In Matto's Realm: A Sergeant Studer Mystery (20 page)

Studer nodded silently. He was listening to the
murmur of voices from the neighbouring room. A
deep bass boomed on and on, almost without interruption; Dr Laduner's voice was hardly heard at all.

Frau Laduner played with her pince-nez and stared
morosely at the tablecloth.

Analysis? Childhood experiences? It wasn't quite
what Studer had imagined was involved from what
he'd read in the book he'd borrowed from his lawyer
friend, Munch. And Colonel Caplaun? What had he
been doing recently, the man the chief of police would
most like to see in Thorberg Prison? There had
been talk of deals involving the export of cattle, the
Volksbank. But no one had ever been able to pin the Colonel down. And now he was in the next room, his
bass voice getting louder and louder. Some words
could even be understood: " . . . irresponsible
behaviour ... police ..." Then the door was flung
open.

A white patriarchal beard, skin unhealthily pale and,
right in the middle of his face, a nose like a red pepper
with lots of lumps and bumps. A mouth, hidden in the
tangle of beard, opened and bawled, "You there ...
yes, I mean you ... You're a representative of the
police, or so I've been told. I need your support. This
gentleman's behaviour is absolutely unacceptable.
Come with me."

Studer had nothing against people addressing him,
as Caplaun had just done, in formal German; or they
could be as coarse as they liked - he just shrugged his
shoulders; the Chief of Police could swear and curse at
him - Studer said nothing, just grinned a little grin to
himself maybe. But if there was one thing that got his
back up and really made him angry, furious, it was
someone addressing him as "You there ... yes, I mean
you." Then he could become a dangerous customer.

He stood up and placed his hands on the tablecloth.
No one would have taken him for a simple detective
sergeant as, politely, in a quiet voice, and speaking
formal German, he asked, "With whom do I have the
pleasure ?"

The Colonel with the patriarch's beard was clearly
no fool. He immediately realized he had adopted the
wrong tone and switched to a sonorous, soothing bass.

"But, Sergeant - what was your name? - Studer,
that's right, Studer. Well, Sergeant Studer, I'm an old
friend of your boss, the chief of police, and he's always praising you. `That Studer,' he says, `he's one of my
best detectives."'

Strangely, Studer didn't even smile. So Herr
Caplaun had completely forgotten the chief inspector
of the Bern city police whose career he had destroyed.
Of course, the Colonel had other, more important
things to think about. What was a little policeman
when you were dealing with financial restructurings,
the cheesemakers' consortium etc, etc.

" ... one of my best detectives.' And you're in
charge of the investigation here, so the porter tells me.
Then I'm sure you won't refuse me. My son, Sergeant,
my son has disappeared."

"That can't be true," said Studer, genuinely surprised. Only yesterday afternoon Herbert Caplaun had
been lying on the couch, the tears rolling down his
cheeks. And today he was supposed to have
disappeared?

"Can't we discuss the matter quietly?" boomed the
deep bass. "Come along with me, Sergeant, we'll go
down to the village together, I have to get the train
pretty soon . . ." - the typical gesture of the busy man
taking his watch out of his waistcoat pocket - "but I still
have some time. We can decide what steps are to be
taken. I will be reassured if I can count on your
support. A father's heart, you know ... Ah, good
afternoon, Frau Doktor."

Only now did Caplaun seem to register the presence
of Frau Laduner. He bowed, a stiff bow. Frau Laduner
said nothing, just nodded.

"Well then, as I said, Sergeant, will you come with
me?"

A pause.

Studer looked at Frau Laduner, who had put on her
pince-nez and was herself looking at the sergeant. She had screwed up her eyes slightly, creasing the skin
round the bridge of her nose.

Plaisir d'amour ne dure qu'un moment ...

She had a nice alto voice, Fran Laduner, and she
stuck by her husband ...

"Well?" the Colonel asked.

"I think it would be appropriate," Studer said, "if the
doctor treating the patient were present at our discussion. If he should deem it desirable that your son's
whereabouts should remain concealed from you for
the moment then . . ." Studer completed the sentence
with a gesture as if to say "I can do nothing about it."

"Appropriate? What insolence!" the bass voice
exclaimed in deepest outrage. Fran Laduner smiled,
and the smile suited her so well that Studer would have
liked to take her hand and pat it -just to soothe her
nerves, of course. He did nothing of the kind, however.
Instead he said in a matter-of-fact voice, "If you would
..." gesturing towards the open door to the study.
Colonel Caplaun shrugged and went in. Studer followed him. Dr Laduner was sitting on the edge of the
desk, his silhouette slim against the bright white of the
window.

He stood up, waved them to two armchairs and sat
down on the couch.

Studer's eyes went back and forward from one man
to the other.

What a contrast!

One, in his light-coloured flannel suit, had crossed
his left leg over his clasped hands, which were resting
on his right thigh. The loosely knotted tie between the
points of his unstarched collar was cornflower blue.
The other was leaning back in his armchair, his hairy hands resting on the arms and his head turned towards
Studer, allowing him a view of the stiff detachable collar with a small black bow tie. He was wearing a dark
cutaway and dark trousers with no crease and no turnups above his black lace-up shoes. The similarity to the
late Director was unmistakable.

The Colonel addressed his remarks exclusively to
the sergeant.

"When, like me, one can look back on a life spent in
the service of the common good, when, like me, one
can say with a clear conscience that one has spared no
sacrifice, however great, to lead one's only son onto
the right path, when, like me, one has grown old with
one's reputation untarnished, only to have to look on
as the name one bears is dragged through the mud by
a son who has gone to the bad, then one cannot protest too strongly when a doctor, a psychiatrist, sides
with that son against his father ..."

