The Unlucky Lottery

‘She doesn’t have many friends. She would have phoned – she’s been missing for half a day now, more in fact.’

‘And no message?’ Moreno wondered.

‘No.’

‘Has she ever gone away like this before?’

‘Never.’

‘Have you rung the hospitals? Something might have happened to her – a minor accident, it doesn’t need to be anything serious.’

‘I’ve spoken to both Rumford and Gemejnte. They knew nothing – and in any case, she would have been in touch.’

‘Had you fallen out, perhaps? Quarrelled?’

‘We never quarrel.’

‘What was she wearing?’ Münster asked.

Van Eck looked confused.

‘Why do you want to know that?’

Münster sighed.

‘Haven’t you wondered about that?’ he asked. ‘Have her outer clothes vanished as well, for instance? Has she taken a suitcase with her? Anyway, if you haven’t checked that perhaps you would be so kind as to do so now.’

‘Excuse me,’ said Van Eck as he hurried out into the hall. They could hear him rummaging around among coat-hangers and shoes for a while, and then he came back.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘both her hat and coat are missing, and her handbag.’

‘So she must have gone out,’ said Moreno. ‘Could you please check if she’s taken a bag with her – apart from her handbag, that is.’

It took several minutes for Van Eck to investigate this question, but when he returned he was in no doubt.

‘No bag,’ he said. ‘Both the suitcase and the shopping bag are in the wardrobe as usual. And she hasn’t been down into the storeroom in the basement. And what’s more, I know she came back home after doing her shopping – she has put things into the fridge and the larder. Milk and potatoes and a few tins of stuff. And other odds and ends. Diegermann’s caviar for instance – we always buy that, the unsmoked variety. With dill.’

‘It’s pretty good,’ said Münster.

‘Have you mentioned this to any of the neighbours?’ Moreno asked.

‘No,’ said Van Eck, squirming in his chair.

‘Any acquaintances?’

‘No. I don’t want this to come out, I mean, if it’s nothing important . . . I mean . . .’

He said nothing more. Münster and Moreno exchanged glances, and she was evidently on the same wavelength – she gestured with her head, then nodded. Münster cleared his throat.

‘Well, herr Van Eck,’ he said. ‘I think it would be best if you came to the police station with us. We can go through it all properly, and write a report.’

Van Eck took a deep breath.

‘I agree,’ he said, and it was obvious that he was not in complete control of his voice. ‘Can I go to the bathroom first? My stomach’s a bit upset, thanks to all this.’

‘Please do,’ said Moreno.

While they were waiting they took the opportunity of looking round the cramped two-roomed flat. It contained nothing that surprised them. A bedroom with an old-fashioned double bed with a teak headboard, and net curtains in light blue and white. Living room with television set, glass-fronted display cupboard and a drab three-piece suite in hard-wearing polyester. No books apart from a reference work in ten bright red volumes – but lots of magazines and a mass of landscape reproductions on the walls, and hand-painted porcelain vases on bureaux and tables. The kitchen where they had been sitting was barely big enough for three people: refrigerator, cooker and sink from the late fifties, by the looks of it, and the potted plants on the windowsills seemed to have grown and multiplied of their own accord. The artificial flower on the table looked much more natural. All the floors were covered in carpets of different styles, colours and qualities, and the only thing that Münster could possibly interpret as an expression of personal taste was a stuffed giraffe’s head over the hat shelf in the hall – but that was probably because he had never seen a detached giraffe’s head before.

Moreno shrugged, with a sigh of resignation, and they went back to the kitchen.

‘What about the neighbours?’ she said. ‘Should I stay here and listen to whatever they have to say? I suppose it would be helpful if we could establish when she was last seen.’

Münster nodded.

‘Yes, good thinking,’ he said. ‘Shall I send Krause or somebody to help?’

‘In an hour from now,’ said Moreno. ‘Then at least I won’t need to walk back to the station.’

She checked her watch. Van Eck’s stomach was evidently taking its time.

‘What do you think?’ she said. ‘I must say I haven’t a clue. Why on earth should this woman go and disappear?’

‘Search me,’ said Münster. ‘It must mean something, of course, and I have the feeling we need to take it seriously. Even if it all seems like a farce.’

He leaned back on his chair and looked out of the window. The melancholy weather was persisting. Heavy clouds were scudding in from the sea, and the pane was dappled in damp and fuzzy, even though it wasn’t actually raining.

Gloom, Münster thought. Who would not want to vanish in weather like this?

There was the sound of the lavatory flushing. Van Eck came out.

‘I’ve finished,’ he said, as if he were a three-year-old at a potty-training camp.