Self's Murder Read Online Free PDF

the room. Manu’s eyes followed her. After a few moments he got up, too, and went to the door. He looked back at me, shrugged his shoulders, and grinned. “Women!” Later, when Manu and Turbo had fallen asleep in front of the TV, we tucked Manu in and went off to bed, where we lay next to each other, lost in thought. Why had Welker hired me? Because he had murdered his wife on account of the money, and was now worried that a descendant of the silent partner might demand his share? Was he more worried about this than he had admitted? But why hadn’t he sent Schuler in search of the silent partner? For that matter, why hadn’t he sent me to Schuler? I could not imagine that Schuler and the archive had just slipped his mind, nor could I imagine that all this had to do with his writing the history of the bank. But it didn’t really make sense, either, that he’d have killed his wife. Does one murder one’s wife and then hire a private investigator, someone who’s notoriously inquisitive and wary, a regular snoop? Then I thought about the conversation we’d had at dinner and laughed.
    “Why are you laughing?”
    “You’re a wonderful woman.”
    “Are you about to propose?”
    “An old fool like me?”
    “Come here, you old fool.”
    She turned toward me and in her arms I felt as if I were being washed over by big waves, then soft ones, and then a calm sea.
    I felt her tears as she nestled up to me to go to sleep.
    “Things will work out just fine with Manu,” I whispered. “You’ll see.”
    “I know,” she whispered back. “And you? Your case?”
    I decided not to go to my old friend, Chief Inspector Nägelsbach, nor to look into Frau Welker’s death, nor to go looking for the father Welker had mentioned—and who, since Welker’s father was dead, would have to be old Herr Weller. I decided not to look into how the bank had recovered financially and what its current situation was. I would leave all that and, following the correct procedure for a fair-and-square private investigator, inform my client of the progress of my investigation and ask if he wanted me to follow the Strasbourg lead.
    “My case? I think I can handle it.”
    But she was already asleep.
     
     
     

— 9 —
     
An ongoing process
     
     
    A t first the fact that I couldn’t reach Welker didn’t get on my nerves. I was invariably told, pleasantly enough, that he was in conference. Would I not like to speak to Herr Samarin instead? The following morning the friendly woman’s voice informed me that Herr Welker would be out of the office all day, but that I was welcome to try him again tomorrow—though she could put me through to Herr Samarin, if I liked. She renewed the offer the following day, and informed me regretfully that Herr Welker was still out of the office and wouldn’t be back till later.
    “When?”
    “I couldn’t say. But Herr Samarin might know. One moment, please.”
    “Hello, Herr Self? How’s your investigation coming along?”
    Though his accent came across stronger on the phone, I still could not place it.
    “It’s coming along fine. When’s your boss due back?”
    “We were expecting him yesterday and think he’ll be in today. Not that I can guarantee it; he might not be in till tomorrow. I suggest you call back next week. Unless I can be of service?”
    Later I got a call from Schuler, who was irate and fuming. “What did you tell Bertram Welker about me?”
    “Not a word. I didn’t even get to—”
    “Then may I ask why Gregor Samarin, his damn lackey, wouldn’t let me see him? I was Gregor’s teacher, too, and he was my pupil, even if quite a stubborn one. How dare he tell me in that tone that he knows everything and that he doesn’t need me, and Bertram doesn’t need me, either?”
    “Herr Welker has been out of the office for the past few days. Why—”
    “Balderdash! I saw Bertram and Gregor pulling up in their car when I got there. I don’t know if Bertram recognized me. I don’t