middle of the forest – he had been subjected to an experience which would cast its shadow over all other experiences for as long as he lived. Both negative and positive. Past and future.
I’ve just grown up, he thought in surprise. Grown up. It felt like having been cast out into a foreign, desolate land; a harsh but inevitable reality that he knew he would never be able to push to one side, or behind him, or indeed ever to get away from.
There was something else there as well: a sort of bitter satisfaction that was not to be denied, and that he couldn’t really come to terms with.
But this was not the right time for such speculation. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, switched off the torch and hurried back to the car.
15
Reinhart always used to claim that there was really only one foolproof method of kick-starting an investigation that had come to a dead end: drink a pint of whisky and four beers, and when you’ve gone to bed it’s guaranteed that within twenty minutes the phone will ring and you’ll be saddled with another corpse.
Perhaps it wasn’t quite as bad as that this warm evening in Sorbinowo, but when Van Veeteren read the two messages left by Kluuge, he decided he’d better take a long, cold shower before stepping out into the darkness.
A summer night’s no time for sleep! – the memory came back to him. Perhaps certain thoughts ought to be punctured before they had a chance to float up to the surface, he thought as he stood in the shower, trying to rinse the Burgundy out of his face. They had such a damned awkward tendency to become self-fulfilling prophecies!
But nevertheless his ability to concentrate was slowly coming back.
What the hell had happened out there? Actually, Kluuge’s two messages had been as plain as a pikestaff. Especially the second one: Dead girl in Waldingen. Reinforcements on the way. Kluuge
I wonder if the press is there already, Van Veeteren thought as he stepped out of the shower. The bright young girl in reception didn’t seem to have had any difficulty in understanding the sergeant’s bulletins, at least. The chief inspector wondered if he ought to call Przebuda, maybe he hadn’t yet gone to bed; but he decided not to. Better to have mercy on him and let him have a decent night’s sleep. In any case, his time as a front-line reporter must surely be over by now.
When he climbed into the waiting taxi, it was a few minutes short of one o’clock. According to the receptionist Kluuge’s second message had arrived just before midnight, so there were grounds for assuming that both forensic and medical officers were already in Waldingen. Unless he was much mistaken, teams from Rembork would be closest at hand, but of course Kluuge would know all about that.
‘What the hell do you want to go out there for in the middle of the night?’ asked the podgy driver, and yawned so widely that the back of his neck was covered in creases.
‘Let’s go,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘Switch off the radio and cut the talk.’
There were three other cars at the scene in addition to Kluuge’s. Sure enough two of them were from Rembork, and apart from the crime scene team they had also brought two detectives. Van Veeteren went over to the third car and peered inside: a young man with a beard and glasses was clutching a mobile phone. The chief inspector reached in through the open window and snatched the phone from his grasp.
‘What the hell…?’
Van Veeteren, Detective Chief Inspector. You are getting in the way of the investigation. Who do you work for?’
‘Allgemejne.’
‘All right. If you lie low for an hour, I promise to give you correct information instead.’
The young reporter hesitated.
‘How do I know you’re not tricking me?’
‘I never trick anybody,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘Ask your editor-in-chief, he knows me.’
Kluuge appeared out of the darkness.
‘She’s lying up there,’ he explained, pointing along the road. ‘One of the Rembork boys is examining her. And the crime scene team is there as well, of course. She is… She’s been strangled and raped in any case, that’s very obvious.’
‘How long have they been here?’ asked the chief inspector.
Kluuge checked his watch.
‘Half an hour or so. I found her at round about twenty past eleven.’
Van Veeteren gestured towards the summer camp. There were lights in some of the windows in the main building, but the wings were in darkness.
‘What’s the state of play in there?’
‘I don’t really know,’ said Kluuge. ‘The other detective is there, but I haven’t had time to check. Shall I go with you to… to where she is?’
Van Veeteren lit a cigarette.
‘It’ll be better to let them work in peace for the time being,’ he said. ‘I think I’d like to investigate what’s going on with the church crowd first. If you stay in the car, you can show me the body later.’
Kluuge nodded and opened the car door. The chief inspector was about to leave, but paused.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘Not so good,’ said Kluuge.
‘I understand. Sit in the car and keep warm. I’ll see if I can fix some coffee.’
He left the sergeant and the cars and set off for the buildings. Stumbled a couple of times over hidden roots and very nearly fell over, but managed to get as far as the terrace in one piece. Knocked on one of the illuminated windows, and was let in by Sister Madeleine, sullen as ever, wearing a large shapeless dressing gown made of the same unbleached cotton as usual. She deigned neither to look at nor speak to him, merely escorted him, silently and bare-footed, into a little room that appeared to be used as an office. Papers, a few files and a pile of Bibles were strewn over a desk. The other sisters, each in identical dressing gowns, sat on chairs, and standing by the window was the second of the police officers from Rembork. It was obvious that he was in the middle of interrogating the three women.
And it was equally obvious that he was getting nowhere.
Van Veeteren looked round the poky room. Then he asked his colleague for a private conversation, and they both went into the corridor.
‘What did you say your name was?’
‘Servinus. Detective inspector.’
‘Van Veeteren,’ said the chief inspector. ‘Let’s keep our voices down so that they don’t catch on to our strategies.’
He gestured towards the closed door. Servinus nodded.
‘How long have you been grilling them?’
Servinus looked at his watch.
‘Grilling and grilling,’ he said. ‘Five minutes at most. They’d been fast asleep, so it took some time… But I think we have a bit of a problem.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘What kind of a problem?’
‘They don’t say anything.’
‘What do you mean?’
Servinus scratched the back of his head in irritation.
‘Well, it looks as if they’ve decided not to cooperate.’
‘What the hell…?’
‘Exactly. They just don’t answer questions, as simple as that. Do you have any idea of what kind of a place this is, in fact? They seem to be a bit, er, how shall I put it-’
‘I know what they’re like,’ said the chief inspector. ‘We can go into that some other time. Where’s Yellinek? That’s the most important thing just now.’
