Therapy (9 page)

Viktor was brought back to reality by the sound of Kai's voice. ‘Well what?’

‘Remember what you promised?
I
check out the car accident, and
you
call off the hunt. You need to stop looking for her, Viktor. You're only opening old wounds.’

‘Sure, but—’

‘We had a deal.’

‘Just hear me out,’ said Viktor coldly.

‘What?’

‘There aren't any old wounds; only fresh ones. They haven't healed.’

14

Viktor replaced the receiver quietly and made his way unsteadily to the sitting room, swaying slightly as if he were on a boat.

‘Bad news?’

Anna had got to her feet and was preparing to leave.

‘I'm not sure,’ he said truthfully. ‘Are you off?’

‘Yes, I need to lie down for an hour or so. I think I underestimated how draining these sessions would be. Can I come back tomorrow?’

‘Yes. I mean,
maybe
.’

Viktor was still figuring out how to respond to Kai's advice.

‘I might be busy tomorrow. Why don't you give me a call? Technically, I'm not supposed to be seeing patients, and I'm behind with my other work.’

‘Of course.’

Viktor felt sure that Anna was studying his expression and wondering what had prompted his reversal of mood. But she was too polite, or too canny, to let it show.

As soon as she was out of the house, he picked up his palmtop to find the number of the hotel where his wife was staying in New York. He was still scrolling through
his contact list when the telephone rang for the second time that day.

‘One more thing, Viktor.’

Kai
.

‘This isn't about the other business.’ He stopped and corrected himself. ‘I mean, it's got nothing to do with Josy. I just thought you'd want to fix it before the weather makes things worse.’

‘Fix what?’

‘I had a call from the alarm company. They couldn't get hold of anyone in Schwanenwerder so they tried me instead.’

‘Oh God, we've been burgled.’

‘Not exactly. As far as we know, nothing was taken. And your villa is just as you left it, don't worry.’

‘Then what's the problem?’

‘Someone broke into your cabin in Sacrow. The glass was smashed at the back.’

15

Viktor was watching him. As the crow flies, there were four hundred and sixty-two kilometres between them, including a stretch of water measuring fifty nautical miles, but Viktor was following his every move. He tracked Kai Strathmann's progress through the cabin. The background noise on his phone was all he needed to pinpoint his exact location. The PI had driven to Sacrow with orders to inspect the damage to the cabin – and check out Anna's story.

‘OK, I'm in the kitchen.’

The sound of Kai's squeaking trainers carried all the way from Sacrow to Parkum as a series of electrical pulses.

‘Well?’ said Viktor impatiently. ‘Has anything been touched?’ He jammed the receiver between his shoulder and chin, picked up the ancient dial phone and took a couple of steps away from the desk. The cord ran out before he reached the couch, so he hovered in the middle of the room.

‘If you ask me, no one's been here for ages. I'd give those surfaces a wipe before you invite any guests.’

‘We haven't been to the cabin in four years,’ said
Viktor pointedly. He knew that Kai would be regretting his witticisms.

‘That's understandable, Doc.’

The short walk through the woods had taken its toll on the 120-kilo PI. He was careful to hold his mobile away from his mouth, but Viktor could hear him wheezing all the same.

‘Nothing to report except the broken window. Judging by the evidence, it had nothing to do with Josy, whatever your mental patient tells you.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘The damage is too recent. We're talking days, not months – and definitely not years.’

‘How do you know? Can you tell from the shards?’ Viktor raised his voice to cover the sound of banging doors. Kai was going through the cupboards and the fridge.

‘Viktor, there's a bloody great hole in the door. I'd expect to see damage to the floorboards – snow, rain, leaves, not to mention hordes of insects. There isn't a mark or stain in sight. Just a thick layer of dust, same as everywh—’

‘Thank you, Kai, I get the picture.’

Viktor, whose arms were beginning to ache, walked the telephone back to the coffee table.

‘Charlotte apparently asked my patient to “search for what's missing”. I'd like you to check if anything's been stolen.’

‘Anything in particular? A Picasso? A kitchen whisk?
How am I supposed to know what's missing? I'd need a whole bloody inventory. By the way, there aren't any beers in the fridge, if that's what you mean.’

