that Ulriche Fischer was ready to receive him.
So, now it would be good if he could concentrate for a while. What had Reinhart said? Reinhart, who was even going to become a father.. .
Diffidence?
Let’s go, then.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, dropping his notebook on the floor. ‘I’m sorry if I’m intruding on you, but the others have sent me here.’
She didn’t respond. It’s possible that the two wrinkles between the sides of her nose and the sides of her mouth narrowed slightly, but that was a highly doubtful observation.
‘I have a few questions, but, obviously, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’
He held his pen sideways in his mouth while leafing through his notebook.
‘I used to be a member of a church when I was younger, but then my mother forbade me to go there any more.’
‘Forbade you?’
‘Yes. My name’s Jung, by the way.’
She stared doubtfully at him, but then her eyes glazed over again.
The first verse, Jung thought. How the hell can she look so pale in weather like this?
‘What I liked most about it was the feeling of liberation,’ he explained. ‘I was only about fifteen or sixteen at the time, so I didn’t really understand the essence of the faith, but I liked the atmosphere. The light, as it were. But that’s not what we’re supposed to be talking about…’
‘Are you winding me up?’ said Ulriche Fischer.
Jung blushed. That was a trick he had developed over the years, and now he could produce one in less than a second.
‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘That wasn’t the intention. I’ll ask you my questions now.’
Ulriche Fischer muttered something he couldn’t make out.
‘They’re probably the same questions as you’ve been asked before, I’m afraid. Some of them, at least. I’ve only just been put on this case – but I know quite a bit about it, of course. It’s awful, absolutely awful; I really do hope we can catch whoever did it before he strikes again. You don’t have any children yourself, do you, Miss Fisch? I mean Fischer.’
She started to answer, but it got no further than her throat.
‘Nor do I,’ said Jung. ‘But it would be fun to have some eventually. What they want to know this time is when – exactly when – during that Sunday night your priest went missing. Or was it on Monday morning?’
She swallowed again. And raised her eyes slightly.
‘And if he told you what his plan was.’
‘…’
‘For the moment they’re inclined to think that you don’t know where he is. That he somehow kept it secret in order to protect you. That would be quite a noble thing to do, in a way.’
‘…’
‘Let’s face it, it’s not all that odd for him to hide away. Maybe they’d be willing to give him some sort of amnesty…’
‘What’s that?’ asked Ulriche Fischer.
‘I don’t really know,’ said Jung. ‘I’m just trying to interpret the mood. Nobody’s said that straight out.’
He waited. Avoided looking at her while he scratched his wrists a little nervously. She’s not going to say a word, he thought. Why the hell should she decide to talk to me when she’s been sitting here and saying nothing for… how long is it now?
A week?
No, more. It must be about ten days by now.
Waste of time. He sighed.
‘It was in the evening,’ she said suddenly.
He gave a start and didn’t dare to say anything else. Five seconds passed.
‘It was in the evening,’ she repeated. ‘We didn’t see him after that.’
‘Really?’ said Jung.
‘He’s got nothing to do with the death of the girls,’ she said after a further pause that lasted so long Jung thought she had already put the lid on any continuation.
‘Nothing at all?’ he asked.
‘No.’
Silence again. He wondered if he ought to drop his notebook once more, have a coughing fit, or merely repeat his blush; but none of those possibilities seemed adequate, and his repertoire was somewhat limited after all.
‘About what time was it?’ he asked in the end. ‘When you last saw him, I mean.’
She made a strange gesture with her arms. Or rather her shoulders. As if she were rustling her wings, Jung thought, and almost smiled. Practising to be an angel.
‘About half past nine.’
‘But how can you be sure that the other two sisters didn’t meet him later than that?’
‘Because we are one spirit and one flesh.’
‘Eh?’ said Jung.
She’s mad, he thought. How the hell could I forget that she’s mad?
‘I think I understand,’ he said. ‘You’re referring to the Trinity.’
Her mouth suddenly formed a smile, and he responded with a blush of the first order.
‘Ah well,’ he said. ‘I don’t understand all this. It’s so long since I was a member of that church.’
The smile withered and died.
‘But Good Lord,’ he said. ‘That means that nobody has a clue about where he is? Or have you heard from him at all?’
It was clear that she had said all she was going to say. That reference to the spirit and the flesh was intended to be the punchline, he guessed. The smile she had produced was clearly no more than an expression of lunacy in general.
He thought for a moment, then gave up and began to reel off the questions in his notebook – all eighteen of them – but none of them received an answer.
Not a single answer, and not even a puckered brow.
Presumably she was feeling sorry for herself. Regretting having opened her mouth at all.
All the time he maintained the same irreproachable care and correctness, even though he was thoroughly fed up by the end. As a counter to her silence, every time she ignored one of his questions he drew a clear and very audible line in his notebook, and there was something in these short, sharp sounds – repeated over and over again and as inexorable as a razor blade – that he found very attractive.
Like the cuts made by a surgeon, he thought.
Ten minutes later he left Wolgershuus. The whole visit, including his private thoughts under the chestnut tree, had taken less than an hour, and it was hard to predict how much the fragments of information he had squeezed out of Ulriche Fischer were actually worth.
But of course there were others better qualified than himself to judge that.
Thought Inspector Jung with his usual becoming modesty, and began to walk back through the forest. There was a smell of warm resin among the pine trees, and before he had even caught a glimpse of the town of Sorbinowo, he could feel his shirt clinging to his back and his fluid balance declining.
If Reinhart hasn’t come back yet, I’ll go for a swim in the lake, he decided.
And I’ll have a beer.
32
After the conversation with Uri Zander, Chief Inspector Van Veeteren drove back to town and had lunch at
