Mind's Eye (13 page)

“Don’t underestimate me.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You said you caught her out several more times?”

“Yes, but never in quite the same way. I caught a glimpse…I overheard a few telephone calls…”

“Did you hear what they were talking about?”

“No. But it was pretty clear even so.”

“I’m with you.”

“I caught her out telling lies several times as well. She claimed she’d been at home, despite the fact that I’d gone home during the lunch break and found the house empty…. Said she’d been at the cinema with a woman friend of hers. To see a film that had finished its run the week before.”

“What did she have to say about all these things?”

“I never confronted her with them. I didn’t know what to do. I suppose I was just waiting for something crucial to happen. The whole situation seemed so unreal, I simply didn’t know what to do.”

“Did you speak to anybody about it?”

“No…. No, unfortunately not. I thought it was something that would blow over, that we’d sort it out between ourselves eventually, somehow.”

Van Veeteren nodded.

“Is that a Vrejsman?” He pointed at the big watercolor over the fireplace.

“Yes, you’re right,” said Berger in surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re an art expert as well as a detective chief inspector?”

“Of course,” said Van Veeteren. “I’m familiar with Rembrandt and Vrejsman. Vrejsman is my uncle. Are you absolutely certain, Mr. Berger?”

“Excuse me? I don’t really understand…”

“Certain that she was unfaithful. Could it possibly have been something else?”

“Such as?”

Van Veeteren flung out his arms.

“Don’t ask me. But what you discovered wasn’t especially compromising. You never found them in bed together, as it were.”

“I didn’t think that was necessary.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about this last time? When you spoke to Inspector Münster?”

Berger hesitated.

“It…it never cropped up. I suppose I didn’t think it was important. I still don’t, come to that.”

Van Veeteren didn’t respond. Berger was rather annoyed now. Van Veeteren almost wished he’d been in a position to have him locked up in a police cell overnight and been able to continue questioning him first thing next morning. That would have made his next move easier. But while he was wondering what to do next, Mrs. Berger appeared and informed her husband that he was wanted on the telephone.

The Devil looks after his own, Van Veeteren thought. Berger went to answer the call, and Van Veeteren was able to spend the next ten minutes staring at the embers and the fading blue flames while thinking over his own infidelities.

They were two in number; the most recent one was eighteen years ago, and had been just as catastrophic as the first one. His marriage had been catastrophic as well, but at least it had the advantage of not affecting any innocent party.

Perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to let the same thing apply to the marriage of Andreas Berger and Eva Ringmar as well? He decided to accept another whiskey and water while waiting for the next round to commence. He would have to make sure it took up rather less time than the last one. The clock on the mantelpiece was showing half past nine, and even if he generally paid no attention to the requirements of common decency and decorum, there were limits.

He lit a cigarette, and put another four in his breast pocket.

28

“Could you please tell me a bit about the accident, Mr. Berger? I promise I shan’t trouble you for much longer.”

Berger poked around in the glowing embers. Remained sitting for a while with his arms between his knees, staring into the fire, before he started.

“It was the first of June. A Saturday. We were invited to the Molnars, a colleague of mine: they have a house in the Maarensjöarna lake district. We were going to stay overnight. When it was time to eat, we realized that Willie had disappeared. He was four, had just celebrated his fourth birthday. The Molnars had two children, a few years older. They’d all been playing in the garden. Willie had said he needed to go to the lavatory. We didn’t find him until Sunday morning. Some fishermen pulled his body out of an inlet—he’d floated with the current for nearly three kilometers.”

He fell silent and lit a cigarette.

“How far was it from the house to the lake?”

“Only a hundred meters. We’d been swimming earlier, but Willie knew he wasn’t allowed to go there on his own.”

“Was there a thorough investigation?”

“Yes, but there wasn’t much to say. Willie had presumably wandered onto the jetty and fallen in the water. He had all his clothes on, so he hadn’t gone swimming on his own. Chief Inspector, do we really have to go through all this? I told the full story to your colleague…Münster, was that his name?”

Van Veeteren nodded.

“What about Eva’s reaction, could you talk about that? I understand that it’s difficult for you, but I’m looking for a murderer, Mr. Berger. Somebody killed Eva, somebody killed Janek Mitter, her new husband. There must be a reason why. I’m afraid it’s necessary to follow up every clue.”

“I understand. I hope you can understand the trauma caused by the death of a child. We can accept that adults die, even if it happens suddenly and unexpectedly; but when a little boy, only four years old, is snatched away from you…Well, it can seem as if everything—and I really do mean everything—is meaningless. Any reaction at all has to be regarded as normal.”

