“Fingerprints? What were her crimes?”
“Her adventures were pretty well the same as Kurt’s. Isn’t that a coincidence? Well, except for a few items. Mainly her interest in drugs. Forging signatures on cheques is a bit primitive, I have to say.”
“How long ago?”
“Seven years. But that doesn’t mean it stopped, does it.”
Speckbauer let his gaze travel around the car park.
“I am hoping… ” Felix began.
Speckbauer turned to him, with the now-familiar combination of cynicism and a cautious geniality.
“… to get a bit of personal time,” said Felix.
“You wish to absent yourself?”
Felix looked blankly back, and he nodded.
“Personal matters, I imagine?”
“Exactly. But perhaps I can be of assistance at a later time.”
“Be of assistance, eh well that would be good.”
Felix was sure he was hearing sarcasm now but yet again Speckbauer’s easy smile confused him. Speckbauer turned back to his survey.
“Yes,” he said, “It’ll take time. It always does.”
“I will drop you back at my grandparents’ place then?”
“You will,” Speckbauer replied, slowly and reflectively. “Thank you. By the way, have we resolved this concern you had earlier? Your grandparents, their safety?”
“I think so. Yes, I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
“You are very protective of them.”
Felix said nothing. Speckbauer seemed to shake himself free of some preoccupation.
“Family indeed. Family carries us on the road of life. Isn’t that the expression? The parents carry the baby, and then the baby carries the parent.”
Felix nodded. Speckbauer widened his eyes. Then he shook his head, as though to clear it of nonsense.
“Too much coffee,” he said. “And this beautiful corner of Austria has had an effect on me. No doubt that’s obvious enough.”
“Sometimes.”
“Okay,” said Speckbauer. “I hear you. You want some time to yourself this day.”
Felix started up the Polo. He waited for Speckbauer to wrestle his way into the seat belt. While he waited, he imagined that at this same time Sepp Gebhart, a puzzled but protective Gebhart, would be halfway along the road to St. Kristoff to see what the hell his colleague Kimmel’s strange request in that phone call really meant.
It was a tough act back at his grandparents’ house. Felix heard an irony in everything Speckbauer said now. Even Franzi’s tinted glasses now seemed to mask more accusing, or more suspicious eyes.
Felix’s grandmother was soon over her disappointment that Felix and his fine colleagues were not able to delay for a lunch a proper farmer’s meal. Speckbauer was at his most expansive, and his face held an expression of gentle regret and solicitude.
“Another time you must, then,” Oma Nagl rallied.
As Felix expected, she had a master back-up plan. He was not surprised to see the tart appearing, and then being displayed before being covered in foil and placed in a plastic bag. The sausage was almost too much for master actor Speckbauer. There was some winking and a guffaw exchanged between Speckbauer and Opa Nagl when Felix’s grandfather mentioned something about a secret ingredient in this home-made sausage that one of his neighbours made every year.
Ritual protestations followed about paying a proper price for something that in the city would be a great and treasured delicacy.
Refusals were loud and firm. Speckbauer was ready with keen protests, even slipping in the accented expressions that Felix had thought were only for Styrians up here in the hills. ‘The baker must at least have his flour!’ ‘How can there be a beautiful house without paying for good timber?!’ All pertained to Speckbauer needing to know both his grandparents’ favourite tipples.
It was left to Felix to intervene. He mentioned a brandy, and waited out his grandfather’s protests. And then, finally, the two policemen were sitting in the Passat. With his grandparents waving and even calling out, they drove off, but not before Speckbauer mimicked a phone to his ear while nodding at Felix.
“Such an interesting fellow,” said Oma Nagl. “What he knows about plants and crops, and farming. For a policeman, too.”
Felix watched the Passat coast over the small rise before it gained the road proper.
“And he learned it all late enough,” she said and made a final wave.
“After his injury.”
“Did he tell you about it?”
“My God,” said his oma and put her knuckles to her breast as though in prayer.
“That husband I have. He blunders into everything, like a child. He has no shame. ‘What happened to you?’ he says, right out of the blue. Franzi had been telling us about wrens, can you imagine?”
“It was obvious,” his grandfather interrupted. “People are silly.
Naturally I was curious. Wouldn’t anyone be? So I asked.”
“You should have said nothing.”
“Why? People must talk. It is healthy.”
Felix’s grandmother leaned to one side.
“There they go, anyway.”
“I will be back,” said Felix.
“My God but you have a crazy life, kid. Running about…!”
“I will phone you.”
“No need. We’re not going anywhere.”
“Just in case.”
His grandfather made a face at him.
“But if anyone is looking for me, tell them I have gone. It doesn’t matter who, even if they say they’re friends.”
His grandfather made a shushing sound. Then he scratched his head and said something about ‘the world.’”
His grandmother held him at arm’s-length. She fixed him with a keen stare.
“Are you in trouble?”
“No, Oma.”
“Really?”
“Truly. I’m just tired. Really tired.”
“You would tell me, eh? Your mother is faraway, so you come to me, right?”
“Of course.”
“She’s with that plank Edelbacher,” his grandfather muttered.
“Well let’s hope that ‘plank’ doesn’t have as many knots in it as my ‘plank’!”
Felix heard his grandfather tut-tut in that clicking, humorous way that had been the hallmark of this couple since he could remember. He thought again about asking his grandfather to get the hunting rifle out. He’d tell him he wanted to go after rabbits or something. But it’d never work. His opa would know something wasn’t right.
He searched the fields and hedges as he made his way to his car. He opened the bonnet to check for oil, and to make sure the stupid fan belt wasn’t about to shred like it had in Graz traffic last October. He scanned the bushes and the shadows where the forests began. Somehow they looked even darker now with the full sun closing on its height. Everything looked near, as though it had moved in toward the farm while no one was looking. A trick of light, or shadow, he had to decide, probably his own half-addled brain most of all.
He checked his phone for battery. He’d meet Gebhart by the church. Felix had been wondering again if he should check on Fuch’s place, even a drive-by, on his way to his grandfather’s. No, he decided: just go straight to the old man. After all, that was why he had gotten Gebhart into this now.
He stopped when he had reached the road and looked for any sign of the Passat. He half expected to see
