There was probably more than one place, now that he came to think about it.
And about how he would cope with this new emptiness that seemed to have replaced the previous one, and sometimes felt like an enormous vacuum inside him. Insistent and almost endless. But inside him.
I have dug a hole in order to fill another one, he thought.
And this new one is so much bigger. Give me a sign, Bitte!
“A spectacular place,” said Van Veeteren, looking around.
“The terrace is best,” said Bausen. “You’re sitting on top of the world, as it were.”
Van Veeteren sat down. Thought fleetingly about The Blue
Ship. It was quite empty up here as well, but perhaps it was dif ferent in the evenings. At the moment, there was only a soli tary gentleman with a newspaper by the picture window, and a few women in hats just in front of the grand piano. A waiter dressed in black bowed and handed over two menus bound in leather.
“Lunch,” said Van Veeteren. “Now it’s my turn. Get enough inside you to keep you going for a while. We all work best on a full stomach-think best, at least.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday,” said Bausen.
“I can’t take any more of this,” said Beate Moerk. “If I have to talk to another single doctor, I’ll strangle him.”
“Go back to the car and wait,” said Munster. “I’ll deal with this Mandrijn person-he’s due in five minutes.”
“Is he the one who lived in Simmel’s house?”
Munster nodded.
“OK,” said Beate Moerk. “Give him what he deserves. I’m going to lie down on the backseat under the blanket.”
“Good,” said Munster.
“My name is Inspector Kropke,” said Kropke.
“Funny first name,” said the woman, with a yawn. “But come in, even so.”
“So you lived next door to the Simmels in Las Brochas?”
“I certainly did.”
“Did you mix with them socially as well?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Why not?”
She raised her eyebrows a little.
“Why not? Because we had no desire to mix with them, of course. We met at the occasional party, naturally, but the bot tom line was that they didn’t have any style. My husband had quite a lot to do with Ernst, but I could never make her out.”
“Her?”
“Yes, the wife… Grete, or whatever her name is.”
“Were there any… improprieties as far as the Simmels were concerned?”
“Improprieties? What do you mean by that?”
“Well, did you hear anything… did they have any ene mies, was there anything illegal, for instance? We’re trying to find a motive, you see-”
“My dear Inspector, we don’t go ferreting about for such things in Las Brochas. We leave everybody in peace there. Lots of people have moved there precisely to get away from all the interfering authorities who can’t stop sticking their noses into other people’s business.”
Style? thought Kropke.
“So that’s the way it is,” he said. “Maybe you think we shouldn’t give a toss about tracking down murderers and that kind of thing?”
“Don’t be silly. Go and do your job. That’s what you’re paid to do, after all. But leave honest folk in peace. Was there any thing else?”
“No, thank you,” said Kropke. “I think I’ve had enough.”
“Name and address?” said Bang.
“Why?” asked the twelve-year-old.
“This is a police investigation,” said Bang.
“Uwe Klejmert,” said the boy. “The address is here.”
Bang noted it down.
“Where were you on the evening of Wednesday, Septem ber eighth?”
“Is that last week? When the Axman murdered Maurice
Ruhme?”
“Yes.”
“Then I was at home.”
“Here?”
“Yes. I watched Clenched Fist till ten o’clock. Then I went to bed.”
“Did you notice anything unusual?”
“Yes, my sister had made my bed.”
“Nothing else?”
“No. Did he scream?”
“Who?”
“Ruhme.”
“I don’t think so,” said Bang. “I didn’t hear anything, in any case, and I was the first on the scene. Are your parents not at home?”
“No,” said the boy. “They’re at work. They’ll be home around six.”
“All right,” said Bang. “Tell them to report to the police if they think they might have some significant information.”
“Signi…?”
“Significant. If they’ve seen or heard anything odd, that is.”
“So that you can nail the Axman?”
“Exactly.”
“I promise,” said Uwe Klejmert.
Bang put his notebook away in his inside pocket, and saluted.
“Aren’t you going to ask me why Sis made my bed?”
“All right,” said Bang. “Why did she? I’ve never heard of a sister making the bed for anybody.”
“She’d borrowed my Walkman and broke the earphones.”
“Typical sister,” said Bang.
“Do you have a pleasant time at your hotel in the evenings, you and DCI Van Veeteren?” asked Beate Moerk.
“Very pleasant,” said Munster.
“Otherwise I could offer you a toasted sandwich and a glass of wine.”
“Tonight?”
“Why not?” said Beate Moerk. “But I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to avoid talking shop.”
“That’s no problem,” said Munster. “I have a feeling we ought to get this case solved pretty damn soon.”
“My own feeling precisely,” said Beate Moerk.
25
She swooped down on him just outside the entrance, and he realized she must have been standing there, waiting. Hidden by the privet hedge that ran all the way along the front of the hotel, presumably. Or behind one of the poplars.
