Therapy by Sebastian Fitzek Page A

Don't you think we should call the police?’
    ‘No, not yet. If you've finished in Josy's room, I'd like you to check the rest of the house.’
    ‘I guess so . . .’ There was a rustling noise at the end of the phone, and Viktor deduced that Kai was scratching his head, probably towards the back where he still had a respectable amount of hair.
    ‘What?’
    ‘It probably sounds stupid, but . . .’
    ‘I'm listening, Kai.’
    ‘All right, if you want to know what I think, the room is missing more than the odd piece of furniture.’
    ‘I beg your pardon?’
    The PI cleared his throat nervously. ‘Josy was twelve, right?’
    ‘What's that got to do with anything?’
    ‘The atmosphere isn't right. I've been in this game for long enough to trust my instincts. And my instincts are telling me that this isn't a twelve-year-old's room.’
    ‘Can you be more specific?’
    ‘I don't have kids myself, but a niece of mine, Laura, is about to turn thirteen. The sign on her door doesn'tsay “Come in!” Quite the opposite in fact. Last time I went round there, she banned us all from her room.’
    ‘Josy was a good kid. She wasn't rebellious.’
    ‘I'm not talking about being rebellious; I'm talking about a normal teenage room. Boy band posters on the walls, signed tickets from pop concerts stuck to the mirror, postcards from the boys at school . . . Do you see what I'm getting at?’
    Something's missing .
    ‘Quite honestly, no.’
    ‘What I'm saying is that no self-respecting adolescent would want to live in a room like this. Where are the copies of Bravo magazine? I mean, honestly, Viktor, whoever heard of a twelve-year-old watching Sesame Street ? My niece is into Eminem, not Ernie and Bert!’
    ‘Who's Eminem?’
    ‘Precisely my point. He's a rapper. I'll tell you about his lyrics another time.’
    ‘I still don't see your point.’
    ‘You asked if anything was missing, and I'm telling you, yes . I'd expect to see a locked box of love letters. I'd expect to see a candle in a wine bottle with wax dripping down the side. And you're absolutely right: I'd expect to see a dressing table.’
    ‘But a moment ago you said everything looked normal.’
    ‘Sure, if we're talking about an eight-year-old's room. Josy was twelve.’
    ‘We only came here at weekends, remember. Most of her belongings were in Berlin.’
    ‘You're the one who asked,’ said Kai with a sigh. ‘I was only giving you my opinion.’
    Viktor heard him close the bedroom door. With that, his vision of the cabin in Sacrow disappeared. It was as if the projector had burnt out halfway through the film.
    ‘Where are you going?’
    ‘Sorry, Doc, I've got to pee. I'll call you back.’
    Before Viktor could protest, the audio connection was lost as well. Kai had rung off.
    Rooted to the spot, Viktor waited by the telephone and struggled to make sense of it all.
    He went back over the facts. Someone had broken into the cabin within the last few days. And Josy was too old for her room.
    He couldn't ponder the matter any further because he had to answer the phone. He hadn't expected Kai to call back so soon.
    ‘Viktor?’
    Judging by the background noise, the PI had left the cabin and was standing in the woods.
    ‘Hang on, you can't leave yet! We haven't been through the other rooms. I wanted to ask you to—’
    ‘Viktor!’ The detective sounded agitated. There was an unmistakable note of panic in his voice.
    ‘What's wrong?’ asked Viktor, alarmed.
    ‘I'm calling the police.’
    ‘Why? What's happened?’
    Josy .
    ‘I've found evidence in the bathroom. Someone was here this afternoon.’
    ‘For Christ's sake, Kai, what kind of evidence?’
    ‘Blood on the tiles, in the basin, in the loo.’ He took a deep breath.
    ‘Viktor, the whole place is covered in blood.’

16
    Room 1245, Berlin-Wedding Psychosomatic Clinic
    Dr Roth's bleep went off just as Viktor paused for the first time in his hour-long account.
    ‘Remember where you're up