Max had thought the opposite, that for a man with the mental capac-
ity of a ten-year-old, who was taking care of himself, everything was quite as it should be. He nodded, nevertheless. “Well, more or less. He takes care of everything himself. I do his laundry, but he never changes when he should. Every now and then I mop through a little or clean his windows. Shopping, we do that together quite often. I tell him that I need him to help me carry my stuff and then I make sure that he buys some proper food for himself. He can’t cook, of course, but I bring him a plate of hot food every now and then, or he comes over for a meal.”
Max’s response was genuine. “That’s really nice how you care for
him, Frau Meyer.”
“Well, you know, I promised his mother. She didn’t have it easy
with the boy, and she was so worried what would happen to him once
she was no longer around. He doesn’t have anyone else.” By now, she
had released the security chain and had come out to the staircase. She 173
Maria C. Poets
was wearing a light, patterned summer dress and sandals and appeared to be a very lively person. “Who knows, otherwise the boy might have to be institutionalized, you know.”
“So are you his official caretaker?”
“Me?” The woman put a hand on her chest. “God forbid. No, we
arranged that between us, Niels and I. When he gets mail from social services or whatever, he comes to me.” Then she frowned. “But what
happened? You don’t just get a cut. Was he attacked?”
Max nodded slowly. “Something like that. But as I said, it’s noth-
ing serious.” He smiled and asked, “Have you seen Herr Hinrichsen
lately?”
Frau Meyer put a hand on her chin and wrinkled her brow.
“Yesterday . . . was Monday. I was at the cemetery. And afterward, I walked around at the Aldi. I didn’t see him. Sunday. It was Sunday I saw Niels last. He came over for lunch—roast pork. You know, we both love that.”
“Did you notice anything unusual? Was Herr Hinrichsen
maybe . . . nervous? Or did he tell you anything?”
“What do you mean?” The woman’s eyes got big. “You don’t mean
about the dead man they found . . .” She put a hand over her mouth.
“No way. No. You think Niels has something to do with the dead man?
No, I’d never believe that, as long as I live.”
The poor woman was quite beside herself.
“Was Herr Hinrichsen in any way different on Sunday?” Max
asked patiently. “Or did he behave differently the days before, if you saw him then?”
Frau Meyer was continuously shaking her head, less in a gesture
of denial than one of disbelief. “No, he acted as always.” She looked at the door that Max had just closed. “Maybe he was a little excited, but I thought that was because of the horses.”
Max gave her an astonished look. “Horses?”
174
Dead Woods
“Yes, the horses they have in the forest now, to help with the
logging, I guess. The new forest ranger introduced that, the young
know-it-all,” she added as explanation when Max still looked at her
questioningly. “That was something new for Niels, and so he was quite excited when he saw the animals for the first time.”
Max remembered the two horses he had seen in the forest the day
before. Niels Hinrichsen hadn’t seemed all that excited, but then again, he didn’t know the man. “So did he talk about the horses on Sunday?”
Frau Meyer reflected. “No, he didn’t, really. I noticed that he was
very antsy, though. He could hardly sit still and wanted to go out into the woods again right away. And so I thought he wanted to look for
the horses; even though they most likely wouldn’t work on a Sunday.”
Max nodded pensively, thanked her, and said good-bye. He had
already turned away when the woman called after him, asking which
hospital Niels Hinrichsen was in.
“In Eppendorf.”
“Eppendorf!” She said it as if only hopeless cases ended up at the
university hospital and as if, by being sent there, a death sentence had been levied on Niels Hinrichsen.
175
Chapter 13
On Wednesday morning, at ten after eight, Lina Svenson sat at her
desk and yawned. She held on to her second cup of coffee and watched the computer come alive. Sometimes she wished she could also be
switched on by the touch of a button. But then she’d need someone
to press the button and she absolutely hated the idea of somebody else deciding when she should wake up.