In Matto's Realm: A Sergeant Studer Mystery (8 page)

The wide corridor ended in a glass door, which led
into the day room, in which everything was painted a
dark orange: the tables, the chairs, the benches with
the high backs on which were fixed wire-mesh holders
with pot plants - asparagus fern - interspersed with
vases of dahlias. Although two windows were open -
they looked out onto D1 - the room was filled with
thick smoke. As Studer looked round, he thought
about the nurse accompanying him, Gilgen, the first
person he had met in the clinic to whom he had felt
unreservedly attracted.

He couldn't have given a reason. The front half of
Gilgen's head was a bald, shiny sphere, the red hair
behind it was cut short and gleamed like copper that
had just been polished with Brasso. His neck was
brown and his face covered in freckles. It was a friendly
face, despite the lines at the corners of the eyes and
across his forehead, presumably caused by worry. He
was short, only coming up to the sergeant's shoulder,
but there was a warmth about him which the patients
in the day room also seemed to feel, greeting
his arrival with "Ah, Gilgen" or "Griiess di, Gilgen". The skin of his bare forearms was covered in freckles
too...

"We're going to have a few rounds of jass," said
Gilgen, "and I've got a visitor here who has business in
the clinic and who'd like to join in. Who's interested?"

Two volunteered: a long, skinny fellow with "alcoholic" written all over him and a short man with an
asymmetrical face who turned out to be an extremely
pedantic, slow and irritating card player.

Studer partnered Gilgen. There was not much worth
saying about the jass, apart from one game where
Gilgen passed with a run of four to the ace of spades,
three clubs and the nine of hearts, forcing Studer to
play the game with hearts as trumps. Since he had
spades as well, they managed to make all nine tricks,
but secretly he found Gilgen's style of play a bit much,
though that served only to increase his liking for the
red-haired nurse.

Then Gilgen announced he had to go and eat, but
first, he said, he'd take Studer down to the ground
floor, to get the keys from Weyrauch. Another nurse
came to relieve him, but before he could open the
door to the stairs Schiil came hurrying past with a tray
loaded with soup plates.

"Just wait till I catch whoever created the world," he
called out to them with a laugh on his scarred lips that
revealed his toothless mouth.

And it was with a laugh that the two of them went
down the stairs to the ground floor. At the bottom the
stairs continued. "To the basement," Gilgen explained.

Another corridor. At the end leading to D Ward
some alterations were being carried out. Another day
room with brightly coloured furniture, Gilgen
explained. Dr Laduner had managed to push through
a certain amount of renovation work on the clinic. It was he, too, who had set up the decorating and bricklaying groups, usually a dozen patients with a nurse
who had worked at the trade before going in for
nursing.

"You liked Pieterlen?" Studer suddenly asked.

Gilgen halted, playing with his bunch of keys. "You'll
give Pieterlen time, won't you, Sergeant?" he asked,
with an expression like a anxious mouse. "You won't
arrest him straight away?"

"Arrest him? Who said anything about arresting
him? Pieterlen isn't even on the official wanted list. It's
just because he disappeared at the same time as the
Director that Dr Laduner asked the police to send me
to ... No, no, an arrest doesn't come into it ... But
what do you know about Pieterlen?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," said Gilgen, putting his
keys away again. "But I felt sorry for him. He was a nice
chap, much too nice."

They were standing in the middle of the corridor. As
on the floor above, here, too, there was a narrower
corridor branching off. One voice rose above the babble of conversation coming from it, declaring, "If the
cops start poking around all the wards with their
grubby fingers, that'll be just great. . ."

It was the voice of Staff Nurse Jutzeler, and it didn't
sound half as respectful as it had an hour ago. Gilgen
quickly hurried the sergeant on till they came to a
door. He knocked. The senior nurse, Herr Weyrauch,
took his lunch in his own room. He sat there, content
with himself and the world; the bacon joint he had just
been eating had left a shiny ring round his mouth.

