Art of Murder by José Carlos Somoza Read Free Book Online Page A

that.
    'There's also the possibility that Diaz is not to blame for this,' Bosch added, as though wanting to play the devil's advocate against his own theory. 'And if that's the case, we have to ask ourselves why he's disappeared.'
    Braun waved his hand dismissively as if that kind of question was not Bosch's concern.
    'That's as may be,' he said, 'but as long as we have no proof to the contrary, we'll have to consider Diaz as our prime suspect.'
     
    'What does the press know?' Miss Wood asked. 'As you requested, we have not given out the identity of the young girl.'
    'What about Diaz?'
     
    'We have not made his identity public, but we've set up controls at Schwechat airport, the train stations and at our frontiers. We have to take into account though that today is Friday, and we only received the information yesterday. The guy had more than a day to slip abroad.'
    Miss Wood and Bosch nodded their agreement. They had been thinking along the same lines. In fact, they had swung into action much quicker than the Austrian police: Bosch was aware that ten different security teams were already scouring Europe for Diaz. Still, they needed the national police's help: this was no time to spare any effort.
    'As far as the victim's family goes ...' Braun said, casting a nervous glance at Bosch.
    'She only had a mother, but she's away on a trip. We've asked permission to inform her personally. By the way, we can keep the photos and the tape, can't we?'
    'Of course. They're copies for you.'
    'Thanks. More coffee?'
    Braun paused before replying. He had been gazing at the maid who had just crept silently into the room. It was the dark-haired girl with the long red dress and the silver coffee pot who had served him earlier. While there was nothing particularly unusual or beautiful about her features, there was something about her that Braun could not define. The way she moved, what seemed like a rhythm she had learned, the subtle gestures of a secret dancer. Braun knew about human utensils and ornaments. He also knew they were banned, but this girl stayed within the limits of the strictly legal. There was nothing criminal about her appearance or movements, and everything Braun imagined while looking at her could well have been simply in his own mind. He said yes to more coffee, and watched as the girl poured the dense, steaming jet of Viennese mokka into his cup. As before, he was convinced she was barefoot, but the length of her dress and the darkness of the room meant he could not be sure. She too gave off waves of perfume.
    Neither Bosch nor Miss Wood wanted more coffee. The maid turned to leave, her long skirt making a swooshing sound as she did so. The door opened and closed. Braun sat for a moment staring after her. Then he blinked and came back to reality.
    'We are very pleased to be able to count on the cooperation of the Austrian police, Detective Braun,' Bosch was saying. He had gathered together all the photos on the table (a red lacquer swirl in the shape of a painter's palette) and was taking the tape out of the recorder.
    'I am simply doing my duty,' Braun said. 'My superiors told me to come to the museum to keep you informed, and that is what I've done.'
    'We can perfectly understand you must think the situation is somewhat anomalous.'
    '"Anomalous" is putting it mildly ’ Braun said with a smile, trying to make his words sound as cynical as possible. 'First of all, our department does not normally keep information from the press about the activities of a possible psychopath. Tomorrow another young girl could turn up dead in the wood, and we would have a serious problem on our hands.'
    'I understand,' Bosch agreed.
    'Secondly, the fact that we have revealed details of our investigation to individuals such as yourselves is also uncommon for the police, in this country at le ast. We are not used to collabo rating with private security companies, especially to this extent.'
    Further agreement.
    'But ...' Braun spread his hands