The Weeping Girl

16

15 July 1999

Vrommel was doing heel-raising exercises.

‘Achilles tendons and calves,’ he explained. ‘You’ve got to keep your body in trim as well. On a day like this I thought you’d be lying on a towel on the beach.’

‘This afternoon,’ said Moreno. ‘I just thought I’d ask if the Lijphart girl had turned up.’

‘Unfortunately.’

‘Unfortunately not?’

‘Unfortunately not.’

‘Could we sit down for a bit?’ suggested Moreno. ‘I actually met the girl on the train, and so perhaps-’

‘A routine matter,’ interrupted Vrommel. ‘Nothing you need worry about. If she doesn’t get in touch today we’ll send out a Wanted notice tomorrow.’

He continued stubbornly raising himself up and down on his toes. After every raise he emitted a brief guttural grunt, and the colour of his face confirmed that he wasn’t cheating, but putting his heart and soul into it.

He’s not compos mentis, Moreno thought, leaning on the edge of the desk. Another one of ’em. Ah well. .

‘What do you think has happened?’ she asked.

Vrommel sank down on his heels, and stayed there. Took two deep breaths and started head-turnings. From right to left. Left to right. Slowly and methodically.

‘Nothing,’ he said.

‘Nothing?’ said Moreno. ‘But the girl’s disappeared.’

‘Girls do disappear,’ said Vrommel. ‘Always have done. They come back a little redder in the cheek.’

What the hell. .? Moreno thought, but managed to twist her lips into something she hoped might be interpreted as a smile. Albeit a stiff one. And a brief one.

‘So you don’t think it has anything to do with that other business from a few years ago?’

‘Oh, you know about that, do you?’

‘A bit. It was pretty sensational, I gather. .’

Vrommel said nothing.

‘I’d have thought there might be some sort of link. . Somehow or other.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘No? But wouldn’t it be an idea to talk to the staff at the Sidonis home even so? Ask how the meeting between father and daughter went. . Where she went afterwards, that kind of thing.’

‘Already taken care of.’

‘Really?’

Silence. Right, left. Breathing out, breathing in.

‘Vegesack went out there last night. Why are you poking around in this business, Inspector? Do you think I don’t know how to do my job?’

‘Forgive me,’ said Moreno. ‘Of course not. It’s just that I was a bit taken by the girl. I met her quite by chance on the train when I was on my way here. You were the one in charge of the investigation sixteen years ago, is that right?’

‘Who else?’ said Vrommel. ‘What do you do in the way of physical training?’

Talk about changing the subject, Moreno thought, and smiled genuinely.

‘Oh, I go jogging, and to the gym,’ she said.

‘Gym!’ snorted Vrommel. ‘A bloody silly newfangled racket.’

Moreno decided not to take the bait.

‘What did Vegesack have to say?’ she asked instead.

‘Nothing at all,’ said Vrommel, twisting his head so far to the right that Moreno could hear his cervical vertebrae creaking.

‘Nothing at all?’

‘He hasn’t delivered his report yet,’ said Vrommel. ‘He takes the morning off on Thursdays. Looking after his ancient mum, or something of the sort. Another bloody silly newfangled racket.’

Moreno wasn’t sure if the chief of police was attacking motherhood itself, or the fact that there were still people who accepted a certain amount of responsibility for their parents. She also began to feel that it was becoming more and more difficult to remain in the same room as Vrommel without giving him a kick between the legs or suggesting he should go and take a running jump. . So she cleared her throat and stood up instead. Thanked him for being so cooperative. So extremely cooperative.

‘No problem,’ said Vrommel. ‘Code of honour. Go and lie down in the sun now. We’ll do all that’s required of us, in accordance with the rulebook.’

Kiss my arse, thought Moreno when she had emerged into the sunlight. Code of honour! In accordance with the rule-book! Oh yes! She didn’t doubt for one second that Chief of Police Vrommel knew precisely what to do in a situation like this.

How to handle girls who disappeared then turned up again a little redder in the cheek.

She crossed over the square and sat down at a table in the pavement area of Cafe Darm. Ordered a cappuccino and freshly pressed orange juice and continued to wonder what to do next — Vegesack wasn’t due back at the police station until one o’clock, she had already established that after a chat with froken Glossmann in reception. Then she suddenly caught sight of Sigrid Lijphart sitting only a couple of tables away.

She hesitated for a moment, then took her cup and glass and asked if she might join fru Lijphart.

Of course. Fru Lijphart didn’t look as if she had slept very well that night — hardly surprising, after all. She seemed to have been crying, Moreno thought, repressing an impulse to place her hand on fru Lijphart’s arm.

She wasn’t quite sure why she had repressed that impulse, but it seemed obvious that the explanation had to do with her profession as a police officer rather than her being a woman. It wasn’t always easy to reconcile these two natures side by side within her. She had thought about that before. Many a time.

‘How are you feeling?’ she asked cautiously.

Fru Lijphart took out a handkerchief and blew her nose.

‘Not so good,’ she said.

‘I understand,’ said Moreno.

