Barboza!
“Well?” said di Barboza.
“Well what?”
“What else do you want to know? I’m starting to run out of time, Chief Inspector.”
“Two things,” he said. “First of all, do you know if Miss Ringmar had a relationship with a man while she worked here. . She lived in, I believe, is that the case?”
“She had a room in the Curie Annex, yes. No, I don’t know if she had a relationship. Was that one question or two, Chief Inspector?”
He ignored the correction.
“Can you give me the name of a colleague, somebody who was friendly with her, who might be able to answer some more detailed questions?”
The headmistress slid back her spectacles and thought that one over.
“Kempf,” she said. “Miss Kempf has the room next to the one Miss Ringmar used to live in. I believe they were good friends as well. In any case, I saw them together occasionally.”
“You don’t mix with the other teachers yourself, Miss di Barboza?”
“No, I try to keep a certain distance. We respect one another, but we cannot ignore the fact that we have different responsibilities. Our statutes define the role of the headmistress as the person in overall charge of the school, and the responsibilities that entails. It’s not up to me to question those statutes.”
She checked the watch that was hanging on a chain around her neck. Van Veeteren remembered something Reinhart had said not so long ago: “I normally steer well clear of women who wear a watch around their neck.”
Van Veeteren wondered what it meant. Perhaps it contained a kernel of great wisdom, like quite a few things that Reinhart came out with.
In any case, he was relieved to get out into the fresh air. He crossed over the large lawn, despite di Barboza’s express instructions to stick to the paved paths. He could feel her eyes boring into his back.
Two girls aged about twelve, wearing overalls over their school uniform, were busy painting the trunk of a fruit tree white. He approached them cautiously, and attracted their attention by coughing.
“Excuse me, but does this happen to be the Curie Annex?”
“Yes. The entrance is over there.”
They both pointed with their paintbrushes, and giggled modestly.
“Why are you painting the tree white?”
They looked at him in surprise.
“Dunno. . It’s what we were told to do.”
Presumably to discourage the male dogs in the neighbor-hood from peeing on it, he thought as he opened the door.
It was some time before he was able to talk to Miss Kempf.
She had three more tests to mark, and it was impossible to break off until the whole damned lot was finished, if he didn’t mind.
He didn’t. He sat in an armchair behind her back and watched her as she completed her task. A well-built woman in late middle age, more or less as old as he was, in fact. He wondered if di Barboza had been right to pair her off with Eva Ringmar-there must have been at least fifteen years between them?
But it was correct. Eva Kempf put the kettle on for tea, and explained. “Friends” was probably a bit too strong a word: Miss Ringmar was not the type to open her heart up, but it had seemed that she felt the need for. . an elder sister? Yes, more or less. Eva and Eva. A big one and a small one. And they lived next door to each other, after all. What did he want to know?
For the hundredth time he asked the same question and received the same answer.
No, she hadn’t seen a man around. Miss Kempf was lesbian herself, there was no point in pretending otherwise. . Or rather, had been: she had now withdrawn for good from the battlefields of love.
And it was a damned good feeling, she could assure the chief inspector.
No, Eva Ringmar hadn’t had the slightest lesbian tendencies, you could see that kind of thing right away.
But men?
No. Not that she knew of. But she didn’t know everything, of course. Why was he sitting like that? Something wrong with his back? If he lay down on the bed she could massage his muscles for a while.
Presumably he had other things to ask about while she was doing that?
Van Veeteren hesitated. But not for long.
She couldn’t make it any worse, surely?
“So there! Fold the waistband of your trousers down a bit so that I can get at you. That’s better!”
“Ouch! For Christ’s sake! Fire away, Miss Kempf!”
“What about, Chief Inspector?”
“Anything at all. Did she go away sometimes? Did she receive any letters? Mysterious telephone calls in the night. .?”
She pressed her thumbs into his spine.
“She received letters.”
“From a man?”
“That’s possible.”
“How often?”
“Not all that often. She didn’t get much mail at all.”
“Where were they posted?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Domestic or from abroad?”
“I don’t know. From abroad, perhaps.”
“But she received a number of letters from the same person?”
“Yes. I think it was a man.”
“Why do you think that? Ouch!”
“You can tell.”
“Travels?”
“Yes. She did a fair bit of traveling. Several times to her mother. Or so she said, at least.”
“But?”
“She might have been lying.”
“So it’s possible that she received letters from a man, and it’s possible that she occasionally went off to meet this man?”
“Yes.”
“How strong is the possibility?”
“I don’t know, Chief Inspector. She was a bit. . reserved.
Secretive. I never pressed her. People have a right to a life of their own-believe you me! I’ve been lesbian since I was seventeen!”
“Aaagh! Christ Almighty! Be careful. . that’s where it’s worst.”
“I can feel that, Chief Inspector. What kind of a litter did you spend last night on? Go on.”
“How often?”
“How often did she go away, do you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Two or three times a term, perhaps. Just for the weekend, a few days.”
“Vacations?”
“I don’t know. I’m always away during the holidays. But I don’t think she stayed here. She went on a package holiday once. Greece, I think. But she liked traveling, that’s for sure.”
“Her husband. . Andreas Berger?”
“No, it wasn’t him, she never mentioned him.”
“Could he have been the letter writer?”
