“By all means.”
“Have you any idea at all about who might have killed your fiance?”
The question was a bit brutal, perhaps. He saw that Moerk gave him a quick glance, but the reply came without the slight est hesitation.
“No. I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Did he have any enemies?” asked Beate Moerk, taking over again now that he’d smashed the door down. “Somebody you know who didn’t like him for one reason or another?”
“No, I think he was quite well liked by most people.”
“Anybody he was on bad terms with? At work, perhaps?” asked Munster, but Beatrice Linckx merely shook her head.
“Before we leave,” said Beate Moerk, “we’ll ask you for a list of your closest friends and the colleagues Maurice had most to do with, but perhaps you could tell us about the most important ones right now?”
“Who might have murdered him, you mean?”
For the first time there was a hint of hostility in her voice.
“Most murders are committed by somebody quite close to the victim,” said Munster.
“What are you getting at?” said Beatrice Linckx, and red patches started to grow on her cheeks. “I can’t think of a single name… I haven’t the slightest suspicion. I took it for granted that we were dealing with this madman… isn’t that the case? I mean, he’s already killed two people who had nothing at all in common with Maurice.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Linckx,” said Beate Moerk. “I’m afraid we have to ask you all kinds of questions, and some of them might appear to be bizarre or impertinent. Would you please promise that you’ll contact us the moment you think of even the slight est little thing that could have to do with the murder?”
“A telephone call, somebody who said something that seemed a bit odd, if Maurice ever acted strangely in some way or other,” added Munster.
“Of course,” said Beatrice Linckx. “I don’t want to criticize the police in any way. Obviously, there’s nothing I want more than for you to catch him.”
“Good,” said Munster. “Speaking of colleagues, by the way-Dr. Mandrijn, is he somebody Maurice had much to do with? He works at the hospital as well.”
She thought about it.
“A bit, I think,” she said. “But not much… I’m not sure who he is, but Maurice did mention his name once or twice.”
Inspector Moerk made a note, and chewed at her pen.
“You work at the Seldon Hospice, is that right?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“As a welfare officer?”
“As a psychologist, rather-”
“Do you come into contact with Pierre, Maurice’s brother?”
Beatrice went over to the window and looked out over the park before answering.
“Nobody comes into contact with Pierre,” she said at length. “Nobody at all.”
“I understand,” said Beate Moerk.
When they came out, they found that it had started raining again; and when she suggested they should have a beer at The
Blue Ship, he agreed without a second thought. It was true that they’d downed so much tea that their need of fluid intake was fulfilled for some considerable time to come; but it was a good idea to become acquainted with this establishment as well. If his memory served him correctly, it was from there that the second victim, Ernst Simmel, had embarked on the last stroll he would ever take in this life.
He opened the door and bowed somewhat chivalrously.
What the devil am I doing? he thought.
“Are you married?” she asked when they had sat down.
Munster took out his wallet and showed her a photograph of Synn.
“She’s pretty,” said Beate Moerk. “Good, I don’t need to worry.”
“Two kids as well,” said Munster. “What about you?”
“No to both questions,” said Beate Moerk with a smile.
“But that’s only temporary.”
“Cheers,” said Munster, and smiled as well.
23
“Cocaine?” wondered Bausen.
“It’s a link, in any case,” said Kropke. “To Eggers, that is.”
“Doubtful,” said Munster.
“A weak link, in that case,” said Van Veeteren. “Cocaine is an upper-class drug; don’t forget that. I doubt if Heinz Eggers and his mates used to sit around and get high on anything as sophisticated as that. Not their line, as simple as that.”
Bausen agreed.
“But we have to follow it up, of course. Mind you, given the number of people on drugs nowadays, it’s probably no more than a normal statistical probability.”
“Two out of three?” asked Inspector Moerk.
“A bit high perhaps, I grant you. But of course we must look into it. We don’t have much else to do, let’s face it.”
“How far is it between Selstadt and Aarlach?” asked
Munster.
“A hundred, hundred and twenty miles, I suppose,” said
Bausen.
“A hundred and eleven and a half,” said Kropke.
“Just checking to make sure you were awake,” said Bausen.
“Van Veeteren?”
Van Veeteren stopped rolling a coin over his knuckles.
“Well,” he said. “I think it’s as important as it damn well can be for us to get Ruhme’s time in Aarlach mapped out as accu rately as possible. I’ve spoken to Melnik, the chief of police there, and he’s promised to put two men onto it-probably has already, in fact. He’ll send us a report as soon as he’s done, in any case-in a few days, I hope. A week, perhaps.”
“And then what?” asked Kropke.
“We’ll have to see,” said Van Veeteren. “If nothing else, we can pick out all the names and run them against all the material we have on Eggers and Simmel. That could be a job for you,
Kropke, and your computer?”
Kropke frowned for a moment, but then his face lit up.
“All right,” he said. “Not a bad idea, I suppose.”
“OK,” said Bausen. “The neighbors, Mooser? How has that gone?”
Mooser leafed slightly nervously through his papers.
“We’ve been in touch with all of them but two-twenty-six in all. Nobody’s seen a damn thing-between ten last Wednes day night and two the next morning, that is. Those were the times we said, weren’t they?”
“That’s correct,” said Bausen. “Meuritz guesses it was some time around about then. He was reluctant to be more precise than that on this occasion-not possible, I assume. I can’t help feeling he’s had a damn great stroke of luck, our dear friend the Axman. In Simmel’s case he followed him all the way through town, more or less, but with Ruhme he just strolls across the street and into the apartment block. Rings the doorbell and cuts his head off. And nobody sees him. No witnesses.”
“Apart from Moen,” said Beate Moerk.
“Ah, yes,” said Bausen with a sigh. “Moen and Peer hovens… one of them aged ninety-five years and the other’d made a night of it and was less than sober.”
“Ah, well,” said Van Veeteren. “No doubt we’ll nail him before long. I think I sniff the traces of a scent-”
“What do we do first?” asked Beate Moerk.
Bausen leafed through his notebook.
“You and… Munster, perhaps?”
Munster nodded.
“You take the hospital. Colleagues, and anybody else who strikes you. See what you can get out of them. You have a blank check.”
“Good,” said Beate Moerk.
“Kropke and Mooser… I think we need to extend the neighborhood a bit. Knock on a few doors around Leisner Park as well. Kropke can draw up a plan. Take Bang with you-he needs a bit of exercise-but for God’s sake, write down your questions in advance. And Kropke keeps pressing ahead with Simmel and Spain as well, of course. Nothing’s turned up there yet, I don’t suppose?”
Kropke shook his head.
“A lot of crap, but nothing significant.”
“DCI Van Veeteren and I ought to take a closer look at the ax,” said Bausen. “The guys in forensics are a bit vague, but their best guess is that it’s a specialist tool used in the butchery trade, made around ten or twelve years ago. We’ve got the names of four possible manufacturers-and ten or so possible retail outlets. It doesn’t sound very promising, of course, but