She gave him a penetrating look.
“Bloody awful,” she said. “I've sent the kids to my sister. I need to be alone.”
“You'll manage?”
“Yes,” she said. “But please ask your questions and get it over with.”
“How long had you known each other?”
“Since ?86,” she said. “We moved in together eighteen months ago. We had a lot of trouble with his former wife before that.”
Van Veeteren thought for a moment. Decided to skip as much as possible and not beat about the bush.
“I'd like to make this as brief as possible,” he said. “I take it you think the same way. I aim to catch whoever murdered your husband, and I'd like some answers to a few very specific questions.”
She nodded.
“It's important that I get honest answers.”
“Fire away.”
“All right,” said Van Veeteren. “Do you think he knew he was in danger?”
“I don't know,” she said after a tense pause. “I honestly don't know.”
“Was he worried, these last few days?”
“Yes, but you might say there were reasons why he should be.”
Her deep voice trembled slightly, but not much.
“I'll tell you what I think,” said Van Veeteren. “I think Innings was one of a smaller group, and it's the members of that group the murderer is out to kill.”
“A group?”
“Yes, a few of the National Servicemen who got up to something thirty years ago… Possibly later as well. In any case, there must be a link between some of the thirty-five. What do you think?”
She shook her head.
“I've no idea.”
“Did he ever talk about his military service?”
“Never. Well, we spoke about it recently, of course, but not much.”
Van Veeteren nodded.
“If you think of anything that might suggest a link of the kind I've mentioned, will you promise to get in touch with me?”
“Yes, of course.”
He gave her his business card.
“You can phone me direct, that's easier. Anyway, next question. Can you tell me if your husband was in touch with any new contacts during the week before it happened? Did he meet anybody you didn't know, or people he didn't normally mix with?”
She thought it over.
“Not as far as I know.”
“Take your time. Think it through day by day, that usually helps.”
“He met people at work as well… We see each other only in the evenings, really.”
“Let's concentrate on the evenings. Did he have any visitors these last few days?”
“No… no, I don't think so. Not that I noticed, at least.”
“Did he go out at all in the evening?”
“No. Hang on, yes: last Friday. He went out for a few hours last Friday.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere in town. Some restaurant or other, I think. I was asleep when he came back home.”
“Who was he out with?”
She shrugged.
“I don't know. Some friends from work, I expect. Burgner, perhaps.”
“He didn't say anything about it?”
“Not as far as I recall. We had visitors-my brother and his family-who arrived quite early on Saturday, so I don't think we ever got around to discussing it.”
“Did he often go out on his own?”
She shook her head.
“No. Once a month, at most. The same as me, in fact.”
“Hmm,” said Van Veeteren. “Nothing more?”
“Do you mean, was he out any other evening?”
“Yes.”
“No, he was at home… let me think… yes, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday.”
Van Veeteren nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “Do you know anything about those telephone calls?”
“I've read about them,” she said. “The officers who were here on Wednesday asked me about that as well.”
“And?”
“No, nothing.”
“Do you think he received any?”
“I don't know.”
“Okay,” said Van Veeteren, leaning back on the sofa. “Then I have only one more question. Do you suspect anybody?”
“What?” she exclaimed. “What the hell do you mean?”
Van Veeteren cleared his throat.
“One of the things that confuses us,” he explained, “is that he invited the murderer in without any more ado. That suggests he knew the person concerned. If he did, then you might as well. You've been together for ten years, after all.”
She said nothing. He could tell by looking at her that this hadn't occurred to her until now; but he could also see that she didn't have an answer.
“Will you promise me to think about it?”
She nodded.
“Please think as well about whether he might have felt under threat. That's an extremely important question- and it could be that the tiniest detail gives us a clue that'll put us on the right track.”
“I understand.”
He stood up.
“I know you're going through hell,” he said. “I've been stomping around in tragedies like this for more than thirty years. You're welcome to contact me even if you only want to talk. Otherwise I'll be in touch again in a few days.”
“Our life together was so good,” she said. “I suppose we ought to have realized that something that worked so well couldn't last forever.”
“Yes,” said Van Veeteren. “That's more or less the way I look at life as well.”
When he paused in the street outside and tried to imagine the route the murderer would have taken, it struck him that he rather liked her.
Quite a lot, if truth be told.
“Knowing what I know now,” said the editor in chief, Cannelli, “quite a lot of things fall into place.”
“What, for example?” Jung wondered.
“That there was something bothering him.”
“How was that noticeable?”
Cannelli sighed and gazed out the window.
“Well,” he said, “I had a few longish chats with him… about headlines, pictures, and suchlike. That was routine, several times a week. But there was something about his concentration that struck me. He seemed to be thinking about something else all the time…”
“How long had you known him?”
