Borkmann's point

31

“I think we’ll have to ask the press to leave us on our own for a while,” said Van Veeteren, putting his hand on Cruickshank’s shoulder. “But I can take your chair.”

Munster looked up. Van Veeteren had the Melnik report under his arm, and he looked determined. The network of burst blood vessels had changed from red to blue. The bags under his eyes had prominent black edges. Positive signs, no doubt about it.

“Godammit!” said Cruickshank. “So the breakthrough has come after seven hard years? May I be the first to congratulate you. What’s his name?”

“Who?” asked Munster.

“The Axman, of course,” said Cruickshank.

“You can have a ringside interview tomorrow morning,”

Van Veeteren promised him. “Provided you’re a good boy and go to bed now.”

Cruickshank swallowed the remains of his whiskey and water and stood up. Swaying noticeably and looking as if he might be forced to make an emergency landing on the chair again, he managed to recover. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “All right,” he said. “Gentlemen’s agreement. Good night, gentlemen. You know my room number.”

He thanked Munster for his company, and walked unsteadily out of the bar.

“Poor devil,” said Munster.

“Why?” asked Van Veeteren. “I’ll have a large beer, please.”

“Well?” said Van Veeteren, sucking the foam from the top of his tankard. “Youth before beauty. What have you found?”

Munster picked up the bundle of pages and leafed through them.

“Well,” he said. “There’s this Podworsky-”

Van Veeteren nodded.

“Eugen Podworsky, yes. What about him?”

“I know nothing about him,” said Munster. “But there’s a link, in any case. I assume the others, Bausen and the inspec tors, can make a better judgment. If he’s known in Kaalbrin gen, that is…”

Van Veeteren lit a cigarette.

“I’ve just spoken to Bausen,” he said. “He says it’s not impossible, at least. Seems to be the right type-a loner who lives out in the boonies, on the way to Linden. About four miles inland in a straight line from the coast. He’s been inside for manslaughter as well, although that was an age ago. Yes, this could be an opening; it could be him.”

“Violent?” asked Munster.

“Has a long memory, in any case, according to Bausen. Not quite right in the head either, it seems. He doesn’t have much contact with other people. Took early retirement in 1975, I think it was. Anyway, we can look into that tomorrow-it would probably be as well to prepare ourselves a bit before we land on him. He could certainly stir up a lot of trouble if it turns out not to be him, says Bausen.”

Munster nodded. Van Veeteren drank deeply, and smacked his lips in contentment.

“Dammit all, Munster,” said Van Veeteren. “I only have to set eyes on his type, and I’ll be able to tell if he did it or not. It’s time we went back home, don’t you think?”

Munster shuffled around on his chair.

“What’s the matter?” asked Van Veeteren. “Are you about to lay an egg?”

“Just a little detail, that’s all,” said Munster hesitantly. “No doubt it’s not important. I had a message from Inspector

Moerk. She’d come across something and asked me to ring her-”

“And?”

“Well, she doesn’t answer. She was supposed to be home by eight or so. I’ve tried several times.”

Van Veeteren checked his watch.

“Five past eleven,” he said. “Try one more time before you go to bed. It’ll just be a man, no doubt.”

Yes, thought Munster. It’s just a man, of course.