The Method Read Free Page B

come in?’
    ‘Surely you’re not asking me to welcome my brother’s murderer into my home?’
    ‘I wouldn’t insult your intelligence with such a melodramatic question. But you could offer me a drink … Perhaps some hot water?’
    Kramer strolls past Mia and heads for the sofa, causing the ideal inamorata to roll hastily aside. As soon as Kramer sits, the sofa seems made especially for him. He is untroubled by the look of revulsion on the ideal inamorata’s face – not because he doesn’t care what she thinks, which he probably doesn’t, but because he can’t see her.
    ‘Just to set things straight; I’m not the one who killed your brother. We could ask ourselves how he came by the fishing twine to hang himself in his cell.’
    Mia stops in the middle of the room, hugging her body. Her fingernails press into her flesh; she seems to be clinging to herself as if she is scared of falling. Or perhaps she is worried that her hands will break away and throttle Heinrich Kramer.
    ‘So,’ she says hoarsely, ‘I guess you’re not here to persuade me not to hate you.’
    Kramer smiles a flattered smile and smooths his hair. ‘Please,’ he says, ‘be my guest: hate away! I came to talk to you, not to marry you.’
    ‘I’d like to think we’re immunologically incompatible.’
    ‘Interestingly enough,’ says Kramer, stroking his nose, ‘we’re a match.’
    ‘Interestingly enough,’ says the ideal inamorata, stroking her nose sarcastically, ‘you’re an even bigger arsehole than we thought.’
    ‘Let’s look at this logically.’ Mia’s voice has returned to normal. ‘If you and your pack of yapping dogs hadn’t waged that campaign against Moritz, the verdict might have been different. And if the verdict had been different, he probably wouldn’t have taken his life.’
    ‘Excellent, Frau Holl, I prefer you like this.’ Kramer is resting his right arm on the back of the couch as if to embrace the ideal inamorata. ‘Like me, you’re a logical thinker, so you’ll notice the error in your reasoning. Causality isn’t the same as guilt. If it were, the Big Bang would be responsible for your brother’s death.’
    ‘Who says it wasn’t?’ says Mia, swaying as the Earth hits a pothole. She staggers, clutches at her desk and finds nothing but empty space. ‘Do you want my verdict? The Big Bang: guilty. The universe: guilty. My parents who brought us into this world: guilty. Everything and everyone who caused his death: guilty.’
    ‘Come on, Frau Holl, let me help you.’ Kramer leaves the sofa and crouches next to Mia, who has sunk to her knees. He guides her to the sofa and smooths a strand of hair gently from her forehead.
    ‘Get your hands off her,’ hisses the ideal inamorata.
    ‘I think we both need a cup of hot water,’ says Kramer, heading for the kitchen.

Genetic Fingerprint
     
    THE INCIDENT UNDER discussion took place in the recent past. If we consider what happened, the chain of events seems strikingly clear. On an otherwise ordinary Saturday evening, twenty-seven-year-old Moritz Holl, a warm-hearted but strong-willed young man, described as a ‘dreamer’ by his parents, a ‘free spirit’ by his friends and a ‘bit of a nutcase’ by his sister Mia, made a terrible discovery and went to the police. A young woman by the name of Sibylle, who was meeting Moritz on a so-called ‘blind date’ beneath the South Bridge, was at the time of his arrival neither interesting nor uninteresting, but dead. The distraught young man reported the incident, gave his particulars and left. Two days later he was placed in police custody. Traces of his semen had been discovered in the body of the deceased.
    The matching of Moritz’s DNA made further investigation unnecessary. No one with any sense would dispute the fact that DNA fingerprints are unique. Even twins aren’t necessarily genetically identical, and Moritz’s only sibling isn’t a twin, but a scientist, who knows with good reason that a