"Oh, the keys for Herr Studer? Of course. Pardong."
He got up and rummaged around. "Yes, Herr Dr
Laduner gave me instructions ... Ah, here we are,
Sergeant."

On the table by the window, to which Studer had
followed him, were some nudist magazines. "Ha-haha," Weyrauch laughed. "Very artistic, eh, Sergeant?"
he said, giving Studer a gentle dig in the ribs.

Artistic! Well, if Weyrauch insisted. Studer had
nothing against that kind of thing, but that didn't stop
him finding Weyrauch a rather unpleasant character.
Perhaps he was just prejudiced.

Gilgen was waiting patiently outside. He followed
Studer to the door of 0 Ward that led out into the
courtyard, opened it, then stopped. He had his hands
inside the bib of his apron, which was like a thin white
muff round them.

"By the way," Studer said, "what's wrong with Schul?
Has it anything to do with his injuries?"

Gilgen shook his head, like an expert. "No, his
mental illness has nothing to do with his injuries."

"What is it then?"

"Skidsoffreenia."

"What?"

"Skidsoffreenia," Gilgen repeated, loud and clear.
"We did it on the course."

"And what about Pieterlen?"

"Skidsoffreenia."

"But recently he hasn't been, er, you know" - Studer
tapped his forehead - "at all?"

"No, he's been quite normal."

"How long has he been in the clinic, then?"

"Four years."

"Why so long?" Studer wanted to know.

"Before that he spent three years in prison. He
cracked up in there."

"Why was he in prison?"

"He murdered his child!" Gilgen whispered, telling
Studer to ask Dr Laduner if he wanted the details.

There was a pause, then Studer asked one final
question.

"And what do you think of the Director?"

"Of Herr Dr Borstli? A randy old goat."

And with that the redhead who had passed with a
run of four to the ace of spades walked off, leaving
Studer standing in the courtyard.

When he got to the middle of the courtyard, Studer
stopped and had a look round. His first impression
had been correct, the clinic was built in the form of an
angular U. He was surrounded on three sides by twoand three-storeyed buildings, all interconnected.
Behind him was the casino, to the right the men's
wing, to the left the women's. And in front was a flatroofed building, long and low, with a chimney at the
back corner spewing out sluggish clouds of black
smoke.

Through the wide-open door the sergeant could see
huge cauldrons heated by steam. They were tipped
forward and the kitchen maids were filling large containers with soup and overcooked macaroni, as well as
large bowls with lettuce. In the middle of all the commotion, a fat individual of the female sex was waddling
silently over the tiles. Silently, that is, in the sense that
her footsteps were not audible. Her voice, on the other
hand, was; from time to time she emitted a screech
that galvanized the girls into action. Studer watched;
he found the whole business interesting and it didn't
last that long, anyway. Soon two long crocodiles, one
on the left, one on the right, emerged from doors that
were concealed by the corner of the building. Women
to the left, men to the right. Some of the women were
wearing white caps, either starched or soft, others were
bareheaded; almost all the men wore white aprons: the
nurses were taking lunch to wards P to D.

The kitchen maids disappeared, it was impossible to
tell where to, and the fat individual of the female sex
who could waddle so silently appeared in the doorway
and nodded at Studer. Studer returned her greeting
with a smile. The woman's cheeks were as red and
shiny as a ripe tomato.

Was he the new cop? she wanted to know.

He was, Studer replied. From the criminal investigation department. "Sergeant Studer's the name."

"And mine's Fraulein KOlla. Won't you come in?"
she asked. She'd gone out with a gendarme once, she
immediately continued, but that was a long time ago.
The gendarme had turned out to be a swine who'd
dumped her for a rich farmer's daughter.

"I can certainly come in," said Studer, "but Dr
Laduner's expecting me for lunch, so I can't stay
long."

"Lunch!" exclaimed Fraulein Kolla contemptuously.
He should have lunch with her, she'd do him a steak,
just they way he liked it. And then they could have a
little chat; she knew all sorts of things that might be of
interest to the sergeant. Especially about what had
gone on the previous night.

