The G File

17

In addition to Reinhart and Münster, Inspector Rooth was also on parade in the cramped area in front of the two-way mirror when the interrogation of Jaan G. Hennan was due to begin. Rooth’s so-called date had rung and announced that she was ill, he explained, and this promised to be at least as entertaining as a bad television crime series.

Hennan had been collected from his home by Constables Kowalski and Klempje shortly before half past ten. He had accompanied them quite eagerly and with a smile on his face, and then had the doubtful pleasure of spending forty-five minutes on a chair in the stark interrogation room before Van Veeteren entered through one of the two doors and sat down opposite him.

‘About time,’ said Hennan, but with no trace of irritation in his voice.

Van Veeteren didn’t respond. He messed around for a while with the tape recorder and lit a cigarette, then read out Hennan’s rights and asked if he wanted to have a lawyer present.

Hennan leaned back, smiled broadly and announced that he needed a lawyer about as much as one needs a wart in one’s arsehole. The Chief Inspector nodded and switched on the tape recorder. Stated the time, place and nature of the interrogation, and asked Hennan to give his full name, birthplace and date of birth. Hennan obliged, smiling all the time.

‘Right,’ said the Chief Inspector, hanging his jacket on the back of his chair. ‘You are here because you are suspected of murdering your wife, Barbara Clarissa Hennan. You are not yet under arrest, but that’s only a matter of time.’

‘Murdering? Arrest?’

‘Yes,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘Would you like to confess right away, or do we have to make a meal of it?’

‘Rubbish,’ said Hennan.

‘I didn’t understand your reply,’ said Van Veeteren.

‘Rubbish,’ said Hennan again.

‘Now I understood it,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘Should I interpret it as meaning that you are surprised at the fact that we suspect you?’

Hennan rested his chin on the knuckles of his right hand and thought for three seconds.

‘Both yes and no,’ he said. ‘I am well aware of the overall incompetence of the police and have long since ceased to be surprised by it; but in this case you appear to have excelled yourselves.’

‘Expound,’ said the Chief Inspector.

‘Certainly not,’ said Hennan. ‘If it needs expounding, you can do so yourself. Personally I would prefer to be driven home and go to bed.’

‘That’s not what we had in mind,’ said the Chief Inspector. ‘How long were you married to Philomena McNaught?’

Hennan’s response came without any obvious surprise.

‘Just over a year.’

‘She died while on a car journey in Bethesda Park, is that right?’

‘I don’t know anything about that. She disappeared, and was eventually pronounced officially dead.’

‘If I were to tell you that her body had been found, would that surprise you?’

Hennan hesitated for a moment. Then he smiled again.

‘No,’ he said. ‘They were bound to find her sooner or later. How did it happen?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I wonder where they found her, of course. And in what circumstances. As she was most probably killed by a large beast of prey, it’s a bit surprising to hear that a whole body has been found, I’ll give you that. My God, do you really think that I haven’t been around long enough not to know when a member of the filth is sitting there lying to me?’

Van Veeteren sat in silence for a while, gazing at a point on the wall just above Hennan’s head. He didn’t move a muscle.

‘Are you so stupid,’ he said in the end, ‘so incredibly stupid, that you think you can get away with the same ruse twice? We know that you have killed two women, and that you will be in jail for the next twenty-five years of your life. I suggest that you get yourself a lawyer without delay, since you don’t seem to understand the situation you find yourself in.’

‘Crap,’ said Hennan. ‘I don’t need a lawyer. But on the other hand, I do need to go to the loo.’

‘Five minutes,’ said Van Veeteren, and switched off the tape recorder.

‘I must disappoint you on one point,’ said the Chief Inspector when Hennan had returned.

‘Really? How sad.’

‘Even if you hadn’t been caught, you wouldn’t have been able to collect any insurance pay-out.’

‘You don’t say?’ said Hennan with a smile. ‘Well, I suppose I shall have to listen to your insinuations since we are sitting here. Go on, I’m all ears.’

‘Thank you. We shall prove that it wasn’t an accident — the murder of your second wife, that is — and hence the appropriate clause in your insurance policy kicks in.’

Hennan shrugged.

‘You have every right to try to prove whatever you like, of course. Don’t let me get in your way. But it would astonish me if you were to succeed.’

‘She was unconscious before she was pushed down into the empty swimming pool,’ said Van Veeteren, lighting another cigarette. ‘But you have evidently decided to carry on pretending to be stupid — I must say I had expected rather better opposition.’

‘Opposition?’ said Hennan in histrionic surprise. ‘What the devil are you rambling on about now, Chief Inspector?’

‘You’re boring me,’ said Van Veeteren with a yawn. ‘You raped your little sister regularly for five years, is that right?’

‘What?’ said Hennan.

