Therapy by Sebastian Fitzek

beers in the fridge, if that's what you mean.’
    ‘We'll start with Josy's room,’ said Viktor, ignoring Kai's banter. ‘It's at the end of the hall by the bathroom.’
    ‘I'm on my way.’
    Kai's trainers had stopped squeaking now that he was out of the kitchen and walking down the tiled hall. Viktor closed his eyes and counted the fifteen paces that the PI would take to reach Josy's door.
    ‘Come in!’ said the sign that Kai would see when he looked for the handle. In a moment he would be shining his torch around the room. A creaking of hinges confirmed that he was there.
    ‘OK, I'm in.’
    ‘Well?’
    ‘I've got my back to the hall and I'm looking into the room. Everything looks normal.’
    ‘Tell me what you can see.’
    ‘Just the usual. Canopy bed – the curtains could definitely do with a wash. Fluffy rug on the floor, now home to a colony of mites. They're probably to blame for the smell.’
    ‘Anything else?’
    ‘A big framed poster of Ernie and Bert. It's on the opposite wall to the bed.’
    ‘Ernie and Bert. They were . . .’
    Viktor wiped the tears from his right eye and fell silent. He didn't want Kai to hear the quiver in his voice.
    They were a present from me .
    ‘ Sesame Street , I know. Looking left, there's a shelf – Ikea, if I'm not mistaken. Do you want me to list the toys? A Steiff elephant, a couple of Disney characters—’
    ‘Wait! Back up a bit,’ said Viktor.
    ‘What?’
    ‘I've just remembered something. Can you lie on the bed?’
    ‘If it makes you happy – yes.’
    Three footsteps, some rustling and a cough. Kai's voice came through the phone.
    ‘I hope it stands the strain. The mattress is protesting already.’
    ‘Pay attention, Kai. I'd like you to tell me what you see.’
    ‘OK, to my left I've got a window. I'm assuming the forest is out there somewhere but it's time you cleaned the glass. And like I said, the poster is staring right at me.’
    ‘Is that all?’
    ‘Well, from this angle, the shelf is on the right and—’
    ‘No,’ Viktor stopped him. ‘Is there anything else in front of you?’
    ‘Nope. And if you don't mind . . .’ The phone line crackled, swallowing the next few words. ‘I . . . bloody bed, OK?’
    ‘OK.’
    ‘Listen, Viktor, I've had enough of this lark. Why don't you tell me what you're looking for?’
    ‘Give me a moment.’
    Viktor closed his eyes and focused on the cabin. A moment later he was walking through the forest to the door. He walked up the steps, took off his shoes and put them in the hand-carved Indian cabinet in the hall. He glanced into the parlour where Isabell was lying on the white Rolf Benz sofa beside the fireplace, reading the latest issue of Gala magazine. He breathed in the aroma of burning pine and enjoyed the sensation of being in a house whose warmth was derived from the contentment of its occupants. Music was coming from the rear of the house. Taking off his coat, he went to find Josy. The music got louder as he approached. He pushed down the handle, opened the door, and was blinded by the sunlight streaming through the window. Then he saw her. She was sitting at her kid-sized dressing table, trying out some orange nail polish belonging to one of her friends. She hadn't heard him come in because of the music. It was coming from the television, which was tuned to . . .
    ‘I thought you were going to tell me what to look for,’ said Kai, cutting through his thoughts. Viktor opened his eyes.
    MTV .
    ‘A television.’
    ‘A television?’
    ‘Yes, a Sony.’
    ‘No, no sign of a telly.’
    ‘And a dressing table with a round mirror.’
    ‘Ditto – unless it's in another room.’
    ‘That's it then.’
    ‘A dressing table and a telly? I'm sorry, Viktor, but it doesn't sound like your average burglary.’
    ‘Because it wasn't,’ retorted Viktor, more certain than ever that Anna and Josy were linked. Don't ask me how, but I'm going to find out .
    ‘Either way, you've been burgled.