by Ales Matko
Klauder was starting to perspire as well.
''Imagine the horror of that discovery! Not only did you fail to rescue her and return her to her grieving parents, thereby redeeming yourself for all the misery you had brought about as part of your work here, but you yourself actually killed her outright! And now what? You certainly couldn't return to the mansion with a dead body in your equipment case, but how could you dispose of it without drawing attention? Then it occurred to you: you could return to the factory – where, under the circumstances, you had every reason to be – and simply stuff the body into one of the large drums full of acid! Hence the bones that the guards discovered this morning, which, by the way, were indisputably the bones of a child. And need I remind you that in the morning you were also present at the scene, looking on with tears in your eyes, your planned atonement for all the misdeeds you'd performed for your master in ruins!''
Klauder did not quite manage to put the finishing touches on his story, as he was interrupted by a monstrous scream that escaped the throat of Gustav Elsa.
CHAPTER THIRTY
''What exactly are we hoping to find, detective?'' Beatra asked, as he and Klauder along with three of the guards searched Duvali's apartment.
''I'm not even sure,'' Klauder responded, once again out of breath from climbing the stairs. ''Something to confirm my theory I suppose ... if that's even neccesary ... Just keep looking.''
''The only reason you’re still alive is Inspector Beatra's insistance that you be here for this,'' Elizabeth snarled as she glared at the handcuffed engineer. ''Otherwise, there'd already be another set of bones in acid.''
Her brother remained quiet throughout the search. He looked sick.
A thorough inspection of Duvali's quarters revealed nothing; indeed, judging by the abundant religious paraphernalia, one would have thought the person living there incapable of even the slightest misdemeanor. But that all changed when Klauder clumsily knocked a large Bible off the shelf with his elbow, and some papers fell out. They were letters.
Beatra picked them up and handed the bottom three of the six folded papers to Klauder.
''What do they say?'' Elsa demanded.
Beatra swallowed and began reading one of the letters aloud, skimming over what appeared inessential.
''... ‘You must have been sent by God himself, señor Duvali. And I will never forget your selflessness. If you are actually able to return Lucia to my wife and me, we will be forever in your debt' ...'' The inspector shot Duvali a long look. ''... 'the only thing that has kept us going over these few years is the thought that she may still be alive. And if what you have told us is true, that she is at least living in material abundance and without suffering, then our souls ache a little less' ...''
''Listen to this,'' Klauder interrupted, staring at one of the letters he had been handed. ''... 'I hope this is not just a cruel trick you are playing on us. Because if that is the case, our hearts - what remains of them, anyway - will burst from sadness! But if it is not and you indeed intend to get our daughter out this week, then we can only say God speed, señor Duvali. You truly are an angel.' The letter ends there. And I think we now have irrefutable evidence for my conclusions.''
The pale Duvali finally spoke up. ''May I say something?''
Neither he nor anyone else dared to look at Elsa.
''It was never my intention to hurt her. I just wanted to help that poor man and his wife. I don't know how he found out where she was being kept or why he wrote to me specifically, but I took it as a sign of God’s will that he did. He didn't see any other option for getting Ana-Maria – or rather, Lucia – out of this fortress of an estate but to recruit inside help, so I ...'' He went silent for a moment and crossed his forehad as if in prayer. ''I haven't yet written to inform him of her death. Maybe it's for the best if he and his wife never find out.''
He turned and looked at Klauder.
''Just so you know, I don’t hold it against you, detective, for exposing me. Deep down I understand you're just doing your job and helping the innocent - another aspect of God’s work. So there really are no hard feelings between us, at least from my end. And lastly, I wish to say this,'' he said, finally looking over at Elsa and his sister. ''Señor Elsa, may you rot in hell along with your deranged mother for all the horrible things you made me be a part of!''
And in the blink of an eye he grabbed the barrel of one of the several rifles aimed at him and yanked it as hard as he could. The blast was earsplitting, and the contents of Duvali’s head splattered across the wall lent the crucifix a particular authenticity.
