Kismet

Chapter 14

We were having breakfast, and I was carefully explaining to Leila why I wanted to go looking for her mother on my own. It would be dangerous, if she came I might have to think about her more than the search itself, and I didn’t like company while I was working anyway, certainly not my client’s company. But what finally made Leila give way and stop arguing with me was my threat that if she didn’t I’d chuck the whole thing up. In the end education is no big deal.

‘So we’re agreed. Good.’

I smiled warmly at her. She was still tousled from sleep, she was wearing my dressing-gown, which was much too large for her, and gloomily nibbling half a piece of bread and butter.

‘And as I can’t slink into Ahrens’s place until it’s dark, I thought we’d do something I’m sure you’ll enjoy this afternoon.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘You like dogs, don’t you?’

‘Why?’

‘Well, when the dogs were chasing around in the video yesterday, you liked that, didn’t you?’

‘Are my father’s dogs.’

‘Yes, well, we won’t be looking for them, but we’ll be looking for a lovely German shepherd dog called Susi.’

I smiled warmly again, while she looked at me as if I were Frau Schmidtbauer.

‘Are you drank?’

‘You mean drunk, sweetheart, and no, I’m not. If you come with me I’ll tell you about it on the way.’ I looked at the time. Twelve-thirty. ‘In half an hour. Think it over.’

Then I got her to tell me her mother’s surname, picked up my cup and moved into the living-room to phone. The phone was answered after the first ring.

‘Afternoon, Herr Hottges!’

Perhaps it was something in the air, or perhaps they’d started mixing happy-drugs into instant coffee, the way I’d read they did with cat food. Anyway, the deep, heartfelt sigh at the other end of the line that followed my greeting filled me with genuine liking.

‘I know, I know: you don’t like me to ring your office.’

‘I’m expecting an important call.’

‘I’ll be quick: I need to know by this evening whether a woman called Stasha Markovic has been arrested for any reason over the last few days. She’s a Bosnian refugee, mid-thirties, green eyes, very bright.’

‘Where can I reach you?’

‘At my home number around six.’

Then I called Slibulsky. He was doing his accounts, he said. I could hear Formula One engines in the background.

‘You sound glum. What’s the matter? The dinner’s tomorrow evening.’

‘I think people can look at me without losing their appetite.’

‘Sounds great. How’s it going with the Army?’

‘If everything works out I’ll have them nailed on Saturday. Until then I’d be very glad if you could put up a charming little girl in your guest bedroom.’

‘How come you know any charming little girls?’

‘She’s my client.’

‘Have you turned into some kind of youth social worker? This rock ’n’ roll character turned up here yesterday, saying you sent him.’

‘Zvonko.’

‘Yes, he can start next week. What about the little girl?’

I told him briefly how Leila had become my client, and said I didn’t want to leave her alone in my flat.

‘OK. Do we have to cook her spaghetti or play the memory game with her and so on?’

‘Well, she’s not all that little and charming. Just sit her down in front of the TV set and give her some of your Western videos.’

‘Girls don’t watch Westerns.’

‘With her, I wouldn’t be so sure. Anyway, she’ll be agitated and pretty distracted. I’m hoping to get her mother back for her tonight.’

‘Are you sure you’ll find her with this — what’s his name?’

‘Ahrens. I believe I will. The problem is, I must find her without being found myself. But I think I can do it.’

‘That’s funny. You don’t sound like a man who thinks he can do anything. What is the matter?’

I muttered something like, ‘Slept too well,’ then we fixed to meet at seven and hung up. For a moment I wanted to tell Leila the news at once, but then I thought it would be more in line with educational principles not to tell her until there wasn’t much time left for objections and nagging.

Twenty minutes later Leila and I were getting into the car, and for the first time since Frau Beierle had hired me I really set out in search of Susi, equipped with a stack of photos.

Looking in the rear-view mirror, I was just in time to see the greengrocer rush out of his shop, waving excitedly in our direction. Luckily we hadn’t met in the stairwell. He would have taken his supposedly desperate situation as a reason to break our tacit agreement and look me in the eye. But now that he was even calling me by my proper name, I wanted to avoid getting close to him more than ever. It might have led to a flowering of sympathy setting us back years. For now I was going to try keeping our relationship going purely by phone.

The afternoon, spent in assorted animal rescue centres — in Fechenheim, Hanau, Egelsbach, Dreieichenhain — turned out much as I’d expected. Endless rows of pens, any amount of barking dogs, and all the German shepherds looked just like Susi. To me, anyway. After complaining of anything and everything during the drive — my beat-up old car, my shitty dog, even my wet weather — Leila brightened surprisingly quickly at the sight of the first bundles of fur looking soulfully at her. Soon she took over the photos and the investigation. She had nothing but a shake of the head for my technique of calling ‘Susi!’ to whatever dog we were looking at, and hoping that Susi would then identify herself by turning somersaults or some other such means.

‘Must look their eyes. Susi have so stiff eyes.’

‘Big eyes, you mean.’

The keepers or attendants or whatever were either grouchy alcoholics muttering incomprehensible remarks to themselves who presumably liked to kick the dogs in the face by way of saying good morning, or ladies in their mid-forties who truly loved animals. They didn’t love their fellow men as much.

‘You’re looking for a dog for dogfights, right?’

‘No, a German shepherd.’

‘Because I can tell you, we don’t give dogs away to all comers.’

‘Quite right too.’

‘You think so? But your daughter speaks hardly any German.’

‘Well, I’m sure there’s a lot to discuss there, but the fact is that we’re looking for a German shepherd, and we don’t have all the time in the world.’

Four unsuccessful hours later we drove home. I still had four animal rescue centres on my list. I’d try them another time. Or maybe not. The closer evening came, the less prominently Susi featured in my mind, and presumably in Leila’s too.

I parked the car round the corner, and we reached the flat unobserved by the greengrocer.

While I packed a bag with a chisel, a flashlight, a hooded jacket and my pistol, Leila sat on the edge of the sofa, jiggling her toes nervously up and down and eating sweets that smelled like room spray.

‘You think my mother come back today?’

‘Well, at least I believe I’ll find her.’ And I did. At times you get a sense of certainty that something is bound to succeed. Goal-scorers have it when they get the ball while facing the serried ranks of defenders, and they know: I’m going to shoot right through them and score the deciding goal. And they do. Or bouncers: OK, they tell themselves, that bastard is much larger, broader, stronger than me, but right now I’m flinging him out on his ear. And they do fling him out on his ear. Or just people looking for something: I’ll find it today, they say. And they find it.

‘Without me not very good detective.’

‘I’m better with human beings.’

‘Hope so. What about Susi?’

‘There are other refuges.’

‘When my mother back, you take me with you?’

‘Yes, sure. I’d be lost without you.’

The phone rang at six on the dot, and Hottges told me that no Stasha Markovic had been either arrested or done anything to get into police records since Sunday.

‘Listen, Leila.’ I sat down on the sofa beside her. ‘It would be better if you slept with some friends of mine tonight.’ I could have spared myself the educational approach. To my surprise, she agreed at once.

‘Not be alone better, you know?’

‘I understand.’

I dropped her off at Slibulsky’s just before seven.