‘I asked if you raped your sister, Elizabeth Hennan, regularly for five years. Or was it for longer than that? Why did you stop? Do you think fifteen-year-olds are too old?’

It took several seconds before Hennan was able to gain control over his facial expression. Then the smile reappeared, albeit a thinner version of it.

‘Perhaps I ought to have a lawyer after all,’ he said. ‘You seem to have taken leave of your senses.’

‘Perhaps you prefer to answer that question at the trial instead,’ suggested the Chief Inspector. ‘Do you still meet at all? Like brothers and sisters usually do, I mean?’

Hennan made no reply.

‘Can you give me the names of some of your friends and acquaintances?’ asked Van Veeteren.

‘Why should I?’

‘Perhaps you could do with somebody to speak up on your behalf, for instance. Can you give me the names of a few people who can confirm your good character?’

‘No,’ said Hennan. ‘It’s up to the police to find witnesses.’

‘Maarten Verlangen, perhaps?’ suggested the Chief Inspector.

‘Verlangen? Who the hell is he? — Oh, do you mean that ex-copper? What have I got to do with him?’

‘You met him the evening your wife died.’

Hennan thought for a moment.

‘Yes, that’s right. We had a few drinks. A sad type — he’s gone down in the world.’

‘How come you are acquainted with him?’

Hennan burst out laughing.

‘You know that full well. We had a score to settle a few years ago. He had me locked up — I was innocent, but I spent some time in jail thanks to him. But that’s all forgotten now. I don’t hold grudges.’

‘I take it you know what he does for a living nowadays?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Hennan. ‘I’d like a cigarette now.’

‘By all means,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘Verlangen works as a private detective.’

Hennan looked surprised.

‘A private eye? He didn’t say anything about that. Still, I suppose it’s not easy for sacked coppers to find a decent job.’

Van Veeteren allowed a few seconds to pass in silence.

‘But no doubt you knew that your wife was also acquainted with him?’

‘My wife? Acquainted with whom?’

‘With Verlangen.’

Hennan almost succeeded in concealing his surprise by lighting a cigarette.

‘Rubbish,’ he said. ‘Why should Barbara be acquainted with somebody like Verlangen?’

‘If she were still alive, she could have explained it to you. But of course Verlangen will fill us in at the trial.’

Just for a moment, for a fraction of a second, Van Veeteren had the impression that Hennan was about to give the game away. Perhaps it was an illusion, but for an instant the Chief Inspector felt that he could see right through Hennan — and if he had ever had the slightest doubt that he was guilty, that unguarded moment would have been sufficient. Jaan G. Hennan had Barbara Clarissa Delgado’s life on his conscience, alongside that of Philomena McNaught. He thought quickly about how one could put into words that all-embracing revelation, that all-embracing guilt reflected in those eyes — for a jury, for instance: but all he could envisage was the deep abyss that separates insight and action. It wasn’t the first time.

He was brought back down to earth by Hennan clearing his throat.

‘Is it full steam ahead for the police to make up any lies they like during an interrogation nowadays?’ he asked.

Van Veeteren snorted.

‘G,’ he said. ‘Sitting with and talking to a murderer are one thing; but I find that having to converse with a hopelessly stupid murderer is extremely boring. We’ll take a break for half an hour.’

Hennan shook his head and made as if to stand up.

‘No, no,’ said the Chief Inspector. ‘You will stay here. There’s a floor if you want to lie down for a while.’

‘I’m reluctantly impressed,’ said Inspector Reinhart during the break. ‘But I think it might be as well if we didn’t go out of our way to broadcast our methods.’

‘How did you rate his reaction to Verlangen?’ wondered the Chief Inspector. ‘There was some uncertainty there — I didn’t notice it until afterwards.’

‘Uncertainty?’ said Münster. ‘What kind of uncertainty?’

The Chief Inspector shook his head and stuck a toothpick into his mouth.

‘I had the impression that he was pretending to be surprised — but only half pretending. . And I’m wondering which half was genuine.’

‘That Verlangen. .’ sighed Rooth. ‘We have no idea what he said and didn’t say at the restaurant. He was presumably pretty drunk — Hennan might have extracted God only knows what out of him.’

‘Absolutely right,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘We still don’t have an answer to that question. But why on earth did she go to a private detective? That’s a more important question. Is it enough that she felt vaguely threatened in some way? I don’t think so. It ought to be possible to pin it down more precisely.’

‘But if Verlangen himself doesn’t know the answer, how can we find it?’ said Rooth. ‘The one who knows is dead.’

‘I’m aware of that,’ said Van Veeteren.

‘What’s the plan for the next round?’ wondered Reinhart.

‘A one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn,’ said the Chief Inspector. ‘Come and fetch me in a quarter of an hour’s time: I’m going to go and put my feet up on my desk for a while. Keep an eye on what he’s doing in there.’

