Hakan Nesser - The Inspector and Silence

‘Responsible?’

‘Yes, I mean who’s going to be in charge of the investigation. Obviously you are the one with the most experience and all that, but even so I thought I ought to volunteer to do it. I mean, I’m the acting chief of police, and so it comes within my remit, so to say.. .’

Excellent, the chief inspector thought. Carry on, young man!

‘… So if you don’t object?’

‘Of course not,’ said Van Veeteren.

‘And I think it would be a pity to disturb Malijsen in the middle of his holiday.’

‘I agree,’ said the chief inspector.

One hundred per cent, he thought.

‘Obviously I hope you will stay on and give us a hand. I mean, you have so much experience…’

‘Naturally,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘No need to say another word about it. Did you say two o’clock?’

‘Yes, two o’clock,’ Kluuge confirmed. ‘And I’ve arranged a press conference for half past four. I’d be grateful if you could be present at that as well, Chief Inspector.’

‘If I live that long,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘I assume nothing significant has happened during the morning?’

‘Not a lot,’ said Kluuge. ‘The women are in isolation at Wolgershuus, as we said, and the youngsters are still at Waldingen. The police nurses have been relieved, and two psychologists are due at one o’clock.’

‘And nobody has said anything?’

‘No. They’re still staying silent. We’ll probably have to discuss how to interrogate them in future. Or what do you think? It’s all a bit tricky…’

‘You can say that again,’ sighed Van Veeteren. ‘But let’s hope it’s just a matter of time.’

‘Could be,’ said Kluuge. ‘But it must be easier to break down a teenaged girl than one of those madwomen.’

‘Be careful about the words you use,’ the chief inspector warned. ‘It can be a good idea to think before you speak to journalists, if nothing else. They like to quote people. Silence can be golden sometimes, not just for members of sects.’

‘Okay,’ said Kluuge. ‘I’ll remember that. I’ll see you in a couple of hours, then.’

‘Yes,’ said Van Veeteren.

‘Thank you,’ said Kluuge once more.

Madwomen? the chief inspector thought when he’d hung up.

He didn’t like it, but whether it was the circumstances or the sergeant’s choice of words that should be stigmatized, he wasn’t really sure.

The thunderstorm blew in from the south-west, from the direction of Waldingen, and as he ate his brunch on the terrace he was able to watch it approaching rapidly over the edge of the forest on the other side of the lake. The flashes of lightning and claps of thunder entertained him for quite some time before the first heavy drops landed on the corrugated plastic roof over his head, and the temperature dropped drastically by at least ten degrees.

The cloudburst lasted for nearly fifteen minutes, but when it was at its height it seemed to him that the surface of the lake below the hotel, previously so misleadingly calm, had been transformed into a maelstrom, nothing less than a witch’s brew, and the far side of the lake disappeared behind a wall of seething, lashing water.

The wrath of the elements, the chief inspector thought. No wonder.

When it had passed over and he had just signed the bill, he could feel how the air had suddenly become more breathable. In big gulps. After a week of suffocating shortages of oxygen in the brain, it was suddenly possible not only to think a clear thought, but to remember it.

I don’t think I’m made for the Mediterranean, unfortunately, he thought grimly as he left the table.

It wasn’t difficult to guess what effect the heavy rain must have had on the efforts of the police dogs at Waldingen. If there were any trails out there in the forest, they certainly wouldn’t be any easier to follow after rain like that.

As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods, he suddenly thought. And when they pull the strings, we dance at their beck and call. They send down buckets of rain, and we stand there with freshly washed faces.

With his briefcase tucked under his arm and two toothpicks wandering around his mouth, he set off towards Kleinmarckt in the centre of the little town. He tried to avoid the rivulets and torrents, but the gutters and grates were not designed to cope with such vast amounts of water, and by the time he reached Florian’s, he was soaking wet well up his shins. But he was surprised to find that this was not an especially unpleasant state to be in – invigorating, rather; and a few minutes later he entered the Sorbinowo police station feeling alert and ready to concentrate. Ready to cope with whatever was thrown at him.

We shall solve this lot of crap as well, he thought. Sooner or later.

Servinus and Suijderbeck had evidently been instructed to stay on in Sorbinowo. They were sitting beside each other underneath an oil painting of Malijsen’s predecessor – a certain J. Stagge – and it was immediately obvious to Van Veeteren that they had even fewer hours of sleep under their belts than he had. Possibly none at all. They had all split up outside the summer camp at about six that morning, and it was by no means impossible that the pair of them had been on duty all the time since then. Inspector Suijderbeck was half-lying in his corner with one leg stretched out in front of him at a strange angle, and it dawned on the chief inspector that he must have some kind of artificial limb. From just under the knee, it seemed. The fact that Van Veeteren hadn’t noticed it before bore witness to his being somewhat under the weather.

Come to think of it, he couldn’t recall ever having come across a detective officer with a wooden leg before, and he wondered in passing about the circumstances behind it. Presumably they were not nice – but this was hardly the time or place to go into that.

Kluuge was sitting at the other end of the table with a large notepad at the ready in front of him. He seemed just as perky as he had sounded on the telephone, and Van Veeteren realized that the metamorphosis in Kluuge was still continuing. He bade everyone ‘Good morning’ and sat down on the only empty chair.

‘Good afternoon,’ said Kluuge. ‘Okay now we can start.’

‘Is this the full team?’ the chief inspector asked.

Kluuge shook his head.

‘No. We have two colleagues out at Waldingen as well. Female inspectors from Haaldam. And then there’s Matthorst at Wolgershuus, keeping an eye on the women. And I suppose that patrol is still combing through the forest; but they’ll have finished by this evening, presumably.’

‘Presumably,’ said Van Veeteren, examining his soaking wet shoes.

‘Shall we run through where we’ve got to so far?’ suggested Suijderbeck, suppressing a yawn. ‘I really must grab a few hours’ sleep soon. I expect we’ll have to stay here for a few more days? Don’t you think?’

He glanced at his colleague on the sofa.

‘Mm,’ said Servinus before yawning in turn. ‘In any case I’ve no intention of getting into the car and driving back to Rembork just now. This is a bloody awful situation, don’t you think?’

‘It certainly is,’ said Kluuge. ‘I think we ought to get down to the facts now, don’t you? So, the girl was called Clarissa Heerenmacht, and as far as we can tell she was murdered some time on Sunday evening. The day before yesterday, in other words. All traces of rigor mortis had gone by the time I found her, so the doc says it couldn’t have been later than ten o’clock at night. Probably not before six either, but we can’t be sure of that yet. What time was it when the chief inspector spoke to her?’

‘About two,’ said Van Veeteren.

‘Pretty rough sexual violence on the lower abdomen,’ Kluuge said. ‘Strangled by extremely hard and prolonged pressure on the larynx, probably not at the location where she was discovered. No clothes have been found. No fingerprints on the body either. Well, that’s about it so far. Any comments?’