‘You mean she could get across Ahrens?’
‘Get across?’
‘Annoy him. Tell him he’s an old cunt.’
‘Yes. Like that.’
There was a pause, and I had the impression that Leila was waiting for more assurances that her detective would cope with everything. But for some reason or other I didn’t want to give them. Perhaps out of respect, perhaps out of superstition. Finally we looked back at the screen.
The guests were now drinking aperitifs. The cameraman went from group to group, filming everyone as if for the records, and many of them felt obliged to put on some kind of silly show in front of the lens. I wondered whether Leila was more worried about her mother or her father. Since he had come on screen there was pain in her eyes. Suppose her mother had simply run away? No more child, no more husband riding bikes on one wheel, a new life, new happiness?
I lit a cigarette. After a while Leila came over to the sofa, sat down beside me and took one too. The first sheep was being taken off the spit in the video, and people were beginning to gather around the tables, full of anticipation — but there was no fun in it for us. Lost in thought, Leila watched her smoke rising, and all I wanted to see was her mother, who had apparently left the wedding party for the time being. But instead of switching off the box and thus perhaps providing an opportunity for another conversation leading to more rash promises, I sat where I was, drinking vodka, letting the pictures run past me, thinking of this and that and waiting for Leila to fall asleep.
After finishing her cigarette she drew her feet up inside the baggy trousers, nestled into the sofa and put her head against my leg. For a moment she looked as if she were weeping secretly into her hands, and I stroked her hair. A little later she was asleep. I carried her into the bedroom, covered her up and put the light out. Alone in the living-room, I wound the video back and looked at her mother again. She really did have very light, very inscrutable eyes and skin you wanted to touch. Then I lay down on the sofa and tried to go to sleep myself. I wasn’t too worried now about what Ahrens might be doing to her. She didn’t look as if trying to force her to do anything would be much fun. And certainly Ahrens had enough on his hands just now without bothering with a reluctant female. Or if she wasn’t reluctant, then I really didn’t need to worry about her.
I tossed and turned for a while, smoked a few more cigarettes in the dark, and finally just stared at the ceiling. From time to time the greengrocer walked around his flat, and Leila twice talked in her sleep. I lay awake feeling strangely peaceful. When I looked at my watch for the last time, it was just before three.
Chapter 14
We were having breakfast, and I was carefully explaining to Leila why I wanted to go looking for her mother on my own. It would be dangerous, if she came I might have to think about her more than the search itself, and I didn’t like company while I was working anyway, certainly not my client’s company. But what finally made Leila give way and stop arguing with me was my threat that if she didn’t I’d chuck the whole thing up. In the end education is no big deal.
‘So we’re agreed. Good.’
I smiled warmly at her. She was still tousled from sleep, she was wearing my dressing-gown, which was much too large for her, and gloomily nibbling half a piece of bread and butter.
‘And as I can’t slink into Ahrens’s place until it’s dark, I thought we’d do something I’m sure you’ll enjoy this afternoon.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘You like dogs, don’t you?’
‘Why?’
‘Well, when the dogs were chasing around in the video yesterday, you liked that, didn’t you?’
‘Are my father’s dogs.’
‘Yes, well, we won’t be looking for them, but we’ll be looking for a lovely German shepherd dog called Susi.’
I smiled warmly again, while she looked at me as if I were Frau Schmidtbauer.
‘Are you drank?’
‘You mean drunk, sweetheart, and no, I’m not. If you come with me I’ll tell you about it on the way.’ I looked at the time. Twelve-thirty. ‘In half an hour. Think it over.’
Then I got her to tell me her mother’s surname, picked up my cup and moved into the living-room to phone. The phone was answered after the first ring.
‘Afternoon, Herr Hottges!’
Perhaps it was something in the air, or perhaps they’d started mixing happy-drugs into instant coffee, the way I’d read they did with cat food. Anyway, the deep, heartfelt sigh at the other end of the line that followed my greeting filled me with genuine liking.
‘I know, I know: you don’t like me to ring your office.’
‘I’m expecting an important call.’
‘I’ll be quick: I need to know by this evening whether a woman called Stasha Markovic has been arrested for any reason over the last few days. She’s a Bosnian refugee, mid-thirties, green eyes, very bright.’
‘Where can I reach you?’
‘At my home number around six.’
Then I called Slibulsky. He was doing his accounts, he said. I could hear Formula One engines in the background.
‘You sound glum. What’s the matter? The dinner’s tomorrow evening.’
‘I think people can look at me without losing their appetite.’
‘Sounds great. How’s it going with the Army?’
‘If everything works out I’ll have them nailed on Saturday. Until then I’d be very glad if you could put up a charming little girl in your guest bedroom.’
‘How come you know any charming little girls?’
‘She’s my client.’
‘Have you turned into some kind of youth social worker? This rock ’n’ roll character turned up here yesterday, saying you sent him.’
‘Zvonko.’
‘Yes, he can start next week. What about the little girl?’
I told him briefly how Leila had become my client, and said I didn’t want to leave her alone in my flat.
‘OK. Do we have to cook her spaghetti or play the memory game with her and so on?’
‘Well, she’s not all that little and charming. Just sit her down in front of the TV set and give her some of your Western videos.’
‘Girls don’t watch Westerns.’
‘With her, I wouldn’t be so sure. Anyway, she’ll be agitated and pretty distracted. I’m hoping to get her mother back for her tonight.’
‘Are you sure you’ll find her with this — what’s his name?’
‘Ahrens. I believe I will. The problem is, I must find her without being found myself. But I think I can do it.’
‘That’s funny. You don’t sound like a man who thinks he can do anything. What is the matter?’
I muttered something like, ‘Slept too well,’ then we fixed to meet at seven and hung up. For a moment I wanted to tell Leila the news at once, but then I thought it would be more in line with educational principles not to tell her until there wasn’t much time left for objections and nagging.
Twenty minutes later Leila and I were getting into the car, and for the first time since Frau Beierle had hired me I really set out in search of Susi, equipped with a stack of photos.
Looking in the rear-view mirror, I was just in time to see the greengrocer rush out of his shop, waving excitedly in our direction. Luckily we hadn’t met in the stairwell. He would have taken his supposedly desperate situation as a reason to break our tacit agreement and look me in the eye. But now that he was even calling me by my proper name, I wanted to avoid getting close to him more than ever. It might have led to a flowering of sympathy setting us back years. For now I was going to try keeping our relationship going purely by phone.
The afternoon, spent in assorted animal rescue centres — in Fechenheim, Hanau, Egelsbach, Dreieichenhain — turned out much as I’d expected. Endless rows of pens, any amount of barking dogs, and all the German shepherds looked just like Susi. To me, anyway. After complaining of anything and everything during the drive — my beat-up old car, my shitty dog, even my wet weather — Leila brightened surprisingly quickly at the sight of the first bundles of fur looking soulfully at her. Soon she took over the photos and the investigation. She had nothing but a shake of the head for my technique of calling ‘Susi!’ to whatever dog we were looking at, and hoping that Susi would then identify herself by turning somersaults or some other such means.