‘Hey, which of the three women got the most electric shocks?’ she heard David ask, and thought to herself how much simpler her life would be if everyone were as predictable as he was.

In the late afternoon, as Norah was getting ready to leave the office, she got an email from Werner.

It turned out, he wrote, that there were several people in Vienna called Arthur Grimm: a two-year-old boy, a man who was getting on for ninety, and another man in his forties. Which would she like him to focus on?

The man in his forties, Norah replied, and after adding a few words of thanks, she hurried out. She had to be in the seventh district at 5 p.m. to meet a young woman who ran a ‘cold bus’—a converted minibus to help the homeless make it through the winter. But first, she wanted to have another look on the pedestrian precinct for ‘her’ homeless woman. The idea that her colleagues might be playing a prank on her now seemed ridiculous. She considered herself a good judge of character and could see that although certain of the editorial staff might not be entirely happy that the supposed new talent was a standoffish German, they were, as far as she could tell, hard-working and professional people with no time for such childish nonsense. Luisa and Tom had seemed honest, when she’d asked them about the woman with the begging bowl. And Anita? Norah wondered as she left the office building. Yes, Anita, too, she thought. In fact, it was only David who might be capable of funny games, but he didn’t seem particularly interested in her—why would he want to freak her out? Norah could make no sense of any of it.

She stopped, wondering how to proceed. If she didn’t get anywhere with the homeless people, she could always ask the people who worked in the local shops; maybe one of them knew the woman or had spoken to her at some point.

‘Excuse me,’ said a hoarse voice behind her.

She turned round and saw a man in jeans, worn shoes and a stained black anorak. Dark, intelligent eyes gleamed in a large-pored skin shot through with red veins. Nora looked at him, wondering whether he was going to ask for change or a cigarette.

‘You look for woman.’

She raised her eyebrows.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said cautiously.

Had talking to the girl paid off after all?

‘I can show where woman live,’ he said, grabbing Norah’s arm as if he wanted to take her to the woman then and there.

‘Hang on,’ Norah said, pulling free and taking a step back. ‘First of all, I’d like to know if we’re talking about the same woman.’

The man smiled a practised, obsequious little smile that didn’t reach his eyes and made him look suddenly dangerous.

‘Tall woman. Dark hair. Not young.’

He puckered his forehead dramatically and pointed at his face, as if to say: wrinkles.