‘Do you?’ said fru Lijphart. ‘Do you have children of your own?’

Moreno shook her head. ‘Not yet.’

Yet? She gave a start and wondered why that phrase had just popped out of her mouth. Noted that whatever else it might be, it wasn’t a police expression — rather some sort of Freudian slip: so the balance between her natures seemed to have been restored.

‘I’m so worried,’ said fru Lijphart, scraping her coffee cup against the saucer. ‘So really, really worried. Something. . Something must have happened to her. Mikaela would never. . No, so many days have passed now.’

Her voice broke. Her body shuddered violently — like the after-effects of an attack of sobbing, Moreno thought — then she straightened her back and tried to collect herself.

‘I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s so hard.’

‘I understand,’ said Moreno again. ‘If I can do anything to help, just say the word.’

Fru Lijphart looked at her in surprise.

‘You are. . Are you a police officer here in Lejnice?’

Moreno smiled.

‘No, Maardam. I’m here on holiday. It’s just that I had to see the chief of police about a certain matter.’

‘I see.’

There followed a moment’s silence, and Moreno had time to ask herself what that I see might mean. If her interpretation was right, it seemed to indicate a certain degree of relief that Moreno wasn’t a member of Vrommel’s normal staff.

Very understandable, in that case.

‘Have you tried to do anything off your own bat?’ she asked.

Fru Lijphart shook her head.

‘No. I’ll meet Vrommel and that constable of his at one o’clock. . No, I don’t feel that I can go round talking to people in this town. Not after what happened. I’ve sort of turned my back on it all. . Left it behind me. I simply wouldn’t be able to look it in the face again now.’

‘I don’t suppose you know where Mikaela intended to spend the night, do you?’

Fru Lijphart looked unsure.

‘I’ve no idea,’ she said. ‘She just upped and left. Naturally. . naturally it was a sort of punishment on her part — that’s how I interpret it, at least. Punishing me for not having told her sooner. And punishing Helmut as well, perhaps. He’s my husband, Mikaela’s stepfather. A sort of demonstration, I reckon. She simply said she was going to come here and meet him, then she left. But I know that she wouldn’t keep out of touch like this. I don’t suppose everybody knows their own children inside out, but I do.’

‘So you don’t think that this is part of the demonstration? Leaving you to stew for a while?’

‘No.’ Fru Lijphart shook her head emphatically. ‘Absolutely not. Obviously I was prepared for her to stay away for a day and maybe a night as well, but not as long as this. It’s now. . it’s now nearly a week. Good Lord, why doesn’t he do something, that damned chief of police?’

Moreno thought it best not to respond to that, so she said nothing for a while and tried to look benignly neutral.

‘And you don’t want to go and talk to your ex-husband?’ she asked in due course.

Fru Lijphart gave a start as if she had just burnt her fingers.

‘To Arnold? Talk to Arnold? No, I can’t see what good that would do.’

‘You could find out what they talked about, for instance,’ said Moreno. ‘Mikaela and him.’

Fru Lijphart didn’t answer at first, looked as if she were contemplating the difference between the plague and cholera.

‘No,’ she said eventually. ‘I don’t think that whatever has happened had anything to do with that. Besides, that police constable has been to talk to him, so there’s no point in anybody else doing so.’

‘What actually happened?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Sixteen years ago. What happened?’

Fru Lijphart looked genuinely surprised.

‘You must know, surely.’

‘Only what was said at the police station,’ she lied.

‘You’re not from here?’

‘Maardam, as I said.’

Fru Lijphart fished a cigarette out of her handbag. Put it into her mouth and lit it in so clumsy a fashion that Moreno realized that she was not a regular smoker.

‘He had sex with a sixteen-year-old,’ she said after the first puff. ‘A pupil of his.’

Moreno waited.

‘He made her pregnant, then he killed her. My husband. I’m talking about the person I was married to, the father of Mikaela. Note that.’

‘That’s terrible,’ said Moreno. ‘It must have been horribly traumatic for you.’

Fru Lijphart eyed her for several seconds, apparently assessing her.

‘There was only one thing to do,’ she said. ‘Close the door and start all over again. That’s what I did. I knew that I had to create a new life for myself, for me and my daughter. If we were going to keep our heads above water. There are some things you can’t do anything about. You just have to turn your back on them. I hope you understand what I’m saying.’

Moreno nodded vaguely. Wondered if she really did. Understand, that is. If she agreed with this sorely tried woman that there were certain things that couldn’t — shouldn’t — be faced up to. Understood or forgiven. They should simply be forgotten.

Perhaps, she thought. But perhaps not. No doubt you ought to be fully aware of all the circumstances before you made up your mind, in any case. All the circumstances.

‘Why did you tell your daughter about it?’ she asked.

‘Because I had to,’ answered fru Lijphart without hesitation. ‘I’ve always known that despite everything, I would have to tell her. Always known. It wasn’t something I could get round, so I made up my mind that that was the right moment. Her eighteenth birthday. It’s easier if you pin a time on to difficulties like that — I don’t know if you’ve found that as well.’

