In Matto's Realm: A Sergeant Studer Mystery Read Free Page A

die here, when he
heard the voice with the pleasantly deep tone and
homely Swiss accent.

    "Herr Studer, are you ready for breakfast?"
    "Coming, Fran Doktor, coming."
    The dining room was filled with the morning sun,
the cool light flooding in through a large window that
almost came down to the floor. A brightly coloured
woollen cosy sat on the coffee pot. Honey, butter,
bread, the red rind of an Edam cheese under a glasscovered cheeseboard. The walls were dark green.
From the ceiling hung a lampshade that looked like a
gold brocade crinoline for a little girl.
    Fran Laduner was wearing a light-coloured linen
dress. She opened the door to the neighbouring room.
"Ernst!" she shouted. The reply was an impatient
grumble, then the creak and screech of a chair being
pushed back.
    "Right then," said Dr Laduner. He was suddenly sitting at the table. You couldn't really keep tabs on his
comings and goings, he moved so quickly and silently.
"Well, Greti, how do you like our Studer?"
    "Not bad," his wife replied. "He's got a soft heart, he
can't stand children crying. Apart from that, he's a
quiet one, you hardly hear him. But I'll have to have a
closer look at this Herr Studer."
    She took a pince-nez out of a case lying beside her
plate, clamped it onto the bridge of her nose and scrutinized Studer with a faint smile on her lips, her forehead slightly wrinkled.
    Yes, she continued after awhile, it was just as she had
thought. Herr Studer didn't look like a cop at all, Ernst
had been quite right to bring him. "And please, Herr
Studer, do help yourself. Eggs? Bread?"

    "Sure-ly," said Dr Laduner. "And I think it was very
sensible of me to ask specifically for Studer." He
cracked the top of his boiled egg with a silver
teaspoon.
    Fried eggs appeared on Studer's plate, with
browned butter poured over them. Then there was a
strange little incident. Dr Laduner suddenly looked
up, grasped the bread basket in his right hand, the
hexagonal salt cellar in his left, and held them out to
the sergeant, saying softly - it sounded like a question
- "Bread and salt. Will you take bread and salt,
Studer?" As he spoke he looked the sergeant straight
in the eye and the smile had gone from his lips.
    "Yes ... with pleasure ... merci . . ." Studer was
somewhat confused. He took one of the slices of bread
and sprinkled salt over the fried eggs on his plate.
Then Dr Laduner took a piece of bread and let some
of the white grains trickle onto his egg, murmuring as
he did so, "Bread and salt ... the guest enjoys the sacred protection of hospitality."
    The smiling mask reappeared round his mouth and
it was with a different voice that he said, "I haven't told
you anything about our vanished director yet. His
name was Borstli, as I presume you already know, first
name Ulrich. Ueli, a nice name - and that's what the
ladies called him."
    "Ernst!" said Fran Laduner in reproachful tones.
    "What's the objection, Greti? That's not a judgment,
it's a plain statement of fact. Anyway, every evening, at
six on the dot, the Director used to go to the village to
see his friend Fehlbaum, the butcher and landlord of
the Bear, one of the pillars of the Agrarian Party. Once
there he would have a half-pint carafe of white wine,
sometimes two, now and then three. Twice a month he
would have one too many and get drunk, but not so's you'd notice. He used to wear a large loden cape and a
black broad-brimmed hat, the kind you see artists
wearing. He was usually the one who wrote the reports
on the chronic alcoholics, by the way; he was certainly
very competent in that field ... Though that's not
quite true. He'd start writing them, the reports that is,
but then he'd get bored and I was allowed to finish
them off. I didn't mind, I got on well with the Director.

    "You must excuse me, Studer, if I don't seem to be
treating the matter with proper seriousness. You see,
the Director had a penchant for pretty nurses, and the
lassies