The Storyteller

“A

She saw Abel looking at her, but she couldn’t read his eyes. “Why?” she asked.

“Flute lesson,” Magnus answered shortly. He didn’t ask any questions.

“Shit,” A

“Just tell me where you are. I can come and get you. If we take the car, we can still make it in time.”

Abel’s eyes were still on her. “No,” she said. “I’ll come home. Now. Could you drive me from there? I’m going to be late, I know, but could you?”

“Hurry up,” Magnus said. “I’ll wait.”

A

“If you have to go, go,” Abel said. Marinke held the door open for her. Why didn’t he leave? Take his stupid folder and his smile … Why couldn’t he leave them alone, for just a minute?

Fuck off! She wanted to shout, very loudly, and use words she didn’t normally use. Fuck off, are you blind, blind like the white cat on the green ship? Don’t you see you’re interfering where you shouldn’t? Don’t you understand anything at all?

She reached out for Abel, but he stepped back like he had stepped back from Sören Marinke. “Go,” he said. “Your lesson’s more important.”

He didn’t shove her out the door exactly, but he drove her out, with the look in his eyes … and then, when Marinke had joined her in the hallway, he shut the door behind them. The last thing she saw was Micha shyly waving from behind him.

She climbed down the stairs, behind Marinke, without saying a word. It was as if they were one entity all of a sudden, an enemy entity that wasn’t welcome in Abel’s world. Her leaving was a betrayal, and she had seen it in Abel’s eyes: she’d spent half the day with him and Micha, then gotten a one-minute call and left them instantly. A plate of fresh pancakes was standing on a table somewhere, slowly turning cold.

On the ground floor, Mrs. Ketow’s door was slightly ajar. A

“Do you really want to help?” she asked. “I mean … if you do … why don’t you just forget that Michelle Ta

“Because that’s not an acceptable solution,” Marinke said. “You don’t believe that story about the call either, do you?”

A

“I’ll try my best,” Marinke said seriously. “But to do that, I have to find out a few things.” He dug another card out of the pocket of his leather jacket and gave it to A

“Sounds like lines you picked from a cheap detective story,” A

Marinke laughed. “Unfortunately, it’s quite an expensive detective story. My job, I mean. Considering the workload. And … tell your friend that I’m not so easily intimidated. In my job, I’m often in contact with people who are much more dangerous. The bar where they shot Rainer Lierski … you know, the Admiral … I know all the regulars there … unfortunately.”

“Wait,” A

Marinke nodded. “Another client of ours. He disappeared into thin air for a while, but then reappeared, and there were problems right away. I can’t say I’m sad he’s gone.” For the first time, his smile was grim, not friendly. And for the first time, it seemed genuine. He brushed a snowflake from the sleeve of his suede jacket. “In the end, he probably picked a fight with the wrong person.”

“Or with the right one,” A

When she got home, Magnus was waiting in the car with the engine ru

In her dream, he was sitting at a table in the Mittendrin, playing cards with He

“We’re back,” Magnus said, stroking her hair, and she jumped. “A

“Shouldn’t we go in?” A

“No,” Magnus said. “I mean, yes, but in a minute. I’d like to know some things first.” He didn’t look at her; he was staring ahead. “Where were you? Were you where you’ve been spending more time lately? I’ve decided to ask as not asking gets me nowhere …”

“And if I don’t say anything now?”

“A

They sat quietly for a while. A long while. Then A

As she lay in bed, she remembered that her last history test was on Friday. She should have spent today studying. She searched for her notebook and took it back to bed with her. But the words kept ru

She gave up. She found Knaake’s number and called him. It was eight thirty; it should be okay to call a teacher at eight thirty, shouldn’t it? And definitely a lighthouse keeper …

“This is A

“I should,” Knaake answered. He sounded tired, as if he’d had enough of his students for the day and had just sunk into an armchair. She heard music in the background. She knew the tune … she wondered from where. “I need Abel Ta

“Excuse me?”

“His cell phone number. Do you have it?”

“I do, but … hold on … I’ll look … but I have to go upstairs.” The music grew more distant. “Why don’t you have his number? I mean, he’s your boyfriend, isn’t …”

“Jeez,” A