Klauder went momentarily deaf and could only watch as Elsa stood up and, taking his motley entourage with him, stormed out of the room in utter defeat. He had been forever robbed of chance at revenge. The engineer had won.
''¡A la mierda!'' Beatra exclaimed. ''¡Puta madre!'' He stared at what was left of Duvali’s head. ''But ... But what about the sound of the girl's voice in Elizabeth’s room?''
''Yes, the moaning,'' Klauder said, the ringing in his ears gradually subsiding. ''Follow me, inspector, please.''
As they arrived at Elizabeth’s apartment, the detective hesitated.
''When I asked you to make that phone call earlier, I went to Duvali's car and searched the case. But this wasn't the only thing I looked into. The noises we heard in here were the final enigma, the last thing going against my theory. After all, the girl couldn't very well be dead if we heard her, right?''
He spread the curtains and opened up the sliding door, letting the cold winter air in. ''But look at this.''
They stepped outside onto the balcony, flinching at the blast of cold, and walked over to the metal pinwheel that neither of them would have noticed the first time had it not been the only thing out there. Klauder gave the rusted wheel a spin, producing a loud groaning noise that made the hair on Beatra’s neck stand up.
''I guess we both know what that sounds like.''
''Like a little child moaning.''
''There were strong winds when we were last here, inspector, and every time a gust came up, it turned the pinwheel.''
Beatra breathed hot air into his hands, then reached out and stopped the spinning pinwheel, putting an end to the unsettling noise.
''She's for sure dead then?''
''I'm afraid so.''
''And señora Constanza - also killed by Duvali?''
''Looks like it. He must have been severely traumatized being trapped here working for this glorified hooligan with no way out. So he repented and became a vigilante of sorts. He did more harm than good, of course. But he did save my life, probably, by disposing of Constanza.''
For a few moments, Beatra looked at Klauder, who was now staring into the cloudy distance over the marshes with a palpable sadness on his face. He somehow couldn't help but expect this famous detective who had saved so many lives in the past to pull one final trump card out of his sleeve that would make everything right again.
But Klauder had played all the cards in his hand. He turned and patted Beatra on the shoulder, then returned to the warmth of Elizabeth’s apartment. A few seconds later, the inspector turned and followed him in.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Back inside, the investigators were quickly dismissed. Elizabeth met up with them in Klauder's room and gave each of them a thin envelope - a little something for their trouble, she said, adding that her brother was inconsolable and that, for their own safety, they should leave while they still could. They did not argue and started quickly gathering what few personal items they had brought with them.
''I can't get my mind around it,'' Beatra mused as he collected his belongings. ''It's all so bizzare. And how you were able to deduce everything so accurately with so little to go on is beyond me.''
''If I needed much more, I wouldn't be very good at my job,'' Klauder responded. ''Logical deduction, dear inspector, is critical in our line of work, not to mention a firm grasp of psychology. But alas,'' he added bitterly, ''I'm q
uite sure this is one case the townsfolk will not be reading about in the papers. The fact of the matter is that while I solved the case, I failed to save the girl, and many others alongside her.''
''There was absolutely nothing you could have done to prevent any of this, detective.''
''Tell that to my concience,'' Klauder lamented. ''And to the reporters.''
There was no solemn leave-taking. Indeed, it seemed somehow fitting that no one was in the lobby to say goodbye as they were leaving. A few of the guards were there, of course, but they were men of few words, nor were there many who would have wished to change that.
Outside it had started to snow again, heavily. They climbed into Beatra’s red 1948 Eringo Rivera and drove off, the engine rattling loudly under the hood. Neither said a word, and there was an unnerving feeling in the freezing air that something terrible might happen as they were making their way through the marsh and back to the mainland.
