177383.fb2 The Vanishing of Katharina Linden - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 27

The Vanishing of Katharina Linden - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 27

Chapter Twenty-five

Stefan?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s me, Pia.”

“Pia? Are you back?”

“No, I’m calling from my Oma’s house.”

“In England?”

“Yes…” I paused. “She doesn’t know. I can’t stay on the phone for very long in case she comes back.”

Stefan whistled. “What’s she going to-”

“Never mind that,” I snapped back in an urgent whisper; even though I had seen Oma Warner depart with my own eyes, I still felt as though I had to keep my voice down. “I got your letter. What’s been going on? What’s this stuff about Herr Düster?”

“Oh, that was crazy. There’ve been rumors going around about Herr Düster for ages, ever since he got picked up in that police car. It seems like someone has been stirring them up again-”

Frau Kessel, I thought sourly.

“-and, anyway, a whole group of people went to his house and were shouting at him to come out and explain himself.”

“Did you see it?”

Nee. Boris was there, though.”

“Boris thinks Herr Düster did it too?”

“No, Boris just thought it was cool to be there, and see what they did.” That made sense; terrorizing an old man who was outnumbered ten to one sounded just Boris’s style.

“Did he come out? Herr Düster, I mean.”

“No. I mean, would you? But he was definitely in there, Boris said; they saw him looking out the window.”

“Who was there?”

“Well, apart from Boris… Jörg Koch was there, and he said Herr Linden, you know, Katharina’s father, he was there as well. But I don’t know who else. He said Herr Linden was knocking on the door and shouting at Herr Düster to come out. Herr Linden said if he had nothing to do with it, he had nothing to be afraid of.” Stefan paused, thinking. “Then I think the police came.”

“Who called them?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Herr Düster did. But he still didn’t come out, even when they arrived. It was Herr Wachtmeister Tondorf, and the other one, the younger one.”

“What did they do?” I had visions of Herr Wachtmeister Tondorf laying into Boris with a club, and Herr Linden shouting about his daughter, and trying to beat down the door…

“Just talked to them.”

“What did they say?” I couldn’t make this out at all.

“I don’t really know… Boris heard it, but he was mostly just annoyed that they didn’t make Herr Düster come out or anything.” That I could imagine; Boris would have loved the ensuing row. “I think they said it wasn’t him.” Stefan paused. “Then Jörg Koch shouted why did they arrest him before, if it wasn’t him?”

“And?”

“Herr Wachtmeister Tondorf said they didn’t arrest him, but it was confidential, you know, they can’t say anything.”

“They did arrest him, though, didn’t they?” I said. “Frau Koch saw it.”

“Yeah, I know it doesn’t make sense,” agreed Stefan. “I’m just telling you what Boris said. Anyway, then Herr Wachtmeister Tondorf said they had to go home and stop bothering Herr Düster because he was ill. He said they should leave it to the police.”

“Did they just go?” I asked. It was hard to imagine the bereaved father and the local bullyboys departing like lambs when they had heard about Herr Düster’s supposed ill health.

“Well, Boris said they gave Herr Wachtmeister Tondorf a hard time back, told him what could he expect if the police didn’t catch the person who was taking all these kids, and a load of stuff like that. But you know Boris.”

“Doch,” I agreed. I thought for a moment. “Has anything else happened?”

“What, you mean, has anyone else disappeared? No. I wish Thilo Koch would, but no such luck.”

We both laughed. “They haven’t found Marion Voss?”

“No.”

“Have you seen Herr Schiller?” I asked, hoping a little jealously that he would say no.

“Yeah, I saw him a couple of days ago. He told me this really cool story about some treasure. He said when the town got attacked the nuns hid all the treasure, and so far nobody’s found it. It could still be somewhere in the town, millions of marks’ worth of it-well, thousands, anyway. Herr Schiller says-”

“Stefan, I have to go.” I dared not stay any longer on the phone; every minute racked up a further enormity on Oma Warner’s telephone bill, and a greater risk of discovery. “Can you call me if anything else happens?”

“I’ll try,” said Stefan, and I had to be content with that.