“There was no visible reaction in the crowd. The farmers and workers stood again as before, silent, threatening, motionless under the sky, which was putting on the first shining lights of the evening; street lamps swayed over the square like pale moons. The Mägendorfers were determined to seize the man they took to be the murderer. The police cars stood like large dark beasts, at bay in this human tide. Again and again they attempted to break loose, the motors roared and howled, then subsided, discouraged, and were turned off again. No use. The whole village—the dark gables, the square, the crowd in its uncertainty and rage—staggered under the burden of the day’s event, as if the murder had poisoned the world.
“‘People,’ the public prosecutor began, in a low, uncertain voice, but every word was audible, ‘Mägendorfers, we are shocked by this horrible crime. Gritli Moser has been murdered. We don’t know who committed the crime….’
“The public prosecutor got no further than that.
“‘Hand him over!’
“Fists were raised, whistles rang out.
“Matthäi watched the mob, spellbound.
“‘Quick, Matthäi!’ the public prosecutor barked. ‘Call for reinforcements!’
“‘Von Gunten is the killer!’ screamed a tall, gaunt farmer with a sunburned face that hadn’t been shaved in days. ‘I saw him! There was nobody else in the dale!’
“He was the farmer who had been working in the field.
“Matthäi stepped forward.
“‘People,’ he called out, ‘I am Inspector Matthäi. We are prepared to hand over the peddler to you!’
“The surprise was so great the crowd became dead silent.
“‘Are you out of your mind?’ the magistrate hissed at Matthäi.
“‘From time immemorial, criminals in our country have been convicted by courts if they are guilty and set free if they are not guilty,’ Matthäi continued. ‘You have now decided to make yourselves this court. Whether you have the right to do so is something we won’t examine here. You have taken that right.’
“Matthäi spoke clearly and distinctly, and the farmers and workers listened attentively. Every word mattered to them. Because Matthäi was taking them seriously, they took him seriously, too.
“‘But there is something I must ask of you,’ Matthäi continued, ‘that I would ask of any other court: justice. For obviously we can only deliver the peddler to you if we are convinced that you want justice.’
“‘We do!’ one man shouted.
“‘Your court has to meet one condition if it is to be a just court. That condition is: injustice must be avoided. You have to submit to this condition.’
“‘Agreed!’ cried a foreman from the brickyard.
“‘Therefore you must examine whether the charge of murder against von Gunten is just or unjust. How did the suspicion arise?’
“‘The bastard has a record already,’ a farmer yelled.
“‘That makes von Gunten more suspect,’ Matthäi explained, ‘but it doesn’t prove that he committed the murder.’
“‘I saw him in the dale,’ the farmer with the tanned, bristly face called out again.
“‘Come up here,’ the inspector said.
“The farmer hesitated.
“‘Go, Heiri,’ someone called, ‘don’t be a coward.’
“The farmer walked up the steps. He looked uncertain. The mayor and the public prosecutor had stepped back into the doorway of The Stag, so that Matthäi stood alone on the top of the stairs with the farmer.
“‘What do you want from me?’ the farmer asked. ‘My name is Heiri Benz.’
“The Mägendorfers stared intently at the two men. The policemen had hung their truncheons back on their belts. They, too, were watching the proceedings breathlessly. The boys of the village had climbed up the half-raised ladder of the fire truck.
“‘You watched the peddler von Gunten in the dale, Herr Benz,’ the inspector began. ‘Was he alone in the dale?’
“‘Alone.’
“‘What kind of work were you doing, Herr Benz?’
“‘I was planting potatoes with my family.’
“‘How long had you been doing that?’
“‘Since ten o’clock. I also had lunch with my family in the field,’ the peasant said.
“‘And you observed no one except the peddler?’
“‘No one, I swear,’ the farmer affirmed.
“‘Come on, Benz!’ a worker called out. ‘I passed your field at two!’
“Two other workers spoke up. They, too, had passed the dale on bicycles at around two.
