instead.’
‘Let’s get it over with now,’ said Marlene Frey.
‘Have you got anybody staying with you?’ Moreno asked. ‘A girlfriend, for instance?’
‘A friend is due this evening. I’ll get by, you don’t need to worry.’
‘So you lived here together, is that right?’ Reinhart asked, moving a bit closer to the stove. It was evidently the only source of heat in the whole flat, so it was important not to be too far away from it.
‘Yes,’ said Frey, ‘we live here. Or lived . . .’
‘How long had you been together?’ Moreno asked.
‘Two years, more or less.’
‘You know who his father is, I take it?’ said Reinhart. ‘It’s not relevant, of course, but it makes it all rather more unpleasant from our point of view. Even if—’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Frey, interrupting him. ‘They didn’t have much contact.’
‘We’d gathered that,’ said Reinhart. ‘Was there any at all? Contact, that is?’
Frey hesitated before answering.
‘I’ve never met him,’ she said. ‘But I think . . . I think things were getting a bit better recently.’
Reinhart nodded.
‘Did they meet at all?’ Moreno wondered.
‘Erich went to see him a few times during the autumn. But that’s irrelevant now.’
Her voice shook a little, and she stroked the palms of her hand quickly over her face, as if to switch it off. Her red hair looked dyed and not very well cared for, Moreno noted, but there were no obvious signs of drug abuse.
‘Let’s concentrate on last Tuesday,’ said Reinhart, taking out his pipe and tobacco, and receiving an encouraging nod from Marlene Frey.
‘Erich drove out to that restaurant in Dikken,’ said Moreno. ‘Have you any idea why?’
‘No,’ said Frey. ‘No idea at all. As I said this morning.’
‘Was he working?’ Reinhart asked.
‘A bit of this, a bit of that,’ said Frey. ‘He did odd jobs as a carpenter and painter and labourer . . . On various building sites and similar. Most of it was the black economy, I’m afraid, but that’s the way it is nowadays. He was good with his hands.’
‘What about you yourself?’ Moreno asked.
‘I’m attending a course for the unemployed. Economics and IT and that kind of crap, but I get a grant for doing it. I do the odd hour in shops and supermarkets when they’re short-staffed. We get by in fact . . . Or got by. Financially, that is. Erich worked at a printing works as well now and then. Stemminger’s.’
‘I understand,’ said Reinhart. ‘He had a bit of form, if one can put it like that . . .’
‘Who doesn’t?’ said Frey. ‘But we were on the straight and narrow, I want you to be quite clear about that.’
It looked for a moment as if she were about to burst into tears; but she took a deep breath and blew her nose instead.
‘Tell us about last Tuesday,’ said Reinhart.
‘There’s not a lot to say,’ said Frey. ‘I attended my course in the morning, then I worked for a few hours in the shop in Kellnerstraat in the afternoon. I only saw Erich here at home between one and two – he said he was going to help somebody with some boat or other, and then he had something to see to in the evening.’
‘A boat?’ said Reinhart. ‘What sort of a boat?’
‘It belongs to a good friend,’ said Frey. ‘I assume he was helping with fitting it out.’
Moreno asked her to write down the friend’s name and address, which she did after consulting an address book she fetched from the kitchen.
‘That something he had to see to in the evening,’ said Reinhart when the boat business was over and done with. ‘What was that about?’
Marlene Frey shrugged.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Was it a job?’
‘I assume so.’
‘Or something else?’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Well . . . Something that wasn’t a job.’
Frey took out her handkerchief and blew her nose again. Her eyes narrowed.
‘I understand,’ she said. ‘I understand exactly what’s going on. It’s only for his
‘Let’s get it over with now,’ said Marlene Frey.
‘Have you got anybody staying with you?’ Moreno asked. ‘A girlfriend, for instance?’
‘A friend is due this evening. I’ll get by, you don’t need to worry.’
‘So you lived here together, is that right?’ Reinhart asked, moving a bit closer to the stove. It was evidently the only source of heat in the whole flat, so it was important not to be too far away from it.
‘Yes,’ said Frey, ‘we live here. Or lived . . .’
‘How long had you been together?’ Moreno asked.
‘Two years, more or less.’
‘You know who his father is, I take it?’ said Reinhart. ‘It’s not relevant, of course, but it makes it all rather more unpleasant from our point of view. Even if—’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Frey, interrupting him. ‘They didn’t have much contact.’
‘We’d gathered that,’ said Reinhart. ‘Was there any at all? Contact, that is?’
Frey hesitated before answering.
‘I’ve never met him,’ she said. ‘But I think . . . I think things were getting a bit better recently.’
Reinhart nodded.
‘Did they meet at all?’ Moreno wondered.
‘Erich went to see him a few times during the autumn. But that’s irrelevant now.’
Her voice shook a little, and she stroked the palms of her hand quickly over her face, as if to switch it off. Her red hair looked dyed and not very well cared for, Moreno noted, but there were no obvious signs of drug abuse.
‘Let’s concentrate on last Tuesday,’ said Reinhart, taking out his pipe and tobacco, and receiving an encouraging nod from Marlene Frey.
‘Erich drove out to that restaurant in Dikken,’ said Moreno. ‘Have you any idea why?’
‘No,’ said Frey. ‘No idea at all. As I said this morning.’
‘Was he working?’ Reinhart asked.
‘A bit of this, a bit of that,’ said Frey. ‘He did odd jobs as a carpenter and painter and labourer . . . On various building sites and similar. Most of it was the black economy, I’m afraid, but that’s the way it is nowadays. He was good with his hands.’
‘What about you yourself?’ Moreno asked.
‘I’m attending a course for the unemployed. Economics and IT and that kind of crap, but I get a grant for doing it. I do the odd hour in shops and supermarkets when they’re short-staffed. We get by in fact . . . Or got by. Financially, that is. Erich worked at a printing works as well now and then. Stemminger’s.’
‘I understand,’ said Reinhart. ‘He had a bit of form, if one can put it like that . . .’
‘Who doesn’t?’ said Frey. ‘But we were on the straight and narrow, I want you to be quite clear about that.’
It looked for a moment as if she were about to burst into tears; but she took a deep breath and blew her nose instead.
‘Tell us about last Tuesday,’ said Reinhart.
‘There’s not a lot to say,’ said Frey. ‘I attended my course in the morning, then I worked for a few hours in the shop in Kellnerstraat in the afternoon. I only saw Erich here at home between one and two – he said he was going to help somebody with some boat or other, and then he had something to see to in the evening.’
‘A boat?’ said Reinhart. ‘What sort of a boat?’
‘It belongs to a good friend,’ said Frey. ‘I assume he was helping with fitting it out.’
Moreno asked her to write down the friend’s name and address, which she did after consulting an address book she fetched from the kitchen.
‘That something he had to see to in the evening,’ said Reinhart when the boat business was over and done with. ‘What was that about?’
Marlene Frey shrugged.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Was it a job?’
‘I assume so.’
‘Or something else?’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Well . . . Something that wasn’t a job.’
Frey took out her handkerchief and blew her nose again. Her eyes narrowed.
‘I understand,’ she said. ‘I understand exactly what’s going on. It’s only for his
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