Borkmann's point

51

“I’ll be all right,” said Beate Moerk.

“Sure?”

“Of course. A spell in the bath and I’ll be a rose again.”

“The doctor will be here in half an hour. I’d prefer to stay until then.”

“No, thank you,” she said with a faint smile. “Get back to your family now.”

He paused, his hand on the door handle.

“That report… ” he said. “How much of it did you read, in fact?”

She laughed.

“All right, I’ll come clean. Nothing. It was the pagination that intrigued me. When I handed over the original, I looked at the last page and saw that it numbered thirty-five, at the bot tom… I think I said something about it at the time.”

“True,” said Munster, remembering the moment.

“There were no numbers on the copy… that’s all. I didn’t know a thing about his daughter when I drove to the station.

I’ve only been working here for four years; she was dead when

I started. I just wanted to check if I could find anything in the copying room. I suppose he must have seen me when I arrived, or as I was leaving… that’s all. Maybe it was pure coinci dence; I don’t know if he thought I knew something. Anything else you’re wondering about?”

Munster shook his head.

“Well, quite a bit in fact,” he said. “But it can wait.”

“Go now,” she said. “But give me a hug first, if you can stand the stink.”

“Come on, I’ve been carrying you around all morning,” said Munster, throwing his arms around her.

“Ouch,” said Beate Moerk.

“So long, then,” said Munster. “Look after yourself.”

“You too.”

He saw him from some considerable distance away.

In the faint light of dawn, he was standing in the same place as he’d been that evening, right at the beginning.

Back then, when he’d chosen not to approach him. Not to disturb his sorrow.

Like then, he had his hands thrust deep into his pockets.

Head bowed. He was standing perfectly still, legs wide apart, as if he’d been waiting for a long time and wanted to make sure that he didn’t lose his balance.

Concentrating hard. Deep in what might have been prayer,

Van Veeteren thought, but perhaps he was simply waiting.

Waiting for something to happen.

Or perhaps it was just sorrow. His back made it so clear he didn’t want to be disturbed that Van Veeteren hesitated to approach. He gestured to Kropke and Mooser to keep their dis tance… so that he would have him to himself for at least a short while.

“Good morning,” he said when there were only a couple of yards left, and Bausen must have heard his footsteps in the gravel. “I’m coming now.”

“Good morning,” said Bausen, without moving.

Van Veeteren put his hand on Bausen’s shoulder. Stood still for a while, reading what it said on the headstone.

Brigitte Bausen

6.18.1961-9.30.1988

Helena Bausen

2.3.1932-9.27.1991

“Yesterday?” said Van Veeteren.

Bausen nodded.

“Five years ago. As you can see, her mother didn’t quite make it in the end… but she was only three days short.”

They stood in silence for a while. Van Veeteren could hear

Kropke coughing in the background, and held up a warning hand without looking around.

“I ought to have realized sooner,” he said. “You’ve given me a few signs.”

Bausen didn’t answer at first. Shrugged his shoulders, and shook his head.

“Signs,” he said eventually. “I don’t receive any signs… I’ve been standing here, waiting, for quite a long time, not just right now…”

“I know,” said Van Veeteren. “Perhaps… perhaps the absence of any is a sign in itself.”

Bausen raised his eyes.

“God’s silence?” He shuddered, and looked Van Veeteren in the eye. “I’m sorry about Moerk… have you released her?”

“Yes.”

“I needed somebody to explain everything to. Didn’t realize that before I took her, but that’s how it was. I never thought of killing her.”

“Of course not,” said Van Veeteren. “When did you gather that I’d caught on?”

Bausen hesitated.

“That last game of chess, perhaps. But I wasn’t sure-”

“Nor was I,” said Van Veeteren. “I had trouble finding a motive.”

“But you know now?”

“I think so. Kropke did a bit of research yesterday… what a disgusting mess.”

“Moerk knows all about it. You can ask her. I haven’t the strength to go through it all again. I’m so tired.”

Van Veeteren nodded.

“That telephone call yesterday…” said Bausen. “I wasn’t fooled; it was more a question of being polite, if you’ll ex cuse me?”

“No problem,” said Van Veeteren. “It was an opening gam bit I’d made up myself.”

“More of an endgame,” said Bausen. “I thought it took you a bit long, even so…”

“My car broke down,” said Van Veeteren. “Shall we go?”

“Yes,” said Bausen. “Let’s.”