ago?’
‘Sixteen,’ said Moreno. ‘I only wanted to ask a few simple questions. Why are you so agitated?’
‘I’m not agitated,’ he snarled. ‘I’m furious. You’re not even from Lejnice, you don’t know a bloody thing and I’m not going to answer a single question. But what I
He stood up, stroked his thumb and index finger rapidly over his moustache and marched out of the premises.
For Christ’s sake, Moreno thought. What did Selma Perhovens call him? An aristocrat?
31
During the late afternoon and early evening dejection began to dig its claws into her.
Perhaps it had to do with the rain showers that came sailing in from the south-west in a never-ending stream. She lay down on the lumpy bed and tried to read, but it was impossible to concentrate on anything unconnected with Mikaela Lijphart and the major issues associated with her.
Or with herself.
What am I doing here? she wondered. What am I playing around at? A police inspector on holiday! Would a bicycle repair specialist spend his hard-earned leisure repairing bicycles for nothing? I must be mad.
She phoned Clara Mietens, but her solid rock was still not at home. She rang the police station, but Constable Vegesack was out on official business. She rang the automatic weather forecast number, and was informed that several more belts of rain were queueing up over the Atlantic, waiting to move in.
Great, Moreno thought as she started reading the same page for the fourth time.
At seven o’clock she tried Vera Sauger’s number for the first time. No reply. She tried again half an hour later, and continued at half-hourly intervals for the rest of the evening.
After her half-past-seven attempt she considered going out for a meal, but decided not to. Yesterday’s dodgy minced-meat pie didn’t exactly encourage her to risk a repeat performance. She did two hundred sit-ups and forty arms-raises instead, and two hours later she installed herself in the shower and tried to work out what on earth could have made Dr deHaavelaar so extremely upset.
She failed to do so. Not especially surprising, seeing as she told herself it was an impossible task. There was no point in trying to draw conclusions when the grounds for doing so were so inadequate. It was like trying to find footprints in a swamp. Hopeless. Even a confused police inspector ought to understand that.
And eighty-year-olds were not always logical, even if they looked like well-dressed grizzly bears and didn’t strut at all.
One more try, she thought as she dialled Vera Sauger’s number at a few minutes past eleven. If she doesn’t answer now, I’ll give up.
The answer came after three rings.
‘Vera Sauger.’
Thank goodness for that, Moreno thought. Please let me exchange a few words with you as well. Despite the late hour.
And preferably have something constructive to tell me.
She was yet another single woman of about Moreno’s own age.
Will there be any children at all in Europe ten years from now? she thought, as she was ushered into the flat in Lindenstraat. Or will all women have renounced the option of contributing to the proliferation of the human race? What was it Mikael had said?
She shrugged off the uninvited questions and sat down at the kitchen table, where her hostess had served up tea and small reddish-brown biscuits that looked like nipples. Coming to visit her hadn’t been a problem, despite the fact that it was almost midnight and that Sauger seemed to be badly in need of some sleep after five days and nights in the archipelago. When Moreno had mentioned the name Mikaela Lijphart on the telephone, Sauger had interrupted her immediately and invited her over.
It’s better to look the person you’re talking to in the eye, Sauger had explained. Moreno had been of the same opinion.
‘So she’s still missing, is she?’ Sauger asked after pouring tea into the yellow cups with large blue hearts on their sides. From some Swedish interior design outlet, Moreno guessed.
‘So you know about it?’
Sauger looked at her in surprise.
‘Of course I do. Why do you ask? Who are you, in fact?’
Moreno produced her ID and wondered how many times she’d already needed to do that this seemingly never-ending day. This was the third, she thought.
‘Are you new here in town?’ Sauger wondered. ‘I don’t recognize you. Not that I have much to do with the police, but still. .’
‘I’m from Maardam,’ said Moreno. ‘I’m here on holiday. But I met the girl before she went missing.’
Sauger nodded vaguely.
‘So you don’t have any contact with the police station here?’
‘Only occasionally,’ said Moreno. ‘Why do you ask?’
Sauger stirred her tea slowly and looked even more bewildered.
‘Because you asked if I knew about it,’ she said.
‘Well?’
‘Of course I damned well know about it. I was at the police station to say my piece before I set off for Werkeney.’
Two awkward seconds passed, then Moreno remembered that Vegesack had said something amounting to what Sauger had said several days ago. That a woman had turned up in connection with the first Wanted notice, but that it hadn’t led anywhere. Wasn’t that the case?
Yes, as far as she could recall. There’d been one woman from Lejnice and another from Frigge. And the one from Lejnice must have been this Vera Sauger who was now sitting opposite her, popping a nipple-biscuit into her mouth.
It suddenly felt as if a rather large-scale short circuit had taken place inside Inspector Moreno’s head. The only thing that seemed anything like certain was that something must be wrong.
And outside her head as well.
‘I’m afraid. . I’m afraid I must have missed that,’ she said with an attempt at an apologetic smile. ‘What exactly did you have to report?’
‘That she came to see me, of course. I think it’s odd that you don’t know about it.’
‘You reported that Mikaela Lijphart had come here to see you?’ said Moreno. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Sauger.
‘That you spoke to her that Sunday, ten days ago?’
‘Yes.’
Moreno said nothing while the next question slowly took shape in her mind. It took a while.
‘And who did you report this to?’
‘Who to? To the chief of police, of course. Vrommel.’
‘I see,’ said Moreno.
That wasn’t really true, but it didn’t matter. It was more important to take matters further now.
‘And when Mikaela came to see you, what did she want to talk about?’ she asked.
‘About her father, obviously,’ said Sauger. ‘About what happened sixteen years ago. She’d only just heard about it.’
‘Yes, I know about that,’ said Moreno. ‘And what did she want to hear from you?’
Sauger hesitated again.
