The Inspector and Silence ivv-5

by Håkan Nesser

  ‘Did she explain why?’

  ‘Explain? Did she hell. Just stood there looking like a fart in a bottle, trying to be posh – as if she was God’s mother’s cousin or something.’

  Van Veeteren cleared his throat.

  ‘You’re not religious yourself, I take it, Mr Fingher.’

  ‘No fucking chance,’ said the farmer and belched again.

  ‘Same here,’ said his son.

  The chief inspector emptied his glass.

  ‘Ah well, thank you,’ he said. ‘I won’t disturb you any longer. But do get in touch if you think of anything… As I said.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Fingher, and began shepherding the chief inspector back to the road.

  ‘Sunday evening,’ he said, fixing the twelve-year-old with his eyes.

  The girl, whose name was Joanna Halle, was gazing down at the table and rubbing her wrists nervously.

  ‘Sound a bit more friendly, perhaps,’ whispered the young psychologist into his ear.

  ‘Would you like to tell me a bit about what you were doing last Sunday evening?’ Van Veeteren tried again. ‘When you were down by the rock, swimming.’

  ‘We were swimming,’Joanna Halle explained.

  ‘I see. Who, exactly?’

  ‘There was me and Krystyna and Belle. And Clarissa.’

  ‘And you were swimming?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the girl.

  An intelligent conversation, this, Van Veeteren thought. Gliding along as if on rails.

  ‘Were you friends, the four of you?’

  ‘Yes… No, not exactly…’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Don’t they teach pupils how to speak in school nowadays? he wondered.

  ‘We were just… sort of.’

  ‘Really? What time was it when you were there, roughly speaking?’

  ‘I don’t know, but we were back at six o’clock in any case, that’s when we have dinner.’

  ‘Did anything special happen when you were down there by the rock?’

  ‘No – what do you mean, something special?’

  ‘I don’t know. What did you talk about?’

  ‘Nothing special.’

  ‘You didn’t fall out?’

  ‘Fall out?’

  ‘Yes. Do you understand what that means?’

  ‘Yes, but we don’t fall out at the Pure Life, only Other people do that.’

  ‘Are you telling me the truth?’

  ‘Clear.’

  Clear? the chief inspector thought. I’d better arrest more children so that I can learn how to communicate with them.

  But Marieke Bergson and the others hadn’t caused any problems of that kind, so he decided for the moment that it was Joanna Halle who was a bit hard to get through to. Not himself.

  ‘Were all four of you together all the time?’ he wondered.

  ‘Can’t remember.’

  ‘Do you remember how you left there?’

  Joanna Halle seemed actually to be thinking for the first time.

  ‘I was with Krys,’ she said.

  ‘Krystyna Sarek?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So Clarissa and Belle Moulder were together?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘But you don’t know?’

  ‘Yes, they were still there when we left. Or at least, Belle was.’

  ‘But you didn’t see Clarissa when you left the rock?’

  ‘Yes, she must have been there.’

  ‘Come on, you must make your mind up. Was Belle on her own or were they both there when you and Krystyna left?’

  ‘They were both there.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Clear.’

  The chief inspector sighed and glanced at the psychologist, but she looked as inscrutable as a potato in glasses. Das Ding an sich, he thought grimly. The thing in itself.

  ‘But you didn’t see Clarissa later on at all?’

  ‘No… No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Do you remember if you saw Yellinek at all when you got back here?’

  ‘Yellinek?’

  ‘Yes. Will it be easier if I ask every question twice?’

  The psychologist glared at him.

  ‘No, that’s not necessary,’ said Joanna Halle. ‘No, I didn’t see Yellinek until we went to the farm.’

  ‘So you’re saying you were one of those who went to collect the milk last Sunday evening?’

  ‘Of course. It was my turn.’

  She looked at him in a way he realized was meant to express mild contempt.

  ‘Who else was there?’

  She thought for a moment.

  ‘Krys and the sisters.’

  ‘The sisters?’

  ‘Yes, Lene and Tilde.’

