'What about the rest of us?' asked Henning sharply.
'You'll be informed, of course, provided there's some definitive result. The most important thing is that we don't panic or start a lynch mob without having any proof to go on.'
'It sounds more like you don't trust us,' said Henning.
'So we're still under suspicion?' Pau interjected.
Kortmann gestured dismissively. 'As you've all said yourselves, there's no firm proof. All possibilities remain open, even the worst of them.' He glanced briefly at Katherina. 'The possibility that one of us is a traitor.' A murmur of discontented voices arose, so Kortmann had to raise his own voice to be heard. 'But I don't believe that. Even so, we're being forced to take every precaution. This isn't a matter of one person maligning someone else or swiping money from the till. People have been hurt – even murdered. Keep that in mind.'
Everyone stopped talking, and for several seconds it was completely silent in the room. Many avoided Jon's eyes when he looked in their direction.
'I think that we should end the meeting here,' said Kortmann calmly. 'The point was for everyone to introduce themselves and for all of us to understand the importance of this investigation. I hope that's been accomplished. Jon will have access to your names and addresses so he can contact you directly if necessary. That's up to him. As I said, I expect all of you to help as best you can.' He clapped his hands together. 'Thanks for coming.'
Everyone stood up amid the scraping of chairs and parting words offered right and left. When Jon said goodbye to Kortmann, the man took a brown envelope out of the side pocket of his wheelchair and handed it to him.
'Keep me posted,' said Kortmann, giving Jon a wink.
Jon nodded in agreement and headed outside with Katherina. Kortmann remained behind with Birthe.
In front of the entrance Pau, Lee and Henning were having a muted conversation, but as soon as Katherina and Jon came out, they broke up and went their separate ways. Pau came sauntering over to them.
'Would you like a lift?' asked Jon.
'No, thanks,' replied Pau. 'I'm on my bike. Besides, I wouldn't want to get in the way of the Dynamic Duo.' He laughed.
'New friends?' asked Katherina, nodding in the direction that Lee had headed.
Pau shrugged. 'I've always thought that Lee was cool. He's going to show me some of his Internet tricks some day.' Pau watched Lee go. 'I suppose he was a little miffed at what Kortmann said. The last time anyone talked to him like that, it was his old man. The Bibliophile Society has turned into a pensioners' club with reading aloud, bingo and all that crap. We've got to recruit some new blood soon – I agree with Lee about that.' He shifted his glance to Jon. 'What do you think, Jon?'
'Hard to say, since I'm not even a member.'
'There shouldn't be any problem about becoming a member since you're Luca's son. But maybe Kortmann won't let you in. Have you thought about why he won't activate you?'
'Not particularly.'
'The others think he's afraid you'll want to take his place.'
'I haven't exactly got the feeling that he's trying to get rid of me – on the contrary,' replied Jon in a neutral tone.
'Yeah, okay,' said Pau, sounding resigned. 'I've got to go. See you!'
They said goodbye and watched Pau cycle away into the darkness, riding an ancient men's bicycle with no lights.
'What do you think?' asked Jon.
'He's just a kid,' said Katherina.
'I meant about the meeting.'
She laughed but quickly turned serious. 'They're scared.'
For the first time in what seemed like ages Jon allowed himself to sleep eight hours straight. Even so, he could tell that he was still suffering from a lack of sleep, but he was alert enough to go through his morning routine without skipping the shaving.
In light of all the recent upheaval in his life, his usual activities and rituals had taken on a new purpose. It was as if he were putting on a different identity – lawyer by day, investigator of secret conspiracies by night. When the two worlds collided, he could see the absurdity, respectively, of going to work when he ought to be investigating his father's death, or of playing amateur detective when he was facing the breakthrough case of his career.
On that particular day three such collisions took place.
The first one happened when he rang a glass company to order new windows for the bookshop. He'd chosen the one that was located closest to Libri di Luca, and it turned out that the glazier had known Luca. Jon introduced himself as the new owner with such ease that afterwards he had stared at the phone for a long time and had to resist the temptation to look at himself in the mirror.
The second collision came in the form of a phone call after lunch.
'Campelli? Remer here,' he heard on the other end of the line, despite the bad connection.
'I'm glad you rang,' replied Jon. 'I assume you received my letter?' After Remer's last visit, Jon had compiled the questions that hadn't been resolved when they met and sent them off to Remer.
'Letter?' repeated Remer. 'No, I didn't receive anything, but I'm in Holland at the moment, so I may be a little difficult to reach. Send an email instead – I usually get those.'
'I did that too,' remarked Jon.
'Oh. Well, that's not the reason I rang you up,' Remer said quickly. 'Do you remember that bookseller I told you about? I met him here in Amsterdam at a reception. Smart guy. He told me what happened at the shop. A very sad story. How serious is the damage?'
'It's not so bad,' replied Jon. 'The wooden facade and the windows have to be replaced, and a bunch of minor things need repair inside, but otherwise not much happened.'
'That's good to hear, Campelli. I can't have my lawyer getting his fingers burned.' Remer laughed loudly on the line while Jon wondered whether the real reason for the call was so that Remer could deliver that punchline.
'It's nice of you to think of me, Mr Remer, but I'd rather have you answer some of the questions I sent you.'
'Oh sure, I'll take a look at them,' said Remer. 'I just wanted to say that he's still interested in buying the place – the bookseller, I mean. He's even willing to overlook any fire damage.'
'As I said-'
'Don't tell me you're still considering becoming a bookseller yourself, Campelli?' Remer interrupted him. 'It does look as if it's more exciting than we both thought, but of course you know where your real talent lies. As I said before, just sell the place and get out of that business. It's much too unpredictable for laymen like us; recent events have proven that clearly enough.'
'Mr Remer,' Jon cut him off. 'Ihave made a decision. Libri di Luca is not for sale. And if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to my job of keeping you out of prison.' He hung up before Remer could reply.
But it wasn't easy to concentrate after that call. He managed to write yet another email and a letter, but Jon's thoughts were more on the conversation than on his work. As he replayed Remer's words in his mind, he sometimes came to the conclusion that Remer had been trying to coerce him into selling for business reasons, but at other times he thought the man had made an outright threat.
The third collision took place during these speculations.
Katherina rang him from the bookshop. On the phone her voice sounded both fragile and gentle, but there was also a note of uncertainty, which Jon noticed at once.
'There's a claims assessor here in the shop,' she told him.
'Yes?' said Jon, as his brain made connections between fire damage, insurance policies and compensation.
'Is this something you requested?'
'No,' replied Jon. 'I think they just show up automatically, don't they?'
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
'The thing is,' whispered Katherina, 'he wants access to the basement.'
13
From the moment the claims assessor stepped through the door of Libri di Luca, the atmosphere changed. Katherina felt instantly ill at ease as his enquiring gaze swept over the boarded-up windows, the exposed floor and from there up to the bookshelves and balcony. There was no love for books in his eyes, just a cynical appraisal of what he saw, calculated in square metres and percentages.