Self's deception - By Bernhard Schlink & Peter Constantine Page 0,47
would have been too dangerous to try to get in touch with their friends.”
I reminded her that two casualties had been announced. “And they're only searching for the three of you, even though five took part in the attack.”
“Three of us? That's me in one of the pictures, but I don't know who the other two are.” She immersed herself in the Bote vom Untermain newspaper. “Take a good look at that guy,” she said, pointing at one of the two men whose pictures were next to hers. “Something about him reminds me of Helmut. It's not him, but he reminds me of him. Weird, isn't it?”
She was right. There was a vague similarity. Or does every picture start to resemble somebody if one looks at it long enough? Also, some of the features of the second of the two men suddenly seemed familiar.
Somewhere in the Jura Mountains, she asked me if Rolf Wendt's death could not have been an accident.
“Are you worried Helmut might have killed him?”
“I can't imagine anyone killing Rolf. I'd swear Rolf didn't have any what you would call enemies. He was far too cautious to lock horns with anyone. He was clever that way: He could always fend off a person and deflect tricky situations. I saw him do it a couple of times, both at the hospital and outside. Are you sure it couldn't have been been an accident?”
I shook my head. “He was shot. You don't know where Helmut and Rolf knew each other from?”
“It was only that once at the Weinloch Bar that I was with the two of them, and they only said a quick hi. I didn't ask Helmut or Rolf how they knew each other. At the hospital I told Rolf about Helmut—Rolf was my therapist and stuck to protocol as closely as possible. Of course he didn't always stick to protocol, but if he hadn't treated me as a regular patient, I'd have been exposed.”
“Eberlein said something about… something about a depressive veneer, but that deep inside you were a cheerful girl.”
“I am a cheerful girl, inside and out. When I feel fear coming on, I say 'Hello, fear!' and let it do its thing for a while, but I don't let it get the better of me.”
“Fear of what?”
“Don't you ever have that feeling? It's not a fear that something bad will happen, but just like when you have a fever, or when you feel cold, or sick.” She looked at me. “No, you don't ever have that feeling, do you? But I think Rolf did. He didn't get it just from his patients or from books. That's why he could help me a lot.”
“Was he in love with you?”
She took her feet off the dashboard and sat up straight. “I'm not really sure.”
I don't believe women when they say that they're not sure if they're attractive. Leo was sitting next to me in her jeans and a man's checked shirt, but I felt the woman in her voice, in her scent—even in the nervous movements with which she rolled her cigarettes. And she didn't know if Rolf Wendt was in love with her?
She could tell I didn't believe her. “OK, so he was in love with me. I didn't want to face up to it; I had a bad conscience. He'd done so much for me and got nothing in return, didn't even expect anything, but I'm sure he hoped I'd fall in love with him.”
“What about Helmut?”
She looked at me puzzled.
“Is he in love with you? Why is he so eager to know where you are? Ten thousand marks is a lot of money.”
“Oh.” She blushed and turned her face to the window. “Does it surprise you that he wants to know where I am? He was my leader, was in charge of me, and then lost me.”
34
Angels don't shoot at cats
That evening we sat in Murten, above the lake. From the terrace of the Hotel Krone we watched the late sailboats. In the evening lull they slowly made their way back into the harbor. The last steamer from Neuenburg forged past them with majesty, as if to prove the superiority of technology over nature. The sun set behind the mountains on the opposite shore.
“I'll go get my sweater.” Leo got up and stayed away a long time. The waiter brought me a second aperitif. Silence rose from the lake and swallowed the buzz of voices behind me. I turned around just as Leo came