Jung drank a pint of mineral water before answering.
‘That loony bin,’ he said eventually. ‘Wolgershuus, or whatever it’s called. If nothing else, it could be interesting to take a look at those women.’
‘And listen to the silence?’ Reinhart suggested.
‘Why not?’ said Jung. ‘Silence has a lot to say for itself.’
As if to emphasize the wisdom of that remark, Reinhart said nothing for half a minute while gazing out at the sunshine and scraping around inside the bowl of his pipe with a lace table napkin.
‘Hot again today,’ he commented thoughtfully. ‘All right, you can lean on the priestesses. Give them a taste of your usual unassuming style, and let’s see what happens. I don’t think our colleagues have got anywhere using their approach.’
‘Okay,’ said Jung. ‘It’s important to make the best of your talents. And what are you intending to do?’
‘Well,’ said Reinhart, ‘I suppose all that’s left for me is the young ladies of a more tender age.’
‘Good hunting,’ said Jung, standing up.
‘Many thanks,’ said Reinhart. ‘See you later this afternoon.’
Belle Moulder looked sullen and scared. And as insignificant as they come, Reinhart thought, especially as he’d spent over two hours on the phone and in the car in order to get to her.
After the dramatic break-up of the camp at Waldingen, the girl had evidently spent a couple of days at home in Stamberg before being despatched to an aunt in Aarbegen with similar religious convictions. She was expected to spend the rest of the summer holiday there saying her prayers, bathing in the river and undertaking long, invigorating bicycle rides supervised by two corpulent cousins – in order to lick her wounds and recover from the traumatic days in the Sorbinowo forests, one assumed.
But that was no criticism of the Pure Life. God forbid.
Edwina Moulder welcomed him in shorts and on a yellow garden hammock, and it soon became obvious that she had no intention of leaving her niece alone with the police officer.
Not for a second, Reinhart decided on the basis of the determined expression on her face. He spent a couple of moments considering the circumstances and his subsequent strategy, then he fell into line and sat down on the garden chair designated for him, under the parasol.
‘I’m sorry to trouble you,’ he began, ‘but we have to find the madman who’s committed these murders.’
‘We understand that,’ said Edwina Moulder.
‘Good,’ said Reinhart, glancing at the girl. ‘I had intended to take Belle with me to the police station – but naturally it would be better if we could sort things out here instead.’
‘Belle really has told you everything she knows, and besides-’
Reinhart raised a warning finger.
‘Steady on now. Your niece was one of those who obstructed the police more than anybody else at the beginning of our investigation, so everything depends on whether or not she is prepared to cooperate.’
‘What…?’
‘As long as you don’t interrupt, you are welcome to sit in on our conversation,’ Reinhart explained. ‘But I must insist that you don’t say anything. Is that clear?’
‘What? You come here and-’
‘Is that clear?’ Reinhart said again.
‘Hmm,’ said Edwina Moulder.
Reinhart took a sip of the watery coffee. Adjusted his chair so that he didn’t need to look at the very suntanned aunt, and could concentrate on the girl instead.
‘Belle Moulder?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’ve spoken to the police several times already about these most unpleasant goings-on…’
The girl nodded at him, without looking him in the eye.
‘And to start with, you behaved very badly – is that right?’
Belle Moulder examined her thumbnails.
‘But let’s not worry about that now. I take it for granted that you are telling the truth, and helping me as much as you can. If I notice that you are making things up or refusing to answer, I’ll have to drive you into town and interrogate you at the police station. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘Excellent. What I’m most interested in is what happened that Sunday evening when Clarissa Heerenmacht went missing. I take it you remember that pretty clearly?’
‘Fairly.’
The girl shrugged, and tried to look nonchalant. Reinhart couldn’t help thinking about Winnifred and the child they were expecting.
Surely it wasn’t going to be one like this?
He cleared his throat and tried to banish the thought.
‘Why did you leave Clarissa alone down there at the bathing rock?’
‘She wanted to be on her own.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Had you quarrelled?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was Clarissa upset when you left her alone?’
‘No.’
‘Happy?’
‘She was the same as always.’
‘What was she like when she was the same as always?’
‘Er, like she always was.’
Reinhart took another sip of coffee. It hadn’t become any better.
‘And then you spoke to Yellinek.’
‘What?’
‘You had a conversation with Yellinek later that evening. When was that?’
‘Er, it… it was after evening prayers.’
‘What time would that be?’
‘Half past nine… A quarter to ten, maybe. I don’t know. I’ve been asked about that before. We don’t… didn’t… keep all that close a check on time at Waldingen. We didn’t need to, we were always called up when necessary… But it was round about then.’
‘Between half past nine and a quarter to ten?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘Clarissa.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she’d gone missing, of course.’
‘You knew that she’d gone missing?’
‘Of course. She wasn’t there for dinner. Not there for PT, nor for prayers.’
‘What did Yellinek want to know?’
Belle Moulder hesitated for a second.
‘If I knew anything. I mean, nobody had seen her since we were down by the rock – I suppose I was the last person to see her.’
‘Can you remember exactly what Yellinek said?’
‘He asked if I knew where she was.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘That I didn’t know, of course.’
