the lines, but soon she would be forgotten. It had all been so intense that it was preor-dained to come to an end. An episode to add to the plot? A sonnet? A will-o’-the-wisp?
Finished. Dead, but not mourned.
End of valediction. End of contradiction.
The chief inspector’s chair scraped. Mitter gave a start. No doubt this was. . no doubt this must be the paralysis, the state of shock that was driving his thoughts into such chan-nels. That had crushed and demolished everything, made it impossible for him to grasp what had happened. To grasp what was happening to him. .?
“I’m right, am I not?”
Van Veeteren spat out a toothpick and took a new one from his breast pocket.
“Yes, of course. I grew tired of her and drowned her in the bath. Why should I miss her?”
“Good. Exactly what I thought. Now we’ll move on to something else. She had rather a beautiful body, did she not?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“I shall ask whatever questions I like. Was she strong?”
“Strong?”
“Was she strong? Will it be easier for you if I ask each question several times?”
“Why do you want to know if she was strong?”
“In order to exclude the possibility of her having been drowned by a child or an invalid.”
“She was not especially strong.”
“How do you know? Did you fight?”
“Only when we were bored.”
“Do you have a tendency to be violent, Mr. Mitter?”
“No, you don’t need to be afraid.”
“Can you give me six candidates?”
“Eh?”
“Six candidates who might have murdered her, if it wasn’t you who did it.”
“I’ve already named several possibilities.”
“I want to know if you remember the persons you mentioned.”
“I don’t understand why.”
“That’s irrelevant. I have no exaggerated ideas about your intelligence.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Now I’ll explain. Tell me if I’m going too fast for you. In seven out of ten cases it’s the husband who m i n d ’ s e y e
kills his wife. In two out of ten it’s somebody else in the circle of acquaintances.”
“And in the tenth?”
“It’s an outsider. A madman or some kind of sex killer.”
“So you don’t regard sex murderers as madmen?”
“Not necessarily. Well?”
“Our mutual enemies, you mean?”
“Or hers.”
“We didn’t have much of a social life. I’ve already talked about this.”
“I know. You stopped meeting most of your so-called friends when you got together. Well? If you give me six names, you can have a cigarette! Isn’t that how you do things at school?”
“Marcus Greijer.”
“Your former brother-in-law?”
“Yes.”
“Whom you hate. Go on!”
“Joanna Kemp and Gert Weiss.”
“Colleagues. Languages and. . social studies?”
“Klaus Bendiksen.”
“Status?”
“Close friend. Andreas Berger.”
“Who’s he?”
“Her former husband. One more?”
Van Veeteren nodded.
“Uwe Borgmann.”
“Your neighbor?”
“Yes.”
“Greijer, Kemp, Weiss. . Bendiksen, Berger, and. .
Borgmann. Five men and a woman. Why these particular people?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yesterday you gave me a list of ”-he picked up a sheet of paper and added up rapidly-“twenty-eight names. Andreas Berger is not on that list, but all the rest are. Why did you pick out this particular six?”
“Because you asked me to.”
Mitter lit a cigarette. The chief inspector’s advantage was not as great now, that could be felt clearly, although he might have slackened off a little in the hope that Mitter would give something away.
But what?
Van Veeteren glared sullenly at the cigarette and switched off the cassette recorder.
“I shall tell you how things stand. I have received the final medical report today, and it is completely out of the question that she could have killed herself. That leaves three possibilities. One: you killed her. Two: one of the people on your list did it, either one of the six whose names you have just given me, or one of the others. Three: she was the victim of an unknown murderer.”
He paused briefly, took the toothpick out of his mouth, and contemplated it. Evidently it was not quite completely chewed up, so he put it back between his front teeth.
“Personally, I think it was you who did it, but I admit that I’m not quite certain.”
“Thank you very much.”
“On the other hand, I’m pretty sure that the court will find you guilty. I want you to be aware of that, and when it comes to verdicts passed in court I am hardly ever wrong.”
He stood up. Put the cassette recorder into his briefcase and rang for the warder.
“If this lawyer of yours tries to fool you into thinking anything different, it’s only because he’s trying to do his job.
You shouldn’t be under any illusion. I don’t intend to disturb you any more. I’ll see you in court.”
For a moment Mitter thought Van Veeteren was going to shake hands, but of course, that would not have been possible.
Instead the chief inspector turned his back on Mitter, and although it was nearly two minutes before the warder appeared, he remained motionless, staring at the door.
As if he were in an elevator. Or as if Mitter had ceased to exist the moment the conversation was over.
7
Elmer Suurna wiped an imaginary speck of dust from his desk with the sleeve of his jacket. Glanced out the window as he did so and wished it were the summer vacation.
Or at least the Christmas vacation.
But it was October. He sighed. Ever since taking up his post as headmaster of Bunge High School fifteen years ago, he had cherished an ambition. One only.
To keep his handsome red-oak desktop clean and shiny.