Studer made a face as if he had toothache. Dr
Laduner leant forward to say something, then
changed his mind, took his hands out from between
his crossed legs and lit a cigarette. Colonel Caplaun
took out a leather case; the lighting of the cigar was
a solemn ritual. Studer lit one of his Brissagos. The
temperature in the room seemed close to freezing.

"I agreed to allow my son," said Colonel Caplaun,
"who has given me nothing but trouble, whose
thoughtless behaviour sent his mother to an early
grave, whose depravity has caused me nothing but
worry for twenty-five years -"

"To understand all this properly, Studer, there are
two things you need to know: Herbert's mother died
when he was six, that's one. The other is that Herbert
is now twenty-nine. For twenty-five years, the Colonel
says ..."

"I will not tolerate ironical remarks," the Colonel
barked angrily.

Laduner said nothing.

"It was Dr Laduner who came to me and begged me
to let him treat my son - to analyse him, as he put it."
Caplaun pronounced "analyse" as if it had six pairs of
quotation marks round it. "He promised to take full
responsibility for my son and thus relieve me of a burden. Initially a brief stay in the clinic was necessary.
I would have wished it to be longer, but since Herr
Doktor Laduner was willing to assume responsibility, I
raised no objection. But how did he administer that
responsibility? My son is an alcoholic, Sergeant,
though it pains me as his father to have to say so; he
does not take after anyone else in the family, at home
he always had a shining example before his eyes ..."

Studer's eyes were so obviously fixed on the burgeoning red pepper of a nose that the Colonel could
not very well ignore it. He cleared his throat and said,
in a noticeably less declamatory tone, apologetically,
in fact, pointing at his nose, "It's a skin disease."

"Sure-ly," Dr Laduner said, a deadly earnest
expression on his face.

"Hm-hmm," said the Colonel, pulling on his cigar.
He grimaced, as if the smoke was bitter. "What I was
going to say was that my son Herbert gave his word that
for the duration of the `analysis' he would work in a
market garden here in Randlingen, keep off alcohol
and be conscientious in his attendance at the ... errm
... analysis. He promised me on his honour, even
though he has often abused my trust ... very often ...
And what do I hear when I come to Randlingen to visit
my son? That he gave up his room a week ago and only
appears at work occasionally. Nobody knows where
he is living and Dr Laduner refuses to reveal his whereabouts. And when I turned to him in my distress,
such as only a loving father can know, what does Herr
Doktor Laduner say? What does he have the insolence
to_

"That it is unnecessary to get worked up, since it is I
who bear the responsibility."

"Is that an answer, Herr Studer, is that an answer? At
the same time you must remember that some odd
things have been going on in Randlingen Clinic. The
Director - an old friend of mine, who at one point
confided in me his doubts, arising from his many years
of experience, about Dr Laduner's modern methods
of treatment - the Director is dead. What was the cause
of death? That is a mystery you are better qualified to
clear up than I, but my assumption was that this new
situation would mean that Dr Laduner would no
longer have the time he would like to devote to my son.
I therefore came to offer to take a share of the
responsibility, to hold out an olive branch ... And
what is the answer I get from Herr Doktor Laduner?"

Poor Herbert Caplaun, thought Studer; with a
father like that, it wasn't surprising he couldn't cope
with life. He was seized with pity for the wretched lad.

"And what is the answer I get from Herr Doktor
Laduner? Would I please not come charging in, disrupting the course of treatment that was going so well.
I ask you, what does this treatment consist of, this
`analysis'? My reprobate of a son telling outrageous lies
about his father - you can believe me, I've made
enquiries, of the experts - pretending to be a martyr
... And all this with the specific permission of his
psychiatrist!"

"Might I point out, Colonel, that I am acting director here and my time is limited." This with a glance
at his watch.

"Oh yes, I will come to the point. I have just one
question for Sergeant Studer. Is it his intention to
carry out a conscientious investigation into the circumstances surrounding the mysterious death of the
longstanding director of this clinic, my friend Ulrich
Borstli, or is he going to allow himself to be so influenced by Herr Doktor Laduner, the acting director" -
those two words in a particularly venomous tone -
"that his investigation will amount to little more than a
cover-up? Or is he determined to report the truth, to
the best of his knowledge and belief. . ."

A pause. Something seemed just to have occurred to
the Colonel. He leant forward and scrutinized Studer
with his large, red-rimmed eyes - the iris was an
unpleasant blue, like a Siamese cat's - then nodded, as
if something had been confirmed, and went on in a
soft voice, keeping his eyes fixed on the sergeant:

"I remember you now, Sergeant Studer. You suffered
a grave injustice. But there were such important interests at stake that I could not act in any other way ...
Can we come to an agreement? I see to it that you're
given leave and you look for my son, whose whereabouts a certain psychiatrist refuses to divulge. Do that
and you will bring comfort to the heart of a grieving
father. I will get someone else to take over the investigation here - is it proper, by the way, for you to be
staying with a doctor who is involved in the case? -
someone impartial. If you succeed in finding my son, I
will do my utmost to make your future as smooth as
possible. I am not without influence, as you well know"
- his right hand grasped his beard around his chin and
let it gently slide through his fingers - "so you can rest
assured ... Well?"

Silence. An expectant silence. Dr Laduner stared
fixedly at his knees. Studer sighed. The answer wasn't that simple. This lunatic-asylum case was a tricky business, wouldn't it be better to keep well away from it?
Feelings! You got nowhere with feelings, even if they
did have their attractions, such as being the elder
brother trying to protect the baby of the family. Once
his feelings had cost him dear because he had got on
the wrong side of the Colonel. Start from scratch
again? At fifty? It needed thinking over at the very
least. Studer took a deep pull on his Brissago and kept
the smoke in his mouth a long time, only letting it out
when he was forced to.