Ursula Archer - Five

Stefan had taken the day off, on Florin’s strict advice. ‘Your eyes are so red they’re competing with your hair,’ he had commented, prescribing him a twenty-four-hour break.

Their younger colleague had given in with a mixture of reluctance and relief, pressed his navigation device into Florin’s hand and set off home – by bus rather than car, as he was worried about falling asleep at the wheel. But even Stefan’s Garmin, tried and tested on so many caches, still came up with the same answer as Drasche’s mobile software.

With the last coordinates, it had been the right place but the wrong time. They’d got there before the Owner had dumped Estermann’s body. Would he do the same thing again?

Beatrice tried to tune into the surroundings, looking from the wet asphalt up to the sky. Until just now, thin threads of rain had woven a grey cloth across the landscape. Now the clouds were slowly starting to break apart.

Dalamasso is the solution to the new puzzle , she thought. But it was virtually impossible that the Owner could kidnap her, kill her and dump her here. Two armed guards were keeping an eye on her around the clock, both in the day clinic and at home. When Melanie first noticed them she had burst into tears, a wordless howl. After that, at her mother’s request, they had relinquished uniforms for plain clothes and kept their distance. Now Melanie just stared right through them, as if they were invisible.

The sun came out, making the road glisten. Beatrice shielded her eyes with her hand, not having reckoned on needing sunglasses. Something was blinding her. A round, reflective sticker on the traffic sign, placed right in the middle of the zero, beside to three. Next to it, someone had scrawled ‘ Don’t eat animals ’ with a black marker.

‘Maybe we’ve thwarted his plans this time.’ There wasn’t much hope in Florin’s voice, but Beatrice nodded all the same.

‘Yes. Maybe he thought we’d take longer to find Melanie Dalamasso, or didn’t predict that we’d put her under police protection.’ But she didn’t believe that one bit. The Owner must know that they wouldn’t – couldn’t – let the young woman out of their sight for a second. They should have acted sooner and convinced Sigart of the necessity of accepting police protection.

‘Search everything within a hundred-metre radius,’ Florin ordered. ‘We’re keeping a lookout for containers, paper, anything that could be a message. It’s possible that it’s very well disguised.’ Three officers from the dog team set off obediently with their animals. If there were any body parts hidden around, they would find them.

But something was different this time. She felt her mobile vibrate in her pocket. Her heart skipped a beat. There it was, his next text, his next move in the game – but then she saw the number and sighed, rejecting the call.

It had only been a matter of time until her ex-husband got back in touch. But now wasn’t the time for an argument.

The clouds were chased across the sky by the wind, blocking the sun again. Beatrice put her mobile back in her jacket pocket with the same guilty feeling she always had when she ignored a call. Maybe it had been important. An emergency.

Evelyn jumped into her mind. But she couldn’t allow her mind to be clouded by what had happened back then. She had to focus. To concentrate. This was a different story, and it would have a different ending.

The dogs didn’t find anything. ‘Liebscher’s body parts are old enough by now and the temperatures high enough for the plastic film to inflate and eventually burst,’ Drasche had prophesied. ‘And even if they haven’t – the dogs would smell the caches anyway. We did some tests.’

‘But what would the Owner be hiding now?’ Beatrice interrupted the despondent silence that had so far dominated the drive back to headquarters.

Florin turned his head slowly in her direction without taking his eyes off the road. ‘What do you mean? We’re far from having found all of Liebscher. There are still the feet, the limbs, the torso – if the Owner wants to he still has enough for another twenty or thirty caches.’

‘But we already have the head. So there’s no more suspense. It’s more essential than any other part of the body and clearly answers the question of his identity. Would you play the feet or even inner organs after you’ve already done the head? It would be like taking a step back.’

‘Play?’

‘Yes.’ She hadn’t intentionally chosen the word, but it hit the nail on the head. He plays a hand, they play a hand. And given that he didn’t have to play by the rules, he was always at an advantage. It was costing them one round after the next.

She thought about the puzzle spread out on her desk. She would make the next move alone.

‘My daughter is being driven home by your colleagues. I get the impression she doesn’t feel entirely comfortable about it, but I tried to explain to her that it’s important.’ Carolin Dalamasso was a pretty woman, not much older than fifty. She had willingly agreed to Beatrice’s request to stop by, and had clearly used the time to bake a cake. The sweet aroma filled the apartment.

Beatrice tried to smile through her guilty conscience. Strictly speaking, the visit to the Dalamassos wasn’t necessary – Florin had asked all the important questions and compiled the information into his report. But he hadn’t spoken to Melanie, hadn’t even caught a glimpse of her. That wasn’t enough for Beatrice. She wanted to – no, not wanted, had to – get some impression of the young woman. A torn woman. Could you sense it just from standing opposite her?

‘Would you like some coffee? I have decaf too.’

She had neither the desire nor the need for her fifth coffee of the day, but she had to play for time. If necessary, she would make small talk until the daughter arrived home. ‘I’d love one. With plenty of milk and a little sugar, if that’s okay.’

The woman nodded and smiled. There was a watchfulness in her eyes, which Beatrice suspected wasn’t new, but rather stemmed from constantly looking out for her psychologically ill daughter.

It was 4.40 p.m. Melanie could arrive home any moment now, depending on how busy the traffic was.

‘What can I tell you that I haven’t already told your colleague with the lovely dark eyes?’ With swift energetic movements, Carolin Dalamasso cut three slices of cake and put the cups on the table. Then she sat down.

‘I’d like to know how Melanie was doing before her breakdown. Were there any events that, in hindsight, could be interpreted as warning signs?’

The woman’s smile was suddenly streaked with pain. ‘Of course. You always know better afterwards. Carlo and I have thought of dozens of situations in which, looking back, we should have sought medical assistance for Melanie. But back then we thought she was just a little sensitive because she was in love for the first time. She had a boyfriend, you see? Unfortunately we never met him, and my theory is…’ She sighed and looked out of the window, where a blackbird had settled on the balcony railing. It looked around jerkily, then flew away again. ‘I think he broke up with Melanie. She was still living in the flat share back then, and one evening she called us, but we couldn’t make out a single word. She was sobbing, almost howling. We drove over there right away of course, but she was in her room and didn’t want to talk to us. Her flatmates were just as clueless as we were. They were relieved in the end, I think, when she was admitted to the clinic. That was five days later.’

‘And there was never any clue as to what might have caused it?’

‘No. But I’ve already told your colleague all of that.’ The vigilance in her eyes increased in direct proportion with the narrowing of her smile.