‘I can’t see a single trace,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘I can assure you that you are the most delicate and fragrant violet in the whole bookshop. Anyway, where exactly are your thoughts leading you?’
Moreno coughed away a smile.
‘It’s pretty self-evident,’ she said. ‘Somebody has killed Martina Kammerle for some reason or other. The same person has removed Pastor Gassel from the stage. . possibly because he knew the reason for the murder. Monica Kammerle might well have suffered the same fate. It’s just that we haven’t found her yet. . To reduce matters to basics, that is.’
‘Why complicate matters?’ said Van Veeteren. ‘It will get more complicated of its own accord, and second-degree equations have never been one of my strengths. . But if a certain antiquarian bookseller hadn’t sent a certain priest packing because he had an urgent dental appointment, the Maardam CID wouldn’t be sitting in this hole. That’s what you’re getting at, of course.’
‘I’m not getting at anything,’ Moreno assured him, ‘but let’s face it: there is something in that. The fact is that I have a little request as well.’
‘A request?’ said Van Veeteren, raising an eyebrow.
‘Maybe I should call it a formal invitation. From Reinhart. He wants you to turn up and answer some questions.’
Van Veeteren spilled some coffee on the table.
‘Answer. .?’
‘Yes, it follows naturally if you think about it,’ said Moreno. ‘We clearly need to find out as much as possible about that meeting between you and the priest. .’
‘So you’re going to interrogate me, are you?’
‘Have a chat,’ said Moreno. ‘Not interrogate. Shall we do it now, or leave it until later?’
‘Well, I’ll be damned. But now you mention it, I suppose. .’
He glanced at his watch.
‘Now,’ he said.
‘Just one condition,’ said Van Veeteren as they clambered out of the car in the police station’s basement garage. ‘If we bump into Hiller I shall do an about-turn and disappear. You’ll have to fetch me by patrol car at Klagenburg instead.’
‘Of course,’ said Moreno, pressing the lift button.
No chief of police put in an appearance in fact, and two minutes later the Chief Inspector was sitting in Reinhart’s smoke-filled office with its owner and Intendent Münster.
‘Nice to see you here,’ said Reinhart with a wry smile. ‘I’ll be damned if you don’t look younger every time I see you.’
‘Natural beauty can’t be repressed in the long run,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘How are things?’
‘We get what we deserve, I suppose,’ said Reinhart. ‘Or what do you think, Münster?’
‘We get what Reinhart deserves, unfortunately,’ said Münster. ‘Hence all the misery. How are things in the book trade?’
‘There are still one or two citizens around who can read,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘But there are fewer of them by the day, alas. Anyway, enough of this nonsense. This business with the priest is pretty damned awful. . and the rest of it. Is the connection any more definite than Moreno indicated?’
Reinhart scratched the back of his neck and pulled a face.
‘I don’t really know,’ he said. ‘Krause and Jung are looking into it. Gassel’s furniture and belongings have already been put in storage, unfortunately, and his flat has been let. But as I see it, it’s only a matter of time before we’re a hundred per cent certain. . Everything fits in, and I’m sure that’s how it will turn out. But what I’m most interested in just now is whether we can squeeze out of you any more details of that meeting you had with the priest.’
‘Yes, I can understand that,’ said Van Veeteren, taking out his cigarette machine. ‘But I think I’ve already remembered everything it’s possible to remember. I spoke to Moreno about it a month ago, after all. On my initiative, note that.’
‘Yes, I know about that,’ said Reinhart. ‘We don’t intend to arrest you just yet. Have you anything against my trying to reel off what you said, and you can squeal whenever I put a foot wrong?’
‘Fire away,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘As long as I can smoke in peace and quiet.’
Reinhart leaned back, took a deep breath, and started off.
‘Pastor Gassel comes in to see you at Krantze’s and wants to talk to you. Date: fifteenth of September. Is that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘You turn him down, but nevertheless you have the impression there’s something he wants to get off his chest. . Something he’s been told, that is covered by his vow of silence. He mentions the word “she”.’
Van Veeteren nodded and began rolling a cigarette.
‘A reasonable assumption to make, in the light of what happened later, is that he was referring to Monica Kammerle. Or possibly her mother, although that is significantly less likely as it was in the girl’s room that we found his name, and it was in her handwriting. In any case, “she” must have told this priest about some problem or other. Central to this problem is an unknown person, probably a man, who eventually makes sure all those involved are removed out of the way. Gassel. Martina Kammerle. Monica Kammerle. We haven’t yet found the last-named, but unfortunately that’s probably only a matter of time. Anyway, that’s more or less the scenario as we see it. One of the possibilities, at least.’
Van Veeteren lit his cigarette.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It fits together, just as you say. There’s only one question mark, as far as I can see.’
‘Really?’ said Reinhart.
‘I know what the chief. . I know what you mean,’ said Münster. ‘You are referring to the minor detail of who did it. The perpetrator. Is that right?’
‘Yes,’ said Van Veeteren. ‘There must be some bastard behind all this.’
Reinhart started working on his pipe and tobacco.
‘That thought had occurred to me as well,’ he muttered. ‘Believe it or not. It’s amazing how a former chief inspector can still hit the nail on the head in certain circumstances. Anyway, what indications did you get of a perpetrator of this nature during your conversation with the priest?’
Van Veeteren thought that over for about five seconds.
‘None at all,’ he said. ‘It was hardly a conversation, incidentally. He was with me for about two minutes at most.’
‘Are you sure? There’s nothing you’ve forgotten?’
Van Veeteren snorted.
‘Of course I’m damned well sure. What are you getting at? If there’s one place in this world where I feel at home, it’s inside my own head.’
‘Congratulations,’ said Reinhart. ‘Forgive my insistent style — it would be great fun to submit you to a proper interrogation one of these days, but I don’t suppose that’s likely to happen. .’
‘I tread the straight and narrow,’ said Van Veeteren grumpily. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of that.’
Reinhart lit his pipe and transformed his mouth into something that might — just possibly — be interpreted as a smile.
‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘back to business. I spent four hours this morning studying old cases involving strangulation. I can tell you that it made inspiring reading. But I suppose I ought to devote myself now to cases involving victims being pushed under trains. .’
‘Sounds interesting,’ said Münster. ‘And it would be even more interesting to hear if you found anything.’
‘Keep plodding away and eventually you’ll come across something,’ said Reinhart. ‘Yes, I think so. If we accept the ten-year time limit, as I suggested yesterday, there are only two unsolved cases in the whole country similar to this one — strangulation cases, that is. If I were pressed to be more rigorous, I’d say in fact just one.’
‘So you’re saying he’s been at it before?’ asked Van Veeteren.
‘Yes,’ said Reinhart, pulling a face again. ‘I think that’s what I’m saying. It’s all hypothetical, of course, but the more it rains, the more flourishing theories tend to look. There was a case up at Wallburg last summer which could well have involved a murderer like ours. A twenty-six-year-old woman strangled in her flat. From behind. I’m told it’s more difficult to do from behind. Bare hands. No clues and no suspects. I’m waiting for a call from Wallburg, but I intend to ask Meusse to take a look into it at any event, and come up with an informed guess.’