somewhere as she’s on her way back to the camp. I don’t think the girl decided to give dinner a miss, even if that’s not impossible, of course.’
‘You say “he”,’ Przebuda commented.
‘Let’s assume it’s a man,’ said the chief inspector. ‘He rapes her, and strangles her to death. And then we come up against the next complication.’
‘Really?’
‘The location,’ the chief inspector explained. ‘I’d like to think there’s some kind of logic even in the most perverted patterns of behaviour – we’ve discussed this before. The murderer kills her somewhere or other, and all we can say with certainty is that it didn’t happen where we found the body. There are no signs of a struggle or violence around that place, which indicates that she must have been taken there afterwards. Either immediately after the murder, or later. By the killer, or somebody else.’
‘By the killer or somebody else…?’ Przebuda repeated, raising an eyebrow.
‘The reason for moving the body is also a bit intriguing,’ Van Veeteren went on. ‘You would usually move a body in order to hide it, but in this case it looks like the intention was just the opposite – to help us to find it.’
Andrej Przebuda nodded.
‘That woman on the telephone…?’
‘Yes,’ said the chief inspector. ‘I’d be grateful if you’d refrain from writing about her. Perhaps we’re barking up the wrong tree, but the investigation team has decided to keep her existence secret for the time being. Well, what conclusions do you draw?’
Neither of them spoke for quite a while. Van Veeteren eyed the pack of cigarettes on the table in front of him, but didn’t take one. Instead he clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back. Wondered if he’d remembered all the essentials, or if he’d left out any details.
And if it was possible to come to any sensible conclusions.
‘Two,’ Przebuda decided in the end. ‘Two conclusions. She seems to know what she’s talking about, and she wants to help the police. That woman, I mean.’
Van Veeteren said nothing.
‘Two questions as well,’ said Przebuda. ‘Why? And who the hell is she?’
‘My friend the editor is bubbling over with intelligent questions,’ the chief inspector declared. ‘But there’s another one.’
‘I know,’ said Przebuda. ‘How? How the hell can she know so much?’
‘Exactly,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘I’ve been grappling with these imponderables for several days now. Who is she? How come she knows? Why does she want to help us?’
‘But the fact no doubt is…’ Przebuda began, and then held back.
‘What?’
‘Surely the implication is that it’ll be sufficient to get an answer to one of those questions. Solve one and the others solve themselves. Don’t you think?’
The chief inspector sighed.
‘Presumably,’ he said. ‘But how about making a suggestion? Surely an experienced old newspaperman like you should be able to manage one out of three?’
Przebuda burst out laughing. Then he cleared his throat and turned serious.
‘No,’ he said. ‘But surely it’s not possible for the chief inspector’s intuition to have been fast asleep all week? Do you think it’s one of them? Those women at the summer camp, that is?’
Van Veeteren contemplated the flickering candles for ten seconds.
‘I don’t know,’ he said eventually. ‘But I think I can exclude one of them, in any case.’
‘Better than nothing,’ said Przebuda.
They set off at a leisurely pace on a stroll past the cemetery on the western edge of the town, along a meandering path for pedestrians and cyclists to the residential area of Kaasenduijk – where acting Chief of Police Kluuge lived with his Deborah – and then a semicircular route back into Sorbinowo from the north. One hour in all, two and a half kilometres through the fragrant summer’s evening. To start with Przebuda maintained a non-stop commentary on items of interest they passed by – buildings, local landmarks, flora and fauna (mainly mosquitoes and cattle of the black-and-white variety) – but he eventually grew tired of that and they returned to the agenda they seemed to have agreed was inevitable.
‘This Yellinek character – I take it he does a runner in the middle of the night, is that right?’
‘Same as before,’ muttered the chief inspector. ‘We don’t know. None of the girls saw him after a quarter to ten on the Sunday evening, so we assume he must have cleared off before dawn in any case. There’s one girl – but only one, nota bene – who thinks she heard a car starting at some point during the night.’
‘A car?’
‘Yes, they had a car out there, an old Vauxhall, registered in the name of Madeleine Zander. Yellinek doesn’t even have a driving licence.’
‘But it was still there next morning?’
‘Yes. Parked in the same place as usual. She – or one of the others – might have driven him somewhere during the night, but we have no proof or confirmation.’
‘How else would he have been able to get away?’
Van Veeteren shrugged.
‘The devil only knows. So it’s certainly most likely that he disappeared with the help of that car, but where does that get us?’
‘What about neighbours out there?’ Przebuda wondered.
‘The Finghers in one direction,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘They had a bit of contact with the campers. And there’s a couple by the name of Kuijpers a bit deeper into the forest. There was somebody at home in both places that night, but nobody heard a car. But that doesn’t mean a thing, of course. The probability is that Yellinek’s hidden away in the home of one of his church members somewhere, but there are getting on for a thousand of them, so we need considerable resources if we’re going to make a serious search. Obviously the police in Stamberg are pouncing on as many of them as they can find, but they don’t seem to be making any headway. And of course it’s holiday time. And on top of that is the refusal to cooperate.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Przebuda, wafting away a cloud of gnats. ‘Things aren’t exactly stacked in your favour.’
They continued in silence for a few minutes.
‘Why?’ said the editor eventually, having followed his own train of thought to the next halt. ‘Why did he run away if he’s innocent? Doesn’t that suggest he’s the culprit?’
‘That’s very possible,’ said the chief inspector. ‘Although he had good reason to go under cover in any case. He’s been in trouble with the police before, and if girls suddenly start disappearing from his camp he’s bright enough to realize that he’s on the spot. It’s obviously disgraceful of him to run away like that, but by no means beyond comprehension. We must never lose sight of the fact that we’re dealing with an arsehole. A king-size arsehole.’
‘So you’re saying there’s a logical explanation, are you?’
‘Without a doubt,’ said the chief inspector. ‘I’ve been thinking about it, and I reckon it would have been odder if he’d stayed around. Especially in view of this other girl that’s missing – remember this is just between me and you: you’re the only editor in the whole country who knows about that – and even more so when you take into account what a shit that Yellinek is.’
‘I see,’ said Przebuda. ‘Although I don’t really get what the implications are. There’s nothing to link Yellinek and his hangers-on directly with these terrible happenings, is there?’
‘No,’ said Van Veeteren with a sigh. ‘No very strong link at least. As far as I can see it’s possible we’re dealing with some anonymous lunatic wandering about in the forest.’
‘With no link to the Pure Life?’
‘No link at all.’
‘Well I’ll be damned!’ said Przebuda.
‘But on the other hand, it’s just as likely that they are the ones responsible.’
‘Of course,’ said Przebuda. ‘One or other of them.’
He paused to light his pipe, then he and the chief inspector immersed themselves in private thoughts as they strolled, at a very gentle pace, side by side along what was in fact the home straight of Sergeant Kluuge’s jogging
