The beach was deserted. Just as empty behind her as in front of her. She checked the time. Twenty-five past seven-a few more minutes and she’d come to the big rock and the tunnel under the road. Then the gentle climb into the woods, and back home…
Beate Moerk solves the riddle of the ax murderer!
The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner.
As she approached the top of the last hill, she felt very tired.
The lactic acid was making her thighs ache, and her heart was pumping salvos of blood into her throat… nearly at the top now. Pure willpower: clench your fists, grit your teeth and force yourself up those last few yards. Then, once over the top, it’s downhill again-a chance to take it easy, let your body recover, prepare for the last lap, the gently sloping stretch through the beech wood down to the smokehouse and the parking lot…
Thinking about the easy finish, the waiting car and a hot shower carried her to the top and gave her a good start on the downward slope; but even if she’d been a little less tired, and even if the light had been a bit more favorable that warm Sep 1 9 9 tember evening, it is highly unlikely that she would have noticed the dark steel wire in time.
It was stretched across the track at just below knee height and right at the bottom of the hill-just where the leaves of a lime tree added another layer to the gathering darkness. She fell headlong to the ground, and before she had even registered what was happening, he was over her.
31
“I think we’ll have to ask the press to leave us on our own for a while,” said Van Veeteren, putting his hand on Cruickshank’s shoulder. “But I can take your chair.”
Munster looked up. Van Veeteren had the Melnik report under his arm, and he looked determined. The network of burst blood vessels had changed from red to blue. The bags under his eyes had prominent black edges. Positive signs, no doubt about it.
“Godammit!” said Cruickshank. “So the breakthrough has come after seven hard years? May I be the first to congratulate you. What’s his name?”
“Who?” asked Munster.
“The Axman, of course,” said Cruickshank.
“You can have a ringside interview tomorrow morning,”
Van Veeteren promised him. “Provided you’re a good boy and go to bed now.”
Cruickshank swallowed the remains of his whiskey and water and stood up. Swaying noticeably and looking as if he might be forced to make an emergency landing on the chair again, he managed to recover. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “All right,” he said. “Gentlemen’s agreement. Good night, gentlemen. You know my room number.”
He thanked Munster for his company, and walked unsteadily out of the bar.
“Poor devil,” said Munster.
“Why?” asked Van Veeteren. “I’ll have a large beer, please.”
“Well?” said Van Veeteren, sucking the foam from the top of his tankard. “Youth before beauty. What have you found?”
Munster picked up the bundle of pages and leafed through them.
“Well,” he said. “There’s this Podworsky-”
Van Veeteren nodded.
“Eugen Podworsky, yes. What about him?”
“I know nothing about him,” said Munster. “But there’s a link, in any case. I assume the others, Bausen and the inspec tors, can make a better judgment. If he’s known in Kaalbrin gen, that is…”
Van Veeteren lit a cigarette.
“I’ve just spoken to Bausen,” he said. “He says it’s not impossible, at least. Seems to be the right type-a loner who lives out in the boonies, on the way to Linden. About four miles inland in a straight line from the coast. He’s been inside for manslaughter as well, although that was an age ago. Yes, this could be an opening; it could be him.”
“Violent?” asked Munster.
“Has a long memory, in any case, according to Bausen. Not quite right in the head either, it seems. He doesn’t have much contact with other people. Took early retirement in 1975, I think it was. Anyway, we can look into that tomorrow-it would probably be as well to prepare ourselves a bit before we land on him. He could certainly stir up a lot of trouble if it turns out not to be him, says Bausen.”
Munster nodded. Van Veeteren drank deeply, and smacked his lips in contentment.
“Dammit all, Munster,” said Van Veeteren. “I only have to set eyes on his type, and I’ll be able to tell if he did it or not. It’s time we went back home, don’t you think?”
Munster shuffled around on his chair.
“What’s the matter?” asked Van Veeteren. “Are you about to lay an egg?”
“Just a little detail, that’s all,” said Munster hesitantly. “No doubt it’s not important. I had a message from Inspector
Moerk. She’d come across something and asked me to ring her-”
“And?”
“Well, she doesn’t answer. She was supposed to be home by eight or so. I’ve tried several times.”
Van Veeteren checked his watch.
“Five past eleven,” he said. “Try one more time before you go to bed. It’ll just be a man, no doubt.”
Yes, thought Munster. It’s just a man, of course.
III
32
Bausen looked unshaven but energetic. He hung his dirt brown jacket over the back of his chair and rolled up his shirt sleeves to well above the elbow.
“Eugen Podworsky,” he said, pointing at Kropke with a yellow pencil. “What do we know about him?”
“Quite a lot,” said Kropke enthusiastically. “Shall we start from the beginning, or-”
“Yes,” said Bausen. “I don’t suppose anybody’s managed to miss the fact that he is involved in two of the cases, but it’s probably just as well to establish a comprehensive background before we get going.”
“One moment,” said Van Veeteren. “I think we need to dis cuss Inspector Moerk first.”
Bausen looked around the table, as if he had only just real ized that not everybody was present.
“What’s the matter with Moerk? Why isn’t she here?”
“Hmm,” said Van Veeteren. “I think Munster had better explain.”
Munster took a deep breath.
“Well,” he said, “I received a message at the hotel last night… from Inspector Moerk. She asked me to call her.
Something had struck her in connection with the Melnik report, the note said, but she doesn’t seem to have been home since yesterday evening. I haven’t been able to contact her.”
“What the hell?” said Bausen. “Something had struck her… Podworsky, you mean?”
Munster flung his arms out wide.
