Borkmann's point

44

“What did you say?” asked Munster.

“Eh?” said Bang.

“Will you repeat what you just said about Inspector Moerk and that fruit shop?”

Bang looked up from the lists and looked slightly shifty.

“I don’t understand… I just said that I met her there last Friday-at Kuipers, the place that sells fruit out at Immels port.”

“What time?”

“A quarter past five, roughly. It was before she went to The See Warf. Obviously, I’d have mentioned it if it had been afterward.”

“What did she do there?”

“At Kuipers? Bought some fruit, of course. They have really cheap fruit there… and vegetables as well. But I don’t see why this matters.”

“Just a minute,” said Munster. “She left the police station shortly after half past four… around twenty to five, perhaps.

How long does it take to get to Immelsport?”

“By car?”

“Yes, by car.”

“I don’t know… about twenty minutes, I suppose.”

“And you saw her there at quarter past five. That means she can’t have had time to go home first, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose so, yes,” said Bang, trying to frown.

“How long would it take her to drive home from Kuipers to Vrejsbakk, that is?”

Bang shrugged.

“Er, about a quarter of an hour, I’d say. Depends on the traf fic. But I don’t see why you’re going on about this.”

Munster contemplated his colleague’s rosy-cheeked face with an almost pitying smile.

“I’ll explain why,” he said slowly, emphasizing every word.

“If Inspector Moerk was out at Immelsport at a quarter past five, she can hardly have got home until about… let’s say twenty to six. She was at The See Warf in a tracksuit at quarter past six. Can you tell me when the hell she could have found time to read the Melnik report?”

Bang thought that over for a while.

“You’re right, of course,” he said eventually. “So she didn’t read it, is that it?”

“Exactly,” said Munster. “She didn’t read it.”

He knocked and went in.

Van Veeteren had moved from the room’s only armchair to the balcony. He sat there smoking and gazing out in the direc tion of Fisherman’s Square, at the spiky outlines of the build ings as twilight began to descend over the bay. The chair was placed diagonally; all Munster could see of him were his legs, his right shoulder and right arm. Even so, it was enough for him to understand.

Something had happened. And it wasn’t a question of his being struck down by senility. On the contrary. I must learn to be humble in thought, Munster decided. Not just in deed.

“Sit down,” said Van Veeteren wearily, gesturing with his hand.

Munster moved the desk chair and sat down next to the detective chief inspector at an angle he hoped would at least give him the opportunity of some eye contact if necessary.

“Let’s hear it again!” said Van Veeteren.

Munster cleared his throat.

“Bang met Moerk out at Immelsport at quarter past five last Friday afternoon.”

“Is he sure?”

“Yes. They exchanged a few words. Not even Bang could get that wrong.”

Van Veeteren nodded.

“I’m not sure where that is. Do the times fit?”

“I’ve checked,” said Munster. “There’s no possibility of her having read the report. She left the police station at exactly four-thirty-five, together with Miss deWitt. They were the last to leave. She went to her car; drove out to that green grocer’s and bought various items; drove home; got changed; tried to phone me, presumably, but received no answer.

Instead, she wrote a message and drove here with it, and then-”

Van Veeteren grunted and sat up in the armchair.

“That’s enough. Well, what conclusions do you draw from this?”

Munster spread out his arms.

“That she must have discovered something without having read it, of course, something right at the beginning. On the first page, perhaps… I don’t know.”

He paused and observed his boss, who was gazing up at the evening sky and slowly wagging his head from side to side.

“Bang?” he said, with a deep sigh. “What the devil are we going to do with Bang?”

“Excuse me?” said Munster, but it was clear that Van Veeteren was talking to himself now. He continued muttering for a while, holding his spent cigarette vertically between his thumb and his index finger and staring at the column of ash as long as his thumb. Only when a puff of wind blew it away did he give a start and seem to become conscious of the fact that he wasn’t alone in the room.

“OK, this is what we’ll do,” he said, dropping the cigarette end into his glass of water on the balcony floor. “If it works, it works… Munster!”

“Er, yes,” said Munster.

“You take the day off tomorrow and spend your time with

Synn and the kids.”

“What?” said Munster. “Why the…?”

“That’s an order,” said Van Veeteren. “Make sure you’re reachable in the evening, though. I think I’ll need to talk to you then.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make a little trip,” said Van Veeteren.

“Where to?”

“We’ll see.”

Here we go again, thought Munster. He gritted his teeth and pushed the humility principle to one side. He’s sitting there playing the asshole and being mysterious again, as if he were a gumshoe in some book or film or other! It’s disgusting, really. I don’t understand why I should be expected to put up with such goddamn 2 7 9

“I have my reasons,” said Van Veeteren, as if he’d been able to read Munster’s thoughts. “It’s just that I have an idea, and it’s not one to shout from the rooftops. In fact, if I’m wrong, it’s better for nobody to know about it.”

Munster stood up.

“OK,” he said. “A day off with the family tomorrow. Make sure I’m at home in the evening-anything else?”

“I don’t think so,” said Van Veeteren. “Well, I suppose you could wish me luck. I might need it.”

“Good hunting,” said Munster, leaving Van Veeteren to his fate.

He remained in the armchair for a while, gazing out over the town. He smoked another cigarette and wished he had some thing to wash away the unpleasant taste in his mouth.

Once this case is over, he thought, I won’t want to be reminded of it. Not ever.

Then he sat down at the desk and made two phone calls.

He asked two questions, and received more or less the replies he’d been looking for.

“I’ll be there at around noon,” he said. “No, I can’t tell you what it’s about. It would be such a goddamn disaster if I’m wrong.”

Then he took a shower and went to bed. It was only eleven o’clock, but the earlier he could set off the next day, the better.

I’ll know tomorrow, he thought.

We’ll have him behind bars the day after tomorrow, and I can go home on Saturday.

But before he could go to sleep, thoughts about Beate

Moerk came flooding into his mind, and it was well into the early hours before he finally dozed off.