Page 102 of Hidden in Memories
Just before they got in the car to leave, Leffe showed them some old photos from the sixties and seventies. It looked like a completely different world, with women in long gowns and men in dark smoking jackets.
However, judging by his stories, things weren’t quite as charming beneath the surface. One woman with a broken neck; another who was raped and had her life ruined.
The treatment of the waitress sounded very familiar to Hanna.
But how can rape ever be the woman’s fault?
She scratches Morris under his chin, gray and white cat hairs flying in all directions. There is no point in getting angry over an assault that took place fifty years ago. She needs to put all her energy into the current case, nothing else.
The cat stretches his neck so that she can get at him properly; he is loving the attention.
“Good boy,” she murmurs.
Tiredness and the warmth of Morris’s body almost make her fall asleep. When her phone rings in her back pocket, she would love to ignore it. She’s exhausted, and it’s almost eight o’clock.
Then again, it could be someone from work. Her sense of duty takes over.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Hanna.”
The familiarity makes her unsure. At first she doesn’t recognize the voice; then she realizes who it must be.
Henry Sylvester.
Is there a problem with Filip?
“Is Filip okay? Has something happened?”
“He’s fine—that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Oh?”
Hanna doesn’t understand. She tries to move Morris so she can sit up. In return she gets a pained look and a sharp claw in her stomach.
“It feels as if we have more to talk about,” Henry says. “I’m wondering if you have time to meet?”
She is even more confused about what Henry wants. When she and Daniel went to see him earlier in the week, the conversation came to an abrupt end. He shut down with no warning. Hanna assumed it was because he was grieving for Charlotte, but now he seems to have changed his mind.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“If you come over to the Villa, I’ll explain.”
“Now?”
“Are you busy?”
Hanna glances at her watch. Admittedly she has no plans; all she had intended to do this evening was have something to eat, then go to bed. She has to be back at the station early tomorrow morning. The Easter lunch with Lydia is still up in the air.
“I think it’s best if we do this face-to-face,” Henry adds. He pauses, as if he is deliberately trying to arouse her curiosity.
Maybe he knows something about the rape at the mountain hotel? It sounded as if it might have happened during the years when his and Charlotte’s families celebrated Christmas there.
She would really like to ask him a few questions about that.
“If you’re interested in finding out more about Charlotte’s business affairs, that is. Otherwise, we can leave it,” Henry goes on slowly. “It’s up to you.”
81
