The Dark Frontier A. Decker (i like reading TXT) 📖

made it plain that he wasn’t keen on having babies just yet. You can’t believe what a shock that was. It made me very depressed to begin with. I even thought of stopping the pill and not telling him. But I couldn’t just trick him like that. So, when I read about donor insemination, we talked a bit about it, and I sold it to him like an insurance policy. Only it was my insurance, in case something happened to him before he could make up his mind.”

“And he was buying this insurance for you, just like that, without any questions?”

“Yes. I was quite surprised. He really took to the idea. Perhaps it appealed to his male vanity having his seed put aside for posterity.”

“He did not feel threatened?” Marthe asked. “I mean, in the end he was selling his power over you.”

“On the contrary, it seemed to come as a great relief. It took the decision out of his hands as far as he was concerned. He appeared so much more relaxed about everything. It was as if he had suddenly been set free. He’s always been terrible about committing himself in any way. I think that was probably his mother’s fault. She was such a domineering bitch, had poor Frank right under her thumb.

“She was constantly going on about how difficult he was as a child. Always talking about imaginary places and people. Always telling wild stories, insisting that he didn’t belong there, that his other home was much different. And he was always having nightmares as well. Maybe it was this that made her lose patience with him. According to Frank, his mother had scolded him for as long as he could remember. For every tiniest little thing. So I suppose he just caved in eventually. Anything for a quiet life. And so he did everything she told him to. Even after we married, he was never allowed to be himself when she was around. It was awful. I felt so sorry for him sometimes. Then so angry and irritated.

“He actually suggested buying a house so she could live with us, although we didn’t even have the money for a down-payment. He put the whole idea across as a business venture, with his mother putting up the capital that would enable us to invest in a more valuable property later. I knew all along she’d put him up to the idea. It had her stamp all over it. Fortunately, Frank realised it would probably mean the end of our marriage, so it never came to anything. But it didn’t stop her moving into a house not far away. She was such a scheming bitch. Still, she was the one to suffer in the end.”

“What do you mean?”

“When she died. It wasn’t long after she moved in. I’ve heard it’s quite common for elderly people to give up the ghost when they suddenly find themselves uprooted from their familiar surroundings and dumped in a strange place where they have no roots. A bit like plants, I suppose.”

Ellen was not sure what part of her rambling response the affirmative nod was intended for, since Marthe’s thoughts were clearly elsewhere:

“That reminds me, Ellen. You have a busy day before you. The police telephoned just before you came to breakfast. They want you to go and see them.”

What reminded her? Ellen wondered. Marthe was not about to elaborate, but poured another cup of tea for her instead. It fascinated Ellen to watch this elegant Swiss woman with whom she had been intimate the night before. Ellen coloured slightly at the memory, while Marthe poured the tea as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her. She had learned a lot of trivialities to accommodate Ellen – even buying a proper teapot to make it as nearly English as she could. It was hard for Ellen to imagine she might be hiding anything from her. But then she recalled what Marthe had told her that night, about Frank confessing to have killed his mother.

“When do they want to see me?” Ellen asked. Already she could feel her heart beginning to race. She sensed it showed in her voice. But Marthe either failed to notice her apprehension or chose to ignore it.

“Whenever you have time. They said there’s no hurry, but if you like I can bring you there later this morning. Then we could have lunch together. There’s a nice restaurant round the corner near the police presidium, overlooking the river. And this afternoon I will drive you to the clinic to see Urs. He wants to talk with you at four-thirty.”

“Why four-thirty?”

“He doesn’t get back from Zurich until four. But he’s blocked his appointment book for the rest of the afternoon so he can talk with you in depth.”

“What are we talking about Marthe? And why the talk of appointment books? He can talk to me when he gets home.”

“You know how correct he is. He thinks it is not ethical to speak about a patient outside the clinic.”

However ordinary and matter-of-fact her manner, Marthe dressed up this announcement in a way that had Ellen firmly hooked on its unspoken mystery. She could not imagine what Dr Zellweger might have to say to her within the cold, scientific walls of his clinic that he could not say in the comfort of his own home. The speculation that grew out of her bafflement kept her mind occupied for the rest of the morning. She tingled with a dark, reluctant curiosity throughout her interview at the police station and was unable to concentrate on all the repetitive well-worn questions they threw at her.

The police had apparently long since abandoned any prospect of Frank returning to his room at the Kolping house and had fetched all his belongings over to the police station. They now wanted her to make a formal identification of the items.

It was the same dour Malcolm lookalike who had accompanied them to the Kolping house. And