‘It depends what you mean by “undergo”,’ he said. ‘She started on a sort of work aptitude course in August, and was paid a subsidy to attend. She seems to have turned up three or four times, but the man responsible for it doesn’t recall ever speaking to her about it. It apparently involved mainly watching videos and then filling in aptitude forms. . But he promised to send us a list of all those taking part so that we can maybe check on whether she made any contacts there.’
‘Good,’ said Reinhart. ‘Not much chance of that, I suspect, but this is the kind of thing we have to hope comes up with a lead. Somebody who might be able to tell us a little bit about her. Every little helps, as they say.’
‘Let’s face it,’ said Rooth, ‘Everything that is more than nothing is something.’
‘You don’t say?’ said Reinhart. ‘Anyway, we’ll make sure her picture appears in tomorrow’s papers, come what may. And urge people to come forward — especially if anybody has seen her in the company of a man.’
‘A man?’ said Rooth. ‘Why?’
‘Surely that’s obvious,’ said Reinhart, beginning to look annoyed. ‘It’s got to have been a man who killed her, and next-door-neighbour Paraskevi said something — pretty vague, for God’s sake, but still. Something about having seen a man around. At the end of August or thereabouts.’
‘But she never actually saw him, did she?’ asked Krause.
‘Apparently not,’ sighed Reinhart, sitting up straight. ‘Unfortunately. Anyway, to sum up: this is a case about which we know next to nothing — I take it we can all agree on that? We know so damned little that we ought to be ashamed — if it helps for police officers to be ashamed, and maybe it doesn’t. Has anybody anything to add before we start deciding who is going to do what?’
Rooth stood up.
‘I think I must go and fetch something to eat before we go any further,’ he said. ‘Bearing in mind my blood sugar levels and all that. But there’s one other thing I wonder about.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Jung.
‘Well, if this Martina Kammerle woman was so cut off from contact with anybody else, how come that anybody should bother to murder her? Eh? If she was so insignificant?’
Reinhart nodded vaguely, but said nothing.
‘There’s something in that,’ said Münster. ‘Anybody who had a reason for murdering her must have been acquainted with her — a little bit, at least. Bearing in mind how she was killed. You don’t strangle somebody on the spur of the moment. I wouldn’t, at least.’
‘Nor would I,’ said Reinhart. ‘Anyway, let’s take a five-minute pause, so that Inspector Rooth doesn’t starve to death.’
Once Tuesday’s work programme had been drawn up, Münster invited Moreno into his office for a brief chat.
‘You didn’t say very much during the meeting,’ he said when they had sat down.
‘I know,’ said Moreno. ‘I’m sorry, but I find this Martina Kammerle business very depressing.’
‘So do I,’ said Münster.
‘If you live in such a way that nobody notices your presence, why should anybody want to kill you? I agree with Rooth. Getting murdered seems to suggest an interest in you that you haven’t deserved.’
‘Indeed,’ said Münster. ‘That thought struck me as well. But I suppose it’s possible that she possessed some sort of inner light that we’re unaware of. Qualities of life that we don’t see. We’re only rooting around in the afterbirth, as it were.’
‘Do you think so? That there was some kind of inner light?’
Münster shrugged.
‘I don’t think anything. But what we’ve gathered about the daughter is very perplexing.’
‘You can say that again,’ said Moreno. ‘I wonder if in fact she’s the one behind it all. The murderer seems to have been a very strong man, but you never know — she might have hired a contract killer.’
Münster sighed and looked grim.
‘Some sort of showdown between a psychologically disturbed woman and her daughter, you mean?’
‘Something like that. What do you think?’
‘Why not? The girl must be involved in some way, seeing as she’s disappeared. . Huh, it’s not exactly a bundle of laughs, this case.’
‘A bundle of laughs?’ said Moreno, twisting her mouth into a clownish grin. ‘When did we last have a case that was a bundle of laughs? I must have missed it.’
Münster said nothing, but eyed her up and down for a while.
‘How are you?’ he asked eventually. ‘If one dare ask.’
Moreno laughed.
‘I’m okay,’ she said. ‘It’s just that being a human being is so hard. And so pointless. I’m afraid I’ve started thinking seriously along those lines. . Look at deBries, for instance. It’s only about a year since he died, but it seems as if we’ve forgotten about him already. I know he was a swine in a way, but still.’
‘Yes,’ said Münster. ‘I’m afraid you’re right.’
‘And Heinemann is struggling with his prostate cancer. Has anybody been in touch with him since he left? Proper contact, I mean. He was a cop for forty years, after all.’
Münster made no reply.
‘So no doubt that’s what you and I have to look forward to, unfortunately,’ said Moreno. ‘That’s what I mean. We’re so insignificant. Oblivion lies in store for us all. Unless we happen to be murdered, like Martina Kammerle, of course. Or shot while on duty. Then we might receive a bit of attention. Briefly. ’
‘A damned perverted sort of attention,’ said Münster, looking over her shoulder and out of the window. ‘I think I’d prefer to fall asleep in peace and quiet. Why don’t you get married and have some children? That would give your existence a bit more substance.’
As he said that, he couldn’t avoid the fact that the love he had once felt for her surged up again inside him — and he found it necessary to keep gazing out of the window when she looked at him.
‘Thanks for the tip,’ she said. ‘I might well be on the way to doing that, in fact. It might be a makeshift solution, but rather one of those than none at all.’
‘Good,’ said Münster. ‘I’m also about to give my existence a bit more substance. We’re going to have another one.’
‘A baby, you mean?’
‘A baby, yes. What did you think I meant? A hamster?’
Moreno laughed. Genuinely, at last.
‘I’m delighted to hear it,’ she said, looking at her watch. ‘No, I’d better go — there’s a dinner waiting for me. We can carry on philosophizing tomorrow.’
‘By all means,’ said Münster. ‘Mind you, tomorrow is deeper than a camel’s soul.’
‘Eh?’ said Moreno. ‘What does that mean?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Münster. ‘I must have read it somewhere.’
16
‘Monica Kammerle,’ said Detective Inspector Krause. ‘What can you tell me about her?’
Welfare Officer Stroop tried hard to produce a smile hinting at mutual understanding before answering, but it looked somewhat ambiguous. She raised her narrow eyebrows and looked at him as one would look at an old but not entirely reliable ally. Krause clicked his biro a couple of times and looked out of the window. It was raining.
‘Well, what can one say?’ said the welfare officer hesitantly. ‘We’re so understaffed that we simply can’t keep up. There are over nine hundred pupils in this school.’
‘Minus one,’ said Krause. ‘You were in contact with Monica Kammerle at the beginning of this term — perhaps you remember that, at least? What did she want?’
‘I’m not allowed to discuss such matters with third parties. .’ said Stroop slowly, rotating a ring with a large green stone round and round her little finger.
‘Rubbish,’ said Krause.
‘Rubbish?’
‘Her mother has been murdered and the girl has been missing for at least six weeks. If you don’t tell me what you know, I shall report you to the authorities this afternoon. No matter how busy you are, you have a duty to keep tabs on all the pupils in this school.’
Stroop blushed well into her bleached hair. She fiddled nervously with the various piles of papers on her desk, and drank something out of a china mug with blue flowers on.