“Depends,” said Bang. “Neighbors, that’s all. What’s he doing here?”
Wollner stared at the floor.
“Bang,” said Bausen, trying to retain control of his voice.
“Don’t tell us that you’ve been discussing your work with this, er, gentleman in the recent past?”
Constable Bang shuffled awkwardly and started to look worried.
“Do you mean about the Axman?”
“Yes, I mean the Axman,” said Bausen.
“I suppose I might have,” said Bang. “Does it matter?”
“You could say that,” said Bausen.
“Fucking idiot,” said Kropke.
“Ah, well,” said Bausen. “He cost us the best part of a day. I apologize for not trusting your judgment.”
“Best never to trust anybody’s judgment,” said Van Veeteren.
“One day here and there doesn’t make much difference,” said Kropke. “That’s what we’re always doing anyway wasting time.”
“Do you have anything constructive to suggest?” wondered
Bausen.
Kropke didn’t respond.
“What time is it?” asked Mooser.
“Nearly four,” said Bausen. “Perhaps it’s time to wind up today. Or does anybody have any ideas?”
Van Veeteren snapped a toothpick. Mooser scratched the back of his neck. Munster stared up at the ceiling. What a shit house of an investigation! he thought. I’m going to be stuck here for the rest of my life. I’ll never see Synn and the kids again. I might as well resign on the spot. I’ll drive back home tonight, and that’s that.
Inspector Moerk entered the room with a bundle of papers in her hand.
“What’s this? A wake?” she asked. “It’s come.”
“What has?” asked Kropke.
“The report from Aarlach. What’s his name? Melnik? A solid bit of work, by the look of it-thirty-five pages.”
“Is that all?” wondered Van Veeteren.
“Let me have a look,” said Bausen, taking hold of the docu ments. He leafed through them.
“Well, it’s a chance, I suppose,” he muttered. “I think we can regard this as our homework. I’ll copy it, and then we can all read it before tomorrow’s meeting.”
“Good,” said Van Veeteren.
“You mean we’re going to work this Saturday as well?” wondered Mooser.
“We’ll go through it tomorrow morning,” Bausen decided.
“Everybody who finds an Axman gets a medal. You’ll all get a copy within the half hour.”
“Does that include me?” asked Mooser.
“Of course,” said Bausen. “We’re all in the same club here.”
“What club is that?” asked Mooser.
“The headless chickens’ alliance,” said Bausen.
29
“I think I need a walk,” said Van Veeteren as they left the sports hall. “Can you take my bag back to the hotel?”
“Of course,” said Munster. “What do you think of the Mel nik report?”
“Nothing until I’ve read it,” said Van Veeteren. “If you buy me a beer in the bar tonight, we can talk about it then-a nightcap at about eleven, is that a deal?”
“Maybe,” said Munster.
“A warm wind,” said Van Veeteren, sniffing the air. “Even though it’s coming from the north. Unusual… nature’s out of joint somewhere. I think I’ll stroll along the beach.”
“See you later,” said Munster, scrambling into the car.
In the foyer he bumped into Cruickshank, who was on his way to the bar with a few evening papers under his arm. The other reporters had disappeared some days ago; only Cruickshank was still around, for some reason.
“Good evening. Anything new?”
Munster shook his head.
“Why do they keep you here day after day?” he asked. “I don’t suppose you’ve written anything for a week now.”
“It’s at my own request,” said Cruickshank. “Things are a bit nasty on the home front.”
“Really?” said Munster.
“My wife won’t have me in the house. Can’t say I blame her either, although it’s not very stimulating hanging around this dump day in, day out. I’m trying to write a series of articles about refugees, but that’s mainly to prevent me from going up the wall.”
“Oh, dear,” said Munster.
“What about you?” asked Cruickshank. “I don’t suppose you’re having a fun time either?”
Munster thought for a moment before replying.
“No. I wouldn’t say fun was the word.”
Cruickshank sighed and shrugged.
“I thought I’d sit in the bar for a while. You’re welcome to join me.”
“Thanks,” said Munster. “I have some reading to do first, later on perhaps.”
Cruickshank slapped him on the back and headed for the bar. There was a distinct whiff of brandy, Munster noticed as he walked past. A necessity for survival, no doubt. He went to reception and collected his key.
“Just a minute,” said the girl, reaching down behind the counter. “There’s a message for you as well.”
She handed him a white envelope that he slipped into his pocket. When he got to his room, he slit it open with a pen and read the contents:
Hi!
I’ve just been reading through the Aarlach report.
Something struck me.
Pretty bizarre, but I need to check it out.
I’ll be at home when I’ve finished jogging at about eight. Ring me then.
Love, B.
He checked his watch. Twenty past seven. Could there really be something in the report? he wondered, fingering the pile of pages on his bedside table. That would be a blessing worth praying for.
I’d better get reading, in any case. But first a call to Synn.
Van Veeteren continued along the Esplanade and past the west pier before going down to the sands. Twilight had started to fall, but there was probably another hour of light left; growing weaker, it was true, but good enough for him to keep his bear ings, he thought. The warm wind was even more noticeable down on the beach, and he considered for a moment taking his shoes off and strolling barefoot through the sand-the warm sand next to the wall. But he decided against it. The sea seemed apathetic, as it had done during the weeks he’d spent in the cottage; the waves were choppy but uninterested, devoid of life…
We’ve had enough of each other, the sea and I, he thought, and he became conscious of a mood he recognized from his childhood summers. When he longed to be back at home, longed to be inland, as he used to put it in those days. When he dreamed of eternity shrinking, so that he could overview it.
He wanted to put a frame around everything that was timeless and infinite and seemed to grow and grow under the skies along the coast…
Was that what he was feeling now as well?
Was the bottom line that it was more difficult to handle things by the sea? Did this endless gray mirror make every thing incomprehensible and impossible to master? Make this case so totally hopeless? Reinhart claimed that it
