“I—I was so scared. I knew something awful had happened to my mother.”
“Then did you go into the house?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what happened?”
“I called out, ‘Mother!’ And she didn’t answer, so I went into her bathroom and—”
At this point the young boy broke into hysterical sobs and had to be led from the stand.
Fred Zimmer was executed thirteen months later.
In the meantime young Daniel had been sent to live with a distant relative in Texas, Aunt Mattie, whom he had never met. She was a stern woman, a hard-shelled Baptist filled with a vehement righteousness and the conviction that hell’s fire awaited all sinners. It was a house without love or joy or pity, and Daniel grew up in that atmosphere, terrified by the secret knowledge of his guilt and the damnation that awaited him. Shortly after his mother’s murder Daniel began to have trouble with his vision. The doctors called the problem psychosomatic.
“He’s blocking out something he doesn’t want to see,” the doctors said.
The lenses on his glasses grew thicker.
At seventeen Daniel ran away from Aunt Mattie and Texas forever. He hitchhiked to New York, where he was hired as a messenger boy by the International Insurance Protection Association. Within three years he was promoted to an investigator. He became the best they had. He never demanded a raise in salary or better working conditions. He was oblivious to those things. He was the Lord’s right arm, his scourge, punishing the wicked.
Daniel Cooper rose from his bath and prepared for bed. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow will be the whore’s day of retribution.
He wished his mother could be there to see it.
34
Amsterdam
FRIDAY, AUGUST 22—8:00 A.M.
Daniel Cooper and the two detectives assigned to the listening post heard Tracy and Jeff at breakfast.
“Sweet roll, Jeff? Coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
Daniel Cooper thought, It’s the last breakfast they’ll ever have together.
“Do you know what I’m excited about? Our barge trip.”
“This is the big day, and you’re excited about a trip on a barge? Why?”
“Because it will be just the two of us. Do you think I’m crazy?”
“Absolutely. But you’re my crazy.”
“Kiss.”
The sound of a kiss.
She should be more nervous, Cooper thought. I want her to be nervous.
“In a way, I’ll be sorry to leave here, Jeff.”
“Look at it this way, darling. We won’t be any the poorer for the experience.”
Tracy’s laughter. “You’re right.”
At 9:00 A.M. the conversation was still going on, and Cooper thought, They should be getting ready. They should be making their last-minute plans. What about Monty? Where are they meeting him?
Jeff was saying, “Darling, would you take care of the concierge before you check us out? I’m going to be rather busy.”
“Of course. He’s been wonderful. Why don’t they have concierges in the States?”
“I guess it’s just a European custom. Do you know how it started?”
“No.”
“In France, in 1627, King Hugh built a prison in Paris and put a nobleman in charge of it. He gave him the title of comte des cierges, or concierge, meaning ‘count of the candles.’ His pay was two pounds and the ashes from the king’s fireplace. Later, anyone in charge of a prison or a castle became known as a concierge, and finally, this included those working in hotels.”
What the hell are they talking about? Cooper wondered. It’s nine-thirty. Time for them to be leaving.
Tracy’s voice: “Don’t tell me where you learned that—you used to go with a beautiful concierge.”
A strange female voice: “Goede morgen, mevrouw, mijnheer.”
Jeff’s voice: “There are no beautiful concierges.”
The female voice, puzzled: “Ik begrijp het niet.”
Tracy’s voice: “I’ll bet if there were, you’d find them.”
“What the hell is going on down there?” Cooper demanded.
The detectives looked baffled. “I don’t know. The maid’s on the phone calling the housekeeper. She came in to clean, but she says she doesn’t understand—she hears voices, but she doesn’t see anybody.”
“What?” Cooper was on his feet, racing toward the door, flying down the stairs. Moments later he and the other detectives burst into Tracy’s suite. Except for the confused maid, it was empty. On a coffee table in front of a couch a tape recorder was playing.