“Eva was the one who reacted worst?”

Berger nodded.

“Yes.”

There was a pause. Berger poured himself a small whiskey.

“Would you like some?”

Van Veeteren shook his head. Berger dug into the ice cubes with the tongs, but failed to ensnare one. He put the tongs on the table and used his fingers instead. Dropped three or four half-melted ice cubes into his glass and licked his fingers.

Manners, Van Veeteren thought.

“Eva, yes…” said Berger. “She lost control of herself completely, it would be fair to say.”

“How?”

“How? She became hysterical. She seemed out of her mind. It was impossible to make her see reason, or to get a sensible comment out of her. She wanted to kill herself—we had to keep an eye on her all day and night. And fill her with drugs, of course.”

“How long did this last?”

“The whole summer. It was…it was sheer hell, Inspector. I didn’t get a chance to grieve myself; all my strength was needed to keep Eva alive. As I was the stronger, I had to carry the whole burden. But I suppose that’s the way it is…” He laughed. “Nineteen eighty-six is not a year that I would like to live through again, Inspector. Everything happened in 1986; maybe I should have gone to an astrologer and checked the stars. There must have been some terrifying constellations.”

“Was Eva at home or in the hospital?”

“Both. At first she was mainly in the hospital. She had to be watched over constantly. I was there as well most of the time. As the weeks went by I took her home more and more, but I didn’t dare leave her on her own. I didn’t start work again until October.”

“But she got better?”

“Yes. When the summer was over it was clear to me that she no longer intended to take her own life.”

“Did you discuss the accident?”

“Never. I tried, of course; but it was absolutely impossible to talk about that. We never mentioned Willie, and she insisted that we throw away all his things. I managed to hide some away for myself. But it was as if he’d never existed, as if she wanted to obliterate even his memory.”

“Photographs?”

“The same. I gave a few pictures to a good friend, who kept them safe for me.”

“Didn’t you think her reaction was strange?”

“Yes, of course. I spoke to several psychologists and psychiatrists, and it’s obvious that Eva’s behavior was psychotic. But even so, it was an improvement compared with the summer. She managed to survive some days with hardly any problems at all.”

“Did she get help?”

“You mean psychiatric help? All the time.”

“When did she start drinking?”

“Around the time I started work again, I think. Possibly a bit earlier. But it was when she was alone at home that it really got out of hand.”

“Why didn’t she go to work?”

“We spoke about it. She’d been at home ever since Willie was born. I thought it would make things easier for her if she had something to do during the day. I think she agreed, but we kept putting it off. In any case, she wasn’t exactly in the right condition to stand in front of a class of schoolchildren.”

“That doesn’t usually seem to be a problem,” said Van Veeteren, and Berger gave a little smile. “And the drinking got worse?”

“Yes. It went very quickly. Before we knew where we were, she was like a sponge. Every single day she was dead drunk by the time I got home. She was drinking four or five bottles of wine a day; it was awful. In November, about the same time of year as now, in fact, I decided we couldn’t go on like that any longer. I called a good friend of mine in Rejmershus, and they took her in right away. I think that was her salvation, they really did manage to help her. She stayed there until May, May 1987. And when she came out, she was in working order again.”

“When did you divorce?”

“In April. It was what Eva wanted. She was absolutely adamant. Right from the very start, when she was at her worst, she was quite definite that she wanted a divorce. Ah well, shit and hellfire.”

His voice suddenly broke, weighed down with bitterness. About time, Van Veeteren thought. He fumbled in his breast pocket for a toothpick, but found a cigarette instead. He lit it, and waited for what Berger was going to say next. But he said nothing.

“You must have had a hell of a time,” Van Veeteren said eventually. “Your wife is unfaithful, your son dies, your wife goes crazy, you rescue her and bring her back to life. And by way of thanks, she divorces you….”

Berger laughed dryly.

“Did you love her?”

“What do you think?”

“How long?”

“November, or thereabouts. All the drunkenness and vomiting and humiliation—it became too much.”

“I understand.”

“Maybe I managed to raise some new hope in January or February, when I saw that she was getting better, but there again…”

“What?”

“I’d met Leila by then.”

Van Veeteren nodded. Sat there for a while without speaking, thinking things over, then made to stand up. He asked his last questions on his feet, while Berger remained seated, rotating his whiskey glass and staring into the fire.

He’s suffering, Van Veeteren thought. The whole business is still very much alive and painful as far as he’s concerned.

Thank God for that.

“Do you know a psychiatrist by the name of Eduard Caen?”

“Yes, he took care of Eva at Rejmershus. Later on as well, I think.”