  Van Veeteren nodded.

  ‘Let’s go back to the rock where you went swimming. Did you notice anybody else while you were there?’

  ‘No, we were the only ones there.’

  ‘No other grown-ups either?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And nobody else you recognized?’

  ‘No, I said there was only us there.’

  ‘How long were you there?’

  ‘I dunno… Not all that long.’

  ‘Did you notice if Clarissa was worried at all?’

  ‘No… No, she was the same as usual.’

  ‘And there was nothing else about her that made you think?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘She didn’t say she wanted to be on her own, or anything like that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And there wasn’t anybody who was nasty to her in some way or other?’

  ‘We are never nasty to one another, I’ve already told you that.’

  No, you little goose, the chief inspector thought as irritation threatened to get the better of him. But the fact is that Clarissa Heerenmacht met her murderer some time after you’d returned back home – and it could possibly have been you.

  ‘Are you thinking of leaving this church now?’ he asked.

  Joanna Halle’s face turned a deep red, and he couldn’t decide if she was angry or embarrassed. Neither could she, it seemed, and so she burst out crying instead.

  ‘Thank you, that’s all,’ he said, and hastened out into the sunshine, with the psychologist’s eyes sticking daggers into his back.

  It was three-quarters of an hour later, when he pulled into a petrol station just outside Sorbinowo, that he realized the fourth estate had by now caught up with the police.

  SEX PRIEST ON THE RUN!

  it said in bold print on the billboards.

  NEW CLUE IN THE GIRL MURDER!

  He wondered for a moment if somebody had leaked the information to the press, but then he realized that the information must have come from the girls who had already left Waldingen – and perhaps also the Pure Life – behind them.

  Ah well, he thought. Time to put on a false moustache and hide away in the woods, I reckon.

  There’s a time for everything.

  21

  On Friday, when they met to assess progress on the Clarissa Heerenmacht case, the temperature in acting Chief of Police Kluuge’s office was 33 degrees Celsius. And it was still only morning; it was also the first time the whole investigation team had assembled in the same place.

  ‘We are presumably the only idiots in town who are sitting indoors,’ said Suijderbeck.

  ‘Presumably,’ said Servinus.

  In addition to the pair of officers from Rembork, those present comprised the two female inspectors from Haaldam – Elaine Lauremaa and Anja Tolltse – plus team leader Kluuge and the consultant, Chief Inspector Van Veeteren from Maardam police. Six individuals in all. The team leader was wearing shorts, but that was not obvious when he was sitting at his desk.

  ‘The media have been making a bit of a meal of it,’ said Suijderbeck, producing a copy of Neuwe Blatt, which devoted its front page and two more full pages to developments in the Sorbinowo forests.

  And to the Pure Life. Specul
ation was rife in all the media regarding the absent spiritual leader and goings-on in the sect. The old lawsuit had been dug up, deserters had expressed their opinions with no beating about the bush, and one of the television channels had come close to flouting its own conventions regarding decency and decorum in a report on one of the girls who had left the camp and returned home – a starkly realistic, high-pressure interview with timid, stuttering parents and a red-eyed tearful thirteen-year-old trying to make their way from their car into their own terraced house on the outskirts of Stamberg.

  ‘Well, so what, for Christ’s sake?’ said Servinus. ‘Of course they’re going to write about it! What more could they ask for? Summer. Murder. Young girl. Mad priest! If they can’t sell extra copies on the back of a witch’s brew like that, I reckon they might as well throw in the towel, and start devoting their attention to Country Life instead.’

  ‘When was the Wanted message for Yellinek first sent out?’ the chief inspector asked.

  ‘Yesterday afternoon,’ said Kluuge. ‘We thought we might as well, since his disappearance had become public knowledge.’

  ‘Quite right,’ said Suijderbeck ‘As a matter of fact, I threatened the Three Sisters with Armageddon yesterday, if they failed to produce him by noon today. But they don’t read any newspapers, so my conscience is clear.’

