Nightwork

Didi, I thought; oh, my God. they've found out about Didi. Or believe they've found out. I had no idea what the age of consent was in Switzerland. Probably it varied from canton to canton, like everything else in the country. We were in the canton of Bern. It could be anything up to twenty-one, with all those girls' schools.

'I consider this an intrusion,' I said coldly. 'And I'd like an explanation immediately.'

Again, the assistant manager spoke rapidly in German to the policeman. The policeman nodded. He had an extremely stiff mechanical nod. His neck was thick and rolled over his collar.

'Police Officer Brugelmann has authorized me to explain,' the assistant manager said. 'Briefly, Mr Grimes, a robbery has been committed. Last night. On floor number five of the hotel. A valuable diamond necklace has been reported missing.'

Eunice's room had been on the fifth floor. 'What's that got to do with me?' I asked, relieved. At least Didi Wales wasn't involved.

There was another exchange in German. Before I leave for anywhere next time, I thought, I'm going to Berlitz.

'You have been noticed last night, late, prowling in the halls of the hotel,' the assistant manager said.

'I was visiting a friend,' I said. 'I was not prowling.’

'I was merely translating,' the assistant manager said unhappily. He was not enjoying his task and was probably ' regretting he had ever bothered to learn English.

The police officer said something softly.

The lady you were visiting,' the assistant manager said, 'checked out of the hotel at eight-thirty this morning. Do you happen to know her destination?'

'No,' I said. Almost honestly. I had never asked Eunice for her address. The note she had sent me was crammed into the pocket of my bathrobe. I hoped it didn't show.

The police officer rattled out several sentences that Bounded unpleasant.

The police officer asks permission to search the premises,' the assistant manager said. The words seemed to strangle in his throat.

'Does he have a warrant?' I asked, American to the last civil-rights, amicus curiae, Supreme Court brief.

There was another exchange in German.

There is no warrant. As yet,' the assistant manager said. 'If you insist on a warrant. Police Officer Brugelmann says he will have to take you to the bureau of police and keep you there until the warrant is made out. He warns that it may take a long time. Maybe two days. There will be no avoiding publicity, he says. There are always many foreign newspapermen here. Because of the quality and prominence of our guests.'

'Did he say all that?' I asked.

'I added some on my own,' the assistant manager admitted. 'So that you can have a proper basis for action.'

I stared at Police Officer Brugelmann. He stared back glacially. It was warm in the room, but he hadn't unbuttoned his overcoat. He was a naturally cryogenic man. Snakes and birds were his blood cousins. 'All right,' I said. I seated myself in an easy chair. 'I have nothing to hide. Let him start looking. But please make it quick. I have an appointment at eleven.'

The assistant manager translated and Police Officer Brugelmann nodded stiffly in satisfaction. Then he motioned for me to stand up.

'What does he want now?' I asked.

'He wants to look at the chair.'

I stood up, admiring, despite myself, the talent for his profession of Police Officer Brugelmann. Naturally, if the necklace was hidden in the chair, I would immediately sit on it. I moved away and watched the police officer run his hand over the cushion, then pick it up and poke down into the upholstery. Then he put the cushion back, patting it neatly, and motioned politely that I could seat myself again.

After that, he went swiftly through all my belongings. When he had gone through the closet, he took out my ski pants and held them up, saying something to the assistant manager, obviously, from his tone, a question. The assistant manager fidgeted nervously with the button of his jacket as he translated. 'Police Officer Brugelmann wishes to know,' he said, 'if these ski trousers are the only ones you have brought with you.' 'Yes,' I said.

'Where it wass you wass before?' the police officer was getting impatient with the business of translation and now showed that he could speak a variant of English. 'St Moritz,' I said, 'Davos.'

'St Moritz? With only these?' The police officer sounded incredulous. 'And now Gstaad, too?' 'They do the job,' I said.

'How long you plan the entire holiday iss to endure, Mr Grimes?'

'Three weeks. Perhaps more.'

Solemnly, the police officer hung the pants back in the closet. Then he turned back to me, taking out a black, plastic-covered pad as he did so, and seating himself at the small desk, so that he could write comfortably. 'Now I am afraid I must some questions ask,' he said. 'Permanent address in the United States?'