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

were flattered when he showed it, for example
by a gentle pinch on the cheek or a little fondle to
express his admiration for the fullness of their curves
... At ten o'clock yesterday evening, for example, our
Herr Direktor was called to the phone during our little
celebration, and he hasn't been seen since. Cherchez la
femme? Perhaps. There would be no real cause for concern if it weren't for the patient, Pieterlen, running off
from his room next to 0 dormitory, leaving behind a
nightwatchman laid out on the floor. Bohnenblust's
his name, he's got a lump the size of an egg on his
forehead, the result of a clash with our freedom-loving
Pieterlen. You'll want to cross-examine him, Bohnenblust I mean. And, as I said, there's one thing you
mustn't forget: the Director liked pretty nurses. But
remember, discretion's the order of the day. Directors
of clinics are taboo: they are little popes, and therefore
condemned to infallibility."
    "Ernst!" Fran Laduner admonished her husband
again, but then she had to laugh. "He has such a comical way of putting things," she said apologetically.
    That wasn't true. Dr Laduner's way of putting things
wasn't comical at all. And his wife's remark was a feint
too; she must have realized his jokey tone sounded false. She wasn't stupid, Fran Doktor Laduner, he
could see that. Also, the fact that the word "comical"
wasn't usual in the Swiss dialect confirmed his impression that something wasn't quite right. But what? It was
too early for deductions. Perhaps Dr Laduner's advice
that he should settle in first, get to know the place, was
genuine. He could ask harmless questions, which
would at least help him to familiarize himself with the
atmosphere in which he was going to be operating.

    "You mentioned a harvest festival, Herr Doktor.
What was that? I mean, I know what a harvest festival is,
but I find it difficult to imagine that in an institution
like this. . ."
    "We have to keep the patients occupied. The clinic
has a large farm attached, and when the corn has been
gathered in ("the corn has been gathered in!" thought
Studer. The way the fellow talks!) we have a celebration. There's a chapel here; it's normally just used for
the Sunday sermon, but for festivals tables are set up
with ham and potato salad. There's music, the patients
dance, men and women together, the nurses are there,
male and female, the Director makes a speech, tea is
served, sexual tensions worked off ... Yes ... We had
our harvest festival yesterday, 1 September. The dignitaries, that is the Director, the hospital manager and
wife, Dr Laduner and wife, the farm manager, no wife,
and the other doctors, were all sitting up on the stage -
our chapel has a stage as well - watching the dancing.
Pieterlen was there too, he provided the music, he gets
a good tango or waltz out of his accordion. At ten
Jutzeler-"
    "Who's this Jutzeler?" Studer asked, taking out his
notebook. "You'll have to excuse me, Herr Doktor, but
I haven't got a very good memory for names. I have to
get things down in my notebook."

    "Sure-ly," said Dr Laduner, glancing impatiently at
his watch and yawning. Fran Laduner started to clear
the table.
    "That means," said Studer, speaking in measured
tones, well aware that he was putting on a bit of an act,
but this seemed the right thing to do for the moment,
"that the people connected with the case are: Borstli,
Ulrich: Director - disappeared.
    Pieterlen ... er, what's Pieterlen's first name?"
    "Peter - or Pierre, if you prefer, he's originally from
Biel," Dr Laduner replied patiently.
    "Pieterlen, Peter: patient - run away," Studer
dictated slowly to himself, writing it down.
    "Dr Laduner, Ernst: consultant, deputy director!"
    "I don't need to write him down, I know him
already," said Studer dryly, ignoring the little dig.
"Then we have the nightwatchman..."
    And Studer wrote: Bohnenblust, Werner: nightwatchman, dormitory in 0 Ward.
    "Another one for you to