  ‘What’s all this about a condom clue?’ Tolltse wondered. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Harrumph,’ said Kluuge. ‘Perhaps we ought to take matters in turn. The situation out at the summer camp – I take it that’s all over and done with now?’

  Anja Tolltse checked her watch.

  ‘One girl and one psychologist left. And two constables on guard. The girl will be collected in half an hour, assuming they are punctual. And I suppose we’ll be in a position to sum up our efforts out there once that’s done and dusted.’

  ‘Lots of journalists?’ Servinus asked.

  Tolltse nodded.

  ‘There were a few cars around when I left. They generally sneak around and take photos. They don’t approach the girl – although of course there’s nothing to stop them tagging on when the parents come to collect her. If they want another smutty scoop – I mean, a few of the others have been targeted.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Suijderbeck ‘An honourable corps of professionals, that lot. I’ll be damned if I don’t stop reading newspapers one of these days.’

  ‘All right,’ said Kluuge. ‘Anyway that search party is combing the woods today as well, looking for the other girl, of course. Let’s hope they don’t find anything.’

  ‘And that they don’t tell the hacks what they’re looking for,’ said Lauremaa. ‘Unless we want it made public that there’s another one missing, that is.’

  ‘I don’t understand why we don’t make a public appeal for information about her,’ said Tolltse. ‘Wouldn’t it be just as well?’

  Nobody spoke. Suijderbeck shrugged and Kluuge tried in vain to make eye contact with Van Veeteren, who was sitting with his eyes closed and a toothpick sticking out of the side of his mouth.

  ‘Well,’ said the chief inspector eventually. ‘I don’t think it matters much. In any case, she’s not going to be murdered while we sit around not mentioning that she’s disappeared.’

  ‘If she’s dead, she’s dead,’ said Suijderbeck.

  ‘Without a shadow of a doubt,’ said the chief inspector. ‘No, we ought to make contact with her parents first. Shall we go on?’

  ‘The weird sisters?’ asked Kluuge, looking unusually uncomprehending.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘It was just a reference. Macbeth. What’s the state of play at Wolgershuus?’

  ‘There’s not a lot one can say,’ said Suijderbeck. ‘All quiet on the western front, if we’re going to be literary. They’re in a world of their own. There might be a tiny bit of hope for Mathilde Ubrecht, but that’s just speculation. Still, if we were to think of picking out one of them for a bit of… er… special treatment, she’s the one I would recommend.’

  ‘Well, that’s a start,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘Hmm, I think I might take a trip out there this afternoon.’

  ‘I read somewhere that you can inject alcohol into people who are a bit unwilling to cooperate,’ said Servinus. ‘Push up the blood content by the odd percentage point, and it’s usually hard to shut them up.’

  ‘I think we’d better stick to more sober methods to start with,’ said the chief inspector. ‘That seems to be a bit more ethical.’

  ‘Ethical?’ muttered Servinus. ‘I didn’t realize we were playing cricket.’

  The chief inspector smiled inwardly, but it didn’t show on the outside.

  ‘How long can we keep them locked up on the present basis?’ wondered Lauremaa. ‘Don’t we have to charge them soon?’

  ‘Monday,’ said Servinus. ‘If nothing new happens. But none of them has asked for a lawyer, and none of them has said a word about being released, so I don’t know…’

  ‘It’s no doubt best to play it by the book,’ said Suijderbeck. ‘If we don’t they could use that against us later on.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said the chief inspector. ‘We should be able to break them over the weekend. Is one of the ladies interested in having a go?’

  He pointed his toothpick first at Tolltse, then Lauremaa.

  ‘I have the feeling there’s a bit of a gender barrier, you see.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Lauremaa.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind having an hour or two at home first,’ said Tolltse. ‘We’ve been here for four days now.’

  ‘What does our team leader say?’ asked Van Veeteren, using his toothpick as a pointer again.

  ‘Well…’ said Kluuge. ‘I don’t really know.’

