The Zurich Conspiracy

clean up this mess, Josefa thought to herself.
    “Did anybody see the burglars?” Josefa asked.
    Esther shook her head.
    “They certainly must have made a lot of noise,” Josefa remarked. “ Some body must have heard them.”
    Esther shrugged. “The police asked me that too.”
    Josefa picked up a slashed cushion as she thought about what to do next.
    “Please don’t touch anything,” a voice behind her commanded. A man in a raincoat was standing in the smashed doorway.
    “Sebastian Sauter, Criminal Investigation,” he announced quite calmly, flashing his ID. Josefa wondered why she hadn’t met the detective on the stairway or seen him outside. Where had he been waiting?
    The man came nearer.
    “Do you live here?” he asked, turning to Josefa. He was powerfully built and only about as tall as she was. His eyes were small, almost invisible behind his sleepy eyelids, giving his face a slightly crafty expression.
    “I’m a neighbor from one floor down.”
    The officer turned around, and Josefa saw another man, this one in uniform, behind him.
    “Keep looking for evidence and write the report. I’m going to talk to the neighbor here,” Sauter told the other police officer. “Frau Ardelius, this man will look after you,” he said in a softer tone to Esther before turning his attention to Josefa. “Can we sit down somewhere?”
    Josefa glanced at the mutilated furniture and broken china all around them. “If we’re not supposed to touch anything, that’ll be difficult,” she replied.
    “You live right below?” Sauter asked in a let’s-not-make-this-complicated tone of voice.
    “Yes. Come with me.” Josefa went out to the stairwell and Esther stayed in the apartment, motionless. Josefa started downstairs.
    “Please stay here,” Sauter told Esther, “the other officer still needs you.”
    Esther raised a limp hand. “See you later,” she whispered to Josefa.
    Sauter led with a firm step. “Just a few questions, it won’t take long,” he assured her. He wore a plaid cap, like an English squire. Josefa left her apartment door ajar and took him past her Loyn luggage into the kitchen.
    “Can I offer you anything?” This was a reflex reaction she had inherited from her mother, who was known to serve unexpected guests polenta and coniglio even at midnight. She noticed she still had her purse tucked firmly under her arm—as if anybody would snatch it!
    “I’m dying for a pitch-black coffee,” Sauter replied, taking his cap off. His blonde hair was a touch thin in places, but the pronounced shape of his head signaled decisiveness. So that’s what a Zurich police detective looks like, Josefa thought to herself. She ground the beans and fixed the holder to the espresso machine. She could see out of the corner of her eye that her unexpected guest was looking around intently.
    “You probably know the interiors of half the homes in Zurich,” Josefa said.
    He paused. “I know them at best when they’re in a state of matter that’s been dissolved,” he answered in a warm, amused tone of voice.
    “You sound like a chemist,” she quipped, handing him a cup of steaming espresso.
    “Good espresso,” he said, clearly grateful for her offering.
    Josefa did not want to sit down so she leaned against the fridge.
    “You’re just back from a trip?” he asked, taking out a notebook.
    “Yes, I was away for a little over a week.”
    He looked at her a little suspiciously.
    “Vacation in Spain,” she added.
    “You weren’t here, then, when it happened?”
    “No.”
    Sauter brushed his hair back. “What’s the rent here, actually?” he asked out of the blue, an odd interrogation technique.
    Josefa frowned. “Is that part of your official inquiry?”
    He apologized at once. “No, it’s more out of curiosity; I’ve always liked this part of town.”
    “Yes, it’s a good area to live in,” Josefa said—hearing the sudden irony in that statement.
    “You live here alone?”
    “Yes.”
    He went to the window; over the Zurich rooftops you could see where the clouds were about to obscure the snow-covered mountains on the horizon.
    “You’ve got a nice view.”
    “Yes, I think a view’s important. Why have the most beautiful apartment and an ugly concrete wall out the window?” She rummaged around in the kitchen cupboard for the chocolate biscuits she always had on hand.
    “Aha…And what’s your line of work?”
    “I’m a manager for event marketing.”
    He gave her a