Since the women still hadn’t returned, he offered to play a game of sixty-six with me. He went and got the deck of cards. I won the first game. Halfway through the second, the score stood at 4:3 to Heinrich.
Just then, the women came in. They expressed surprise that we weren’t sitting in front of the television, studying the latest reports. Eva said they had paid a brief visit to the farmer and his wife. Sadly, not a normal word had been uttered; the house next door was dominated by the murders. The farmer’s wife had been sitting in the kitchen in tears. Terribly upset by her crying fit, the farmer had stomped around and announced his intention of fetching his rifle. Eva had injudiciously mentioned Heinrich’s Austria 2 report to the effect that the killer was heading in our direction. The farmer had promptly proceeded to put his threat into effect and made to leave the kitchen to get his gun. A dramatic scene ensued.
The farmer’s wife barred his exit from the kitchen and loudly implored him not to bring misfortune down on their heads. She argued that a certain Alois Schober, who turned out to be a policeman known to the farmer’s family, would clinch matters either on his own or with his colleagues. The farmer ordered her to get out of his way. He didn’t intend to join the manhunt, he said; he merely planned to defend his farm if the murderer showed up there; were he to put a bullet in the scoundrel’s head, it would be an accident or self-defense or both. Eva too endeavored to calm the farmer down but was flatly ignored by him.
Heinrich asked how the incident had ended. The farmer’s wife was sitting distraught in the kitchen, said Eva, and the farmer was probably loading his rifle. Laughing, Heinrich expressed the theory that we truly weren’t safe here anymore — not because of the murderer, whose advent was unlikely, but because of a neighbor who was not only armed but obviously overwrought. My partner said she didn’t think this funny. Heinrich pooh-poohed her interjection and said the farmer would simmer down.
If the ladies insisted on doing something today, he suggested driving to Frauenkirchen, where he wanted to try to locate the policeman of his acquaintance.
What policeman? asked Eva.
The one who had been so helpful and informative when he was changing his car papers, Heinrich replied. He’d told her about him — surely she must remember?
Actually, said my partner, she’d had something different in mind.
Eva sighed. The murderer had completely ruined her weekend, she said, but in view of the existence of the Café Wurm, she would consent to go to Frauenkirchen. My partner reminded Eva that some people’s weekend had been even more thoroughly ruined than hers.
Heinrich nodded, raised his arms, and flapped them like a child falling from a great height. My partner called him a monster. Eva said she was well acquainted with his obnoxious and incurable cynicism. Heinrich laughed and said sorry, he couldn’t help himself; his gesture had been prompted by an inner compulsion. The women shook their heads.
Eva said that any repetition of such behavior would cause her to obey an inner compulsion to slap his face.
Well, said Heinrich, how about it? Were they coming, or was he to drive to Frauenkirchen on his own?
My partner retorted that he was out of his mind. She wouldn’t stay here on her own for anything in the world, not with a trigger-happy farmer twenty yards away and the prospect of encountering the camera killer.
Eva said that going to Frauenkirchen presented an opportunity to partake of an iced coffee at the Café Wurm. In the meantime, those two (meaning Heinrich and me) could go in search of their policeman.
Fine, said my partner, she liked iced coffee; above all, though, she would feel safer with other people around.
Heinrich clapped his hands and said, Let’s go.
My partner and Eva protested that they hadn’t changed or made their faces up. That could take some time, Heinrich groaned, and he invited me to resume our card game. I declined because it occurred to me that I still hadn’t brushed my teeth that morning. I wanted to remedy this deficiency and have a shower as well. Heinrich brusquely said there really wasn’t time for that, so I agreed to temporarily confine myself to brushing my teeth and washing my face and make up for the omission by showering that afternoon.
Heinrich: You don’t imagine I’ve had a wash, do you? Eva overheard this and called him a pig. He chuckled but accompanied me into the bathroom, where we attended to our dental hygiene, standing side by side at the sink.
Eva laughed. Summoning my partner, she pointed to us and said, Didn’t we look sweet, like a brace of oxen in a stable.
Heinrich splashed the womenfolk with water and they withdrew.
When we were through, we went outside and took up our positions by the car. Its bodywork, which had been considerably heated by the sun, precluded any physical contact with it. We passed the time in trivial conversation. Now and then Heinrich would call in the direction of the house, demanding to know when the ladies might be expected to put in an appearance.
We chatted about the exceptional number of cats that were once more populating the yard, their problems in finding or obtaining food, and whether it mightn’t be better to castrate or sterilize them. Heinrich said the farmer was loath to spend any money on this but had devised a birth-control program of his own. Whenever a female turned up with her litter, he took the kittens away from their mother and flung them at a tree as hard as he could, killing them. This was undoubtedly cruel, but (a) it was the custom around here, and (b) the mother cats had become smart enough to conceal their offspring from the farmer and his attentions until they were big enough to fend for themselves. The farmer’s wife had told him all this one Sunday four weeks ago, Heinrich said in conclusion.
My partner and Eva appeared at last. Heinrich opened the door for them. My partner said we could be sure she wouldn’t be first to enter the house on our return. Even Eva grinned at this.
We got into the Stubenrauchs’ car. Heinrich seated himself at the wheel with me in the passenger seat and Eva and my partner behind us on the left and right, respectively. When driving out, we had to be careful not to run over any cats, but the animals were well trained and fled in all directions when the car started up. Heinrich said one could never tell.
When we were out on the highway, he suggested making a deal with the farmer: The latter should undertake to pay him a certain sum or give him a rebate on his monthly rent for every cat he killed. He was sure the man would agree, he said. Eva told him to stop it. Heinrich added that the deal was impracticable, in any case, because the task of washing feline remains off his tires would be too distasteful. Eva asked why he always had to rile her in such a disgusting manner. Heinrich laughed and promised to say no more.
He turned on the radio. According to the news, the German commercial station that transmitted the murder video had laid itself open to penalties ranging from a substantial fine to withdrawal of its broadcasting license. Heinrich said that things were never as black as they were painted; he felt sure the broadcasters had sufficient contacts with politicians and other influential individuals to stave off the worst. My partner agreed. Those people knew the ropes, she said.
Referring to the manhunt, the newscaster stated that several leads to the murderer’s car had been followed up, but also to actual persons, all of them residents in West Styria, and that investigations were in full swing. Heinrich said he very much hoped his policeman acquaintance would be able to provide more details.
Eva started to talk to my partner about iced coffee and the Café Wurm. The ice creams there were of the highest quality, she said, and the cakes weren’t to be sneezed at either. My partner inquired whether the Café Wurm stocked Malakoff tortes. Eva said she didn’t know, but its range of cakes and pastries was so large that the chances were very good.