searched everywhere for drugs. Fortunately nothing was found in the laundryGurra had no idea whether she and Alli would have been placed on the list of suspects or some sort of narcotics squad register if drugs had been found in the common area. Their presence had been requested during the search, which made no difference, since neither of them had ever touched drugsat least she hadn't. Who knows what Alli got up to on those endless business trips of his. But it didn't really matterthe police let the dogs sniff all around and when they seemed satisfied they abandoned the room without further ado. One officer had peeked inside the dryer and washing machine, mostly for curiosity's sake. That was it.
She opened the closet and took out a broom and bucket. When she removed the bucket she noticed a box. She stared at it. The last time she had cleaned the laundry room there was no box in the closet. It was usually empty apart from cleaning equipment for both apartments. Carefully she took it out. It must be Harald's. She tried to remember the last time she mopped the floor of the laundry room. Oh, my Godit had been when he dumped her. He had walked in to put some wash in the machine, and when she suggestedwith no effort to conceal her real intentionsthat she was up for doing it, he announced with a smile that enough was enough.
Since that unpleasant memory was from right before the murder, Harald must have placed the box there just prior to his demise. Why? He had never accepted her offer to use the storage room. The four shelves reserved for the tenant stood empty. Could he have wanted to hide something from his new girlfriend, thrown it into a box and stashed it away there? Judging from his physical appearance and bizarre decor, he was unlikely to have anything to conceal. Her heart skipped a beat. Unless he had secretly filmed his conquests and did not want his girlfriend to find them? There was hardly a more repulsive way to enter a relationshipthe thought of becoming an entry in a sexual conquest collection. Gurra clutched her head in both hands. It could even be her on tape or in some photographs. She stood riveted to the spot staring at the box. She had to open it. There was no alternative. She had to open the box and convince herself that nothing in it would reveal her secret.
Gurra bent down and forced up the cardboard flaps. She stared at the contents. No photographsno tapes. There were dishcloths wrapped around fragile objects, she supposed, and sheets of paper in plastic file holders. It was a massive relief. She reached for one piece of paper and saw that it was a very old letter, presumably valuable. The script and text were undecipherable, so she put it under her arm, planning to take a better look later. She browsed through the rest of the papers and to her great relief saw that they had nothing to do with Harald's private life either. One other sheet caught her attention, though. It appeared to have sloppy scribbles all over it, scrawled in red ink, and the paperif it was paperwas thick, dark, and waxy. The text was bizarre and a rune or symbol had been drawn at the bottom of the page. It was signed with two names, both illegible although she recognized Harald's as one of them from the tenancy agreement. She put it back in the box. Odd.
Gurra pushed the contents to one side in order to reach the fragile objects wrapped in dishcloths at the bottom. She took hold of one package and carefully lifted it up. It was lightalmost as if the cloth was empty. Cautiously she opened it and stared in awe at the contents. She shrieked, clenched her fist around the old letter that she was still holding, and flung the dishcloth to the floor. She ran out of the laundry room and slammed the door.
Gunnar picked up the phone and dialed the extension for Maria, the director of the Manuscript Institute. She was probably still at work even on a Saturday. A large exhibition was pending, and judging from the commotion surrounding the last major event, the institute would be a hive of activity. 'Hello, Maria, Gunnar here.' He made an effort to sound suitably authoritativethe voice of a man of integrity who had no desire to give an exaggerated impression of himself.
'Oh, it's you.' Her curt response suggested that his tone had not impressed her. 'I was just about to contact you. Any news?'
'Yes and no,' Gunnar said slowly. 'I'm well on my way to locating the document, I think.'
'I feel much better knowing that you
Gunnar was careful not to get drawn into an argument. 'I've looked everywhere in the department and I've contacted the representatives of Harald's family who are going to search his belongings. The document is thereI'm convinced.'
'Don't you mean you
'Listen, I only called to keep you in the picturethere's no need to be rude,' Gunnar said, although what he wanted to do most of all was slam down the phone.
'Quite right, sorry. We're so busy here with the exhibition. I'm all on edge. Don't let it upset you,' Maria said in a much friendlier tone of voice. 'But I stand by my word, Gunnar. You have only a few more days to find it. I can't start covering up for your students.'
Gunnar wondered how many days 'a few' would be. Hardly more than five, probably more like three. He did not want to press her for a more precise answer, from fear that she would shorten the deadline. 'I realize thatI'll let you know the moment I hear something.'
They exchanged dry good-byes. Leaning forward onto his elbows, Gunnar hid his head in his hands. The letter had to be found. If not, he would probably have to resign. It was unthinkable for the head of department to be implicated in the theft of documents from a foreign institute. Hatred welled up inside him. That bloody Harald Guntlieb. Before he arrived on the scene Gunnar had even toyed with the idea of one day standing for election as vice chancellor. His only dream now was that life would return to normal. That was all. There was a knock at his door.
Gunnar sat up and called out: 'Come in.'
'Hello, may I disturb you for a moment?' It was Tryggvi, the janitor. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. With slow steps he walked up to Gunnar's desk and declined the offer of a seat. He held out his hand, palm up. 'One of the cleaners found this in the students' common room.'
Gunnar picked up a little steel star. After examining it carefully, he looked in surprise at Tryggvi. 'What is it? It can't be worth anything.'
The caretaker cleared his throat. 'I think it's a star from Harald's shoes. She found it the other day but only told me about it just now.' Gunnar gave him a blank look. 'So what? I don't quite follow.'
'There was something else. If I understand her correctly, she also found traces of blood around the window.' Tryggvi looked into Gunnar's eyes, waiting for a reply.
'Blood? Wasn't he strangled?' asked Gunnar, incredulous. 'Isn't it just an old bloodstain, then?'
Tryggvi shrugged. 'I don't know. I just wanted to let you have thisit's up to you what you do with it.' He began to turn around, then stopped in his tracks. 'Of course, he wasn't just strangled.'
Gunnar's stomach churned at the thought of the awful abuse of the body. 'Yes, quite right.' He stared at the steel star, baffled. Then he looked up when Tryggvi spoke again.
'I'm certain it's from the shoe he was wearing when he was murdered. But of course I have no idea whether the star fell off before then.'
'Well, well,' muttered Gunnar. Gritting his teeth, he looked sternly at Tryggvi, stood up, and said: 'Thank you, it might be irrelevant but you did right to let me know.'
The janitor nodded calmly. 'Actually there's something else,' he said, and produced a folded paper towel from his pocket. 'The woman who cleaned the common room over the weekend of the murder found traces of blood on the floor which someone had tried to clean up. And she found this too.' He gave the paper towel to Gunnar. 'I think we should talk to the police.' After thanking the professor, he left the room.
Gunnar sat down again, stared at the star and thought about what to do. Was it important? Would a call to the police be a Pandora's box that would start the questioning all over again? That must not happen. It simply must not happen now that everything was getting back to routine. Apart from that bloody letter, of course. With a groan, Gunnar put the star down. It could surely wait until Monday. He opened the paper towel. It took him a while to realize how the object he was holding was linked to the case. When he realized, he just managed to put his hand over his mouth before letting out a scream. He picked up the telephone and dialed the emergency number for the police, 112. This one could not wait until Monday.