‘We'll start with Josy's room,’ said Viktor, ignoring Kai's banter. ‘It's at the end of the hall by the bathroom.’

‘I'm on my way.’

Kai's trainers had stopped squeaking now that he was out of the kitchen and walking down the tiled hall. Viktor closed his eyes and counted the fifteen paces that the PI would take to reach Josy's door.

‘Come in!’ said the sign that Kai would see when he looked for the handle. In a moment he would be shining his torch around the room. A creaking of hinges confirmed that he was there.

‘OK, I'm in.’

‘Well?’

‘I've got my back to the hall and I'm looking into the room. Everything looks normal.’

‘Tell me what you can see.’

‘Just the usual. Canopy bed – the curtains could definitely do with a wash. Fluffy rug on the floor, now home to a colony of mites. They're probably to blame for the smell.’

‘Anything else?’

‘A big framed poster of Ernie and Bert. It's on the opposite wall to the bed.’

‘Ernie and Bert. They were . . .’

Viktor wiped the tears from his right eye and fell silent. He didn't want Kai to hear the quiver in his voice.

They were a present from me
.

‘
Sesame Street
, I know. Looking left, there's a shelf – Ikea, if I'm not mistaken. Do you want me to list the toys? A Steiff elephant, a couple of Disney characters—’

‘Wait! Back up a bit,’ said Viktor.

‘What?’

‘I've just remembered something. Can you lie on the bed?’

‘If it makes you happy – yes.’

Three footsteps, some rustling and a cough. Kai's voice came through the phone.

‘I hope it stands the strain. The mattress is protesting already.’

‘Pay attention, Kai. I'd like you to tell me what you see.’

‘OK, to my left I've got a window. I'm assuming the forest is out there somewhere but it's time you cleaned the glass. And like I said, the poster is staring right at me.’

‘Is that all?’

‘Well, from this angle, the shelf is on the right and—’

‘No,’ Viktor stopped him. ‘Is there anything else
in front
of you?’

‘Nope. And if you don't mind . . .’ The phone line crackled, swallowing the next few words. ‘I . . . bloody bed, OK?’

‘OK.’

‘Listen, Viktor, I've had enough of this lark. Why don't you tell me what you're looking for?’

‘Give me a moment.’

Viktor closed his eyes and focused on the cabin. A moment later he was walking through the forest to the door. He walked up the steps, took off his shoes and put them in the hand-carved Indian cabinet in the hall. He glanced into the parlour where Isabell was lying on the white Rolf Benz sofa beside the fireplace, reading the latest issue of
Gala
magazine. He breathed in the aroma of burning pine and enjoyed the sensation of being in a house whose warmth was derived from the contentment of its occupants. Music was coming from the rear of the house. Taking off his coat, he went to find Josy. The music got louder as he approached. He pushed down the handle, opened the door, and was blinded by the sunlight streaming through the window. Then he saw her. She was sitting at her kid-sized dressing table, trying out some orange nail polish belonging to one of her friends. She hadn't heard him come in because of the music. It was coming from the television, which was tuned to . . .

‘I thought you were going to tell me what to look for,’ said Kai, cutting through his thoughts. Viktor opened his eyes.

MTV
.

‘A television.’

‘A television?’

‘Yes, a Sony.’

‘No, no sign of a telly.’

‘And a dressing table with a round mirror.’

‘Ditto – unless it's in another room.’

‘That's it then.’

‘A dressing table and a telly? I'm sorry, Viktor, but it doesn't sound like your average burglary.’

‘Because it wasn't,’ retorted Viktor, more certain than ever that Anna and Josy were linked.
Don't ask me how, but I'm going to find out
.

‘Either way, you've been burgled. Don't you think we should call the police?’

‘No, not yet. If you've finished in Josy's room, I'd like you to check the rest of the house.’

‘I guess so . . .’ There was a rustling noise at the end of the phone, and Viktor deduced that Kai was scratching his head, probably towards the back where he still had a respectable amount of hair.

‘What?’

‘It probably sounds stupid, but . . .’

‘I'm listening, Kai.’

‘All right, if you want to know what I think, the room is missing more than the odd piece of furniture.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

The PI cleared his throat nervously. ‘Josy was twelve, right?’

‘What's that got to do with anything?’

