Nevertheless, she was confident that Mrs. Simmel was not going to be a problem. She was sitting on the sofa, breathing heavily. Big and ungainly, her eyes swollen but naive.
“Yes, I’m a police inspector. My name’s Beate Moerk. I’m sorry that I have to inconvenience you so soon after… what’s happened. Is there anybody staying with you?”
“My sister,” said Mrs. Simmel. “She’s just gone down to the store.”
Beate Moerk nodded and took a notebook out of her brief case. Mrs. Simmel poured coffee.
“Sugar?”
“No, thank you. Can you tell me what happened last Tues day evening?”
“I’ve already… I spoke about it with another police officer yesterday.”
“Chief Inspector Bausen, yes. But I’d be grateful if you could go through it one more time.”
“I don’t see why… I didn’t have anything special to say.”
“Your husband went out at around eight o’clock, I gather you said.”
Mrs. Simmel gave a little sob, but regained control of herself.
“Yes.”
“Why did he go out?”
“He was going to meet a business contact. At The Blue
Ship, I think.”
“Did he often do business there?”
“Now and again. He is… was… in real estate.”
“But we understand that your husband was alone in The
Blue Ship.”
“He can’t have turned up.”
“Who?”
“His business contact.”
“No, evidently not. But your husband didn’t come home instead, when this other person didn’t put in an appearance?”
“No… no, I suppose he thought he might as well have din ner, seeing as he was there anyway.”
“He hadn’t eaten already?”
“No, not dinner.”
“Do you know who it was?”
“Excuse me?”
“Who he was going to meet.”
“No… no, I never interfere in my husband’s business.”
“I understand.”
Mrs. Simmel gestured toward the cake dish and helped her self to a chocolate biscuit.
“What time did you expect him home?”
“Around… well, about midnight, I suppose.”
“What time did you go to bed yourself?”
“Why do you want to know that?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Simmel, but your husband has been mur dered. We simply have to ask all sorts of questions. If we don’t, we’ll never be able to catch the man who did it.”
“I suppose it’s the same one.”
“The same as what?”
“The one who killed that Eggers in June.”
Beate Moerk nodded.
“There is evidence to suggest that, yes. But there again, it could be that somebody was, er, inspired by that.”
“Inspired?”
“Yes, somebody who used the same method. You never know, Mrs. Simmel.”
Mrs. Simmel swallowed, and took another biscuit.
“Did your husband have any enemies?”
Mrs. Simmel shook her head.
“Many friends and acquaintances?”
“Yes…”
“A lot of business contacts you weren’t all that well ac quainted with, perhaps?”
“Yes, lots.”
Beate Moerk paused and took a sip of coffee. It was weak and wishy-washy. If you did what her hostess had done and added two lumps of sugar, it would have been impossible to say what it was.
“I have to ask you to allow me to ask a few questions that you might find a bit indiscreet. I hope you realize how serious this business is, and that you’ll answer them as honestly as you can.”
Mrs. Simmel scraped her cup nervously against the saucer.
“How would you describe your marriage?”
“Excuse me?”
“What sort of a married life did you have? You’d been mar ried for thirty years, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Thirty-two.”
“Thirty-two, yes. Your children have flown the nest. Did you still have much contact?”
“With the children, you mean?”
“No, with your husband.”
“Well… yes, I suppose so.”
“Who are your closest friends?”
“Friends? The Bodelsens and the Lejnes… and the Kling forts, of course. And the family, naturally. My sister and her husband. Ernst’s brother and sister… And our children, it goes without saying. Why do you want to know about them?”
“Do you know if your husband had a relationship with any other woman?”
Mrs. Simmel stopped chewing and tried to look as if she hadn’t understood the question.
“With another woman?”
“Or several. If he’d been unfaithful, for instance.”
“No…” She shook her head slowly. “Who might that have been? Who would have had him?”
That was one way of looking at it, of course. Beate Moerk took a drink of coffee in order to suppress a smile.
“Has there been anything lately that you noticed? Anything unusual about your husband’s behavior, I mean.”
“No.”
“Or anything else you can think of?”
“No. What could that have been?”
“I don’t know, Mrs. Simmel, but it would be very helpful if you could think carefully about the last few weeks. Something might occur to you. Did you go away this summer, for in stance?”
“Two weeks in July, that’s all. A package holiday, but… but we went to different places. I went with a friend to Kos.
Ernst went off with a friend of his.”
“To Kos?”
“No, not to Kos.”
“Where to, then?”
“I can’t remember.”
“I see… And apart from that you’ve been at home?”
“Yes, apart from the odd day now and then, when we went off in Vanessa… That’s our boat. We sometimes go sailing, and stop somewhere for the night.”
Beate Moerk nodded.
“I understand. But there was nothing special that your hus band was worried about lately?”
“No… no, I don’t think so.”
“No new friends or acquaintances?”
“No…”
“He didn’t tell you about or hint at anything unusual?”
“No.”
Beate Moerk sighed and put down her pen. She leaned back in the sofa.
“And how was business?”
“Fine,” Mrs. Simmel answered, seeming surprised. “Fine, I think…”
As if there were no other possibility, thought Beate Moerk as she dusted a few crumbs from her skirt.
“Do you work, Mrs. Simmel?”
She seemed to hesitate.
“I sometimes help my husband at his office now and then.”
“Doing what?”
“This and that… smartening the place up. Flowers and cleaning, that sort of thing…”
“I’m with you. It’s in Grote Plein, is that right?”
Mrs. Simmel nodded.
“When were you last there?”
“The last time? Er, that would be in May, I think.”
My word, you are a busy bee! thought Beate Moerk.
She had a look around the house as well, mainly because
Bausen had instructed her to do so. Mrs. Simmel led the way, puffing and panting, and Beate Moerk found herself feeling almost sorry for her, having to keep up all these large rooms.
Mind you, no doubt there was a cleaning lady to help out.
It wasn’t easy to see what good it would do, but there again, it was always the same with murder investigations. The aim was to gather facts and information of every kind imaginable the more the better-and file it all away, ready for when some kind of breakthrough was achieved, at which point the tiniest little detail could suddenly prove to be the key to the whole puzzle… case… mystery, or whatever you wanted to call it.
Beate Moerk hadn’t been involved in a murder investi gation for over six years, not since she was a probationer down in Goerlich, and then she hadn’t been much more than a messenger: knocking on doors, passing on messages, sitting in freezing-cold cars waiting for something to happen that never did.
But now they were faced with an ax murderer. Her, Kropke and Detective Chief Inspector Bausen. No wonder it all seemed a bit odd. Some big shot or other was evidently being sent to help them out but basically it was their case. Local people naturally expected them to be the ones who sorted it all out.
To arrest this madman.
And when she thought about Kropke and Bausen, she real ized that much depended on her for a successful outcome.