“‘And I drove my cart through the dale, you nitwit,’ a farmer shouted. ‘But you’re always working like a maniac, you miser, and you work your family so hard their backs are all crooked. A hundred naked women could pass you and you wouldn’t look up.’
“Laughter.
“‘So the peddler wasn’t alone in the dale,’ Matthäi continued. ‘But let’s keep searching. There’s a road to the city running parallel to the woods. Did anyone take that road?’
“‘Fritz Gerber did,’ someone called out.
“‘I took the road,’ a heavyset farmer admitted from his seat on the fire engine.
“‘With my cart.’
“‘When?’
“‘At two.’
“‘There’s a path leading from that road to the scene of the crime,’ the inspector noted. ‘Did you notice anyone, Herr Gerber?’
“‘No,’ the farmer growled.
“‘How about a parked car?’
“The farmer looked startled. ‘I think so,’ he said uncertainly. “‘Are you sure?’
“‘There was something there.’
“‘Maybe a red Mercedes sports car?’
“‘Could be.’
“‘Or a gray Volkswagen?’
“‘That’s possible, too.’
“‘Your answers are pretty vague,’ Matthäi said.
“‘Well, I was half-asleep on that cart,’ the farmer admitted. ‘It happens to everyone in this heat.’
“‘Then I’ll take this occasion to point out to you that you’re not supposed to sleep on a public road,’ Matthäi reprimanded him.
“‘The horses watch out,’ the farmer said.
“Everyone laughed.
“‘Now you can see the difficulties you face as judges,’ Matthäi said. ‘The crime was by no means committed in solitude. Just fifty meters away from the family working in the field. If they had watched out, this awful thing could not have happened. But they were unconcerned, because they hadn’t the slightest idea that such a crime was likely to happen. They didn’t see the little girl nor the others coming down the road. They noticed the peddler, that’s all. But Herr Gerber, too, was dozing on his cart. He can’t supply any significant evidence with the necessary exactness. That’s where things stand. Does that prove the peddler guilty? You have to ask yourselves that question. One thing that speaks in his favor is that he alarmed the police. I don’t know how you intend to proceed as judges, but I want to tell you how we of the police would like to proceed.’
“The inspector paused. Once again he stood alone in front of the Mägendorfers. The embarrassed Benz had returned to the crowd.
“‘Every suspect, without regard for his position, would be investigated with the greatest precision. Every conceivable clue would be followed up. Not only that, the police of other countries would be put on the case if that should prove necessary. You see, your court does not have many resources for finding out the truth. We have a huge apparatus at our disposal. Now decide what should be done.’
“Silence. The Mägendorfers had grown thoughtful.
“‘Will you really hand him over to us?’ the foreman asked.
“‘Word of honor,’ Matthäi replied. ‘If you insist on it.’
“The Mägendorfers were undecided. The inspector’s words had made an impression. The public prosecutor was nervous. The situation looked dangerous to him. But then he sighed with relie
f.
“‘Take him with you,’ a farmer had yelled.
“Silently, the Mägendorfers formed a lane for the cars. Relieved, the public prosecutor lit himself a Brissago.
“‘That was risky, Matthäi,’ he said. ‘What if you’d been forced to keep your word?’
“‘I knew that wouldn’t happen,’ the inspector calmly replied.
“‘Let’s hope you never make a promise you can’t keep,’ the public prosecutor said. He relit his cigar, said good-bye to the mayor, and went back to his car, which was now free to leave.”
8
“Matthäi did not drive back with the magistrate. He climbed into the van with the peddler. The policemen made room for him. It was hot inside the big car. They didn’t dare open the windows yet. Although the Mägendorfers had cleared a space, the farmers were still standing around. Von Gunten cowered behind the driver. Matthäi sat down next to him.
“‘I am innocent,’ von Gunten said softly.
“‘Of course,’ Matthäi said.
“‘No one believes me,’ von Gunten whispered. ‘The police don’t either.’
