The Lie (15 page)

While she was talking, Nadia removed her jewellery and took four packets of cigarettes plus a disposable lighter and her purse out of her handbag. Then she transferred her luggage from the Alfa to the Mercedes: a suitcase, the briefcase - with combination locks, as she could see now - the document case and the laptop.

“Won't Michael notice I haven't got that?” Susanne asked.

“My laptop?” Nadia sounded surprised. “He's not interested in that. As I told you before, I always leave it in the car. This isn't just a pleasure trip, my friend's going on business and I'll be alone quite a bit during the day. I've no intention of sitting in a hotel room, bored out of my mind, or wandering round the city by myself. I prefer to use the time to do a couple of analyses.”

That seemed to make sense too. “Apropos boredom,” said Nadia. “Most evenings Michael usually watches a few music videos. He needs that to help him unwind, but you don't have to put up with them. Go to bed before him.” With a meaningful smile, she added, “Then you can hide under the sheets and won't need to worry that he'll see any more of you than Dr Reusch did.”

Until now she hadn't worried about that at all. “And in the morning?” she asked.

“You don't need to see to anything. Michael doesn't have breakfast and you're hardly going to help him shower.”

They swapped cars and drove out of the car park. Once on the autobahn the silver Mercedes quickly disappeared from view. It was ten minutes before it occurred to her that she'd forgotten to take the key to her flat out of her handbag. It wasn't the end of the world, she was just slightly concerned that she couldn't go home in an emergency. But it was a challenge. It meant she had to cope, she couldn't afford to be chucked out.

 

As far as the traffic would allow, she drove rapidly and, at first, calmly, sure as she was of returning to an empty house, the technological mysteries of which she could recite off by heart. When she left the autobahn, however, she started to feel a slight queasiness in the pit of her stomach. She soothed her twitching nerves by reminding herself she had the whole day for her second confrontation with the technology and Nadia's mobile number for emergencies.

Once she was in the house and had ascertained she could get out at any time, she was going to spend the hours until Michael came home doing whatever she felt like. Take a bath in the round tub; perhaps carefully check whether the swimming pool had a place where she could stand on the bottom; devour computer handbooks until her head was throbbing and - very cautiously - do a little practice with the word-processing package.

At fifteen minutes past ten she turned into Marienweg. A middle-aged woman was sweeping the dust out of the Koglers' front door. On the other side, a Ford Fiesta was parked in the drive, which didn't look as if it was part of the Blastings' goods and chattels. Niedenhoff's and Eleanor Ravatzky's properties seemed deserted. She brought the Alfa to a stop outside the garage door, picked up the remote control and keyed in the code. As if by magic, the wide door swung up.

At once the fluorescent tubes in the garage blazed into light. She drove in on the left-hand side. Hardly had she switched off the engine than the door swung back down. Bolts engaged - in the silence it sounded like two gunshots, one immediately after the other. She flinched, even though she knew very well they were only set off by some sensors reacting to the engine noise, or perhaps to the silence after the engine was switched off. Just to make sure, she operated the remote control again. The door opened and stayed open. She started the car then switched off. As soon as it was quiet in the garage, the door came down.

It worked. Fantastic! It was even fun just pressing some buttons and turning the key in the ignition. She did it four more times before it occurred to her that the neighbours might hear the noise and wonder what was going on. Nadia certainly wouldn't spend hours playing with the garage door.

She made it from the garage to the keypad in the hall closet in just five seconds. Three seconds later she'd deactivated the alarm. The front door opened and closed perfectly normally. She switched the alarm back on and tried the key. The door opened that way too, as Nadia had said it would. She briefly leaned back against the door then switched the alarm off again, breathing a sigh of relief.

She'd made it. Her nerves calmed down. The nightmare with Heller was fading fast and the queasiness in her stomach had gone, leaving a hole which reminded her that she'd given both dinner and breakfast a miss. She decided to make up for it and read a little while she ate.

The fridge was well filled and half an hour later she was sitting with some expensive china in the dining room. There was a door out onto the terrace, which she opened as it was mild outside. The mobile at hand beside her plate, she devoured two slices of toast with ham and one with cheese while reading a chapter about setting up, processing and saving a document. She wondered briefly where Nadia was. In all the excitement
she'd forgotten to ask where they were going. But she wasn't particularly interested anyway.

Shortly after eleven the dining room and kitchen were clean and tidy again. She'd also emptied an ashtray containing five cigarette ends. Carrying the book and mobile, she went upstairs and examined the huge box underneath the desk with a quiver of nerves in the pit of her stomach. The green light was glowing; obviously the current was permanently switched on, even if that didn't mean the computer was ready to use.

Beside the green light were two depressions - further lights, she suspected - and underneath it a raised disc, probably the on-off switch. Just a try! Just to see if she'd understood the section in the book. For a few seconds she was undecided. She felt a bit uncomfortable, Nadia had made it all too clear that the study was out of bounds.

But Nadia didn't need to know and it was important for her future. You had no chance as a secretary if you weren't computer-literate. Nadia's affair wasn't going to last for ever. A married man! When Nadia gave him his marching orders, or he her, she wouldn't need a stand-in any more. At most there'd be the approach Nadia had suggested with Herr Schrag. “OK Nadia, I'm not going to insist on continuing to play the sulky wife for you. From now on I'll get…” But she wasn't like that.

Her eye was drawn to the box under the desk. As she pressed the switch she felt like a little child disregarding a strict prohibition. A red and yellow glow appeared in the two depressions and a chittering could be heard inside the box. A few messages flashed up on the screen, then an instruction appeared in the middle: Enter password.