Moreno wasn’t convinced she could see the logic in that, but it seemed obvious that fru Lijphart believed what she said.

‘What about that girl?’ wondered Moreno. ‘The one that-’

‘A little whore,’ interrupted fru Lijphart just as unequivocally. ‘There are types who are born to become whores — I’m not being prejudiced, just realistic. Arnold wasn’t the first man she went to bed with, not by any means. No, I don’t want to talk about this, I’m sorry.’

‘What was her name?’ asked Moreno.

‘Winnie,’ said fru Lijphart, curling her lips in disgust. ‘Winnie Maas. He went out of his mind as a result, my husband — I take it you knew about that in any case? Went mad, just like that.’

‘I gathered that when you spoke to Vrommel,’ said Moreno, glancing at the clock. ‘Oh dear, I think I’m going to be late. Forgive me for intruding, but if there’s anything you think I could help you with, don’t hesitate to get in touch. You can ring me on my mobile. I’m really sorry for your sake, and I hope Mikaela turns up again soon.’

She handed over her card, and fru Lijphart looked at it before putting it away in her handbag.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m going home tomorrow no matter what happens. I’m not spending more than two nights in this town, I couldn’t cope with that. I’m very grateful for your concern, it’s been good talking to you.’

‘No problem,’ said Moreno, getting to her feet. ‘Now, I must dash. My fiance will be sitting waiting for me.’

Her fiance (lover? boyfriend? bloke?) wasn’t sitting in Donners Park waiting for her, as arranged. He was lying on his back under a chestnut tree instead, his head resting on a root, trying to eat an ice cream without spilling it all over his face.

‘You’re late,’ he pointed out as she flopped down beside him. ‘But it doesn’t matter. That’s a woman’s privilege after all, and I desire you just as much anyway.’

‘Good,’ said Moreno. ‘I suspect you’re also a little bit desirable in some people’s eyes. A pity you ended up with somebody as hard-boiled as I am. But don’t give up. How did it go?’

Mikael raised himself into a half-sitting position, leaning against the trunk of the tree. As a gentlemanly gesture he gave her the remaining twelfth or so of the ice cream and wiped his hands on the grass.

‘Not too badly,’ he said. ‘If you bear in mind that I’m an amateur at this sort of thing, at least. I’ve dug up fru Maas’s address — she still lives here in Lejnice. In a flat in Goopsweg. More or less in the very centre of town. And the mystery of where she spent the night is also solved.’

‘Where she spent the night?’ said Moreno. ‘You mean that Mikaela Lijphart spent the night in Lejnice, despite everything?’

‘Yes. In the youth hostel, as we thought. Out at Missenraade. But only the Saturday night, unfortunately. She took her rucksack and caught the bus into town at about ten on Sunday morning, and that’s where the trail peters out, I’m afraid. I talked to one of the girls in reception at the youth hostel. She claimed she remembered her very well, but she had no idea about where Mikaela was intending to go to. They are always more or less full up out there in the summer, but nevertheless she was pretty sure that Mikaela had taken the bus into Lejnice on Saturday evening as well. And come back again, of course. So there you have it — but goodness knows where that leads us to. Nowhere, I assume.’

‘You never know,’ said Moreno with a sigh. ‘That’s the problem with what we do. And the charm, of course. A pretty grim sort of charm, but that’s what it usually looks like. Lots of straggling strands leading out higgledy-piggledy into the darkness — I’m afraid that’s yet another quotation from the Chief Inspector — and then all of a sudden one thing leads to another and it’s all sorted before you know where you are. Hmm, why am I sitting here babbling on like this? It must be the heat.’

Mikael observed her with interest.

‘You like it,’ he said. ‘It has nothing to do with the heat. You don’t need to be ashamed of liking the job you do.’

‘There’s like and like,’ said Moreno. ‘You have to try to look at things from an angle that makes them bearable, don’t you think? I don’t suppose what you do in the social services is idyllic all round the clock.’

Mikael scratched at the stubble on his chin that must be about three or four days old now.

‘You mean you have to be an optimist even though you’re really a pessimist?’ he said. ‘Yes, that’s not a bad principle, I suppose. Do you know who the funniest humorists are, by the way? Gravediggers. Gravediggers and pathologists. There must be a reason for that. Anyway, do you want to carry on playing the private detective for the whole of your holiday, or shall we go and lie on the beach for a while?’

‘The beach,’ said Moreno. ‘Several hours, at least. I want to exchange a few words with Vegesack before I pack it in, but there’s no rush. Perhaps he was right after all, Vrommel. Perhaps she’s just run off for a bit of fun. We’ll see what happens when they slam a Wanted notice on her tomorrow. It’s not as easy to turn one’s back on things as a lot of people seem to think.’

On the way down to the sea another question cropped up inside her head.

In connection with that business of having children. And very definitely in connection with the business of optimism versus pessimism.

Wouldn’t it be better never to have any — children, that is — than to have to cope with their disappearance one fine day?

Or their being found dead on a railway line under a viaduct?

Another question without an answer, but she didn’t take it up with Mikael.