Münster looked at the clock. It was twenty-five to one.

‘I want you to concentrate now,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘That’s why you’ve got that cup of coffee.’

‘I’m overwhelmed,’ said Hennan.

During the whole of the break he had sat leaning back on his chair with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes closed. His smile had vanished now, but otherwise he looked calm and collected.

‘First let’s get confirmation of a few facts for the record. Twelve years ago you were sentenced for drugs crimes and spent two-and-a-half years in prison. Is that correct?’

‘I’ve already-’

‘Answer yes or no.’

‘Yes,’ said Hennan with a shrug.

‘And almost ten years ago you emigrated to the USA?’

‘Yes.’

‘As soon as you were released?’

‘More or less.’

‘In 1983 you married a certain Philomena McNaught?’

‘Yes.’

‘She disappeared a year later, and you collected four hundred thousand dollars on a life insurance policy. Correct?’

‘Correct,’ said Hennan.

‘Did your then wife know that you had insured her life for such a large sum?’

‘Of course.’

‘In 1984 you married Barbara Delgado?’

‘Yes.’

‘This year you moved back to Europe and you immediately signed up for a large insurance policy on her life. One point two million. Is that true?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did she know that you had taken out that policy?’

‘Naturally.’

‘But she wasn’t present when you signed it?’

‘She was busy doing something else at the time.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘I’ll note that down. A month after you paid the first premium, your wife was found dead in the swimming pool of the house you rent in Kammerweg in Linden?’

‘Yes. What do you mean-’

‘No questions, if you don’t mind. As I have already said we shall be able to prove that your wife did not die a natural death. The insurance will not be paid. You must now choose one of two possible lines to take.’

‘Really?’ said Hennan. ‘What the hell do you mean?’

‘You will have to make exactly the same choice at your trial, so you might as well start practising now.’

Hennan didn’t respond, but his left eyebrow twitched.

‘Either you elect to cooperate in order to help us catch the killer,’ explained the Chief Inspector, ‘which is what ninety-nine out of a hundred men would do. Or you elect to be obstructive. That can only be interpreted in one way: that you yourself are responsible for your wife’s death. One in a hundred, as I said. Is that clear?’

‘Huh,’ said Hennan drily.

‘Which line are you going to take?’

‘Obviously I would never dream of taking a line which would obstruct a police investigation,’ said Hennan with treacle in his voice. ‘I don’t understand how you could possibly imagine my doing such a thing, Chief Inspector.’

‘Excellent,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘Give me the names of your closest friends.’

‘We don’t have any friends.’

‘Who has been to visit you at Villa Zefyr since you moved in?’

‘The Trottas,’ said Hennan. ‘Nobody else.’

‘Nobody else?’

‘Not as far as I recall.’

‘You’re lying,’ said Van Veeteren.

‘Well, maybe the odd delivery person,’ admitted Hennan. ‘The removal men, of course — I could probably extract some names from the firm. . Our cleaner. .’

‘Which of your former so-called friends have you been in contact with since you came back?’

‘None at all.’

‘Think carefully now.’

Hennan smiled but said nothing.

‘Listen here, young man,’ said the Chief Inspector. ‘I don’t think the jury will understand which line you chose — but there is one thing they will comprehend, you can be quite sure of that.’

‘What?’

‘That it was you who helped your wife over the edge of the pool that evening.’

‘I think there is a snag,’ said Hennan.

‘Really? What might that be?’

‘As I understand it, I have an alibi.’

‘What?’ exclaimed Van Veeteren. ‘You think you have an alibi? Who has tricked you into believing that?’

Hennan hesitated for a second.

‘I have an alibi because I happened to be at the Columbine rest-’

‘Stop!’ interrupted the Chief Inspector. ‘That no longer has any significance. You seem to have forgotten that we know how the murder actually took place.’

‘What?’ said Hennan. ‘What kind of idiotic. . No, I’ve had enough of this crap now.’

‘Are you going to explain or shall I?’ asked the Chief Inspector.

‘Explain what?’

‘How it happened?’

Hennan glared at him for a few seconds, then once again folded his arms over his chest and closed his eyes.

‘Switch off the lights when you leave, if you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘I have nothing more to add.’

Van Veeteren remained seated for a minute. Then he switched off the tape recorder, took out the cassette and stood up. Paused for a few moments and contemplated Hennan, then left the room without switching off the light.

‘Forty-eight hours,’ he said to the others when he had closed the door behind him. ‘We have forty-eight hours. Make sure he’s put under lock and key. I’ll sleep in my office and cross swords with him again tomorrow morning.’

‘He’ll soon give up,’ said Reinhart. ‘That last ploy was a pretty effective booby trap.’

The Chief Inspector stared at him, his eyes slightly screwed up.

‘I’m glad to hear that you are an optimist,’ he said. ‘Good night, gentlemen.’