“Enemies? No, why on earth should she?”
“Thank you, Miss Lingen. No more questions.”
Ruger remained seated this time as well.
“Miss Lingen, does the name Eduard Caen mean anything to you?”
“No.”
“Nothing?”
“No, nothing at all.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Ruger stood up. Took a folded sheet of paper from out of his inside pocket and handed it to Havel.
“My Lord, may I present the court with this list of dates on which Eva Ringmar met Eduard Caen from October 15, 1990, to February 20, 1992. Fourteen meetings in all. The dates are in chronological order and confirmed by Mr. Caen himself. I have no further questions.”
17
He woke up at twenty past five.
Stayed in bed for a while and tried to go back to sleep, but that was impossible. Old images and memories of every possible occasion flooded into his consciousness, and after half an hour he got up. Put on a jumper and trousers over his pajamas and went to the kitchen. Looked out the window, saw that the newsstand in the square below hadn’t opened yet, and sat down at the table to wait.
When the shutters were removed, he was standing there, ready. There was no risk. The woman who ran the stand recognized him, but it wasn’t the first time he’d been there so early.
With Neuwe Blatt under his arm, he rushed up the stairs in a series of long leaps. Locked the door behind him and spread the newspaper out on the kitchen table. Started looking.
The report covered a whole page, and he read it twice. Folded the paper up, rested his head on his hands, and pondered.
Loss of memory?
Of all the possibilities he’d considered over the last few weeks, that was something that had never occurred to him.
Loss of memory?
After a while, he concluded that this was the only answer.
The only one, and the right one. Mitter had forgotten him.
He’d been so drunk that he quite simply didn’t remember.
There was a twitching at the corners of his mouth, he could feel it. He felt drowsy now, after getting up so early. But surely this was an omen. Another sign that he was on the right path. He was free now, and strong. He only needed to look ahead. No need to fear anything. A lion.
Something was nagging deep down in his stomach.
Fear?
Was it possible that Mitter might remember?
He belched. A sour taste filled his mouth.
He took two tablets to calm down his stomach. Washed them down with soda water. Went back to bed.
The thought was already in his mind. He didn’t bother to examine it more closely. It wasn’t necessary yet. There was no hurry. He would surely be well advised to wait and see how things developed. The itch was there again, but he suppressed it. He had the strength and the determination, no doubt about that; but it was too soon. For the moment he could devote himself to other things. Other itches.
Liz. He stuck his hand down behind the waistband of his trousers. This is what he had to look forward to. The sick goings-on of the past were behind him now. On Wednesday, it would be Liz. His woman.
She was going to seduce him, he’d seen it in her eyes. And he would let her have her way. He’d let her do whatever she wanted until the very last moment, then he would force his way inside her and make her squeal in ecstasy. From behind and from in front and from the side.
Eva was gone. Now it was Liz. On Wednesday.
18
“Why the hell didn’t we know anything about this Caen?”
Van Veeteren started before Munster had time even to close the door. Munster flopped down on his usual chair between the filing cabinets and popped two throat tablets into his mouth.
“Well?”
“We were told we didn’t need to trawl through the whole of her past. I don’t understand why you are still persisting with this case. I’ve just been chatting to the chief of police down-stairs in the canteen, and he said we must get down to serious work on those arson attacks now.”
“Munster, I couldn’t give a shit what Hiller thinks we ought to be doing. If it’s of any interest to you, your pyromaniac is called Garanin. He’s Russian, and it’ll be enough if we put a man on him from the twelfth onward.”
“Why?”
“He’s moonstruck. He only lights fires when there’s a full moon. I had a look at the material this morning. I’ve got his address as well, but it’ll be best to catch him in the act. Just now we’re concentrating on Caen. What have you found out?”
Munster cleared his throat.
“I haven’t spoken to him personally: I sent a fax this morning. We’ll presumably get a reply tonight-they don’t have the same time as we do down there.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And I also went to see Ruger. He didn’t want to say anything, of course, so I gave him a few tips in connection with the Henderson case.”
“Bravo, Munster! Go on!”
“Well, Caen was her therapist. He looked after her when she was in Rejmershus, and they stayed in contact after she’d been let out. Ruger doesn’t have much more than the dates of their meetings, in fact. His main intention was to clamp down on that witness who claimed she knew all there was to know about Eva Ringmar, he said.”
“Is that all?”
“He’s spoken to Caen on the telephone a couple of times, but he didn’t think it was relevant to the case. I’m inclined to agree with him.”
“Leave me to decide what’s important and what isn’t, Munster! What else do you know?”
“He moved to Australia in March this year. That was why they stopped meeting. He has a private clinic in Melbourne.
His wife comes from there, so presumably that’s why. .”
“What did he have to say about Eva Ringmar?”
“Not much, apparently; but I don’t think Ruger pressed him very hard.”
Van Veeteren scratched the back of his neck with a pencil and pondered.
“Ruger? No, probably not. What did you write in the fax?”
Munster fidgeted.
He’s gone and done something silly again, Van Veeteren thought. I’ll have his guts for garters if he’s made a mess of things!
“Er, I asked him to confirm the dates, and to be available for telephone contact-I said you would be speaking to him. If he answers the fax, you can call him tomorrow morning.”
Van Veeteren took out his toothpick and considered it for a few moments.
“Well done, Munster!” he said eventually.
Munster blushed.
A man who’s turned forty ought to have stopped blushing, Van Veeteren thought. Especially as he’s a police officer.
But never mind. Van Veeteren stood up.
“Let’s go and play badminton now!” He practiced a couple of smashes. “I have the feeling I’m going to wipe the floor with you today, Inspector!”
“But. .”
“No buts! Stick your snout round Hiller’s door and tell him we’re working our butts off with the arson case. Oh yes, we’ll have to pay a quick visit to my place first. I have to sort out that damned dog. .”
Munster sighed discreetly. When the chief inspector was in the mood to make jokes, it could mean almost anything-but one thing was certain: he didn’t want to be contradicted.
“What impression did you get of Andreas Berger?” Van Veeteren asked as Munster was trying to find his way out of the labyrinth that was the garage of police headquarters.
“Innocent, no doubt about it.”
“Why?”
“He has an alibi for the whole night. He lives right up in Karpatz, with a new wife and a couple of kids, and a third on the way. Very pleasant, and his wife as well. He tried to help Eva get back on track after the tragedy, wanted them to try again to make a go of it. She was the one who asked for a divorce.”
“Yes, I’m aware of all that. So there wasn’t anything rotten?”
“Rotten?”
“Yes, in the State of Denmark. He wasn’t trying to pull the wool over your eyes, I hope?”