The Bone Man Read Free Page A

thinking to himself:
here’s a place where you can really walk, and what would be the harm if I were to stay a few days
.
    It wasn’t quite as isolated as it had first seemed. Because he’d been hearing some kind of din for the longest time now. At first he thought:
imagination
. Because it sounded almost like there was a soccer stadium just beyond the hills of the vineyard, like a hurricane of thousands of sports fans. And what can I say, beyond the hills there truly was a soccer stadium, and indeed, afew thousand spectators on wooden bleachers—so many that you might think they’d collapse any second now, and the entire town of Klöch, wiped out in an instant.
    It was only when Brenner read the poster by the ticket stand that he understood how a team from a backwater like Klöch could have so many fans.
    Because, needless to say, a Cup’s a Cup. And the team from Klöch had drawn a Division II team from Oberwart—and Klöch usually plays five classes lower. So the Cup’s the big chance for the little ones, every minor-league team believes it—today we’re going to toss Goliath right out of that Cup. Practically biblical wrath.
    Now, these games tend to be a little on the brutal side, of course. Because when the little ones catch a whiff of a chance, well, no telling what they’ll do. This applies not just to soccer. It’s often true for small countries, too, that they enjoy getting a little bloodthirsty if the opportunity’s convenient. Now, I don’t mean Austrians specifically—more of a general consideration.
    And the Klöch soccer field was a bit of a madhouse now, because, right before the end of the game—and just as Brenner got there—still zero to zero. Two, three Klöch players were lying on the grass with leg cramps because—way out of their league, of course. Up, up and the game’s back on! And the stars of the Oberwart team, one shot after another at Klöch’s goal. But the goalkeeper—you wouldn’t believe it. I’ll just say: magician. And even that’s an understatement.
    Then, a foul called on a Klöch defender—and you could just hear the bones cracking. When the referee suspended the Klöch defender, the crowd was about ready to hang the ref. But police on the ground—thank god, you’ve got to admit—andthe dog handlers were immediately deployed. The crowd was scared shitless by the sight of the German shepherds—and so the referee wouldn’t be hanged after all.
    After the extra time, the score still stood at zero to zero. So, needless to say, penalty kicks. The Oberwart team had a former striker from the national team playing for them, so he took the first penalty kick, of course. Right at the crossbar. Doesn’t get more beautiful than that. But Klöch’s goalkeeper—even more beautiful—he swatted the ball right out.
    Why should I draw it out? The Klöch underdogs converted every penalty kick and threw Oberwart out of the Cup. Needless to say, a euphoria like that is infectious. And so it was that Brenner found himself in a completely different mood on the way home than he’d been on the way there. And you’d like to think that a person digests better under euphoric conditions. But when he arrived back at Löschenkohl’s around seven, the chicken was still lodged in Brenner’s stomach and he didn’t have an appetite.
    Nevertheless, Brenner went into the bar. Not because he wanted something to eat but because he thought,
it’s about time I met the manager
. On the phone yesterday she’d been in such a hurry—she’d nearly started crying before Brenner promised her he’d come. And now she was making herself scarce.
But that’s how managers are
, Brenner thought,
it’s the same the world over
.
    It was peak business in the dining room just now—Friday night, a dreadful horde of people dining out.
I don’t want to bother the manager if she’s working
, Brenner thought, and he took a seat at a table with a few drunken soccer fans because there was nowhere else to