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even fourteen, adjoining the left-hand side of the landing and going down to the lake.
    Getting the correct perspective for the right angle had given Scholten some trouble, but the result was not bad. The steps had been built like that in order to bypass the steep slope of the bank. You could see the slope in Scholten’s drawing, and the little sandy bay to which the steps led, and the landing stage on its floats projecting out into the lake from the bay.
    You could also see where the bank came up to the steps on the left-hand side of the sandy bay, and on the right-hand side you could see the narrow path along the bank where he had once walked with Erika. They had strolled through the wood and come down to that path. And then they had followed the path to the bay and climbed up the steep bank to the house again by way of the steps.
    Scholten studied every detail of his drawing and suddenly nodded. If Erika had really slipped on the flight of steps it could only have been on the landing, where they turned at an angle, or on one of the treads just above it. If it had happened lower down, beneath the landing, she would probably have fallen into the sand of the bay. But if she had slipped on the landing or the steps above it, she could perhaps have fallen right off the landing to come down on the steep bank and then fall from there into the lake.
    Was that really possible?
    The landing was a good twenty-eight inches deep. She could surely have found something to hold on to. Perhaps not the handrails at this point, but one of the
vertical posts supporting the steps and the handrails. Frost, yes, all right. But does someone so steady on her feet just fall flat if she happens to slip?
    Scholten raised the beer bottle to his lips.
    Hilde said: “Why are you drinking out of the bottle again, Joseph? You’ve got a perfectly good glass in front of you!” She was standing in the kitchen doorway.
    Scholten slammed the bottle down. “Good heavens, what a fright you gave me! Why do you always creep around like that?”
    â€œI’m not creeping around. The cat’s mewing down in the garden. It wants to come up again. Didn’t you hear it?”
    â€œNo, I didn’t.” He stood up. The cat was indeed mewing.
    She came over. “What are you doing?”
    He gathered the sheets of paper together. “It’s for a construction drawing.” He wanted to take the sheets with him but didn’t dare; he left them lying on the kitchen table. He went out on the balcony.
    The cat was already sitting in its basket, looking up and mewing. “Yes, all right, come on up.” He hauled the basket up and over the balcony rail. The cat let him lift it out; he stroked it, and it immediately began to purr. When he wound the cord up it put its head on one side, reached out a paw and patted the cord. “Now then, stop that. We’ll be needing it again. Go and find your ball.”
    When he returned to the kitchen Hilde was standing by the table looking at the sheets of paper. “What does it show?”
    â€œThose are the steps outside Wallmann’s weekend house.”
    â€œWhat are you drawing them for?”

    â€œI’ll have to go out there again some time. There’s probably another couple of planks need replacing.”
    â€œWhen are you going to stop doing all this extra stuff? You’re not Herr Wallmann’s odd-job man!”
    â€œOh, for goodness’ sake! He pays me well for it. We can do with the money.”
    She went to the fridge and took the fish fillets out of the freezer compartment. She said: “I think you just do it to be alone. And so you can leave me on my own here.”
    â€œBloody hell! Are we starting in on that again?” He put his drawing things together. The pencil fell on the floor.
    Raising her voice, she said: “You shouldn’t swear!”
    â€œYes, okay. What’s so bad about it if I go up there now and then? It’s