“What do you think of him?”

“Very good, as far as I know. But I’ve only met him very briefly.”

“I see…. And that man, the one you suspect your wife had an affair with, did he ever turn up again?”

“No…. No, he didn’t.”

“Did you ever speak about him?”

“No.”

“Do you know of any other men who played a part in Eva’s life?”

“Before we divorced, or after?”

“Why not both?”

“Afterward, nothing. Before…Well, when we first met she was only twenty-two and almost virginal…. No, I’m afraid I can’t help you there, Chief Inspector. Let’s say, I don’t think there were many.”

Van Veeteren shrugged.

“Anyway, very many thanks,” he said. “If you should happen to think of anything, anything at all, no matter how small, that you think might be of significance, please get in touch.”

He handed over his card. Berger put it in his wallet. He stood up, and Van Veeteren noted that he was slightly intoxicated. He was no longer the prototype of success. In Van Veeteren’s eyes, that was without a shadow of a doubt a distinct improvement.

Out in the hall they shook hands and Berger held on while he tried to control his emotions.

“I hope you get him, Chief Inspector,” he said. “I hope you nail the bastard who did this, and put him behind bars.”

I hope so as well, Van Veeteren thought as he raised his collar in an attempt to protect himself from the damp night air.

29

It was a few minutes past nine when Münster and Reinhart parked in the street outside Bunge High School. Blue-gray dawn light had begun to trickle down the majestic old castle; the schoolyard was deserted, apart from a janitor pulling a cart laden with broken chairs. Münster suddenly felt distinctly uneasy. It was hard to imagine there being more than seven hundred people inside that building. Lights were on in every room, as far as one could see, but the tall, rectangular, pale yellow windows seemed devoid of any sign of life. Around the high tower and the chimneys on the steeply sloping roof swirled croaking cascades of jackdaws.

“Ugh,” said Reinhart. “Did you go to this school?”

Münster shook his head.

“Me neither. Thank God—it must be like being buried under a quarry. Day in, day out. Poor devils!”

They stayed in the car for a few minutes, while Reinhart cleaned out his pipe and they put the finishing touches to their strategy. It was always an advantage if the left hand knew what the right hand was doing.

Then they braced themselves to face the wind, and hurried across the schoolyard.

“Have you thought about the fact that there might be a murderer in one of those classrooms just now?” said Reinhart.

“Do you know what we ought to do?”

Münster said nothing.

“We ought to grab a megaphone and shout out that we have the whole place surrounded, and that the murderer should give himself up and come out. Just think how much time that would save.”

Münster nodded.

“Do you have a megaphone with you?”

“No.”

“A pity. We’ll have to talk to Suurna instead.”

The headmaster was wearing a dark suit, and it was obvious that he had been expecting them. The tray of coffee and cookies was already on the table, and every paper clip was in its appointed place on the red oak desk.

“Good morning, Mr. Suurna,” said Münster. “We’ve met already. This is my colleague, Inspector Reinhart.”

“A terrible business,” said Suurna. “I must say that I’m deeply shocked. And worried.”

He gestured toward the armchairs, but remained standing himself.

“I thought I would gather all the pupils together in the assembly hall later today, and say a few words. I haven’t fixed a time yet, I thought you might want to have a say in that. But it’s awful, no matter how you look at it. Extraordinarily horrendous!”

Extraordinarily horrendous? Münster thought. The guy must have difficulty in expressing himself.

“Mr. Suurna,” said Reinhart. “We don’t want you to do anything at all in connection with the murders until we have given our approval. You must be clear about the fact that in all probability, the murderer is somewhere in this building.”

Suurna turned pale.

“We shall ask you to help us to lay down the guidelines now. It will take about half an hour, more or less. We assume you are still willing to cooperate with us…”

“Of course—but are you really sure that—”

“The discussions we are about to have,” said Münster, interrupting the headmaster, “are strictly confidential. You must not divulge a single word of what we are about to agree on. Not to anybody. Have you any objection to that?”

“No…no, of course not, but…”

“This investigation depends upon your silence,” said Reinhart.

“We have to be able to rely on you one hundred percent,” said Münster.

“And to be certain that you will follow our instructions in every detail,” said Reinhart.

Suurna sat down and picked nervously at the crease of his trousers. Münster considered for a moment asking Suurna where he had been last Thursday evening; but that had already been checked, and the headmaster seemed to be sufficiently convinced for that not to be necessary.

