Read Online Black Ice by Hans Werner Kettenbach - Free Book Online

the way home this evening. Evening would be better anyway. He could turn off into a side street and look for a phone box and a parking place at his leisure. There were phone boxes well hidden away down side streets.

    He looked out of the window and moved his lips soundlessly.
    â€œKeep a watch on Herr Wallmann’s house.” No, this was getting much too long. What was it he’d intended to say again? “Frau Erika Wallmann didn’t die in an accident, she was murdered. Check Inge Faust’s alibi.” Not quite as long as he’d thought. Maybe he could add, “Keep a watch on Herr Wallmann’s house.”
    Inge Faust’s little car came through the gates. It swerved alarmingly and stopped outside the office building. She got out, leaned into the car and came back into view with a stack of mail under her arm. Scholten watched her balancing on one leg and kicking the car door shut with the other. Her handbag impeded her. She tried to hold the stack of mail down with her chin, approaching the door and taking small steps. He heard her struggling with the handle. The door flew open. Inge Faust cried: “Herr Scholten, Herr Scholten, quick!”
    He went out and took the stack of mail from her. She heaved a small sigh – “Oof!” — and smiled at him. “I dropped in at the post office – now no one has to go out for it.” He carried the stack of mail into her office and put it on the desk.
    â€œBut they won’t have had it all ready at this time of day.”
    â€œOh, most of it’s just junk mail.” She took her coat off. “I thought you’d be glad if I brought it with me.”
    â€œYes, of course.” Standing beside the desk, Scholten spread the mail out with his hand, as if by chance.
    She opened the coat cupboard, looked in the mirror, took her headscarf off and shook out her short curls. Scholten looked at her. As she put her coat in the cupboard he examined her back and then cast a brief sideways glance at the mail.

    He saw the blue envelope at once. It had been franked at the yachting basin’s boatyard and bore the place’s logo, a red and blue pennant in a circle.
    She had taken out her comb, looked in the mirror again and ran it through her hair. She adjusted the scarf at her throat.
    â€œShall I open the mail for you?” asked Scholten.
    â€œOh, no thanks. I’ll start on it straight away. But you could get me some water. I really need a coffee. Would you be kind enough?”
    Scholten took the jug out of the coffee machine. “How much water?”
    â€œEnough for four cups please.”
    He went to the washroom, taking his time about it. When he came back she was busy opening and sorting the post.
    â€œWhere do you keep the coffee?” asked Scholten.
    â€œOh, you’re so kind! Down there to your right in the little cupboard. The key’s in it.”
    Scholten took coffee and a filter paper out. “Four cups, you said?”
    She laughed. “Herr Scholten, whatever has come over you today? Well, yes, four cups if you don’t mind. I’m sure Herr Wallmann will be here soon too.”
    Scholten elaborately unfolded the filter paper. “Level spoonfuls?”
    â€œSlightly rounded, please.”
    As he poured the water in she stood up. “There, that’s done.”
    He inspected the filter, put the coffee in, said, as if casually: “Shall I take the mail?”
    â€œNo, I’ll do it. I don’t want to disturb your coffeemaking.”
    She picked up the larger stack of mail, smiled at Scholten and went into the project managers’ office.

    Scholten immediately strode over to the desk, pushed two letters aside and pulled the blue sheet a little way out. It was an invoice from the boatyard, very short. To replacing one tackle (mainsheet) . The price of the tackle followed. And the price for labour: half an hour.
    Scholten pushed the blue sheet back and