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They seem to be hinting at that in the Telegraaf. . . .
We don t know, Rooth admitted. What we do know is
that somebody s killed him. There must be a reason, and until
we know what it is, we have to take every possibility into
account.
t h e r e t u r n
I follow you, said Jahrens, fishing a cookie out of his cup
with the aid of a spoon. You could say they were at each
other s throats, all the time. Not many people were surprised
by what happened . . . of us in the village, I mean. I m not say-
ing we thought he d do her in; but they weren t especially nice
to each other.
We ve gathered that, said Rooth. What happened that
night when she came and knocked on your door?
I must have described that at least fifty times, said
Jahrens.
But not recently, I don t think, said Rooth. Just one
more time; I expect you know it off by heart anyway.
Jahrens laughed again.
All right, he said. There s not much to tell. I was woken
up by somebody knocking on the glass panel of the front
door. I put on a pair of trousers and went downstairs to open
up, and there she was. She could have just come in and bedded
down on the sofa without waking us up, in fact we never
locked the front door. It was the same all over the village,
come to that: Nobody bothered to lock themselves in. It s a bit
different here in town, I can tell you. Anyway, she was stand-
ing there, shivering, and she asked if she could come in and
sleep on our sofa. That damn bastard Verhaven had beaten her
up, she said, and she was going to report him to the police next
morning.
Was she drunk?
Fairly, but I ve seen worse. Obviously, I asked if we could
do anything for her she had a black eye, all swollen, and a
few other bruises; but she wouldn t hear of it. All she wanted
was to sleep, she said, so I let her go and lie down on the sofa. I
fetched a blanket and a pillow, that s all. And poured her a
glass of water. Then I went back to bed. It was gone three.
Hmm, said Rooth. Was that all?
2 1 3
Yes, said Jahrens. She woke up at about nine the next
morning, but when I reminded her that she was going to call
the police she turned all insolent and told me to mind my own
business. And then she left. Didn t even say thank you.
A well-brought-up lady, said Rooth.
Very, said Jahrens. Would you like some more cookies? I
see they re all gone.
No thanks, said Rooth, and thought for a few seconds.
I can t really think of any more questions to ask you, he
said. Is there anything else you can add, that might be of use
to us?
Jahrens leaned back on his chair and gazed up at the
ceiling.
No, he said. Not a thing.
But you think it was Verhaven who killed her?
Absolutely, said Jahrens. There are a lot of things in this
life that I m doubtful about, but not that.
No, when all s said and done, it could well be as you say,
said Rooth, getting to his feet. Many thanks.
We re all mad, no doubt about it, he thought when he
emerged into the courtyard.
Who the hell was it who d written that?
After another day in Kaustin, deBries and Moreno turned up
at Kraus s so late that they couldn t find a quiet corner in the
bar. DeBries tried to do a quick calculation of how much cash
he had in his wallet yet again cursing his obstinate refusal to
get himself a credit card and decided he wasn t too badly off.
Let s go to the restaurant instead, he suggested. Can I
treat you to a bite to eat?
All right, said Moreno, taking another look around. I
don t think we d be able to do much in the way of chewing
t h e r e t u r n
over our impressions in here. But if you treat me, I ll treat
you that s a condition.
Excellent, thought deBries.
We ll see about that, he said, opening the glass door lead-
ing to the more substantial area.
Well, said Moreno when they d had their bite to eat and
ordered another bottle and the cheese board. What do you
reckon about today, then?
Nice weather, said deBries. You look a bit more tanned,
I think.
Every little bit helps, said Moreno, taking her notebook
from her purse. Shall we take them in order? We ought to
form some sort of judgments, after all.
She looked at the names:
Uleczka Willmot
Katrina Berenskaya
Maria Hess
Three old women, said deBries. With walking sticks. Well,
I d say the odds against were a thousand to one, roughly; but I
suppose we can t write any of them off until we ve checked
their alibis. Mind you, it s a long way to Ulmentahl. That visi-
tor must have taken all day to get there and back. If she came
from Kaustin, that is.
If she did, yes.
Hard to say, said deBries.
Very, said Moreno. A thousand to one? Yes, I suppose
that s about right.
The waiter brought the cheese board, and deBries topped
up their glasses.
2 1 5
What about a motive? he said after a while. Can you see
any of these old dears having the slightest whiff of a motive? If
there s any point in all this, the visitor must have known the
identity of the real murderer. I don t think our three seemed
to be particularly well informed on that matter.
I can t understand why she should want to keep it to her-
self, said Moreno. If she really wanted to tell Verhaven who
the murderer was, there s surely no sensible reason for being
unwilling to admit to it afterward. Or is there?
God only knows, said deBries, polishing a grape on the
tablecloth. No, I can t make head nor tail of this, swear to
God.
Moreno sighed.
Nor can I, she said. It all seems a bit odd, as far as I can
see. All we know for a fact is that Verhaven was visited by a
woman calling herself Anna Schmidt on June fifth, 1992.
We ve no idea who she really was or what they talked about.
We re jumping to quite a few conclusions if we think along
these lines: First we claim that the visit had to do with the
murder. Then we say the reason was that she wanted to tell
Verhaven who the real murderer was. Then we assume she
lives in Kaustin. . . . There are some weak links in that chain.
Besides, said deBries, we re not even a hundred percent
certain that it s Verhaven who s dead. And we re definitely not
sure that he was actually innocent of the crimes he s been in
prison for. No, if we took this to the public prosecutor, he d no
doubt laugh us out of court.
Moreno nodded.
But it s not our problem, of course, said deBries. We re
only obeying orders: Get over there and seek out all women
who use a walking stick in that dump! Or all men with false
teeth in Aarlach! All left-handed whores in Hamburg! Ask
them what they were doing between three and four o clock
t h e r e t u r n
in the afternoon on the day before Christmas Eve 1973, and
most important write down every single word they say! It s
great fun, this sleuthing: This is exactly what I dreamed about
when I made up my mind to become a detective.
I get the feeling you re a little bit disillusioned this even-
ing, said Moreno with a benign smile.
Not in the least, said deBries. You totally misjudge my
motives. I would be more than happy to go to Spetsbergen
and interview every damned penguin about their views on the
greenhouse effect. . . . As long as I could do it alongside you.
Cheers!
Cheers, said Moreno. But I don t think there are any
penguins at Spetsbergen. Anyway, I suppose we ll be given
new assignments tomorrow no matter what?
DeBries nodded.
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