“Of course…of course I shall do whatever you want me to,” he said. “But surely you don’t think that…that it must be one of our…I simply can’t believe that…”

“Okay,” said Münster, “we’re grateful for your cooperation. Can you make sure that we are undisturbed for at least thirty minutes—completely undisturbed?”

“Yes, certainly.”

Suurna stood up again, went to his desk, and pressed a button. Münster took off his jacket, and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

“Is there any coffee?” Reinhart wondered.

It was not a bad start.

“How many teachers do you have on your staff, Mr. Suurna?” Münster asked.

“You mean altogether?”

“Every man jack of them,” said Reinhart.

“It depends on how you count them…. I suppose we have fifty or more on permanent contracts…full time, more or less…and fifteen or twenty temporary staff…a few part-timers, mainly for minor languages…Swahili, Hindi…Finnish…”

“We want to interrogate all of them tomorrow,” said Reinhart. “We’ll start at nine, and keep going until…”

“Impossible!” exclaimed Suurna. “How can that be done? I can’t…”

“You’ll have to,” said Münster. “We need a list of all members of the staff, and we want to meet them one at a time tomorrow. What other people are there?”

“Excuse me?”

“Other people who work here,” said Reinhart. “Not teachers, but other categories.”

“Oh, I see. Well, the senior management team, of course: myself and Eger, the deputy head…office staff and archivists…the school doctor and the school nurse…school janitors and caretakers…the guidance counselor, psychologist, career adviser…”

“How many altogether?”

“Oh, twenty or so.”

“So somewhere in the region of eighty-five persons in all,” said Münster. “There’ll be four of us, so it won’t be a problem. Please reserve four separate rooms for us to use, preferably next to one another.”

“But the lessons…?”

“Four lists of names and times. Twenty minutes each, one hour for lunch. If you can arrange lunch here in the school, so much the better.”

“But the pupils…?”

“I suggest you give them the day off,” said Reinhart. “Working at home, or whatever you call it. I’d have thought it would be difficult to run a teaching timetable, but that’s up to you. In any case, I suggest that you call a meeting of all staff as soon as possible…”

“And most certainly not a meeting for all the pupils in the assembly hall!” said Münster. “Any questions?”

“I have to say…”

“Okay, then,” said Reinhart. “We’ll start at nine o’clock sharp tomorrow morning. Was there anything else, Münster?”

“The mail.”

“Ah, yes. Would you please describe to us the mail routines you have here, Mr. Suurna?”

“Mail routines?”

“Yes. What time does the mail delivery arrive? Who takes charge of it? Who distributes it? And so on…”

Suurna closed his eyes, and Münster had the impression he was about to pass out. Small beads of sweat could be seen on his forehead, and he was holding on tight to the arms of his chair, as if he were in a dentist’s chair or on a roller coaster.

“Mail routines?” said Reinhart again after a while.

“Excuse me,” said Suurna, looking up. “I sometimes get dizzy spells.”

Dizzy spells while sitting down? Münster wondered. Suurna wiped his brow and cleared his throat.

“We have two mail deliveries,” he said. “In the morning and immediately after lunch—one o’clock, half past, or thereabouts. Why do you want to know that?”

“We can’t tell you that for reasons connected with the investigation,” said Münster.

“And we’d like you not to breathe a word about any of this,” said Reinhart. “Can we rely on you? It’s absolutely vital!”

“Yes…. Of course…”

“Who’s in charge of the mail?”

“Er…Miss Bellevue or the janitors. It varies. We try to be as flexible as possible with regard to specific duties on the administration side….”

“Do you have several janitors?”

“Two.”

“Could you please find out who was in charge of the mail on Tuesday last week…? Who received it, and who distributed it.”

“The morning or the lunch delivery?”

“Both. We’d like to talk to whoever it was as soon as possible.”

Suurna looked confused.

“You mean…right now?”

“Yes,” said Reinhart. “If we could summon the janitors and Miss…er…”

“Bellevue.”

“Bellevue, yes. If you could ask them to come here right away, we’ll be able to sort this matter out on the spot.”

“I don’t understand why…” Suurna didn’t finish the sentence. Stood up and went to the intercom on his desk.

“Miss Bellevue, would you mind finding Mattisen and Ferger and bringing them to my office as soon as possible? We want to speak to you as well. As soon as possible, please!”

He stood up and looked at Münster and Reinhart, apparently at a loss. Reinhart took out his pipe and started to fill it.

“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind leaving us alone for a short while,” he said, brushing a few flakes of tobacco onto the carpet.

“If you’ll allow us to use your office as our headquarters…”

“Of course…”

Suurna fastened the buttons of his jacket and disappeared through the door.

Münster smiled. Reinhart lit his pipe.