Jealousy climbed back up on Beatrice’s list of potential murder motives. ‘Thank you. So the report…’
‘Will be with you as soon as possible. Of course.’
Between thirty-five and fifty years old. Beatrice searched despondently through the information on male missing persons, expanding her search to the whole of Austria. Three of the notices had been filed in the last week, but the individuals in question were either older or significantly younger. So was no one missing the man whose hand they had found?
She scrolled through the remaining reports, one after the other, searching for possible connections to Nora Papenberg, for similar professions. When she next glanced at the clock, over two hours had passed. Damn it! She jumped up, wrenched her bag from the back of the chair and dashed towards the door. She’d be lucky to get there on time, yet again.
The traffic was heavy, as it always was on Fridays, and by the time Beatrice finally pulled up at the school she could see Mina and Jakob sitting on a bench in front of the entrance, waiting for her. Mina was gesticulating in front of Jakob’s face, clearly giving him an important pedagogical speech.
‘You’re late,’ said Mina accusingly as she got into the car.
‘I know, I’m sorry. Did you guys have a good day?’
‘We made an alphabet chain,’ crowed Jakob cheerfully. ‘Do you know what my favourite letter is?’
‘Hmm. J?’
‘No, X. Exxxxx!’ He pronounced it, savouring the sound.
‘And how was your day, Mina?’
‘It was okay. Can we drive a bit quicker?’
Back at home, Mina rushed straight over to her bag, which was half-packed in the children’s room, and stuffed two of her bathing suits in it. Beatrice put some fish fingers in a pan on the stove, checked Jakob’s report book for any messages announcing impending disaster, then added jackets, rain trousers, pullovers and an additional pair of shoes to their bags.
‘Has Papa already bought you toothbrushes?’
‘Yes. Mine is green and has a car on it,’ cried Jakob. ‘Can I watch TV?’
‘No, lunch is nearly ready.’
The frozen fish fingers were sizzling away nicely, but they only had fifteen minutes. She was sure to have forgotten something – oh, God, their pyjamas.
‘No one go near the stove,’ she ordered, running over to the cupboard to take out two pairs of pyjamas.
Her mobile vibrated on the worktop, playing the first few bars of ‘Message in a Bottle’, signalling the arrival of a text message.
If there was a guardian angel for single mothers, then it would be a text from Achim saying that he was stuck in traffic and running late. Beatrice stuffed the pyjamas in the bag and reached for the mobile, pulling a fork from the cutlery drawer with her other hand to check the fish fingers.
‘Wash your hands, you two, dinner will be ready soon!’ she called towards the children’s bedroom, turning up the heat before wiping her fingers on a kitchen towel and pressing the menu button on the mobile. She opened the message.
It was from an unknown number, and it consisted of just one word.
Slow.
Her first thought was that it was a wrong number. What was it supposed to mean? Was someone asking her to slow down? She stared at the display, trying to make some sense of the message, then remembered the fish fingers. She pulled the pan off the hob.
‘Come and sit down at the table!’
Slow. The word crept into her consciousness as if it were trying to illustrate its own meaning. Could it be… that the Owner was making contact with her? Was that possible?
All of a sudden, she felt hot, far hotter than standing over the stove had made her.
In his cache message, he had addressed the police directly. What if he was doing it again? Did he want to make contact personally? But – why with her? And where would he have got her number from?
‘Mama, I want ketchup!’ Jakob’s voice forced its way into her mind as if from afar. She had to be patient for a moment longer. Soon Achim would be here, and then…
‘I’ll get it. Leave Mina’s glass alone.’
‘But she’s got more juice!’
Beatrice decided she would call the number. That would be much better than spending her time guessing. But only once the children had gone.
When the doorbell rang, Jakob was just shoving the last bite of fish finger into his mouth. ‘Papa!’ He jumped up, knocking his chair over in the process, and ran out into the hallway.
Beatrice ran after him, but Jakob had already managed to reach the intercom system. ‘Papa?’ he mumbled with his mouth full.
She took the receiver from his hand. ‘You know very well that you’re not allowed to buzz anyone in!’
‘But—’
‘No buts. Go and wash your face. You’re covered in ketchup.’
The irritated snort that came through the intercom was sufficient for her to be sure it was Achim at the door. Beatrice pressed to buzz him in, hearing his footsteps on the stairs seconds later. For a moment she wished she could run away and avoid seeing him, but by then his head, with its thinning blond hair, was already visible through the banisters.
‘Hello,’ she said, attempting a smile which was intended to signify a willingness to be civil. ‘The children are almost ready.’
He glanced at her briefly and didn’t even reply.
‘Papa!’ cheered Mina from behind her. ‘Guess what? Today at school I was the only one who knew that Helsinki was the capital of Finland!’
‘That’s excellent, Mouse. You’re the best.’ Achim leant over to Mina and pressed her against him, prompting unexpected tears to well up in Beatrice’s eyes. For heaven’s sake, what was wrong with her? She turned away quickly and fetched the children’s bags. Despite the fact that Achim still refused to look at her, she used all the energy she had to keep her smile going. In five minutes’ time, the encounter would be over. At her side, Jakob was tugging at her trouser leg. ‘Mama?’
‘Yes?’
‘Can’t you come too?’
She knelt down next to him. ‘No, unfortunately I can’t. But you’ll have a great time, and if you want you can call me in the evening. Okay?’
He nodded uncertainly. ‘I packed Fleece,’ he whispered. ‘Do you think Papa will be mad at me?’
Fleece. Also known as the grubbiest toy rabbit in the world.
‘No, Papa understands that you can’t sleep without him.’
Achim had released Mina from their hug. ‘Come on, kids. Let’s get some fresh air, it smells awful in here!’
‘I don’t think so,’ protested Jakob. ‘It’s fish finger air!’
‘Exactly.’ A disdainful shake of the head as he rolled his eyes. ‘And let’s make sure you get a proper dinner tonight too. Come on, we’re off!’
Beatrice hugged her children. Mina was in a hurry, struggling to get loose. ‘Are we buying the cat soon?’ she asked as she ran down the steps. ‘I’ve already thought of a name.’
‘Remember, Sunday at half-six, on the dot,’ said Achim to Beatrice, before taking Jakob by the hand and leaving. Instead of waiting until they were out of sight, Beatrice shut the door right away. Only now did she realise how hard she had been gritting her teeth; they were hurting.
She flung the window open, letting fresh air into the apartment. She could hear Jakob’s cheerful jabbering coming from downstairs, and she felt her stomach clench painfully. Then she remembered the message on her mobile. Slow.
The prefix was, if she wasn’t mistaken, that of a prepaid provider which sold cards and top-up codes in supermarkets. Beatrice opened the message and pressed ‘Call’.
A friendly female voice informed her that the connection was not available right now and that she should try again later.
Slow. It’s an observation. Or an accusation. Directed at us because we haven’t yet decoded the clues to the next stage?