He was looking at Richler uncertainly, inwardly quite pleased with this lie.
Richler was nodding. ‘Yes, we can understand that the letter was in German. The admitting doctor heard the story from you and corroborated it. But the letter itself, Todd… do you remember what happened to it?’
Here it is, Todd thought. The crunch.
‘I guess it was still on the table when the ambulance came. When we all left. I couldn’t testify to it in court, but—’
‘I think there was a letter on the table,’ Dick said. ‘I picked something up and glanced at it Airmail stationery, I think, but I didn’t notice it was written in German.’
Then it should still be there,’ Richler said. That’s what we can’t figure out’
‘It’s not?’ Dick said. ‘I mean, it wasn’t?’
‘It wasn’t and it isn’t’
‘Maybe somebody broke in,’ Monica suggested.
“There would have been no need to break in,’ Richler said. ‘In the confusion of getting him out, the house was never locked. Dussander himself never thought to ask someone to lock up, apparently. His latchkey was still in the pocket of his pants when he died His house was unlocked from the time the MED-Q attendants wheeled him out until we sealed it this morning at 2:30 a.m.’
‘Weil, there you are,’ Dick said.
‘No,’ Todd said. ‘I see what’s bugging Lieutenant Richler.’ Oh yes, he saw it very well. You’d have to be blind to miss it ‘Why would a burglar steal nothing but a letter? Especially one written in German? It doesn’t listen. Mr Denker didn’t have much to steal, but a guy who broke in could find something better than that’
‘You’ve got it, all right,’ Richler said. ‘Not bad.’
Todd used to want to be a detective when he grew up,’ Monica said, and ruffled Todd’s hair a bit Since he had gotten big he seemed to object to that, but right now he didn’t seem to mind. God, she hated to see him looking so pale. ‘I guess he’s changed his mind to history these days.’
‘History is a good field,’ Richler said. ‘You can be an investigative historian. Have you ever read Josephine Tey?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Doesn’t matter. I just wish my boys had some ambition greater than seeing the Angels win the pennant this year.’
Todd offered a wan smile and said nothing.
Richler turned serious again. ‘Anyway, I’ll tell you the theory we’re going on. We figure that someone, probably right here in Santa Donate, knew who and what Dussander was.’
‘Really?’ Dick said.
‘Oh yes. Someone who knew the truth. Maybe another fugitive Nazi. I know that sounds like Robert Ludlum stuff, but who would have thought there was even one fugitive Nazi in a quiet little suburb like this? And when Dussander was taken to the hospital, we think that Mr X scooted over to the house and got that incriminating letter. And that by now it’s so many decomposing ashes floating around in the sewer system.’
‘That doesn’t make much sense either,’ Todd said.
‘Why not, Todd?’
‘Well, if Mr Denk… if Dussander had an old buddy from the camps, or just an old Nazi buddy, why did he bother to have me come over and read him that letter? I mean, if you could have heard him correcting me, and stuff… at least this old Nazi buddy you’re talking about would know how to speak German.’
‘A good point. Except maybe this other fellow is in a wheelchair, or blind. For all we know, it might be Hermann himself and he doesn’t even dare go out and show his face.’
‘Guys that are blind or in wheelchairs aren’t that good at scooting out to get letters,’ Todd said.
Richler looked admiring again. ‘True. But a blind man could steal a letter even if he couldn’t read it, though. Or hire it done.’
Todd thought this over, and nodded — but he shrugged at the same time to show how farfetched he thought the idea. Richler had progressed far beyond Robert Ludlum and into the land of Sax Rohmer. But how farfetched the idea was or wasn’t didn’t matter one fucking little bit, did it? No, what mattered was that Richler was still sniffing around… and that sheeny, Weiskopf, was also sniffing around. The letter, the goddam letter! If only he hadn’t been forced to make something up on the spur of the moment like that! And suddenly he was thinking of his .30-.30, cased and resting on its shelf in the cool, dark garage. He pulled his mind away from it quickly. The palms of his hands had gone damp.