Mind's Eye by Håkan Nesser Page A

you want to know?”
    “Were you happy together? Did you regret it?”
    “No, I didn’t regret it, and neither did Eva. We had a good relationship.”
    “You were happy?”
    “Yes.”
    “You loved your wife?”
    “Yes.”
    “And she loved you?”
    “Yes.”
    “I have some information about an incident on September twenty-second, eleven days before the murder. You were together at the Mephisto restaurant. After the meal you had a fierce argument, and your wife stormed out of the building. We shall call witnesses later to confirm this. Is that what happened, Mr. Mitter?”
    “Yes.”
    “What was the quarrel about?”
    “I don’t want to go into details.”
    “Mr. Mitter, you are accused of murder. I want to know what the quarrel was about.”
    “It was nothing of relevance to these proceedings.”
    “Don’t you think that’s something for the jury to decide?”
    Mitter didn’t answer. Ferrati allowed several seconds to pass before continuing.
    “Might I request that it be recorded in the proceedings that the accused declined to answer my question about the reason for the quarrel at the Mephisto restaurant on September twenty-second. You remained in the restaurant after your wife had left, Mr. Mitter. May I ask how long you stayed there?”
    “I don’t know. A few hours.”
    “We have evidence from a neighbor of yours”—he went to check his notes again—“a Mr. Kurczak, who says that he was woken up by loud noises coming from your flat later that night, at about half past two. Was that about the time you got home, do you think?”
    “That’s possible.”
    “And what was the row about?”
    “I don’t remember. I was a bit drunk.”
    “You don’t remember?”
    “No.”
    “You don’t know what the row was about?”
    “No.”
    “But you know what the row in the restaurant was about?”
    “Yes.”
    “But you do admit that you quarreled with your wife when you came home in the middle of the night?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did you hit her?”
    “No.”
    “Are you sure, or don’t you remember?”
    “I’m sure.”
    “Your neighbor heard some noises that could have been made by blows.”
    “Really?”
    “Did you threaten your wife?”
    “No.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes.”
    “Kurczak maintains that he heard you yell, and I quote: ‘If you don’t tell me about it, I won’t be responsible for what happens!’ What do you have to say to that?”
    “It’s a lie.”
    “It’s a lie? Why would your neighbor lie?”
    “He misheard. I never threatened her.”
    “What did you do next?”
    Rüger interrupted at this point.
    “My Lord, my client has already explained that he doesn’t remember. There are no grounds for the prosecutor forcing him to speculate.”
    “Agreed!” Havel thundered. “Would my learned friend please restrict himself to questions that the accused is able to answer?”
    “By all means,” said Ferrati with a smile. “But it’s not always easy to know what he remembers and doesn’t remember. Mr. Mitter, are you aware that your wife was afraid?”
    “Nonsense.”
    “A few days before her death, she confided in a female colleague that she was scared that something was going to happen.”
    “I don’t believe that. What could she be scared of?”
    “Might I ask you to try and answer that question instead?”
    “I’ve no idea. Why don’t you ask…whoever the hell it could have been?”
    “Because she doesn’t know. It was only a brief meeting, but nevertheless, she had the impression that it was you your wife was scared of.”
    “Rubbish.”
    “I think we can leave it to the jury to decide what is rubbish and what isn’t. Your colleague will present her testimony next week…. Anyway, you have no explanation for why your wife was frightened?”
    “None at all.”
    “How were things with your former wife, Irene Beck? Were you in the habit of beating her?”
    “What the hell…”
    But Rüger was quicker. He leaped up from his chair.
    “My learned