Читать книгу Shadows of Sören - Nicola Stöhr - Страница 19

When Sören returned from work in the evening he was really tired, almost exhausted.

The unusually persistent economic crisis had taken its toll on everyone and he couldn´t exclude himself from the general feeling of insecurity and apprehension every employer and employee was going through. His clients were nervous and unwilling to part with large chunks of money right now and uneasy about bigger investments. It took a lot of diplomatic smooth talking on his part to hold everything together. He turned right into Rettinge, passed Tilda´s and Clarice´s houses and his heart stopped. Her car was not there. She was not home and she was always home by this time. She never went anywhere, so where the hell was she? He got out of the car , walked over to her house and knocked. Nothing happened. He looked through the window, but since she had brought no personal items with her, the look of the place didn´t really give him any clue, whether she still lived there or not. Had she packed up and booked a one way ticket to Brazil never to be seen again, as he had always feared she might? Strangely enough he felt a little scared. He knew nothing about her, he wouldn´t know how to find her, if she had left. Should he ask Tilda if she had seen Clarice leave with a suitcase and risk looking like a fool?

Maybe she was just working late, but surely lectures where during the day? Students needed time to party in the evening, right? There were no lectures in the evening? Maybe she had had an accident, perhaps he should he call the police? But he had just come from Kalmar. There was only one route you could take over from Kalmar to Rettinge and he would have noticed her car on the road. At least that flip chart which she used to write her strange string theories on was still there. It was covered with a lot of numbers and letters and mathematical signs, which was all mumble jumble to him, but obviously meant something to her. She had once attempted to explain just the basics of what she constantly occupied herself with to him and he had pretended to understand. Except that he hadn´t, not a single word. His mind had shut down after Clarice had lectured him that force meaning earth gravity equals mass times 9.5 or 9.8 per second, ergo ma equals mg or something. He couldn´t remember and he would never ask again, unless he had the masochistic urge of wanting to feel really, really stupid.

Jesus, he needed a shower and he needed to eat and he needed a drink and then he would decide what to do about Clarice, if she hadn´t shown up by then.