The Lie (24 page)

“Like what?” she asked.

Jasmin picked up the box of chocolates. On it was a sticker with the name of a high-class confectioner's. “One of their assistants has gone on maternity leave and they're desperate for someone. I know the manageress well, it was she who told me.”

Twenty minutes later she was sitting behind Jasmin on her motorbike, wearing her spare crash helmet. Jasmin had rung up the manageress to tell her they were coming, making it clear she could start at once.

From outside the shop looked very imposing and it wasn't much different inside - lots of chrome, lots of glass, lots of light. Only the back rooms and the rear entrance looked a bit dingy. The manageress, Frau Schädlich, offered to take her on for a probationary period of three months.

“I'm sure you'll understand that I can't offer you a permanent job straight away,” Frau Schädlich said. “You wouldn't believe the problems I've had with some people. Just now, for example, a young woman kept quiet about the fact that she was pregnant when we appointed her. Half the time she was off sick. The management's not very keen on that kind of thing.”

“I've been by myself for the last three years,” she said, “and it doesn't look as if that's likely to change.”

Frau Schädlich smiled. “It might not be nice for you, but it's music to my ears. We'll see. In three months we'll be in the middle of the Christmas rush and even after that we can use good people.” After the details had been sorted out, Frau Schädlich gave her a firm handshake as she said, “See you on Monday, then.”

“Monday it is,” she replied, going back into the splendid shop and taking in its hustle and bustle and the sweet smell of all the confectionery.
When things were quiet for a moment, she introduced herself to her new colleagues. One was called Meul, one Gathmann. Then she was out in the street again. There was drizzle and a horrible wind driving low-lying clouds over the rooftops. She treated herself to a bus back to Kettlerstrasse.

Back in the flat she found a handwritten note that had been pushed under the door. Nadia repeated her apologies and again asked to meet: Monday at five in the multi-storey. Two thousand for two days. She crumpled the note up and threw it in the waste bin.

On Monday she left shortly after seven, went to the station and bought a weekly season ticket. Punctually at eight she was in the shop, where she was welcomed by the three other women, who explained the range of confectionery to her. At half-past nine one of the senior managers appeared, but he just wanted to know why a fully qualified bank clerk was selling chocolates. The two bank robberies convinced him that Frau Schädlich had made a good choice. He just asked her to call in at Health and Social Security as soon as possible to get the paperwork sorted out.

When she got home in the evening, the red Alfa Spider was parked about two hundred yards from her flat. As she approached, Nadia leaped out, blocked the way and said, “Get in.”

“No way!”

Nadia took her by the arm. “I need you tomorrow morning, Susanne. Please. Don't leave me in the lurch.”

She shook her off. “Don't ‘please' me. And no ‘thank you' either. Did you ask yourself where it would leave me when you got Hardenberg to lean on Behringer to give someone else the job?”

“That wasn't me,” Nadia said. “It was Philip's idea. And if he'd had his way, you'd have…”

“Clear off, or I'll go to the police tomorrow.”

“The police!” Nadia snapped. “What nonsense. What are you going to tell them?”

“That you were going to have me killed and—”

Nadia interrupted her with a sigh. “I didn't mean it like that. You say a lot of things when you get angry. I can only apologize. I hadn't thought Michael would make love to you. And then he gave me a lecture about the hopes that I'd raised, how much he'd enjoyed it when for once I'd behaved like…” She broke off and let out a sigh. “It's not very nice to
have to listen to something like that. But it wasn't your fault. When I'd had time to think about it later—”

“The first thing you did was to send Philip to lean on me.”

“Lean on you?” said Nadia. “Nonsense, Philip just—”

Again she interrupted her. “Entered my flat with a key. Stole my notes and picked up your letters and the photos. And I could hear every word when he rang you. He wanted to make me have a heart attack. How do you do that?”

Nadia ignored her final question, just shook her head vigorously. “Philip didn't have a key. Your door was open. He was surprised.”

She couldn't have said whether Nadia was lying or not. She was convinced she'd shut the door behind her when she'd gone to Jasmin's, but she couldn't be a hundred percent sure. After all, she had left the door open the previous evening. “So what was he doing there?” she asked.

“What do you think?” Nadia said irritatedly. “He was going to apologize for my outburst and ask you to stand in for me again. As you know, we wanted to go to Geneva on Wednesday. He was so looking forward to it and was furious that the arrangement fell through because of me after he'd put so much into setting it up. He was paying for it, you see. The main reason why he was furious was because I'd got so worked up about Michael and you. He doesn't like to hear that kind of thing. At the same time he's scared stiff his wife might find out. He rang Michael and told him my mother had had a heart attack and I was already on my way to Geneva. Only unfortunately it didn't work. So…” Nadia had put on an expression that would have melted a heart of stone. “I really need you Susanne. Please, just for two days. I'm offering a thousand a day.”

Recalling Hardenberg's words in her flat and the conclusion she'd drawn, it sounded plausible. That he'd looked in her cupboard and removed all the evidence could have simply been a matter of precaution. But: “If Hardenberg's your friend, who was the man you met at the airport?”

“Just a customer,” Nadia said. “He knew Philip was flying to Luxembourg and had asked him to take some documents. As Philip had set off at six, I had to see to it.” That sounded plausible too when she remembered the document case with the combination locks.

“Will you help me?” Nadia begged.

“No,” she said and set off towards her flat.

Nadia trotted along nervously beside then behind her. “Can't you forgive and forget, Susanne?” she said and raised her offer to two thousand a day. She only dropped back when Heller leaned out of the window.

The scene was repeated the next morning. Nadia was there waiting when she came out and walked alongside her, pulling a thick envelope out of her handbag. “There's five thousand, Susanne. Please. My flight goes at eleven.”

