In Matto's Realm: A Sergeant Studer Mystery by Friedrich Glauser Read Free Book Online Page A

his arms
over his chest as if to say: I'm here to give information.
There was definitely a similarity between him and Dr
Laduner.
    "And did Pieterlen dance?"
    "No. At first he was looking forward to dancing,
then, suddenly, he refused to. He sat down in a corner
and it was only with great difficulty that we managed to
get him to play the accordion ... for a few dances. He
was in a bad mood - probably because Irma Wasem
hadn't come to the festival."
    Wasem? Studer pricked up his ears.
    "Who is this Fraulein Wasem?" he asked Dr Laduner,
putting on a guileless look. He saw Dr Neuville suddenly pause in the middle of a dance step, balance on
the ball of his foot, wink and grin, while Dr Blumenstein, still standing on one leg like a stork, blushed.
The two ladies stared at the floor.

    Dr Laduner cleared his throat. Jutzeler was about to
answer, but the deputy director cut him short.
    "Pieterlen had been assigned to the decorating
unit," he said in a matter-of-fact voice. "The group's
most recent task was painting the walls in the female 0
Ward, in the course of which Pieterlen fell in love with
Nurse Wasem. It does happen. There are imponderables. . ."
    "Imponderables," said the woman doctor from the
Baltic coast with a sage nod of the head; Dr Neuville
gave an audible snigger.
    "Wasem ... Irma Wasem," said Studer dreamily.
"And did the lassie reciprocate?" As he spoke he subjected his fingernails, which were short and flat, to a
detailed inspection.
    Embarrassed silence. Embarrassed? No, not only
that. Studer sensed that the silence was also intended
to express displeasure: displeasure at the lack of
respect his line of questioning showed. What concern
of a simple detective sergeant were the internal
affairs of a medical establishment, that was what the
silence was meant to express. And the displeasure
that was being expressed was also directed at Dr
Laduner, which was presumably the reason why he
answered.
    "At first certainly ... Definitely ... I was kept
informed..."
    But then Dr Laduner's halting explanation was
interrupted by a squeaky, singsong voice. It was the
senior nurse, Weyrauch, fat, at ease with himself and
the world, his little piggy eyes glinting behind his hornrimmed spectacles, reminding them of his corpulent
presence.
    "With your permission, Herr Dokt'r, I have some
information," he said. "Recently Nurse Wasem has quite often been seen going for a walk with the
Director in the evening-"

    Dr Laduner waved Weyrauch away, so violently that
it looked as if he were being attacked by a swarm of
midges. Studer smiled to himself. A blue card with
schoolgirlish handwriting: I'll give you a ring at ten and
we can go for a strol.
    But Dr Blumenstein, consultant and distant brotherin-law of the Director, said angrily, "That's just
gossip, Weyrauch. You should be ashamed of yourself,
reporting things like that to outsiders."
    The fat man was not so easily embarrassed, however.
He answered with the lack of concern of a man whose
position is much more secure even than that of a consultant. His thick Swiss dialect boomed round the
dormitory, as he laughed and said, "But everyone in
the hospital knew the Director wasn't averse to a kiss
and a cuddle."
    Dr Laduner blinked, but his smiling mask did not
change. Studer took the charcoal drawing with the
chocolate-box girl's face out of his pocket, showed it to
the senior nurse and asked, "Is that Irma Wasem?"
    "I should say so!"
    Turning to Jutzeler, Studer asked, "You answered the
telephone yesterday and called the Director. Who was
it asking for him? I mean, was it a woman's voice?"
    "No, no," said Jutzeler, "it was a man's voice."
    Studer was astounded. "A man's voice?" he asked in
disbelief.
    "Yes. I'm quite certain of it." The staff nurse clearly
felt his word was being doubted.
    Studer thought. There was something wrong there.
He needed to continue his questioning, but it was difficult under these circumstances. When