  ‘Sunday,’ decided the chief inspector. ‘I’ll have a go before then, as I said, but if I don’t get anywhere you can have the whole of the Sabbath to see what you two can do.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Lauremaa. ‘That’ll be fun.’

  ‘Next,’ said the chief inspector. ‘What else is there to discuss?’

  For the first time for ages there was a trace of impatience in his voice. He noticed it himself, and wondered if it had to do with the heat, or the environment. Both, probably. In any case, he wished he had Munster and Reinhart at hand for an exchange of opinions.

  I’ve been spoilt over the years, he acknowledged. Worn out and disillusioned and God only knows what else, but definitely spoilt. I’d better bear that in mind, I suppose.

  ‘It seems there are no known rapists on the run around here at the moment,’ said Servinus, consulting a sheet of paper. ‘One has just been released from Ulmenthal, but it’s known for certain that he’s been a long way from here. So we’re presumably dealing with somebody new. Whether his name’s Yellinek or something else…’

  The chief inspector nodded.

  ‘Next,’ he said again.

  ‘We don’t have very much,’ said Kluuge. ‘A few more technical details, of course, after the report from forensics.’

  He rummaged through a file on the desk in front of him.

  ‘That fragment of rubber might be worth taking note of. A condom or something.’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been wondering about,’ said Tolltse. ‘Do rapists normally use condoms? I’ve never heard of that, anyway.’

  There was silence for a while. Suijderbeck scratched his wooden leg.

  ‘There are all sorts,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘Believe you me, all sorts…’

  ‘Besides, it might not have been a condom,’ Servinus pointed out. ‘They stress that it’s a very small fragment of rubber, and it could easily have been something else.’

  ‘What, for instance?’ asked Kluuge. But he received no answer.

  And just for a moment it was crystal clear that the whole of the investigation team were trying to conjure up the same image in their mind’s eye.

  The same infernal, elusive image.

  After the press conference – which this time l
asted for over an hour, and the chief inspector and Lauremaa had to field many of the questions in order to help out Kluuge, who was close to exhaustion – Van Veeteren had lunch with Suijderbeck at Florian’s. It was exactly a week since he’d been there the previous time, and in view of his estimation of where they were at, there was every reason to indulge themselves with a taste of the good life.

  Perhaps even the very best.

  ‘It’s a bloody circus,’ said Suijderbeck. ‘I think I’ll have eel.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Van Veeteren, ‘I associate eels with drowned corpses, forgive me. What do you mean by circus?’

  ‘These mass media clowns, of course. But I suppose you’re used to all that crap?’

  Van Veeteren shrugged.

  ‘It’s not easy to get used to it,’ he said. ‘But there is a bit of a discrepancy even so.’

  ‘Discrepancy?’ said Suijderbeck, sniffing at his glass of beer.

  ‘Between what’s written and what’s actually done. A lot more happens in the newspapers than in the investigation.’

  Suijderbeck tasted the beer and nodded.

  ‘Quite right,’ he said. ‘What happens and what seems to happen. Have we come up against a brick wall, do you think?’

  ‘What do you think?’ the chief inspector asked. ‘The girls have gone away. The women are saying nothing. Yellinek’s disappeared.’

  Suijderbeck pondered for a moment.

  ‘Katarina Schwartz,’ he said.

  ‘No trace,’ said the chief inspector. ‘Neither of her nor of her parents.’

  Suijderbeck sat silently for a while, contemplating his beer.

  ‘Okay,’ he said eventually. ‘We’ve reached a dead end. What do we do?’

  ‘Hard to say,’ said the chief inspector. ‘But go ahead and order your eel. I’ll start with some crab.’

  But once the food had arrived on the table, he knew it was all in vain. There was a time for everything, true, but even to think about being hungry at this time seemed to be almost indecent. He glanced sadly over the table, where Suijderbeck was tucking eagerly into his fatty greasy fish.

  Despite all the marbled corpses of young girls. Despite all the infinitesimal fragments of rubber. Despite all the circular saws.

  Perverse, he thought. One of these days I simply won’t be able to stand it in this world any more.