Passing through the big iron gate and leaving the impregnable estate along the narrow, grey road lined with heavy layers of snow, they were again stopped and frisked multiple times. Yet despite the tangible fear that gripped their hearts at each of these stops, they not only passed through the final checkpoint unharmed, but to his surprise, Beatra even had both his guns returned to him.
''We made it,'' he said with a deep sigh of relief. ''We actually made it out alive. How about that?''
''All those dead,'' Klauder murmured, still unable to get the grisly affairs of those last couple of days out of his head. ''And for what? What do you think is going to happen now to señor Elsa? According to his sister he's gone off the deep end.''
Beatra frowned.
''No matter how hard I try, I can’t feel sorry for him. He's a criminal. A poisoner and a mass murderer. So what if he goes off the rails? Maybe he's better off that way. Once the boys down at the precinct find out the Wizard of Oz didn't have any super-powers after all, there's no telling what'll happen.''
The weather grew calmer as they got futher away from the marshes and the weak winter sun appeared, peeking shyly from behind the clouds that now had a whiter, more innocent look to them. It was almost as if even the weather at the estate had been cursed.
''Where are you headed, detective? Are you in a hurry to get to the airport, or do you want to grab a cold one somewhere? After all this, I sure could use a ...''
Beatra was about to name his beer of choice, when he heard a muted sound that sounded like moaning. Where was it coming from? He looked around, as if in search of a rusty pinwheel.
In a flash, Klauder reached for Beatra's belt, grabbed his gun, and pointed it straight at the chief inspector's head. Beatra slammed on the breaks, the tires screeching as the red Rivera came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the country road.
He looked at Klauder in confusion and horror.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
''Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag, then,'' Klauder said, while the inspector was looking at him, terror written all over his face. ''Damn it. It’s so hard to find the right dose and time interval, I didn't want to inject her with too much, you understand. That could easily have killed her!''
The inspector’s lips started moving, but no sound came out. The moaning, on the other hand, was getting louder.
Klauder slowly reached inside his coat with his spare hand, took out the set of insulin shots and rather clumsily gave himself an injection. Almost immediately, the moaning stopped.
''You still haven’t figured it out, have you, inspector?'' he muttered as his companion blankly stared back at him. ''It's Ana-Maria. I have her hidden in my ‘stomach’.''
Beatra felt as if he were dreaming. ''What in God's name are you ...''
''I know, I know,'' smiled the detective.
He took a very deep breath in and exhailed fully, as if this were the first time in a long, long while that he could afford to relax. Then he slowly unbuttoned his vest and lifted his sweater and the upper part of his long johns. He grabbed the skin at the bottom of his stomach and, to Beatra's astonishment, lifted it up as well, peeling the bottom up from the belt and revealing a hard mould with a soft outer layer and edges. And underneath that was what appeared to be a little girl, naked except for the harness holding her in place. She was crammed tightly into the small compartment, skinny legs and arms wrapped around the detective’s torso.
''You would not believe how uncomfortable this thing is to wear,'' Klauder said, resealing his faux stomach. ''She may be small but still. Plus the harness. Walking all those stairs was such an ordeal, let me tell you. And I was terrified I'd be discovered when we were being searched going in and out of the swamp.''
Klauder's story was already hard enough for Beatra to process on its own merits, but the way he was telling it, as if he were making neighborly small-talk over tea, was especially unsettling.
''You should see the expression on your face right now, inspector. Allow me to clarify. I had an extensive liposuction performed around the abdomen, creating a hollow area in which a small storage compartment, so to speak, could be installed.''
''But why would you do such a thing?'' Beatra stammered. ''Since when are detectives called upon to make that kind of ...''