‘The atmosphere isn't right. I've been in this game for long enough to trust my instincts. And my instincts are telling me that this isn't a twelve-year-old's room.’

‘Can you be more specific?’

‘I don't have kids myself, but a niece of mine, Laura, is about to turn thirteen. The sign on her door doesn't
say “Come in!” Quite the opposite in fact. Last time I went round there, she banned us all from her room.’

‘Josy was a good kid. She wasn't rebellious.’

‘I'm not talking about being rebellious; I'm talking about a normal teenage room. Boy band posters on the walls, signed tickets from pop concerts stuck to the mirror, postcards from the boys at school . . . Do you see what I'm getting at?’

Something's missing
.

‘Quite honestly, no.’

‘What I'm saying is that no self-respecting adolescent would want to live in a room like this. Where are the copies of
Bravo
magazine? I mean, honestly, Viktor, whoever heard of a twelve-year-old watching
Sesame Street
? My niece is into Eminem, not Ernie and Bert!’

‘Who's Eminem?’

‘Precisely my point. He's a rapper. I'll tell you about his lyrics another time.’

‘I still don't see your point.’

‘You asked if anything was missing, and I'm telling you,
yes
. I'd expect to see a locked box of love letters. I'd expect to see a candle in a wine bottle with wax dripping down the side. And you're absolutely right: I'd expect to see a dressing table.’

‘But a moment ago you said everything looked normal.’

‘Sure, if we're talking about an eight-year-old's room. Josy was twelve.’

‘We only came here at weekends, remember. Most of her belongings were in Berlin.’

‘You're the one who asked,’ said Kai with a sigh. ‘I was only giving you my opinion.’

Viktor heard him close the bedroom door. With that, his vision of the cabin in Sacrow disappeared. It was as if the projector had burnt out halfway through the film.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Sorry, Doc, I've got to pee. I'll call you back.’

Before Viktor could protest, the audio connection was lost as well. Kai had rung off.

Rooted to the spot, Viktor waited by the telephone and struggled to make sense of it all.

He went back over the facts. Someone had broken into the cabin within the last few days. And Josy was too old for her room.

He couldn't ponder the matter any further because he had to answer the phone. He hadn't expected Kai to call back so soon.

‘Viktor?’

Judging by the background noise, the PI had left the cabin and was standing in the woods.

‘Hang on, you can't leave yet! We haven't been through the other rooms. I wanted to ask you to—’

‘Viktor!’ The detective sounded agitated. There was an unmistakable note of panic in his voice.

‘What's wrong?’ asked Viktor, alarmed.

‘I'm calling the police.’

‘Why? What's happened?’

Josy
.

‘I've found evidence in the bathroom. Someone was here this afternoon.’

‘For Christ's sake, Kai, what kind of evidence?’

‘Blood on the tiles, in the basin, in the loo.’ He took a deep breath.

‘Viktor, the whole place is covered in blood.’

16

Room 1245, Berlin-Wedding Psychosomatic Clinic

Dr Roth's bleep went off just as Viktor paused for the first time in his hour-long account.

‘Remember where you're up to, Doctor,’ said the psychiatrist, unlocking the heavy door. He disappeared into the corridor to use the telephone on the ward.

As if I could forget
, thought Viktor.
God knows I've tried to get rid of the memories
. Forgetting was what he aspired to; it would be a release.

Two minutes later, Dr Roth was back by his bedside. He sat down on an uncomfortable folding contraption made of white plastic. It was the first time such a chair, a common enough sight in the other wards, had been positioned by this particular bed. The patients assigned to room 1245 rarely received visitors of any kind.

‘Good news and bad news,’ reported the psychiatrist.

‘I'll have the bad news first.’

‘Professor Malzius wants to know where I am. He's getting impatient.’

‘And the good news?’

‘You have visitors coming – but they won't be here until six.’

Viktor merely nodded. He had a fair idea as to who the visitors would be, and Roth's expression seemed to confirm his hunch.

‘That gives us forty minutes.’

‘Forty minutes for you to tell me exactly what happened.’

Larenz stretched his limbs as far as the restraints allowed.

‘Bed-bound at the age of forty-seven,’ he said smilingly, jangling the straps around his wrists and ankles. Dr Roth pretended not to hear. He knew what Viktor was hinting at, but he couldn't oblige.