Silence Read Online Free PDF Page B

year. The sun, pleasantly warm, still had the mildness of spring. She ordered a cappuccino and tried to bring some order to this new information.
    Wilhelm Peters had not been killed in the war. Why had Friedhelm Lubisch served up this story to his son, and, above all, how had he really come by the papers? And if Wilhelm Peters didn’t go missing until five years after the war, then it must be . . .
    She finished her cappuccino hurriedly, paid, and rode out into Waldstrasse.
    When she entered the police station, two officers were sitting at their desks behind a counter. A portly man in his late forties, with prematurely thinning hair, came over to her.
    Rita introduced herself, took out the printouts from the residents’ registration office, and laid them on the counter. She came straight to the point.
    “I’m a journalist, you see, and I’m researching a missing-persons case from the year 1950. Wilhelm Peters is the name. He lived in the Höver cottage with his wife and was reported missing here in Kranenburg. His wife disappeared a few months later.”
    “The year 1950,” said the man sonorously, having thoroughly examined the printouts in silence. He looked up and added laconically: “That’s when I was born.” He did not stir from the spot.
    Rita took a deep breath. “Look, I’m not assuming you worked on the case back then. I’d just like to know where I can inspect the files.”
    The younger policeman at the desk seemed to be following the conversation with amusement.
    “In the archives,” said the fat one at length, in his rather ponderous way. “But first there would have to be a search, and that takes time.”
    “Oh, I’ll wait.” Rita smiled broadly. “I have time.”
    The younger policeman leaned over his desk to hide his grin. The older one examined her with his small brown eyes, as if she were some rare beast.
    “You don’t have that much time,” he said, “or have you brought food with you?”
    At this the man at the desk spluttered with laughter. This did not bother the fat one, who looked steadily at Rita as the other one left the room.
    “Look, your archives can’t be that big, and if they’re arranged by year . . . I mean, I could help you.”
    “I see. You want to help,” he said, again in his ponderous way, and Rita grew more and more annoyed. Was this fellow making fun of her joking, or was this just the way he was? And if he searched the way he spoke, then maybe the comment about food wasn’t such a joke after all.
    He glanced to his left across the counter and pointed at the clock hanging there. “Midday soon.”
    Rita was about to explode, when the young man came back in and said to his colleague, “They have them.”
    The fat one nodded with satisfaction. “You see? Order is half of life. We’ve investigated the matter.” He stretched out the word in-ves-ti-gat-ed , emphasizing every syllable. “The archives are in Kleve, and the files are available.”
    Half an hour later, she swapped her bicycle for her runabout and drove to Kleve. They had been notified. She had to identify herself and was allowed to view the files marked “Disappearance of Wilhelm Peters.”
    Rita read and took notes.
    Wilhelm Peters’s wife reported him missing on Tuesday, August 15, 1950. They had been at the Marksmen’s Fair in Kranenburg together on Saturday, August 12. Therese Peters had left the tent early; her husband had stayed behind. Since he usually made the most of such events by staying to the end, she had thought nothing of it when he did not come home on Sunday. She assumed he had been celebrating all night. It was not until Monday morning that she went back to the tent, expecting to find her husband having a morning drink. She did not find him, and she waited out the rest of the day. Wilhelm Peters worked in the planning department; he had taken Monday off and should have been back at work on Tuesday. As far as his job was concerned, he was reliable. On August 15, 1950,