''My dear inspector,'' Klauder interrupted with a smile, ''my reputation as a detective is no more genuine than my stomach, I'm afraid. All the missing persons cases I supposedly solved in the unprecedented timespan of only two years were entirely contrived. People are so gullible! Everyone standing around scratching their heads, wondering how I could so quickly and unerringly track all those people down, and never once did anyone ask whether I might have been the one who abducted them all to begin with! Alas, the great mass of people believe what they are told to believe, and none more so than the journalists who spread my tall tales and created my reputation for me. And once that was done, I had only to wait until señor Elsa got desperate enough to have me called in when his ‘Ana-Maria’ went missing.''
Beatra was beginning to feel dizzy. His mind was racing, while his body felt as if it could shut down at any moment.
''You see, inspector, it was actually I who persuaded chef Pierre to play along. He never saw my face, of course, or knew who I was, but about two weeks ago when he came into town to buy groceries, I got in touch with him through an intermediary. It was an all-or-nothing move, to be sure, and it took quite a hefty sum to bring him on board, but in the end he consented. He is - or rather was, may he rest in peace - eager for adventure after years of living in the stale routine of the estate. He needed some excitement in his life, a way to rebel against his overbearing and tyrannical boss. So we certainly didn't choose him at random. It was only after carefully planning everything to the last detail that we finally settled on him. And I must say he played his part to perfection, masterfully persuading the reluctant maid, Alejandra, to help him. Pilar was hardly his only lover, you understand.''
At that moment a car drove by, and Beatra found himself silently imploring the driver to stop and help him escape the surreal purgatory he was caught in. But his pleas were to no avail. The car did not stop.
''Alejandra kidnapped Lucia – pardon me, Ana-Maria – on Friday evening and kept her in her closet, sedated. Of course the maid was completely oblivious as to the other party involved, and even Pierre himself knew nothing about the next step, which was for me, the ‘brilliant detective’ Emmanuel Klauder, to travel into the marsh and simply pick the girl up and carry her out, concealed on my person. When we went and searched Alejandra’s room after the explosion at the factory, I pretended to be following a lead, when in reality I just needed an excuse to go ‘search’ her closet.''
A smile of satisfaction flashed across Klauder's face as he recounted the details of the ruse to his companion, who sat frozen in place, staring straight ahead but seeing nothing.
''I went into the storage compartment while you were busy searching the other room, knowing exactly where the girl was hidden based on what Pierre had told my associate
beforehand, and crammed her into my faux stomach, coughing and sneezing to conceal any noises that might give away what I was doing. I then put the closet hideout back in order and called you, feigning surprize when her pajamas were all that remained in the hidden section - pajamas and etorphine, that is. From that point forward, my only concern was to get out of the marsh in one piece. But then, of course, things began to get complicated early on when, with the worst possible timing, someone actually started wreaking havoc, killing children, writing those ridiculous, awful messages, sabbotaging the factory, and so forth. None of which had had even the slightest connection to me or those collaborating with me.''
Klauder finally stuffed the edge of his fake stomach back under his belt and lowered his long underwear and sweater over it.
''As you know, inspector, I was not allowed to leave under threat of execution until I exposed the culprit and recovered the girl. So I had no choice but to actually solve the riddle - or at least, a riddle. Mind you, I needed to strain my little grey cells quite a bit to do so, so I suppose I wouldn't make much of a detective after all.''
Beatra refused to believe what his senses were reporting. Disregarding all the evidence to the contrary, he kept telling himself that this was all just a sick joke. Any minute now, he reassured himself, Klauder would burst out laughing and the two of them would go for that cold beer that now seemed as if it had been suggested hours ago.
But Klauder did nothing of the sort. Instead, he merely carried on with his story, continuing to hold Beatra at gun point.
''Of course I did finally manage to find the guilty party. I must admit, though,'' he said with a hint of disappointment in his voice, ''that I felt rather ashamed when I had to expose that poor woman who, as it turned out, had tragically lost her family. But it had to be done if I was to maintain my reputation as a brilliant detective and not allow even a hint of doubt as to my theory of the case. At that point I simply twisted the facts and presented my own version of the truth. And you lot bought it hook, line and sinker!''