“
Bon voyage,
” she said and continued on her way.

“How much do you want for the two days?”

“I just want to be left in peace.”

Nadia only gave up when the bus arrived. During the journey she felt very strong and also relieved. She was sure it was all over and that from now on her life would resume its course: quiet, modest - and lonely, yes, but honest and without fear.

 

The work at the confectioner's was tiring but not difficult. The warmth with which she'd first been welcomed didn't change. She came through the required health check. For people working in the food industry an X-ray was a standard requirement. When the assistant placed a lead apron over her abdomen, saying it was compulsory for women of childbearing age, she could only laugh. “You don't have to worry with me. My periods have taken early retirement. Sometimes nothing happens for months.”

Her daytime existence returned to normal. But often in the evening everything still came back to her. After she'd closed the door behind her, she had a kind of hollow feeling. She didn't regret having turned Nadia down. On the contrary. She knew she couldn't have gone through it again, letting Michael make love to her knowing it was Nadia he was thinking of.

The memory of the night and afternoon with him was still so vivid. The little treats she bought in the first two months to console herself for the dreary evenings were no real consolation. She chewed and sucked her way right through the shop's range, spending one evening with crystallized fruits, another the liqueur chocolates and a third with champagne truffles. Her teeth didn't suffer, she continued to brush them thoroughly, but her stomach often reacted to the sweets with a feeling of nausea in the early morning.

At first it didn't occur to her that there might be another cause. It was only at the beginning of November when, after eating nothing but tea and toast for days on end, she was still regularly being sick and in addition felt an uncomfortable tightness in her breasts, that an awful suspicion began to form in her mind. She bought a test at the chemist's. The result was unambiguous.

That night she cried herself to sleep. It was so cruel. Something was growing inside her that could have brought a little light into her life: a person who would have belonged to her to the end of her days, who would have given meaning to everything. And now, just as she was getting her life back on track, she couldn't afford to give that person a chance. Of course, there would have been the possibility of going to Michael and admitting everything, showing him proof that she had been in the house at that time and demanding maintenance for the child. But would he cough up enough for her to live on and pay the rent? Perhaps for a few years, if she was very lucky, but then she would definitely be too old to find any work at all.

She went round in a daze, incapable of thinking clearly or coming to any decision. Frau Schädlich observed her with increasing suspicion because she was often sick when she came to the shop in the morning. At ten o'clock on the last Wednesday in November Frau Schädlich told her to take her morning break.

“If you don't mind,” she said, “I'll take a little walk instead. I must have eaten something that disagreed with me. The fresh air will do me good.”

Frau Schädlich had no objections and said that since she was going out, she might as well get some change from the bank. She fetched her bag and just her blazer from the rest room. It was sunny outside, not as cold as it was early in the morning, so she didn't need to bother with her shabby trench coat. There was a branch of the Deutsche Bank nearby.

It was very busy. There were only two positions open and both had long queues. She went to the end of the shorter, left-hand queue and waited. After a few minutes the feeling of queasiness returned. She automatically looked round the hall for somewhere where she could make a quick exit. There was a double glass door and the right-hand queue was nearer. She moved over to it and continued to look around.

At the back there was a door to the offices. That was the door they came out of. The stocky man in a leather jacket, open so he could easily get his hand inside. He looked as if he was holding his chest. The dark-haired man she'd taken for Nadia's lover at the airport - he would have matched Nadia better than the fat Hardenberg - was wearing an expensive-looking coat over an elegant suit and carrying a briefcase with combination locks. They walked rapidly towards the exit, ignoring the queues at the desk. Automatically she watched them leave. They reached the glass door. The stocky man went out but his dark-haired companion paused, said something, handed the briefcase to the other and came back. Quickly she turned her head away, but it was too late.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and heard his voice. “What a nice surprise.” She was forced to turn round and face him. He smiled and she responded with a stiff smile, wondering how she could get rid of him. Taking in the queue with a mocking glance, he said, “I wouldn't have expected to find you here, but it's very convenient. I was sorry to hear from Herr Hardenberg that you'd gone your separate ways. I hope you've time for a little chat.”

She shook her head, but he continued to smile. “That's a pity. And I can't accept it. Unfortunately Herr Hardenberg was unable to explain to me how Joko Electronics had come to collapse.”

She'd read something about Joko Electronics. On five or six of the two hundred pages she'd printed out. It sounded like a Japanese firm that developed new computer chips but clearly didn't sell them as well as Nadia had imagined. She hurriedly pulled a couple of strands of hair down over her forehead and mumbled, “You're confusing me with someone else.”

The stocky man had disappeared. The dark-haired man gave a low laugh. “I don't think so,” he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the door. “We can talk in my car, we won't be disturbed here.”

“Let go of me,” she demanded forcefully. “You've got the wrong person.” Some of the people in the queue turned round to look, but no one made a move to help her.

He continued to drag her away. Now he kept his voice down. “In your own interest I advise you not to make a fuss. I want my money back, all two hundred thousand of it. Or did you think I could lose such a ridiculously small sum without noticing?”

Shit, she thought and the word slipped out before she could stop it. The man reacted in mock horror. “What an ugly word from such beautiful lips! May I take that as an indication that you are unable to fulfil my request? That leaves me no alternative but to get someone to establish your pain threshold.”

By this time they'd reached the double glass door. He held one part open with his elbow and tried to push her out past him into the street. Using all her strength, she managed to free her arm, took a step back into the bank and explained, her voice firm and unwavering, “You're taking me for someone else. Look at my ID. I'm not Nadia Trenkler.”

For a moment he was confused. “Who's Nadia Trenkler?” Then he grasped her arm again, tighter this time, and pulled her out into the street. “Come along, Frau Lasko. If that's your attitude, I've no alternative but to let Ramon continue this conversation.”