For a while she sat there staring at the request like someone caught red-handed, wondering what it meant. Was Michael worried his wife might nose around in his lab results? Or was he afraid she might find the telephone number of his little laboratory mouse on the computer? Disappointed, she pressed the button again to switch the computer off. Nothing happened. She crept underneath the desk, where she discovered the telephone plug, which had been disconnected. Examining the box, she found a switch on the back. She had to press it twice and everything was as it had been at first.

Phew, she'd got away with that. But no more experiments. The shot of the front garden and the street that she'd seen on her first visit had
shown her that the computer was more than just a glorified typewriter. And it reappeared now, hardly had the green light gone on again. A mail van stopped outside, the postman got out and came up to the house. As far as she could see he fiddled with something at the wall beside the front door and then disappeared. Not long afterwards the picture disappeared as well.

She went downstairs, leaving the mobile on the desk. First of all she checked whether there was a letter box attached to wall outside that she'd overlooked in her agitation. There wasn't, just a slit in the wall. At about the same height in the inside was a flap with a little hole, which she hadn't noticed before. The letter box must have been built into the masonry. She couldn't open it, there wasn't a key on the ring that fitted the hole.

She went down to the basement, to work up an appetite for lunch. The decision was incredibly difficult given the choice in the two deep freezes. This time there was considerably more in them than a few ready meals. It was a culinary paradise that made her mouth water, despite her substantial late breakfast. She chose a pork escalope with mushrooms, green beans and asparagus, carried it all up to the kitchen and decided to have a relaxing bath while the food was thawing out.

Once more she was spoiled for choice. Should she have a bubble bath, pour in some bath oil or use one of the pink balls? The pink balls were the most tempting. She fetched the jar from the guest bathroom, dropped two in the water as it filled the bath and enjoyed the way they dissolved, spread an oily film over the surface and filled the room with a subtle fragrance. It was an experience in itself and went some way towards compensating her for the frustration with the computer.

When the tub was a quarter full, the mobile rang in the study. It could only be Nadia, since no one else knew she had the phone. She hadn't even told her mother because she didn't know whether she was going to be able to keep it. From a glance at Nadia's watch, she saw that it was half-past twelve. It must have been a long journey. She went out, dumping her underwear and the towel on the bed, rushed into the study, picked up the phone and said, “Arrived safely?”

“Frau Trenkler?” It was a harsh-sounding man's voice.

“No,” she said and switched off. Seconds later the phone rang again. She ran into the bedroom and dialled the number of Nadia's mobile
on the bedside phone. A female voice announced that the person she was ringing was unavailable at the moment and invited her to leave a message.

What was that all about? Why had Nadia switched off her mobile? And why hadn't she rung yet? She'd promised to do so as soon as she arrived and she'd been gone for three hours now. An accident? Given the way Nadia drove it wouldn't be surprising. She would be sure to have put her foot down to catch up with her lover. A terrible picture appeared in her mind's eye: the silver Mercedes a tangle of metal somewhere on the side of the autobahn; the police, fire brigade and a doctor freeing the woman stuck in the car, only to establish that she was dead. One picking up the handbag, taking out the papers and saying, “She's called Susanne Lasko.”

She straightened up, her back stiffening. Her scalp tightened until it was painful and her old wound started to throb. She began to work her way through the consequences of her nightmare vision: a patrol car going to the old folks' home, a uniform policeman giving her mother the sad news, tears welling up in blind eyes.

Finally she remembered the taps were still running. She rushed to the bathroom and was just in time to prevent a flood. The bath had lost its attraction, as had the escalope, mushrooms, beans and asparagus. She looked for an explanation - any explanation - to reassure herself. A very long journey during which Nadia had her mobile switched off for reasons of safety? Using a phone while driving was forbidden. But hadn't the Mercedes had a hands-free kit? A short journey and straight into bed on arrival where they wouldn't want to be disturbed? Followed by a substantial meal, during which they left their mobiles switched off out of consideration for other customers in the restaurant? Who would remember the stand-in at home when they were finally free to do all the things they'd so far been prevented from doing?

She kept trying to get through to Nadia every ten or fifteen minutes, but by half past two she still hadn't got a reply. Anyway, no policeman would think of informing Nadia Trenkler of the death of Susanne Lasko. What now? Ring up her mother to ask whether the police had been to see her? It was too early for that, the police would have to go to Kettlerstrasse first before they could find out whom they needed to inform of her death.

Towards half-past three, by which time she had tried so often she'd lost count, the continuing uncertainty was making her feel sick. She went into the living room and opened the upper doors of the rustic-style dresser. Just a tiny drop to calm her down! She examined the level of each bottle and, after some hesitation, mixed herself a drink with a few drops from eight different ones. The fist sip burned her throat. The second she retained in her mouth for a few seconds so she could feel the effect. Minutes later she imagined the alcohol had already gone to her head. She felt slightly dizzy and finally did something about getting lunch. It took her mind off things. The mobile was at hand beside the sink.

As the water was just beginning to simmer in the pans, she noticed movement on the little monitor over the fridge. The next moment a large dog started to bark in the hall. It sounded dangerous and the growls which followed sent shivers down her spine. These turned into a hot flush as she remembered she hadn't closed the door from the dining room onto the terrace. Eleanor Ravetzky's hound must have got into the house through it. Fortunately she'd closed the kitchen door.