Fru Lijphart looked down at the floor for a while. Then:
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We’re talking about Arnold, of course. But I didn’t speak to him. I spoke to a carer.’
‘Do you have any contact?’
‘No.’
‘None at all?’
‘No.’
‘I see,’ said Vrommel. ‘Where can we get in touch with you?’
It was obvious that fru Lijphart hadn’t thought about this aspect of the problem. She sucked her lips and raised her eyebrows.
‘Kongershuus — is that still going?’
Vrommel nodded.
‘I’ll take a room there. For one night at least.’
‘Good. I don’t suppose you know where your daughter intended to spend the night? Assuming she was intending to spend the night here.’
Fru Lijphart shook her head again. Vrommel stood up to indicate that the conversation was at an end.
‘Excellent. We’ll be in touch the moment we know anything.’
‘This evening?’
‘This evening or tomorrow morning.’
Fru Lijphart hesitated for a moment. Then she nodded grimly and left the Lejnice police station.
This has nothing to do with me, thought Detective Inspector Ewa Moreno. Absolutely nothing at all.
TWO
13
21 July 1983
‘What is this idea of yours?’ she wondered.
He didn’t answer. Just put his arm round her, and squeezed her gently. Then they started walking.
In towards the town centre at first, but when they came to the water tower he turned off into Bruggerstraat instead of continuing straight ahead. He was leading, she followed. As usual, she thought. Perhaps she had hoped they would go to one of the cafes in Polderplejn or Grote Marckt, but that was not to be. In recent weeks — for the last two months, in fact, ever since she told him how things stood with her — he had avoided places like that. She had noticed the change before, and had even raised the matter with him; he’d said he preferred to have her to himself.
She both liked and disliked that response. She liked to lie around in the summery darkness with him of course, cuddling and kissing. And being caressed. She enjoyed caressing him as well, and riding on him with her hands on his chest and his hard cock deep inside her. But it was pleasant sitting around in cafes as well. Sitting and smoking and drinking coffee and chatting with people. Just sitting there, looking good and letting them look at her. Maybe that was why, she thought. Maybe it was because he knew she liked being looked at that he’d turned off towards Saar and the football pitches instead of towards the town centre.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘We need to talk a bit,’ he said.
They came to the park behind the fire station, she couldn’t remember what it was called. Fire Station Park, perhaps? He was holding his right hand quite a long way down her hip, and she suspected he was beginning to feel randy. It was quite a long time since that had last happened. He led her into the park, and they sat down on a bench well hidden behind some bushes. She couldn’t see any other people, but knew that there were usually a few couples cuddling close to the playground at the other end of the park. She’d been there herself quite a few times, but never with him. She couldn’t help smiling at the thought.
‘Would you like a drop of this?’
He handed her a bottle he’d taken out of his shoulder bag. She took a sip. Some kind of schnapps. It was strong, and made her throat burn. But it was also sweet, warmed her up nicely and tasted of blackcurrants or something similar. She took another bigger sip, and placed her hand between his legs. Just as she’d thought, he already had an erection.
When they had finished they emptied the rest of the bottle and smoked a few cigarettes. They didn’t say much — he didn’t usually like to chat afterwards. She began to feel quite drunk, but she had a strange feeling of seriousness deep down inside, and guessed that it had to do with Arnold Maager.
And with the baby.
‘What was this idea of yours?’ she asked again.
He stubbed out his cigarette and spat twice into the gravel. She realized that he was probably just about as drunk as she was. He’d been drinking quite a lot earlier as well. But he could take more, of course: men always could.
‘Maager,’ he said. ‘You said you’d changed your mind. What the hell do you mean?’
She thought for a moment.
‘I don’t want to go through with it,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to deceive him like that. You and me. . It’s you and me. . No, I don’t want to.’
She was having difficulty in finding the right words.
‘We need the money,’ he said. ‘That’s why we did it, can’t you see that? We have to put pressure on him.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But I don’t want to even so. I intend to tell him the truth.’
‘Tell him the truth? Are you out of your mind?’
Then he muttered something that sounded like ‘bloody bitch’, but of course, she must have misheard him. In any case, he sounded really angry with her: this was the first time it had happened, and she could feel her stomach churning.
‘I don’t want to,’ she said again. ‘I can’t. It’s so wrong. . Such a bloody lousy thing to do.’
He didn’t respond. Just sat there, kicking at the gravel without looking at her. They had lost contact with each other now. There was a vast chasm between them, despite the fact that they had just made love and were still sitting on the same bench in the same bloody park. It felt odd, but she wondered if it would have felt like that if she hadn’t been drunk.
‘For Christ’s sake, it’s our baby,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to pretend that anybody else is involved with our baby.’
‘Money,’ he said simply. He sounded both tired and angry. And drunk as well.
‘I know,’ she said
She suddenly felt extremely sad. As if everything was going to pot at a very high speed. Half a minute passed. He was still kicking at the gravel.
‘We worked out a plan,’ he said eventually. ‘For Christ’s sake, you were with me all the way. . You can’t just let the old bastard exploit you and then change your mind. He must cough up — or would you rather have the randy old goat instead of me? He’s a bloody teacher, for God’s sake!’
She suddenly felt sick. Don’t throw up now, she told herself. Gritted her teeth and clutched her knees tightly. Breathed deeply and carefully, felt the waves coming and going. When they slowly began to ebb away, she burst out crying instead.
At first he just sat there and let her sob away, but gradually he moved closer to her and put his arm around her shoulder.
It felt good, and she let the tears keep on coming for quite a while.
When you cry, you don’t need to speak or think, her mother had once told her, and there was some truth in it. Sometimes her hopeless mother could come out with something sensible, but not very often.
The bells in Waldeskirke, where she had been confirmed two years ago, chimed three times: a quarter to
