Borkmann's point

35

It took almost half an hour to walk from the police station to Vrejsbakk and Beate Moerk’s apartment, mainly because Van Veeteren didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry. He walked all the way with his hands in his trouser pockets and his shoulders hunched, as if he felt cold in the pale fall sunshine. Munster tried asking a few questions, but soon gave up; it was obvious that Van Veeteren was deep in thought and had no intention of being disturbed. He was evidently also convinced that Munster knew the way, for he stayed a couple of paces behind him the whole time, staring fixedly at Munster’s heels.

After some considerable effort Munster succeeded in track ing down the janitor, a grumpy old man surrounded by a dis tinct aroma of stale sweat. Mentioning vaguely in passing that their visit was important in connection with the ongoing inves tigation, and that Miss Moerk happened to be away on impor tant police business, Munster also persuaded him to let them into the apartment.

“I hope you can sort something out soon,” said the old man, with a sharp glint in his eye. “It’s not everybody who can afford to live at The See Warf for weeks on end.”

Van Veeteren came to life and fixed the janitor with his steely gaze.

“If I were you, I’d be damn careful what I say,” he growled.

“And I’d also go home and have a good wash. Open that door!”

The janitor said nothing, and unlocked the door.

“Thank you, we’ll manage on our own now,” said Van

Veeteren.

“I shouldn’t think we’ll find anything relevant here.”

Munster looked around.

“Why not?”

“Because the murderer has had plenty of time to come here and hide away whatever he wanted to hide away-loads of time.”

Munster saw his point.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

“Once,” said Munster. “What are we looking for?”

“The Melnik report, of course,” said Van Veeteren. “But I’ll bet you a hundred guilders that we don’t find it.”

“Oh, yes?” said Munster. “Why not?”

“You can work that out for yourself. Where should it be, do you think?”

Munster thought for a moment.

“In her study,” he said. “She was working on a few theories of her own about the murder; she has several exercise books full of notes.”

“Is this it, in here?”

“Yes.”

“Stop,” said Van Veeteren. “Before we start rummaging around, can you see anything unusual? Anything to suggest that he’s been here and snooped around?”

Munster eyed the neat and tidy desk with its penholder, notepad, telephone, papers. The bookcases with bamboo cur tains, the reproductions by Kandinsky and Schaffner.

“No,” he said.

“An orderly woman, obviously,” said Van Veeteren. “It ought to be on her desk, don’t you think?”

“I would assume so,” said Munster.

After looking around for ten minutes, Van Veeteren had had enough and they gave up. They left the apartment and told the janitor that he could lock the door again. The old man muttered something, but evidently didn’t dare come out with any more views about their alleged benefits to society.

“There are two possibilities,” said Van Veeteren as they emerged into Rejders Alle, which led back toward the town center. “Either she had them in the car with her, or he was here and took them away last night.”

“Forgive my stupidity,” said Munster, “ but why do you think it’s so important?”

“Because she’ll have made a note, of course,” snorted Van Veeteren. “She wrote in the message to you that something had struck her regarding the Melnik report. Whatever it was, it’s virtually certain that she’ll have made a note in the margin.

A question mark, a cross, some underlining-could be any thing. That would no doubt be enough for us to nail him if we discovered what it was. Are you with me?”

“If you say so,” said Munster.

They walked on in silence for another fifty yards.

“So it’s not Podworsky?” said Munster.

“I don’t know. I’ve started to have my doubts but, the devil only knows, it could be him. It’s that word bizarre that intrigues me. You can think all kinds of things about that loner on the heath, but why should he be bizarre?”

Munster didn’t answer. I’d better read that report again as soon as I get back to the hotel, he thought. Maybe something might strike me “If we’re really lucky, it might be in the car, of course,” said

Van Veeteren. “But we’d have to be goddamn king-sized lucky.

Let’s go there now.”

“Are you good at breaking into cars?” asked Van Veeteren as they approached the smokehouse.

“Could be worse,” said Munster.

“It would be useful if we didn’t attract too much attention.

There are a lot of people around here, after all. It would be a pity if they were to start smelling a rat when we’ve postponed the arrival of hell until Monday.”

He took a piece of steel wire from his pocket.

“Is this good enough?”

Munster examined it.

“I should think so.”

“OK, then. I’ll stay here. You go and open up. Thirty sec onds-no more.”

Munster walked across the parking lot. He crouched down by the red Mazda and had unlocked it inside ten seconds.

“Good,” said Van Veeteren, joining him. “Impressive skills.

Jump in, for God’s sake!”

It didn’t take them long to establish that Beate Moerk’s car was as devoid of leads as was her apartment. In any case, it was clear that neither she nor her presumed murderer had been careless enough to leave a vital report lying around in the car.

Well, to tell the truth, it was possible that Inspector Moerk had been… Van Veeteren sighed and got out of the car.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s follow the route she took once again. The beach as well this time.”

Munster nodded.

“Make sure you keep your eyes peeled! It was somewhere around here that she disappeared last night, that’s definite.

There’s not much in this case that you can say that about.”

“No,” said Munster. “I agree with you there.”

Van Veeteren rummaged around in his pockets for ciga rettes, and to his delight came up with Bausen’s pack.

“Somewhere,” he said, gesturing with his arm, “some where out there he was lying in wait and then pounced yester day evening. Waited for her to come running, and then-”

“And then?” said Munster.

Van Veeteren lit a cigarette and examined the spent match before flicking it over his shoulder.

“I don’t know,” said Van Veeteren. “I’m damned if I know.

But one thing is clear. He didn’t attack her with the ax this time-not out here, at least. We can’t have missed that much blood.”

“That’s some consolation,” said Munster.

“Of course it is,” said Van Veeteren. “Shall we go, then?”