor again. I didn’t hear any billiard balls clacking, so I made my way to Simone’s room. No one answered my knock. Unintelligible voices were coming from behind the door to the next room, so I knocked on it. No Simone here, either. Du Barnstoker and Olaf were sitting at the table playing cards. In the middle of the table there was a tower of crumpled bills. When he saw me, Du Barnstoker made a sweeping gesture and exclaimed:
“Come in, come in, Inspector! My dear Olaf, you don’t mind if the inspector sits in, do you?”
“Of course not,” Olaf said, without looking up from his cards. “With pleasure.” He called spades.
I apologized and closed the door. Where was that chortler hiding himself? I couldn’t see, or more surprisingly hear him anywhere. And why did I even care?
I can shoot pool by myself. There’s not much of a difference, really—I’d even say it’s more fun. I set off for the billiard room; on the way there, I got a little shock. At the bottom of the attic stairs, pinching the hem of her long, luxurious dress with two fingers, was Mrs. Moses.
“Now you’re tanning too?” I blurted out, unable to control myself.
“Tanning? Me? What an odd idea.” She crossed the hall towards me. “What strange suggestions you make, Inspector!”
“Please don’t call me Inspector,” I asked. “I hear it enough on the job… To hear it now from you too…”
“I a-dore police officers,” Mrs. Moses said, rolling her beautiful eyes. “They’re heroes, men of courage… You’re a brave man yourself, aren’t you?”
Somehow it happened that I had offered her a hand and was leading her towards the billiard room. It was a white hand, hard and surprisingly cold.
“Madame,” I said. “You’re practically freezing…”
“Not at all, Inspector,” she said, realizing her mistake at the last minute. “But then what can I call you now?”
“Peter, maybe?” I suggested.
“That would be charming. I had a friend named Peter once: Baron Von Gottesknecht. Perhaps you two know each other?… But then in that case, you must call me Olga. And what if Moses were to hear that?”
“He’ll survive,” I muttered. I glanced sideways at her extraordinary shoulders, her queenly neck, her proud profile, all of which made me hot to the point of chills. She’s an idiot, I thought feverishly—but then so what? Whatever. A lot of people are idiots!
We passed through the dining room and found ourselves in the billiard room. Simone was there. For some reason he had pressed himself into a shallow but wide recess in the wall. His face was red and his hair disheveled.
“Simon!” shouted Mrs. Moses, putting her hands to her cheeks. “What on earth…?”
In answer to this Simone let out a screech and, pushing his legs and arms against the sides of the recess, worked his way up to the ceiling.
“My god, you’ll kill yourself!” Mrs. Moses cried.
“You know she’s right, Simone,” I said in annoyance. “Quit playing around or you’ll break your neck.”
The fool, however, was nowhere near breaking his neck and dying. He reached the ceiling, hung there for a second, growing even more flushed with blood, and then lightly and gently jumped to the floor, where he saluted us. Mrs. Moses began clapping.
“What a marvel you are, Simon,” she said. “A human fly!”
“Well, Inspector?” said Simone, who was a little out of breath. “Shall we fight for the glory of this beautiful lady?” He picked up a cue and lunged towards me as if it were a fencing sword. “Inspector Glebsky, I challenge you to defend yourself!”
With these words he turned to the billiard table and, without taking time to aim, shot the eight ball across the table and into the corner pocket with such a crack that my eyes grew dark. However, retreat was out of the question. I gloomily picked up a cue.
“Fight, gentlemen, fight,” Mrs. Moses said. “The beautiful woman will leave a token for the victor.” She threw a lace handkerchief into the middle of the table. “But I have to go now. I’m afraid my Moses is already furious.” She blew us her kisses and walked out.
“Devilishly attractive woman,” Simone said. “Capable of driving a man out of his mind.” He picked up the handkerchief with his cue, dipped his nose in its lace and rolled his eyes. “Charming!… I see you have also been unsuccessful in your attempts, Inspector?”
“Maybe if I spent as much time around her as you do,” I said darkly, gathering the balls into the rack. “Who asked you to hang around here in the billiard room, anyway?”
“You didn’t have to bring her here, blockhead,” Simone rejoined reasonably.
“Well, I couldn’t take her to my room,” I snapped.
“You shouldn’t start things you don’t know how to finish,” Simone advised. “And rack the balls more evenly, you’re playing with an expert here… There. What shall we play? London Bridge?”
“No. Something simpler.”
“Something simpler,” Simone agreed.
He placed the handkerchief carefully on the windowsill, paused for a second, lowered his head and peered through the window at something. Then he returned to the table.
“Do you remember what Hannibal did to the Romans near Cannes?”
“All right, all right,” I said. “Let’s get going.”
“I’ll jog your memory,” Simone said. With a series of elegant movements he nudged the cueball out to where he wanted it with his cue, took aim, and sunk it. Then he sunk another ball, and split the pyramid. Then, without giving me time to take any of his victims out of their pockets, he sunk two balls in a row, before finally whiffing.
“Lucky for you,” he said, chalking his cue. “Now let’s see what you can do.”
I walked around the table, picking off the easiest ball.
“Look,” Simone said. He was again standing at the window and looking out at something off to one side. “Some fool is sitting on the roof… Excuse me—two fools! I mistook the standing one for a chimney. It appears that my triumphs have spawned imitators.”
“That’s Hinkus,” I muttered, trying to get in a better position for my shot.
“Hinkus—that’s the little one who’s always whining,” said Simone. “A scrap. Olaf on the other hand. The descendent of the ancient Scandinavian kings, believe me, Inspector Glebsky.”
Finally, I took my shot. And missed. It was a simple shot, too. Too bad. I stared at the end of the cue, examining its pad.
“There’s nothing to see—nothing at all,” Simone said, approaching the table. “You’ve got no excuse.”
“What’s your shot?” I asked, watching him in confusion.
“Two sides and then the middle,” he said with an innocent look.
I groaned and went to stand by the window, in order not to see. Simone shot. Then he shot again. Snap, crack, pop. Then he shot again and said:
“Sorry, Inspector. Proceed.”
The shadow of the seated man threw his head back and raised a hand with a bottle in it. I saw that it was Hinkus. He’ll swallow and then pass the bottle to the standing figure. But who was standing?
“Are you going to shoot or not?” Simone asked. “What is it?”
“Hinkus is getting drunk,” I said. “Today’s the day he falls off the roof.”
Hinkus took a deep swig and then took up his previous pose. He didn’t pass the bottle. Who was standing anyway? The kid, probably… Interesting, what could the kid have to talk to Hinkus about? I returned to the table, chose the easier ball and missed again.