“The inspector shook his head. ‘You’re just imagining that.’
“The peddler was not reassured. ‘You don’t believe me either, sir.’
“The car started. The policemen sat in silence. Night had fallen outside. The street lamps cast golden lights on the stony faces. Matthäi felt the distrust with which everyone regarded the peddler, the suspicion rising. He felt sorry for him.
“‘I believe you, von Gunten,’ he said, and noticed that he wasn’t quite convinced of that. ‘I know you are innocent.’
“The first houses of the city were drawing near.
“‘We still have to present you to the chief, von Gunten,’ the inspector said. ‘You’re our most important witness.’
“‘I understand,’ the peddler murmured, and then he whispered again: ‘You don’t believe me either.’
“‘Nonsense.’
“The peddler insisted. ‘I know it,’ he said very softly, almost inaudibly, and he stared into the red and green neon-lit advertisements that flashed through the windows of the steadily advancing car like eerie constellations.”
9
“Those were the events that were reported to me at headquarters after I had come back from Berne on the seven-thirty express. It was the third infanticide of this kind. Two years earlier, a girl had been killed with a razor in Schwyz canton, and three years before that, another girl in St. Gallen canton. No trace of the perpetrator in either case. I sent for the peddler. The man was forty-eight, short, fleshy, unhealthy, probably a big talker and rather brazen, but now he was frightened. His testimony was clear at first. He had lain down by the edge of the woods, taken off his shoes, put his peddler’s basket beside him on the grass. He had intended to go to Mägendorf, where he hoped to sell his brushes, suspenders, razor blades, shoelaces, etc., but on the way he had learned from the mail carrier that Wegmüller was on vacation and that Riesen was substituting for him. So he hesitated and lay down in the grass; he said young policemen are usually prone to fits of efficiency—‘I know those guys,’ he said. He started to doze off. He described the place: a little dale in the shadow of the woods, with a road running through it. Not far away, a family of farmers on their field, with their dog circling around them. Lunch at The Bear in Fehren had been hefty, he said, a ‘Bernese platter’ and red wine. He liked to eat well, he said, and he had the means to pay for it. ‘I may look ragged, unshaven, and disheveled,’ he said, ‘but I’m not the way I look, I’m the sort of peddler who earns his living and has some money on the side.’ He’d had lots of beer, too, he said, and later, in the grass, two bars of Lindt’s chocolate. Eventually the advancing storm with its gusts of warm wind had put him to sleep. But a little later he had the impression that a scream had awakened him, the high scream of a little girl, and staring out into the dale, dazed and still half-asleep, he thought he saw the peasant family on the field lift their heads in surprise for a moment and then return to their stooped positions while their dog continued to circle around them. It must have been some bird, he thought, maybe an owl, how would he know? That explanation reassured him. He dozed on, but then he noticed how deadly quiet the landscape had suddenly become and how the sky had darkened. Thereupon he slipped into his shoes and slung his basket over his back, feeling uneasy and apprehensive as he thought back on that mysterious bird cry. On account of this mood, he decided not to risk a run-in with Riesen and to forget about Mägendorf, which had always been an unprofitable hole anyway. He decided to go back to the city and took the forest path as a shortcut to the train station, whereupon he bumped into the body of the murdered girl. Then he ran to The Stag in Mägendorf and informed Matthäi; he said nothing to the farmers, for fear of being suspected.
“That was his statement. I had the man taken away, but not released. Not quite correct, I suppose, since the public prosecutor hadn’t given orders for him to be held, but we didn’t have time to be dainty. His story sounded true to me, but it had to be checked, and after all, von Gunten had a record. I was in a bad mood. This case didn’t feel right; everything had somehow gone wrong; I didn’t know exactly how, but I felt it. I withdrew to my ‘boutique,’ as I called it, a smoke-filled little room next to my office. I ordered a bottle of Château Neuf du Pape from a restaurant near the Sihl bridge, drank a few glasses. There was always an awful mess in that room, I won’t deny it, a jumble of books and files. I did that on principle, because in my opinion it’s everyone’s duty in this well-ordered land to maintain little islands of chaos, even if only in secret. Then I asked to see the photographs. They were horrible. Then I studied the map. You couldn’t have come up with a more perfidious choice of a location. It was theoretically impossible to determine whether the murderer came from Mägendorf, from one of the surrounding villages, or from the city, or whether he had come by foot or by train. Everything was possible.