Studer thanked her for her kind invitation, but he
wasn't sure whether Dr Laduner wouldn't feel ...

"Oh, don't you bother your head about that," said
Fraulein Kolla in her vigorous manner, "I'll give Dr
Laduner a ring and that'll settle it. At least here," she
added, "you'll get something decent to drink." She
didn't seem to have a great opinion of Dr Laduner's
wine cellar.

Fraulein Kolla was a real chatterbox. She started
talking about her young days, about other men, who
... He would have to interrupt the unceasing flow of
words, Studer decided, so he asked a question.

"Do you remember the harvest festival?"

"Of course."

"Did you see the Director?"

"He came out of the casino at ten."

"Alone?"

"At first, yes."

"And then?"

"And then he met a lassie at the corner of the
women's 0 Ward."

"What lassie would that be?"

Fraulein Kolla's eyes went wide with astonishment.
She'd never have thought, she said, a copper could be
so stupid.

Studer accepted the remark with equanimity, tucking into his steak, which was so tender his knife went
through it like butter. Then he continued his patient
questioning.

"So who was it?"

"That Irma Wasem, of course. The girl's" - and the
cook used an expression normally reserved for a
female mammal at certain stage in its reproductive
cycle.

"Aha ... oh, yes," and Studer conceded that he had
heard something along those lines already.

"Why do you ask such silly questions then?"

"We-e-ell, you know ... So, anyway, the two of them
went off for a walk together?"

"Arm in arm!" said Fraulein KOlla. She'd been sitting
up there at her window, she explained. There were
some arc lamps in the courtyard, it was bright as a
sunny day.

She deposited a pile of green beans, liberally flavoured with garlic, on the sergeant's plate, refilled his
glass, wished him "Good health" and clinked glasses
with him. Then she emptied her tumbler in one gulp. Studer raised his glass to her. He approved of Fraulein
KOlla.

"And when did the two of them get back?"

"About half past twelve. The lassie came with the
Director to the door of the central block, then he kept
her waiting there for a long time. When he came back
down, about half an hour later, he was wearing a loden
cape. They walked together to the women's 0 Ward
and Irma Wasem went in, while the Director continued
his walk." That was when Fraulein Kolla had gone to
bed, so she couldn't say whether the lassie had come
down again. But she couldn't get to sleep right away,
that's why she'd still been awake when she heard the
cry.

"The cry? What cry?"

"There were others heard it too. A cry. It sounded
like a cry for help"

"When did you hear this cry?"

`Just before the clock struck half past one."

Studer bowed his head. The curve of his back was
like the gentle rise of a dark hill. "Where did the cry
come from?"

"From the corner on the men's side, where wards T
and P join."

Aha! So Schiil had been right about what he had
heard.

"A hoarse cry, Sergeant. It sounded like this."

Fraulein Kolla tried to imitate the cry. It sounded
like the squawk of a hungry young crow. Some
people would have laughed at it, but Studer
remained serious. So people in the clinic had been
talking about it. Why then had Dr Laduner not
mentioned it?

In the corner between wards T and P.

That seemed to put paid to his theory about a little excursion to Lake Thun or Ticino. No amorous
escapade, such as old gentlemen sometimes go in for,
even if they do happen to be directors of medical
establishments. No one talks about them. Colleagues
make their little jokes, but nothing trickles through to
the outside world ... The cry! No, the cry was no
laughing matter. If you listened carefully, it seemed
that everything in this case that sounded funny at first
eventually struck a wrong note.

The smashed-up office - a wrong note; the male
voice on the telephone - a wrong note; Pieterlen's disappearance - a wrong note; Bohnenblust's bruise - a
wrong note.

Everything sounded wrong: Dr Laduner's jokey
tone, his offering of bread and salt, the way he played
the distinguished physician on his rounds - as if he
were already the director - and there was something
not quite right about that friendly nurse either, Gilgen,
the redhead who passed with a run of four to the ace of
spades and who had those worry lines all over his
anxious face ...

"In the corner between T Ward and P?" Studer
asked, lost in thought. "What's there?"