child. The fact that she’d had a child with somebody else. Ah well, everything is in a hell of a mess now, Munster.”
“So he kills the child in order to punish her?”
“Yes, I think so. His concept of his ego seems to oscillate between an all-powerful god of retribution and a desperate young boy trying to cope with puberty and a lack of identity.”
“What about after that murder?”
“Eva protected him again, despite the fact that she was starting to go out of her mind herself. I think this is the point when she gave up on her life, when she realized that nothing could ever be normal. Maybe she also recognized that the bond between her and Rolf was stronger than she had imagined. Sexually as well. They resumed their forbidden relationship several times over those years. He lived in France-she didn’t want to have him too close-but she occasionally paid him a visit. That’s what he says, at least. Perhaps he imagined that everything would turn out as he wanted in the end, perhaps she breathed life back into his hopes.”
“But instead, she discarded him again.”
Van Veeteren nodded.
“She moved here. A new beginning. Maybe she didn’t tell him where she’d gone, but he tracked her down, of course. He even managed to get a job at the same school eventually. It must have been a nasty shock for her when the headmaster introduced the new school janitor.”
“Was that this year?”
“Yes, in January. The beginning of term after the Christmas holidays.”
“And so she married Mitter just to show him the way things stood?”
Van Veeteren sighed.
“Yes, could be. Perhaps she was just as mad as he was. I had the impression from Mitter that their relationship was something that exceeded his comprehension. That their lovemaking was a matter of life or death all the time. Well, something along those lines, I think.”
“Why did he kill her instead of Mitter?”
“I think it was an impulse, something he did on the spur of the moment. Possibly an attempt to get rid of the awful circumstances once and for all. Whatever, it was all a series of accidents, pure chance. The fact that Mitter was so drunk that he lost his memory was not something Ferger had anticipated, of course. He’d expected Mitter to say that Ferger had been with them earlier that evening, but was confident that there was nothing to indicate that he’d returned later and murdered her. He must have wondered why on earth he heard nothing from the police.”
Van Veeteren shook his head.
“Six murders,” he said. “I thought there were four, or possibly five. But there were six.” He paused, and gazed out the window into the darkness.
“What do you think it is,” he asked, “that makes his mother want to keep on living? Why the hell doesn’t she take her own life? Or just lie down and die?”
Munster thought for a moment.
“Hamlet? Too scared?”
“No. You’ve met her.”
“Is she religious?”
Van Veeteren couldn’t help laughing.
“What sort of a god would allow your husband to mistreat and degrade you, your children to indulge in incest, your son to murder your daughter. .”
Munster hesitated.
“I don’t know. Perhaps she is punishing herself-by carrying on living, I mean.”
Van Veeteren turned to look at Munster.
“Excellent,” he said in surprise. “Well done, Munster! I shall have to remember not to underestimate you in the future.”
“Thank you,” said Munster. “We’re nearly at the airport.
There was just one more thing.”
“Well?”
“I’d be grateful if you could send a card, sir. For the sake of the stamp. My boy has started collecting stamps. . ”
“Of course,” said Van Veeteren.
Munster parked the car and took out the bags.
“So, I’ll see you in January,” said Van Veeteren.
“The end of January,” said Munster. “I’m taking two weeks’ vacation after New Year’s.”
“Good for you, Munster! Where are you going?”
“The Maldives,” said Munster, smiling modestly.
“Excellent, Munster,” said Van Veeteren, shaking his hand.
“But keep in form. I’m not going to be easy to handle when I get back.”
“I know,” said Munster.
45
The woman grabbed him by the arm.
What now, for Christ’s sake? Ingrun thought. He had just sat down and lit a cigarette. Why could they never leave him in peace?
“What do you want?” he said, trying to shake his arm free.
Her nails were digging into him.
“Luke, chapter 15, verse 11!” she hissed.
“Eh?”
“Luke, 15:11! I was going to read the Bible, and found that somebody’s been scribbling in it!”
He saw that she was holding a Bible in her other hand.
Brandishing it, with a bony index finger stuck inside it.
“Let me see!”
She let go of his arm. Opened the Bible and handed it to him. Right across one of the pages was written in large, bold letters:
“God will never forgive that!” she cried in anguish, wring-ing her hands.
Ingrun hesitated for a moment. Then he tore out the page and threw it into the waste bin.
“Read something else!” he said, closing the Bible.
