The Return

Moltke had set off for home and Verhaven’s return.

Or at least that she had been abducted during that time.

Irrefutable?

Certainly, he decided. He glared mournfully at the empty bottle, then turned to the transcript from the court proceedings. Day two of the trial. The prosecutor, Hagendeck, cross-questioned the accused, Leopold Verhaven.

May twenty-fourth. Half past ten in the morning.

H: You have pleaded not guilty to killing your fiancee, Beatrice Holden. Is that correct?

V: Yes.

H: Can you tell us a little about your relationship?

V: What do you want to know?

H: How you met, for instance.

V: We bumped into each other in Linzhuisen. We were at school together. She came home with me.

H: That first time? You started a relationship right away?

V: We knew each other previously. She needed a man.

H: When did she move in with you?

V: A week later.

H: So that would be. .

V: November 1960.

H: And she has been living with you ever since?

V: Yes, of course.

H: All the time?

V: She visited her mother and her daughter occasionally.

Stopped over in Elming for the odd night. But more or less all the time, yes.

H: Were you engaged?

V: No.

H: You didn’t intend to get married?

V: No.

H: Why not?

V: That wasn’t why we lived together.

H: Why did you live together, then?

[Verhaven’s reply erased]

H: I see. Did you fall out at all?

V: Sometimes.

H: Did you fight?

V: Now and again, I suppose.

H: Did you beat her at all?

V: Yes. She liked it.

H: She liked you beating her?

V: Yes.

H: How do you know? Did she say so?

V: No, but I know she liked it.

H: How can you know that if she never said anything?

V: You can tell. They show it.

H: What do you mean by “they”?

V: Women.

H: Did she hit you as well?

V: She tried, but I was stronger than she was.

H: Did you drink a lot of hard liquor together?

V: No, not all that much.

H: But it did happen?

V: Yes. We used to have a few drinks on a Saturday, seeing as I had Sunday off.

H: Off? Didn’t you have to look after the hens?

V: Yes, of course; but I didn’t have to go to market.

H: I see. Can you tell us what happened on Saturday, March thirtieth? The week before Beatrice

disappeared, that is.

V: We drank a bit. Fell out. I hit her.

H: Why?

V: She annoyed me. I think she wanted a bit of a beating.

H: How did she annoy you?

V: She was being difficult.

H: You beat her so badly that she had to take refuge with a neighbor. It was three in the morning. She had no

clothes on. What do you say to that?

V: She was drunk.

H: But that doesn’t mean she wanted a bit of a beating, does it?

[No reply from Verhaven]

H: Don’t you think that was overstepping the mark, beating your fiancee so violently that she had to flee to a neighbor for safety?

V: She didn’t need to go. She was drunk and hysterical.

She came back again later, after all.

H: What about the following week? Did you beat her

several times?

V: No, not that I recall.

H: Not that you recall?

V: No.

H: Why should you forget something like that?

V: I’ve no idea.

H: What did you do when you got back home on

Saturday, April sixth?

V: Made a meal and ate it.

H: Nothing else?

V: Saw to the hens.

H: Where was Beatrice when you got home?

V: I don’t know.

H: What do you mean by that?

V: That I don’t know.

H: Shouldn’t she have been at home?

V: Maybe.

H: Had you arranged anything?

V: No.

H: She hadn’t planned to go anywhere?

V: No.

H: To visit her mother and daughter, for instance?

V: No.

H: Were you surprised that she wasn’t at home when you returned?

V: Not especially.

H: Why?

V: Nothing much surprises me.