Hakan Nesser - Mind's eye

“How can he have worked that out?”

Munster smiled.

“He and Moss have been out there, climbing. Or rather, Moss did the climbing and deBries made notes. They tried eight different drainpipes, between the ground and the third floor. All of them survived being climbed down with flying colors, but only three of them held for four attempts.”

“How much does Moss weigh?” asked Jung.

“About a hundred and fifty pounds, I should think,” said Munster. “He’s considering leaving the force, according to deBries; but both the patients and the doctors seem to have had a most enjoyable day. . Anyway, look closely at the names and compare the lists. How many can you find on all three?”

Jung examined the sheets of paper for a few moments.

“One,” he said.

“Exactly,” said Munster. “We’ve got him. There’s another thing that indicates him-can you see it?”

“The letter?” said Jung.

“Yes,” said Munster “If it is him, that confirms the letter theory as well. Shall we go?”

Jung looked at his watch.

“Go where?” he wondered.

“Home, of course,” said Munster. “I’ll phone Van Veeteren tomorrow morning.”

“I say, Munster,” said Jung as they were on the way down in the elevator. “What’s behind it all? The motive, I mean?”

“I haven’t a clue,” said Munster.

“Reinhart here,” said Reinhart.

“What the devil. .” said Van Veeteren. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Half past four,” said Reinhart. “Were you asleep?”

“Go to hell!” said Van Veeteren. “What do you want?”

“Did you hear about the woman in Leisner Park?”

“Yes, I heard a bit. What about it? Has she woken up?”

“I think there’s a link.”

“A link?”

“Yes. A connection.”

“With what?”

“With your murderer, of course. I thought I had the pleasure of talking to the astute Detective Chief Inspector Van Veeteren. .?”

“No, this is the trustee of his estate,” said Van Veeteren.

“For Christ’s sake tell me what you want, Inspector, or there’ll be another case for us to solve.”

“I’ve interrogated several people. .”

“I should hope so.”

“Among others, a friend of the deceased, Johanna Goertz.

Apparently this Liz Hennan confided a few things in her.”

“Hennan? Is that the victim?”

“Yes, Liz Hennan. She told Johanna Goertz, last Tuesday, that she’d met a new man. She was going to meet him again on Saturday-last Saturday, that is-and that she felt a bit scared. She told Goertz a bit about him as well, not all that much because she didn’t know much. Not even his name. He called himself John, but she didn’t think that was his real name. Are you with me?”

“Yes,” said Van Veeteren. “Get to the point, Reinhart.”

“Any moment now,” said Reinhart. “Anyway, he’d apparently told Liz Hennan something odd, just in passing, or however you might want to see it. . He’d told her that he came across the guidance counselor with a pupil one day.”

“Eh?”

“Yes. In flagrante. The guidance counselor with a pupil.

What do you think that suggests?”

Van Veeteren sat in silence for a few seconds.

“School,” he said.

“I agree,” said Reinhart. “But I’m a bit on the tired side now. . I think I’ll go to bed and disconnect the telephone.

You can ring me at nine.”

“Hang on a minute,” said Van Veeteren. But it was too late.

He wrote the sixth name down at the very end of the book.

He contemplated the list for a few moments. Three women and three men. There was a sort of balance, no matter what-even if one of the men had only been a child.

He noted down the date as well. Tried to find some kind of harmony there, but that was harder. The specific dates were spread out over years, and months: the only trend was that the gap between them grew shorter. Eight years. . six years. .

six years again. . seven weeks. . ten days. .

He closed the book and put it in the outside pocket of his bag. Checked his watch. A few minutes past five. It was still pitch-dark outside. His suitcases were all packed and lying ready on the bed. No point in waiting any longer. Best to get going right away.

Leave everything behind now, yet again.

Exhaustion was like needles sticking into him, and he resolved not to drive too far. Three or four hundred kilometers, perhaps. Then a motel and a bed.

The most important thing was to get away from here.

Vamoose.

As long as he got some sleep, he would be ready to face up to life again tomorrow morning. From the beginning, this time.

Without all the old stuff. That was in the past now. He understood that it was all over and done with, at last.

Tomorrow. In a new place.

“What the hell are you doing here?” said Suurna.

“I’ve come to say hello to my old school,” said Van Veeteren. “When did you start swearing, Headmaster?”

“We’re here to pick up a murderer,” said Reinhart.

Suurna opened and shut his mouth a few times, but no words emerged. He grabbed hold of his desk, and once again Munster had the impression he was about to faint.

“Do sit down, Headmaster,” he said. “There, that’s it.”

“We’re looking for Carl Ferger,” said Van Veeteren. “Do you know where he is right now?”

“The school janitor?” said Suurna. “Are you really sure that. .?”

“Absolutely certain,” said Reinhart. “Can you find out where he is, please?”

“Er. . yes, of course,” said Suurna. “I can ask Miss Bellevue. .”

He pressed the intercom.

“Ask her to come here,” said Van Veeteren. “We don’t want to warn him.”

Half a minute later Miss Bellevue appeared, with wide eyes and dangling earrings.

“These gentlemen are looking for Ferger,” said Suurna.

“Do you know where he is?”

“He hasn’t arrived yet,” said Miss Bellevue, dangling her earrings.

“Hasn’t arrived?” said Suurna. “Why?”

“What time is he supposed to start work?” interrupted Van Veeteren.

“Half past seven,” said Miss Bellevue. “He hasn’t reported sick. I don’t know what’s happened. Mattisen has been asking for him several times-they were supposed to be moving the grand piano today.”

“Shit!” said Van Veeteren.

“Has anybody phoned him?” Reinhart asked.

“Mattisen has called, but there was no answer. Perhaps his car has broken down, or something of the sort.”

“And it’s taken two hours?” said Suurna. “He only lives a ten-minute walk from here, doesn’t he?”

“Shit!” said Van Veeteren again. “Hand over his address, Headmaster. You and I are going to pay a call, Munster! Reinhart, you take care of the guidance counselor!”

“With pleasure,” said Reinhart.

He knocked and walked in.

The guidance counselor was in his forties. Beard, sandals, and a ring in his ear.

“Hey, hold on a minute, what the. .” he began.

“I’m a bit short of time,” said Reinhart. “Might I suggest that you take care of this lad a bit later.”

The youth on the sofa stood up reluctantly.

“Would you mind waiting outside for a few moments?”

said the guidance counselor. “What the hell do you mean by bursting in here and. .”

Reinhart waited until the boy had closed the door behind him.

“To tell you the truth, I’m in one hell of a hurry. That’s why I’m going to give you a chance to save your skin.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who are you, to start with?”

“Police,” said Reinhart. “If you confess right away, I promise not to take it any further, not this time. If you mess me about. . well, I find it hard to see how the hell you’ll be able to keep your job.”