Norah stood at the window, smoking, thinking. It would soon be time to knock off, but she couldn’t stir herself to go back to the office she shared with Aylin. The things that Angelika Reiter had told on the phone were still ringing in her ears and she felt her jaws grind as she thought about it. A man who abused women and had always got away with it.

Yet another.

Now she knew what Grimm was capable of. He’d already proved how clever he was by getting to the police before she did. Eventually Norah could stand it no longer and wrote a text message.

Did Grimm know Valerie?

No reply. Norah made herself a cup of coffee and waited. Then a beep announced an incoming text.

You know the answer.

Norah’s eyes narrowed.

Why didn’t you tell me?

This time the reply came almost immediately.

You had to find out for yourself.

Why? Is he connected with Valerie’s death?

Again, she didn’t have to wait long for a reply. It was almost as if whoever it was had nothing better to do all day than sit around waiting for her texts.

You know the answer to that too. You just don’t like it.

Too true, I don’t, Norah thought, and wrote:

Answer my question!

Yes! the somebody wrote.

Norah stared at the screen, not knowing what to feel.

How do you know?

We’re going round in circles.

Norah closed the chat and, on a whim, rang the number. She let it ring for a long time, but nobody picked up.

Norah hung up and wrote:

Why won’t you speak to me?

Because it wouldn’t make a difference. Because none of the information I’d give you would make a difference. He did it. He’s guilty. You know that as well as I do. And not only do you know it; you feel it too. The only question now is what you’re going to do with that knowledge.

When Norah didn’t reply, another message arrived.

Do you still doubt his guilt?

I’m not sure, Norah lied.

For a time nothing happened. Then, just as she was thinking that the somebody had called it a day, three dancing dots appeared on her screen again.

Why don’t you just ask him? Ask him about Valerie. Look him in the eyes.

Norah was still staring at this message when another arrived.

He’s usually in Cafe Horvath at this time.

With its simple vintage furniture and stylish new ceiling lamps, the coffee house was a welcome distraction from Vienna’s usual showy pomp. Norah hadn’t hesitated for a second. She’d said goodbye to Aylin, thrown on her coat and set off.

Arthur Grimm was reading a newspaper in the far corner with a cup of coffee in front of him. She had forgotten how terrifying he was in the flesh. The coffee house was more or less empty: the afternoon customers had gone home and the evening customers were yet to arrive.

Grimm glanced up when Norah went over to his table. She still hadn’t worked out what it was about his face that so terrified her. On the surface of it, he was good looking, but when you studied his face for a long time, it was impossible not to feel that something wasn’t right. His eyes, Norah thought. They were set at a strange angle. Was that it?