“Matthäi came.
“‘I’m sorry you had such a sad case to deal with on your last day,’ I said to him.
“‘It’s our job, Chief.’
“‘When I look at the pictures of this murder, I feel like chucking this damn job,’ I said, putting the pictures back in the envelope.
“I was annoyed and perhaps not fully in control of my feelings. Matthäi was my best inspector—you can see how I call him Inspector instead of Lieutenant, it’s less correct, but friendlier, somehow. His departure went very much against my grain.
“He seemed to guess my thoughts.
“‘I think you had best turn over the case to Henzi,’ he said.
“I hesitated. I would have accepted his proposal immediately if this were not a sexually motivated murder. Any other crime is easier to deal with. All you have to do is consider the motives—lack of money, jealousy—and already you’ve got a circle of suspects and can start closing in from there. But in the case of a sex murder, this method leads nowhere. A guy could be on a business trip, he sees a girl or a boy, he gets out of his car—no witnesses, no observations, and in the evening he’s back home, perhaps in Lausanne, perhaps in Basel, anywhere, and there we are, standing around without any clues. I didn’t underestimate Henzi; he was a capable public servant, but he didn’t have enough experience, in my opinion.
“Matthäi did not share my reservations.
“‘He’s been working under me for three years,’ he said. ‘I taught him everything he knows, and I can’t imagine a better successor. He’ll do the job exactly the way I would. And besides, I’ll still be here tomorrow,’ he added.
“I sent for Henzi and ordered him to take over the murder department with Officer Treuler. He was delighted; this was his first ‘independent case.’
“‘Thank Matthäi,’ I muttered, and asked him what the mood in the rank and file was like. We were floundering, had nothing to go on, no results, and it was important that the men didn’t sense our uncertainty.
“‘They’re convince
d we already have the killer,’ Henzi remarked.
“‘The peddler?’
“‘It’s not a farfetched suspicion. Von Gunten was already convicted of molesting a minor.’
“‘A fourteen-year-old,’ Matthäi interjected. ‘That’s a little different.’
“‘We should cross-examine him,’ Henzi suggested.
“‘That can wait,’ I decided. ‘I don’t believe the man had anything to do with the murder. He’s just not very appealing, and that immediately gives rise to suspicion. But that’s a subjective reaction, gentlemen, not criminological evidence. It’s not the sort of clue we want to rely on.’ “With that, I dismissed the two men. My mood did not improve.”
10
“We sent out all our available men. That night already and on the following day, we called garages to ask whether traces of blood had been observed in a car, and later we called the laundries. Then we checked all the alibis of everyone who had had a brush with certain paragraphs in the civil code. Near Mägendorf our people scoured the woods with dogs and even with a mine detector, hoping to find tracks and especially the murder weapon. They systematically searched every square meter, climbed into the gorge, searched the brook, collected everything they found there, combed through the woods all the way up to Fehren.
“I, too, took part in the search in Mägendorf, which wasn’t my usual way. Matthäi, too, seemed on edge. It was a perfectly pleasant spring day, the air was light, no föhn, but our mood was dark. Henzi interrogated the farmers and factory workers in The Stag, and we set out to visit the school. We took a shortcut and walked straight through a meadow with fruit trees. Some of them were already in full bloom. We could hear the sound of children singing in the schoolhouse: ‘Then take my hands and lead me.’ The school yard was empty. I knocked on the door of the room where the hymn was being sung, and we stepped in.