The Zurich Conspiracy

“That’s the way life is. I believe my mother told me that Freya was going there; that’s how I got the idea to recommend it to you. The rest is pure coincidence.” Helene could surely see the doubt on Josefa’s face so she added in feigned indignation, “Hey, I feel like I’m being grilled…Why are you looking at me so funny—something up?”
    Josefa took a sip of champagne before answering. “I saw a picture of Freya in the paper. She was with Beat Thüring in a bar. On Tenerife.”
    Helene had just started buttering one of her still-warm rolls but put it aside. She didn’t ask who Beat Thüring was. “Freya’s a lawyer, Josefa,” she explained, with forbearance, as if being quizzed by a curious child. “She advises Germans living abroad, and sometimes she goes out with them. And maybe meets a few Swiss too. It’s a global village, Josefa; haven’t you had the same experience at some time or other?”
    Everything always sounded so simple when it came out of Helene’s mouth, so normal. And yet this time Josefa wasn’t finding it so easy to trust her.
    “So Freya goes to Tenerife often?”
    “Depends on the job situation, I suppose. Why do you want to know?”
    But Josefa was already on to her next question. “Why did she not reveal her identity? Why did she not tell me who she was?”
    Helene licked some creamed cheese and herbs off her finger. “I suspect she was on a delicate mission and didn’t want you trumpeting it about. You’d have certainly asked her a lot of questions, even out of curiosity, and she wouldn’t have been able to answer many of them because of the type of activities she’s involved in. She very often has to be discreet. But you know that from your own job, don’t you?” Helene looked at her encouragingly. “And what else would you like to know?”
    Josefa felt she was playing the judge to her own friend. Nonetheless she couldn’t help but ask, “Why did you never tell me about you and Richard Auer?”
    There was a long pause as Helene cut her salmon in pieces and scattered onion rings artfully around it. “I was so ashamed. I can’t explain it to you any other way. I thought that if you knew nothing about it, then this painful episode would never have existed.” She leaned back. “In those days I wanted to do what my parents expected of me. Richard’s father was one of my father’s business acquaintances. We both went to business school in St. Gall; I did it for Dad’s sake. But at some point nothing was working out quite right for me anymore. I had a job over the summer holidays at the ornithological station in Zurich—you know the one, don’t you? And all at once I knew what I wanted. What I wanted. That was that. All over with Richard, all over with Dad’s firm…That’s the way it was.” Her eyes were glued to the table as if she were reliving her decision.
    They ate in silence. Josefa felt that the time for questions had passed. She didn’t want to bring up her father’s suicide now. There would surely be a better opportunity later.
    When Sali rang the doorbell, Helene said goodbye as heartily as ever, and Josefa felt a little guilty for having pumped her friend so hard. But sledding with Sali took her mind off things for a while, including her difficult conversation with Helene—everything except a growing suspicion that she was being tailed.
    Two men, who had been sitting behind her and Sali on the streetcar, got into the red railway car on the Üetliberg just when they did. Josefa then saw them at some distance on the sledding path, then at the mountain restaurant, and afterward the same two rode back to the city with her and the boy as far as their apartment building.
    She absolutely had to relax and not panic. She decided to run a hot bath for herself when she got home. Maybe she was imagining everything, maybe her senses were overstimulated and her mind had gone haywire. And Helene—what was she supposed to think of her? She’d showed up at Josefa’s full of joy, bearing a bottle of champagne, and instead of celebrating her good news with her Josefa riddled her with questions that smacked of distrust!
    Maybe she was jealous. Something was in play in Helene’s life; for Josefa everything was on ice. She had no plans for the future; she didn’t even know what she’d do for Christmas. She’d always either worked or flown off to sunnier climes. Her strongest desire was to travel far away, preferably right now. Far away from murders