“Hmm, I’ve been thinking about that since you called, but the only two I can remember, ones she had a close relationship with, if you see what I mean, were Rickard Antoni, who was in the same class as us-that was right at the end, just before we left school. I think it only lasted for a few weeks; in any case, she’d left him when she started at university in the fall.
He was with another girl by then, Kristine Reger, a friend of mine. They got married eventually.”
“And who was the other one?”
“The other one?”
“Yes, you said you remembered two boys that Eva had a relationship with.”
“Paul Bejsen, of course. The one who died.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
She sighed deeply. Lit another cigarette and sat quite still for a while, her head resting on one hand.
She’s pausing in order to brace herself, he thought. To overcome her reluctance.
“It was the All Saints Day holiday in our last year,” she began. “One of the boys in our class, Erwin Lange his name was, had a holiday cottage-or rather, his parents had a holiday cottage-not far from Kerran. It’s lovely, dramatic countryside out there, with moors and crags and ravines; I don’t know if you’ve ever been there?”
Van Veeteren shook his head.
“Anyway, we had a party. I think there were about twenty of us, most of them from our class, but some others as well.
Eva had been with this Paul Bejsen for a few months. He was a bit older; he’d already passed his school-leaving exam. But they were having a real relationship, I know that.”
“Was he her first lover?”
Ulrike deMass hesitated.
“Well, I don’t know who else her first could have been. .
And yet. .”
“Go on.”
“And yet you couldn’t help feeling she’d been through it all before, that she was quite experienced, in fact.”
“Why did you have that feeling?”
“I don’t know. It’s just something you notice. We girls, we women if you like, notice it, anyway. You can tell if a girl’s been to bed with a boy before.”
Van Veeteren nodded. She might be right.
“What happened that evening?”
“There was quite a lot of strong drink on the go, a fair amount of hash and stuff, but nobody went off the rails, you might say. We had great fun, in fact. We were gathered around a big bonfire in the yard all night, we grilled a pig, we drank and we sang, and. . well, you get the picture. Couples would get together and wander off now and then, into the house or behind a bush. I know at least two girls who lost their virginity that night.”
She paused briefly.
“I was one of them.”
Van Veeteren exchanged his toothpick for a cigarette.
“I was eighteen years of age, for Christ’s sake! It was about time. Anyway, the next morning we found out what had happened, and it was one hell of a bloody awful morning, as you can no doubt imagine. We were all woken up by the police; I think it couldn’t have been any later than about half past seven.
Twenty young people with hangovers and only a couple of hours’ sleep in their bodies. The police came with a neighbor.
He’d found a dead body at the bottom of a precipice. I think. .
I think that was the morning quite a few of us grew up.”
She said nothing for a few seconds.
“I certainly did, at least. I lost my virginity and a good friend that same night.”
“Were you a very good friend of Paul Bejsen’s?”
“Well, perhaps not; but I knew him quite well. He was a nice lad, likable and gifted. Everybody liked him. I expect several girls were in love with him.”
“You as well?”
“No. Not then. Had been, perhaps.”
“What had happened?”
Ulrike deMaas raised her shoulders, as if she suddenly felt cold.
“They’d been out on the moor, he and Eva. She’d told him it was over between them, for some reason or other. Left him out there. I don’t know, he must have been pretty drunk, I suppose, but that was one of the things that were hushed up, of course. In any case, he’d done away with himself. Thrown himself over a precipice. Strangely enough, he’d picked the right place. Macabre, it was. According to local folklore, Vejme Klint used to be the suicide precipice-you know, the place where old people used to go many years ago when they began to feel that their life was coming to an end. So that they didn’t become a burden on their families. .”
She shook her head.
“It was a terrible business, Chief Inspector. And there’s never been a heavier lid placed over anything boiling as much as that. His parents were very religious, Reformerde Kirk, and m i n d ’ s e y e
he was an only child. . Well, I’m sure you understand the circumstances. Muhlboden is not a very big place.”
Van Veeteren nodded.
“What about the police investigation? You must all have been interrogated?”
“Yes, we all had to turn up at the police station and tell our version of what happened. . Separately, at different times.
That took several days, and we were excused lessons. But there wasn’t much we could say, of course.”
“He didn’t leave a letter?”
“No.”
“How did Eva Ringmar take it?”
“Hard. Really hard, I think. If I remember rightly she stayed at home for the rest of the term. . Or most of it, at least. Yes, she was there for the end-of-term ceremonies, I remember now. We were in the choir, both of us; she hadn’t practiced anything, of course, but that didn’t matter. It was just the usual songs. . ”
She paused again.
“It’s the first Sunday in Advent today. It’s twenty years since it happened. I hadn’t thought about that. May I. . may I ask you a question, Chief Inspector?”
“Of course.”
“Why are you raking over this old business-surely you don’t think it has anything to do with, with. .”
“With what, Miss deMaas? Or is it Mrs.?”
“Somewhere in between, I suppose. . With what has happened now, of course. The murders of Eva and her husband. Surely you don’t think there’s a connection?”
“Miss deMaas,” Van Veeteren decided, “if there’s anything I’ve learned in this job, it’s that there are more connections in the world than there are particles in the universe.”
He paused and allowed her green eyes to observe him.
“The hard bit is finding the right ones,” he added eventually.
“Have you managed to do that?” she’d asked, just before they’d said their good-byes in the square. “Found the right connections, I mean?”
“I think so,” he’d said. “I just need to study the components a little more carefully in order to be sure.”
He had not been quite clear about what he meant when he said that. . Her eyes had been so big and serious, and it didn’t sound so silly. . Besides, why was it essential to think before speaking? Had he not learned over the years that it could just as well be vice versa?
Let the words come out, they always conceal something, as Reinhart kept saying.
She had given him a hug and thanked him for the meal, and it occurred to him that she was the second woman in this investigation that he could have fallen for.
If he had been at an appropriate age, that is. And the type to fall.
It took half an hour of driving to shake off these unbidden emotions, but that still left him with plenty of time to think over what he had been told, and to plan his next step.
There was not far to go now, he could feel it. One, possibly two more interviews. A few specific questions to the right person, and the whole background ought to be clear.
Then all that remained would be to pin down the key player in the drama. The person playing the leading role. .
The murderer.
He sighed, and felt his disgust rising.
The weariness and hopelessness.
How many were they, when it came to the crunch? How many people had lost their lives because of this compulsive, this perverted. .?
He wasn’t sure.
Two. . quite certainly.
Three. . most probably.