Debt Collector

Detective Pulaski climbed the stairs of the tenement in Saint-Gilles. The wood groaned tired. Outside it rained.

The door to 4B was open.

Berger Frelinghuysen was on the floor, clearly dead. He was a small man. His neck was purple. Someone had used a heavy hand.

Pulaski kept his hands in his pockets. He looked at the window. The glass was dirty.

-Yeah, Berger, he said. You really stepped in it. Nobody liked a debt collector.

A local gendarme stood by the door, confused about whether Pulaski was talking to him. He didn’t have a lot of experience with the detectives.

Even though the Germans had occupied Brussels, and half of Europe, he wore the same thing the gendarmerie were before the war, a dark blue coat, collar open, with matching trousers, zipper up and a single stripe of red piping.

The boy even wore the wide-topped kepi.

He was shaking.

-Did you touch him? Pulaski asked.

-No, Monsieur. I called you.

-Good boy. Go stand in the hall. Sometimes they return to the scene of the crime.

Pulaski knelt. He used a fountain pen to move the victim’s lapel. He found a wallet. It was full. He found three thousand Belgian francs. Crisp.

-Big money, he muttered. You were doing well, Berger. Too well. Someone didn't want to pay the interest, huh?

He found the tram tickets. They were tucked in a small pocket. Line 33. The line to the fancy part of town. The part with the black uniforms and the quiet houses.

-Avenue Louise, he said. Busy, busy, Frelinghuysen. What kind of name is that?

He looked at the victim's throat again.

-It’s a debt all right, he said to the empty room. A German debt. Someone in a uniform couldn't find the cash. So he found a heavy object instead. It’s not a problem. Simply story.

He stood up. His knees popped. He looked at the sink. There was a single dish. It was clean.

-He was waiting for someone, Pulaski muttered.

He walked to the window. Down in the street, a woman was walking fast. She'd have a yellow star soon. She didn't look up. Nobody looked up anymore.

-A business partner who doesn't like his bill, he said.

He adjusted his hat. His blonde hair was damp. His blue eyes reflected the gray light.

-I'm going to find your friend, Berger, he said. I’m going to find the man who owes you. He owes me now. He’s probably at a desk. Germans love desks.

Pulaski went out to talk to the gendarme.

-What’s your name, kid?

-Benoit.

-You talked to the neighbors?

-Nobody has said anything yet. They do not like him. The old woman downstairs called me over when she found him. I have a statement from her, but she is too weak for something like that, Benoit said, gesturing back to the room.

-Canvas the neighbors until the wagon shows up, I guess.

And then Pulaski walked out without looking at the gendarme and started to mutter again.

-It’s a long walk to the Palace. But I need the exercise.