Borkmann's point

41

“What the hell is that?” asked Van Veeteren, leaning forward over the table.

“It’s a map,” explained Kropke. “The drawing pins repre sent sightings of Inspector Moerk and her Mazda-or rather, of red Mazdas in general.”

“There are several in Kaalbringen,” said Bausen. “Presum ably at least two of them were on the streets on Friday evening-in addition to hers, that is.”

“Pins with red and yellow heads stand for sightings of the car,” said Kropke, keen to take over and assert his ownership of the patent. “Red for the period six-fifteen to six-forty-five, yel low for six-forty-five to seven-fifteen.”

Van Veeteren leaned farther over the table.

“The blue and white pins are witnesses who claim to have seen her in person-blue for the first half hour, white for the second. That one is DCI Van Veeteren, for instance.”

He pointed to a white pin on the beach.

“I’m honored,” said Van Veeteren. “How many are there?”

“Twenty-five red and twenty yellow,” said Kropke. “That’s the car-and then twelve blue and five white.”

Munster moved up alongside his boss and studied the pat tern of the drawing pins. Not a bad idea, he had to admit provided you knew how to interpret it properly, that is. They seemed to be quite widespread; evidently sightings had been made in all parts of town, but in most cases there was just one isolated pin.

“The point,” said Kropke, “is that we don’t need to worry about whether a single witness is sufficient or not. Places where there are several pins ought to be a sufficiently clear pointer.”

He paused to allow the others to count the pins, and recog nize the stroke of genius behind the method.

“Quite clear,” muttered Munster. “The white ones as well.”

“Indubitably,” said Van Veeteren. “No doubt about it.”

“Exactly,” said Kropke, looking pleased. “As you can see, there are only three conglomerations-in Fisherman’s Square outside The See Warf, in Grande Place, and the smokehouse.

Twenty-four pins outside The See Warf, eleven out here, eight by the smokehouse-forty-three out of sixty-two. The rest are scattered all over the place, as you will have noticed. And it seems that nobody saw her after DCI Van Veeteren’s sighting.

Apart from the murderer, that is. The beach must have been pretty deserted.”

“True,” said Van Veeteren.

“Hmm,” said Bausen. “I still don’t think we should get car ried away-a third of the sightings must be wrong, if I understand things.”

“Well,” said Kropke. “I think you realize-”

“And both The See Warf and the smokehouse have been written about in the newspapers.”

“True enough,” said Kropke. “But I think it’s fair to say that doesn’t matter. The most interesting thing is, of course, Grande

Place-there are eleven witnesses who claim to have seen either Moerk or her car outside the police station here between half past six and seven, roughly. Two saw her getting out of the car… those two white drawing pins over there.”

He pointed, and Bausen nodded. Van Veeteren snapped off a toothpick and dropped it in St. Pieter’s churchyard.

“Which direction was she going?” he asked.

Kropke looked at Bausen.

“Toward here,” he said.

Bausen nodded again.

“OK,” he said. “So there are indications that she came here.

Back to the station.”

“Well?” said Munster, feeling as if he’d just missed the point of a long and complicated joke. Van Veeteren said nothing. He dug his hands deeper into his pockets, stood erect again and emitted a slight hissing noise through his teeth. Munster recalled his boss’s back trouble, which occasionally manifested itself.

They sat down around the table again. Kropke was still looking pleased with himself, but also slightly bewildered, as if he couldn’t quite work out the implications of what his efforts had produced. Once again Munster could feel those butterfly like vibrations in his temples-the ones that usually suggested something was afoot, that a critical point was being ap proached. That the breakthrough could come at any moment.

He looked around the untidy room. Bang was sitting opposite him, sweating. Van Veeteren appeared to be half asleep.

Bausen was still studying the map and the drawing pins, suck ing in his cheeks and looking almost as if he was dreaming.

Eventually it was Constable Mooser who put into words the general bewilderment that seemed to be filling the room.

“Here?” he exclaimed. “Why on earth did she come here?”

Three seconds passed. Then both Kropke and Mooser groaned and said more or less simultaneously:

“Her office!”

“Holy shit!” gasped Bausen, and dropped his as yet unlit cigarette on the floor. “Has anybody checked her office?”

Mooser and Kropke were already on their way. Munster had stood up, and Bausen looked as if he’d just failed the first exam testing the basics of police work. Only Van Veeteren seemed unperturbed, and was digging around in his breast pocket.

“Of course,” he muttered. “There’ll be nothing there. But take a look by all means; six eyes will see more than two, or so one hopes.”