“Doesn’t matter,” said Beate Moerk. “But when you’ve got them off, I want a bathroom for three hours.”
“Of course,” said Van Veeteren. “You’ve built up plenty of overtime.”
Then he started to lead them back.
Kropke and Mooser were already waiting for them on the patio.
“He’s not at home,” said Kropke.
“Oh, shit,” said Van Veeteren.
“You can put me down if you like,” said Beate Moerk. “I might be able to walk…”
“Out of the question,” said Munster.
“Where the hell is he?” grunted Van Veeteren. “It’s half past five in the morning… shouldn’t he be in his goddamn bed?”
Beate Moerk had opened her eyes, but was shading them with her hand from the faint light of dawn.
“He was with me not long ago,” she said.
“Not long ago?” said Kropke.
“I have a bit of a problem with judging time,” she explained. “An hour… maybe two.”
“He didn’t say where he was going?” asked Van Veeteren.
Beate Moerk searched her mind.
“No,” she said. “But he wanted a sign, he said-”
“A sign?” said Mooser.
“Yes.”
Van Veeteren thought that over for a while. He lit a ciga rette and started pacing up and down over the paving stones.
“Hmm,” he said eventually and came to a halt. “Yes, that’s possible, of course… why not? Munster!”
“Yes.”
“See to it that the chains are removed and get Inspector
Moerk to the hospital.”
“Home,” said Beate Moerk.
Van Veeteren muttered.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll send a doctor instead.”
She nodded.
“Kropke and Mooser, come with me!”
“Where do you think he is?” asked Kropke when Munster and
Moerk had left.
“With his family,” said Van Veeteren. “Where he belongs.”
51
“I’ll be all right,” said Beate Moerk.
“Sure?”
“Of course. A spell in the bath and I’ll be a rose again.”
“The doctor will be here in half an hour. I’d prefer to stay until then.”
“No, thank you,” she said with a faint smile. “Get back to your family now.”
He paused, his hand on the door handle.
“That report… ” he said. “How much of it did you read, in fact?”
She laughed.
“All right, I’ll come clean. Nothing. It was the pagination that intrigued me. When I handed over the original, I looked at the last page and saw that it numbered thirty-five, at the bot tom… I think I said something about it at the time.”
“True,” said Munster, remembering the moment.
“There were no numbers on the copy… that’s all. I didn’t know a thing about his daughter when I drove to the station.
I’ve only been working here for four years; she was dead when
I started. I just wanted to check if I could find anything in the copying room. I suppose he must have seen me when I arrived, or as I was leaving… that’s all. Maybe it was pure coinci dence; I don’t know if he thought I knew something. Anything else you’re wondering about?”
Munster shook his head.
“Well, quite a bit in fact,” he said. “But it can wait.”
“Go now,” she said. “But give me a hug first, if you can stand the stink.”
“Come on, I’ve been carrying you around all morning,” said Munster, throwing his arms around her.
“Ouch,” said Beate Moerk.
“So long, then,” said Munster. “Look after yourself.”
“You too.”
He saw him from some considerable distance away.
In the faint light of dawn, he was standing in the same place as he’d been that evening, right at the beginning.
Back then, when he’d chosen not to approach him. Not to disturb his sorrow.
Like then, he had his hands thrust deep into his pockets.
Head bowed. He was standing perfectly still, legs wide apart, as if he’d been waiting for a long time and wanted to make sure that he didn’t lose his balance.
Concentrating hard. Deep in what might have been prayer,
Van Veeteren thought, but perhaps he was simply waiting.
Waiting for something to happen.
Or perhaps it was just sorrow. His back made it so clear he didn’t want to be disturbed that Van Veeteren hesitated to approach. He gestured to Kropke and Mooser to keep their dis tance… so that he would have him to himself for at least a short while.
“Good morning,” he said when there were only a couple of yards left, and Bausen must have heard his footsteps in the gravel. “I’m coming now.”
“Good morning,” said Bausen, without moving.
Van Veeteren put his hand on Bausen’s shoulder. Stood still for a while, reading what it said on the headstone.
Brigitte Bausen
6.18.1961-9.30.1988
Helena Bausen
2.3.1932-9.27.1991
“Yesterday?” said Van Veeteren.
Bausen nodded.
“Five years ago. As you can see, her mother didn’t quite make it in the end… but she was only three days short.”
They stood in silence for a while. Van Veeteren could hear
Kropke coughing in the background, and held up a warning hand without looking around.
“I ought to have realized sooner,” he said. “You’ve given me a few signs.”
Bausen didn’t answer at first. Shrugged his shoulders, and shook his head.
“Signs,” he said eventually. “I don’t receive any signs… I’ve been standing here, waiting, for quite a long time, not just right now…”
“I know,” said Van Veeteren. “Perhaps… perhaps the absence of any is a sign in itself.”
Bausen raised his eyes.
“God’s silence?” He shuddered, and looked Van Veeteren in the eye. “I’m sorry about Moerk… have you released her?”
