The Stolen by T. S. Learner Read Free Book Online

down which few ventured. A deliberate isolation on Klauser’s behalf, and he and the office had got on comfortably for years. The other detectives on the floor tolerated his eccentricities, out of respect for his age (he was sixty, after all, at least fifteen years older than anyone else) and for his record – which was faultless when it came to solving anything involving imagination and a thoroughly original perspective.
    Later that afternoon, holding a piece of landjäger sausage, Detective Klauser was just reading up on what he’d been able to discover about the von Holindt family, particularly Matthias von Holindt, when the telephone rang.
I’m surprised it’s taken him this long,
he thought, putting the sausage down as he glanced back at the paragraph that described the physicist as both a flute player and an avid Jethro Tull fan.
Nothing like the camaraderie of a fellow fan,
Klauser concluded, cheered by the thought as he waited for the telephone to ring twice more before picking the receiver up.
    â€˜
Grüezi
…’ He deliberately made the greeting sound as colloquial and disrespectful as possible – the boss hated informality.
    â€˜Detective Klauser?’ The nasal voice with its upward inflection had that terse tone of irritation most of the Zürich police department dreaded.
    â€˜Chief Inspector Engels, what an honour to be called personally at my very own office.’ Klauser flicked a crumb of sausage off the desk and adjusted the photograph of his wife and son walking in the Alps – his wife, aged thirty, looked radiantly blonde and his son, aged eight, sullen even then; taken before the divorce, it was one of the only pieces of evidence he had of a happier life, and just then he needed the reminder.
    â€˜It’s not an honour; it’s an inconvenience. I was pulled out of an awards ceremony by a phone call from my good friend Christoph von Holindt, who, I might add, is not a well man.’
    â€˜Indeed?’
    â€˜Don’t play naive with me, Klauser. You’re a maverick and I respect that, except when you step on my toes. No more interrogation of the von Holindt family without consulting me first, do you understand?’
    â€˜Yes, chief inspector, but a man was murdered outside their shopfront —’
    â€˜The victim was a gypsy, a nobody. Besides, I have it on good authority that there was a Kuwaiti sheik in town who was having some difficulty with one of his security who’d gone missing this morning – I suspect he was just out for some target practice.’
    â€˜Have you pulled him in?’
    â€˜A member of my division is questioning him now. I shall keep you informed. Meanwhile – keep away from the von Holindts, Klauser.’
    Klauser smiled into the receiver. ‘Oh, I promise I have been keeping well away, sir.’ It was at least a half-truth.
    â€˜Good, keep staying away, that’s an order.’ The receiver went dead. Klauser put the phone down then picked up his landjäger again – if there had been an incident with foreign security he would have heard of it.
    Â 

    Â 
    It had been plaguing Matthias all through the drive to the laboratory, the equation that had floated into his head in the early hours of the morning. He’d written it down on a piece of paper he’d left by the typewriter in the study but had forgotten to take it to work, and then his father and the visit from the detective had pushed it out of his mind. But it was back, screaming for attention. So he’d got into his car and turned onto the road back to Küsnacht and home, the solution knocking against the forefront of his mind like a forming rhyme at the tip of his tongue, frustratingly just out of reach.
    Â 

    Â 
    The ghost had been at the periphery of Liliane’s vision, smiling and gesturing for her to come with him. He’d sat with her all the way through her geography lesson, then halfway through