Hakan Nesser - The Inspector and Silence

‘I see,’ said Przebuda. ‘And what do you think really happened? Always assuming that you have an opinion on that score.’

‘I think she gave her a good telling-off,’ said Van Veeteren.

‘A telling-off?’ said Przebuda, starting to scratch out his pipe with a matchstick. ‘Why?’

‘Because she’d been a bit too outspoken when I talked to them.’

‘Aha,’ said Przebuda. ‘And had she been?’

The chief inspector sighed.

‘The hell she had. But then, that’s the way they are.’

Przebuda pondered for a while.

‘Hmm,’ he said eventually. ‘I can’t see how this could be of vital significance. The older girl left the younger one, either on friendly terms or after a quarrel. What difference does it make?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘Maybe none at all. But there’s another little detail. The indications are that Belle Moulder also had a tete-a-tete with Yellinek later that evening – some time after evening prayers, but before bedtime. About half past nine. Several of the girls say they saw them together. It’s all a bit vague, to be sure, and she denies it.’

‘And what would the implication be if she did in fact talk to Yellinek?’

‘Hard to say. The most likely thing is, of course, that he wanted information about Clarissa Heerenmacht. He must have realized that she was missing by this time, in any case. If he was the one who killed her, he obviously knows more about that than anybody else.’

Przebuda nodded and began filling his pipe.

‘I understand,’ he said. ‘I think I get the picture. Would you like another glass?’

‘Is it really necessary?’ wondered the chief inspector. ‘Well, just a few drops, then.’

Andrej Przebuda stood up and walked over to the corner cupboard.

‘And then what?’ asked Przebuda. ‘Down at the rock, I mean.’

‘A good question,’ said the chief inspector. ‘Well, then – presumably within fifteen minutes of Belle Moulder leaving her – the murderer comes into the picture. Either he’s down there on the rock already, or he turns up somewhere as she’s on her way back to the camp. I don’t think the girl decided to give dinner a miss, even if that’s not impossible, of course.’

‘You say “he”,’ Przebuda commented.

‘Let’s assume it’s a man,’ said the chief inspector. ‘He rapes her, and strangles her to death. And then we come up against the next complication.’

‘Really?’

‘The location,’ the chief inspector explained. ‘I’d like to think there’s some kind of logic even in the most perverted patterns of behaviour – we’ve discussed this before. The murderer kills her somewhere or other, and all we can say with certainty is that it didn’t happen where we found the body. There are no signs of a struggle or violence around that place, which indicates that she must have been taken there afterwards. Either immediately after the murder, or later. By the killer, or somebody else.’

‘By the killer or somebody else…?’ Przebuda repeated, raising an eyebrow.

‘The reason for moving the body is also a bit intriguing,’ Van Veeteren went on. ‘You would usually move a body in order to hide it, but in this case it looks like the intention was just the opposite – to help us to find it.’

Andrej Przebuda nodded.

‘That woman on the telephone…?’

‘Yes,’ said the chief inspector. ‘I’d be grateful if you’d refrain from writing about her. Perhaps we’re barking up the wrong tree, but the investigation team has decided to keep her existence secret for the time being. Well, what conclusions do you draw?’

Neither of them spoke for quite a while. Van Veeteren eyed the pack of cigarettes on the table in front of him, but didn’t take one. Instead he clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back. Wondered if he’d remembered all the essentials, or if he’d left out any details.

And if it was possible to come to any sensible conclusions.

‘Two,’ Przebuda decided in the end. ‘Two conclusions. She seems to know what she’s talking about, and she wants to help the police. That woman, I mean.’

Van Veeteren said nothing.

‘Two questions as well,’ said Przebuda. ‘Why? And who the hell is she?’

‘My friend the editor is bubbling over with intelligent questions,’ the chief inspector declared. ‘But there’s another one.’

‘I know,’ said Przebuda. ‘How? How the hell can she know so much?’

‘Exactly,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘I’ve been grappling with these imponderables for several days now. Who is she? How come she knows? Why does she want to help us?’

‘But the fact no doubt is…’ Przebuda began, and then held back.

‘What?’

‘Surely the implication is that it’ll be sufficient to get an answer to one of those questions. Solve one and the others solve themselves. Don’t you think?’

The chief inspector sighed.

‘Presumably,’ he said. ‘But how about making a suggestion? Surely an experienced old newspaperman like you should be able to manage one out of three?’

Przebuda burst out laughing. Then he cleared his throat and turned serious.

‘No,’ he said. ‘But surely it’s not possible for the chief inspector’s intuition to have been fast asleep all week? Do you think it’s one of them? Those women at the summer camp, that is?’

Van Veeteren contemplated the flickering candles for ten seconds.

‘I don’t know,’ he said eventually. ‘But I think I can exclude one of them, in any case.’

‘Better than nothing,’ said Przebuda.

They set off at a leisurely pace on a stroll past the cemetery on the western edge of the town, along a meandering path for pedestrians and cyclists to the residential area of Kaasenduijk – where acting Chief of Police Kluuge lived with his Deborah – and then a semicircular route back into Sorbinowo from the north. One hour in all, two and a half kilometres through the fragrant summer’s evening. To start with Przebuda maintained a non-stop commentary on items of interest they passed by – buildings, local landmarks, flora and fauna (mainly mosquitoes and cattle of the black-and-white variety) – but he eventually grew tired of that and they returned to the agenda they seemed to have agreed was inevitable.

‘This Yellinek character – I take it he does a runner in the middle of the night, is that right?’

‘Same as before,’ muttered the chief inspector. ‘We don’t know. None of the girls saw him after a quarter to ten on the Sunday evening, so we assume he must have cleared off before dawn in any case. There’s one girl – but only one, nota bene – who thinks she heard a car starting at some point during the night.’

‘A car?’

‘Yes, they had a car out there, an old Vauxhall, registered in the name of Madeleine Zander. Yellinek doesn’t even have a driving licence.’

‘But it was still there next morning?’

‘Yes. Parked in the same place as usual. She – or one of the others – might have driven him somewhere during the night, but we have no proof or confirmation.’

‘How else would he have been able to get away?’

Van Veeteren shrugged.

‘The devil only knows. So it’s certainly most likely that he disappeared with the help of that car, but where does that get us?’

‘What about neighbours out there?’ Przebuda wondered.

‘The Finghers in one direction,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘They had a bit of contact with the campers. And there’s a couple by the name of Kuijpers a bit deeper into the forest. There was somebody at home in both places that night, but nobody heard a car. But that doesn’t mean a thing, of course. The probability is that Yellinek’s hidden away in the home of one of his church members somewhere, but there are getting on for a thousand of them, so we need considerable resources if we’re going to make a serious search. Obviously the police in Stamberg are pouncing on as many of them as they can find, but they don’t seem to be making any headway. And of course it’s holiday time. And on top of that is the refusal to cooperate.’