‘How are things with you?’ Munster said instead.
‘Odd,’ said Moreno after a short pause.
‘Odd?’
She laughed.
‘Yes, odd. But okay, basically. Does a heartless intendent have the strength to listen? It’ll only take half a minute.’
Munster nodded.
‘Well, Claus came home from New York, despite everything,’ Moreno said, while trying to scrape a little coffee stain off her pale yellow jumper with a fingernail. ‘It struck me straight away that he had changed somehow… I think I said this, didn’t I? I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it finally came out yesterday. He’s found somebody else.’
‘What?’ said Munster. ‘What the hell…?’
‘Yes. A month ago he was ready to take his own life for my sake, but now he has a flourishing new relationship. He met her in a restaurant in Greenwich Village, they flew home on the same plane, and they’ve evidently found one another. Her name’s Brigitte, and she’s a script girl with a television company. Huh, men…’
‘Enough of that,’ said Munster. ‘Don’t tar everybody with the same brush, for Christ’s sake! I refuse to associate myself with this kind of… of boy scout behaviour.’
Moreno smiled. Stopped scraping and contemplated the stain, which was still there.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I know. In any case, I think it’s brilliant, even if it is a bit odd, as I said. Shall we drop the battle of the sexes?’
‘By all means,’ said Munster. ‘I’ve had more than my fair share of that as well, in fact.’
Moreno looked vaguely sympathetic, but said nothing. Munster took a drink out of the can of soda water on his desk and tried not to belch, but belched even so. In that introspective, polite way, which brought tears to his eyes.
‘The Leverkuhn case,’ he said, taking a deep breath. ‘Are you with me on it?’
‘Yes, I’m with you.’
‘Act three. Or is it act four? Anyway, the division of labour is clear, in broad outline at least. Rooth and Jung will look after the search for the diaries at the Leverkuhns’ place. Reinhart and Heinemann will take care of Van Eck. You and I have a bit more freedom. I shall ignore what Hiller said about what’s resolved and what isn’t. I’m going to have another go at Leverkuhn’s children. All three, I think.’
‘Even the daughter who’s locked away?’ asked Moreno.
‘Even her,’ said Munster.
‘Do you think it was Marie-Louise Leverkuhn who disposed of Else Van Eck as well?’
Munster made no reply at first. Leafed somewhat listlessly through the pile of paper on his desk. Drank the rest of the soda water and threw the empty can into the waste paper basket.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘She flatly denied it, and why should she bother to do that when she had already admitted to killing her husband? And she took her own life as well. Why would she want to kill Van Eck? What motive could she have had?’
‘Don’t ask me,’ said Moreno. ‘But you reckon they’re connected?’
‘Yes,’ said Munster. ‘I think so. I don’t know how, but I’m bloody well going to find out.’
He could hear the trace of weariness in his last sentence, and he could see that Moreno heard it as well. She looked at him for a moment or two, while the furrow in her brow remained and she was presumably searching for something consoling to say. But she found nothing.
I wish she would just walk round the desk and give me a hug, Munster thought, closing his eyes. Or we could get undressed and go to bed.
But nothing like that happened either.
32
‘Hello?’
‘Hello,’ said Jung. ‘My name’s Jung, Maardam police. Am I talking to Emmeline von Post?’
‘Yes, that’s me. Good morning.’
‘I have just one simple question, so maybe we can sort it out on the telephone?’
‘Good Lord, what’s it about?’
‘Marie-Louise Leverkuhn. We’re winding up the case, as it were, and we want to sort out all the final details.’
‘I understand,’ said Emmeline.
Oh no you don’t, thought Jung. But you’re not supposed to either.
‘Did fru Leverkuhn keep a diary?’ he asked.
There were a few seconds of astonished silence before Emmeline answered.
‘Yes, of course. She used to keep a diary. But why on earth do you want to know about that?’
‘Routine,’ said Jung routinely.
‘I see… Oh, it’s all so awful.’
‘Absolutely awful,’ said Jung. ‘Had she been doing it long? Keeping a diary, that is?’
‘I think so,’ said Emmeline. ‘Yes, she was doing it when we were at commercial college together. They weren’t really diaries; as I understand it she only wrote something a couple of times a month… To sort of sum up the situation, I don’t really know.’
‘Did you often talk abut it?’
‘No.’
‘Have you ever read anything she wrote?’
‘Never.’
‘But you’ve seen the diaries?’
‘Yes,’ said Emmeline. ‘On the odd occasion… Obviously we mentioned them now and then as well, but it was her private business and nothing to do with me.’
‘What do they look like?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘The diaries. How many do you think there are, and what do they look like?’
Emmeline thought for a moment.
‘I don’t know how many there are,’ she said, ‘but I think she kept them all, in any case. Ten or twelve, perhaps? They were the usual kind of exercise books with soft covers you can buy all over the place. Quite thick… black, soft covers. Or maybe blue, the ones I’ve seen at least. Perhaps she had more, in fact. I don’t think she showed them to her husband. But… but I don’t understand why you’re asking about this. Is it important?’
‘No, not at all,’ said Jung reassuringly. ‘Just a detail, as I said. By the way, do you remember if she had one of those books with her when she was staying with you for a few days? In October, that is?’
‘No… no, I don’t think so. I didn’t see one, at least.’
‘Thank you, fru von Post. That was all. I apologize for disturbing you.’
‘Not at all,’ said Emmeline. ‘No problem.’
‘Rooth, Maardam police,’ said Rooth.
‘I haven’t got time,’ said Mauritz Leverkuhn.
‘Why did you answer, then?’ said Rooth. ‘If you haven’t got time?’
Silence for a few seconds.
‘It could have been something important,’ said Mauritz.
‘It is important,’ said Rooth. ‘Did your mother keep a diary?’
Mauritz sneezed directly into the receiver.
‘Bless you,’ said Rooth, drying his ear.
‘Diary!’ snorted Mauritz. ‘What the hell has that got to do with you? And why the hell are you poking your nose
