Hakan Nesser - Borkmann's point

Kropke did as he was bidden. Van Veeteren removed the toothpick.

“Not much point,” he said. “We’ve already tried twice from the hotel. You noticed the form of address, I suppose?”

Bausen nodded and went over to the window. He rubbed at his stubble as he contemplated the back courtyard, breathing heavily. Munster and Kropke returned. Kropke shook his head.

“No reply,” he said. “What does everybody think?”

“Podworsky?” said Bausen, turning around to face the room. “Do you really think that she’d get it into her head to drive out to Podworsky’s place?”

Kropke cleared his throat.

“No,” he said. “That would be most unlike her, in fact-”

“Sheer lunacy,” said Mooser. “Nobody in his right mind would go there of their own volition. Not even in normal cir cumstances. If in addition you suspect he might be the Axman,

I can’t understand why-”

But now Munster had had enough.

“Stop!” he yelled, hitting the table with his fist. “Dammit, it’s time we did something instead of sitting here chewing the cud! All we need to do is to get in a car and drive out to this bas tard! What are we waiting for?”

Bausen looked at him with eyebrows raised.

“I really believe-” he began.

“Bravo, Munster!” interrupted Van Veeteren. “I’m inclined to agree with you. A bit of action is called for.”

Munster leaned back in his chair and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“That’s OK,” said Bausen. “This is really ugly. If we’re going to-”

“Just a minute,” said Van Veeteren, leaning over the table. “I think we need to clarify a few things before we take any action.

In the first place, I don’t think it’s especially likely that Inspec tor Moerk did, in fact, drive out to Podworsky’s place. In fact,

I’d go so far as to say it was out of the question.”

“Why?” asked Kropke.

“The time,” said Van Veeteren. “She didn’t have enough time. She left here when the rest of us went, didn’t she?

Around about half past four, or thereabouts?”

Kropke and Mooser nodded.

“She had the Melnik report in her briefcase just like we all did. At twenty past six, according to the receptionist, she handed over the message at The See Warf. It said she intended to check something out. Notice that she hadn’t yet done so she wouldn’t have had time to do anything but read through the report and change into her tracksuit between half past four and twenty past six.”

“True,” said Bausen.

“Whatever it was she intended to check out, she did it after leaving the hotel-between half past six and a quarter past seven, roughly. Forty-five minutes, in other words.”

“A quarter past seven? How do you know that?” asked

Kropke.

“Because I saw her,” said Van Veeteren.

“Saw her?” bellowed Bausen. “Where?”

Van Veeteren bit off the toothpick.

“I saw her on the beach… at a quarter past seven.”

“What was she doing there?” wondered Mooser.

“Running,” said Van Veeteren. “Westward.”

Silence again.

“Expected to be back home by eight,” said Munster.

“Was she alone?” asked Kropke.

Van Veeteren shrugged and looked at Munster.

“Yes,” he said. “All by herself-I think it might be a good idea for Munster and me to go and take a look. Maybe we could take Mooser with us?”

Bausen nodded.

“Back in two hours?” he suggested. “I think Kropke and I will take a little trip out to Podworsky’s place in the mean time-to see how the land lies, if nothing else.”

“Is that it?” asked Van Veeteren.

Mooser nodded.

“Sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” said Mooser. “It’s hers. Mazda 323 I’ve even helped her change the fan belt.”

“It’s hers,” muttered Munster.

“Hmm,” said Van Veeteren. “It was more or less down there that I saw her-two or three hundred yards from here, I should think.”

He pointed toward the beach. It was no longer the deserted stretch of sand it had been the evening before. It was Saturday, and masses of men, women and children were sauntering about down below. A group of long-haired youths were play ing football, dogs were romping around, and several kites were bobbing about in the wind-yellow trembling lumps of butter against the practically clear blue sky. The clouds, the mist and showers of the last few days seemed to have blown away dur ing the night; the gulls were soaring high again and the air felt pure. Salty and invigorating.

Munster bit his lip. Van Veeteren was swaying back and forth, looking for once at a loss. Unless it’s just a pose, thought

Munster. Wouldn’t surprise me.

It was Mooser who broke the spell.

“Do you think-?” he said.

“We don’t think anything,” interrupted Van Veeteren.

“What the hell do you mean?”

“But-?”

“Shut up!” said Van Veeteren. “This is no time to be playing guessing games. Do you know what track she used to follow?”

“Well,” said Mooser, “Track and track-back and forth along the beach, perhaps. Or maybe she would take the path through the woods on the way back.”

“Hmm,” said Van Veeteren. “Did she always go jogging on her own?”

“No,” said Mooser. “I think she and Gertrude Dunckel used to run together sometimes.”

“Who’s she?” asked Munster.

“A friend of hers. Works at the library-”

“Did she have a boyfriend?” asked Van Veeteren.

Mooser thought.

“She used to… but not at the moment. She was with a guy for a few years, then he left her, I think. And then there was

Janos Havel, but I think that’s all over as well.”

“Yes, it’s all over,” said Munster. “Do we have to go through her whole life story before we do something?”

Mooser cleared his throat.

“The beach out and the woods back?”

“Just the woods,” said Van Veeteren. “They’d have already found her if she was on the beach-he doesn’t usually bother too much about hiding them.”

“Oh, Christ,” said Munster.

“I assume the car was her starting and finishing point,” said

Van Veeteren, ignoring Munster. “Do you know if there’s more than one path? Through the woods, I mean?”

“I don’t think so,” said Mooser. “It’s only a narrow stretch of trees, in fact. There’s a path that most people use-quite hilly. Shall we try that?”

“Let’s get going, then!” said Van Veeteren. “We haven’t got all day.”

“Don’t drive so damn fast,” said Bausen. “We must be clear about what we’re going to do when we get there.”

Kropke slowed down.

“Have you got your weapon with you?” he asked.

“Of course,” said Bausen. “I had the feeling something funny was going on. I take it you have yours as well?”

Kropke slapped under his arm.

“Thank God, it isn’t dangling against your thigh, at least,” muttered Bausen. “Stop! This is where we turn off.”

Kropke braked and turned onto the narrow ribbon of asphalt running over the heath. A flock of big black rooks busy with the dead body of some small animal or other took off from the road and landed again the moment they’d passed.

Cawing loudly, and self-assured.

Bausen turned to gaze over the desolate wilderness. In the far distance he could make out the skeletons of a row of low buildings, more or less dilapidated-a few walls, roofs destroyed by the rain; once upon a time, half a century or more ago, they had served a purpose. When peat was still being cut from these marshy wastes, he recalled. Odd that the drying sheds were still standing; he recalled how they had ful filled a different function when he was a kid-love nests for the young people of the district with no homes to go to. It had been quite an undertaking to get out here, of course, but once that detail had been fixed, these isolated buildings provided excellent opportunities for all kinds of intimacies-almost like the urga s of the Mongols, it struck him. Holy sites dedicated to love. He had no difficulty in remembering two, no, three occasions when it really did happen…