The puzzled expressions. Her mother-inlaw's voice. The old man never said much when family matters
were under discussion. Gereon, pale and bandaged, clasping their
son with his uninjured arm, would begin by asking someone to
help him unload the boot. His mother would volunteer. Outside,
where the old man couldn't hear, Gereon would say: "She stabbed
a man to death."
Later they would sit together in the living room, while Gereon
recounted what had happened, although there wasn't much to tell.
His mother would moan about what the neighbours would say
when they heard; the old man would merely wonder how it would
affect his business and who would handle the paperwork in future.
It was almost nine o'clock when the door finally opened. Her
vision of Gereon and his parents vanished abruptly. The man in
the sports coat, the one she'd noticed on the terrace overlooking
the lake, entered the room. He introduced himself, but she forgot his name at once and tried to size him up. She hoped he wouldn't
waste time asking her unnecessary questions.
But he did precisely that. As if there were any doubt about her
identity, he sat down at the typewriter and asked her to state her
name, her maiden name as well. He wanted to know how old she
was, how long she'd been married and whether she was employed
- totally irrelevant, all of it. Then he asked details of her parentage
and siblings, if any.
She answered him reluctantly but truthfully up to her parentsin-law Then she said: "My parents are dead, and I'm an only
child."
He looked at the plants on his desk and asked if she was fond of
flowers. Almost in the same breath, he enquired if she was in pain,
if she needed a doctor or would like some coffee. She glanced at
the old percolator and said no.
She was finding it hard to concentrate and remain calm. It seemed
to be a longer business than she'd expected. As if she needed telling,
the man in the sports coat informed her of the crime she was being
charged with, quoted from the penal code, reminded her of her
rights and repeated what Berrenrath had already told her down at
the lake - that she need not make a statement and so on.
At that point she interrupted him. "Many thanks, but I already
told Herr Berrenrath that's unnecessary. I don't need a lawyer. It
would be best if you simply took down what I say. We can start
right away."
But they couldn't. The man in the sports coat said they would
have to wait for his chief, who had already gone home.
Another fifteen minutes went by. It made her feel quite sick, being
unable to do anything but sit there, staring at the whitewashed
walls. She wasn't used to being idle: you only started brooding.
Like this morning in the supermarket, when she thought she'd
found the answer.
It really was crazy, in a way. Having made up her mind to kill
herself - having come to an irrevocable decision - she had then,
quite suddenly, attacked a stranger. Just because the blonde - she
couldn't recall her name for the moment - was playing that tape. She would have done better to ask where the woman had got it and
whether anyone could explain how the tune had got into her head.
Nobody spoke. The only sound came from the dripping tap,
which she hadn't turned off tightly enough when she filled the jug
the second time. The men took no notice of it. Berrenrath kept
an eye on the door, and his younger colleague stood there with his
hands clasped behind his back. The man in the sports coat was
looking through the notes he'd made on the terrace.
What would the witnesses have told him? That she'd gone for the
man like a lunatic. That's what it must have looked like to them.
She suddenly realized why they were spending so much time on
her: because they couldn't understand. Because they wanted, like
Gereon, to know why.
That realization transformed her heart into a lump of lead and
filled her brain with a reddish-grey mist. She felt her hands go moist
and start to tremble.
were under discussion. Gereon, pale and bandaged, clasping their
son with his uninjured arm, would begin by asking someone to
help him unload the boot. His mother would volunteer. Outside,
where the old man couldn't hear, Gereon would say: "She stabbed
a man to death."
Later they would sit together in the living room, while Gereon
recounted what had happened, although there wasn't much to tell.
His mother would moan about what the neighbours would say
when they heard; the old man would merely wonder how it would
affect his business and who would handle the paperwork in future.
It was almost nine o'clock when the door finally opened. Her
vision of Gereon and his parents vanished abruptly. The man in
the sports coat, the one she'd noticed on the terrace overlooking
the lake, entered the room. He introduced himself, but she forgot his name at once and tried to size him up. She hoped he wouldn't
waste time asking her unnecessary questions.
But he did precisely that. As if there were any doubt about her
identity, he sat down at the typewriter and asked her to state her
name, her maiden name as well. He wanted to know how old she
was, how long she'd been married and whether she was employed
- totally irrelevant, all of it. Then he asked details of her parentage
and siblings, if any.
She answered him reluctantly but truthfully up to her parentsin-law Then she said: "My parents are dead, and I'm an only
child."
He looked at the plants on his desk and asked if she was fond of
flowers. Almost in the same breath, he enquired if she was in pain,
if she needed a doctor or would like some coffee. She glanced at
the old percolator and said no.
She was finding it hard to concentrate and remain calm. It seemed
to be a longer business than she'd expected. As if she needed telling,
the man in the sports coat informed her of the crime she was being
charged with, quoted from the penal code, reminded her of her
rights and repeated what Berrenrath had already told her down at
the lake - that she need not make a statement and so on.
At that point she interrupted him. "Many thanks, but I already
told Herr Berrenrath that's unnecessary. I don't need a lawyer. It
would be best if you simply took down what I say. We can start
right away."
But they couldn't. The man in the sports coat said they would
have to wait for his chief, who had already gone home.
Another fifteen minutes went by. It made her feel quite sick, being
unable to do anything but sit there, staring at the whitewashed
walls. She wasn't used to being idle: you only started brooding.
Like this morning in the supermarket, when she thought she'd
found the answer.
It really was crazy, in a way. Having made up her mind to kill
herself - having come to an irrevocable decision - she had then,
quite suddenly, attacked a stranger. Just because the blonde - she
couldn't recall her name for the moment - was playing that tape. She would have done better to ask where the woman had got it and
whether anyone could explain how the tune had got into her head.
Nobody spoke. The only sound came from the dripping tap,
which she hadn't turned off tightly enough when she filled the jug
the second time. The men took no notice of it. Berrenrath kept
an eye on the door, and his younger colleague stood there with his
hands clasped behind his back. The man in the sports coat was
looking through the notes he'd made on the terrace.
What would the witnesses have told him? That she'd gone for the
man like a lunatic. That's what it must have looked like to them.
She suddenly realized why they were spending so much time on
her: because they couldn't understand. Because they wanted, like
Gereon, to know why.
That realization transformed her heart into a lump of lead and
filled her brain with a reddish-grey mist. She felt her hands go moist
and start to tremble.
Similar Books
