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lights in one room after another but found nothing suspicious or out of the ordinary. That left the loft. My partner said she wasn’t going up there and made a final attempt to dissuade us from searching it.
    If he heard the word
police
one more time, cried Heinrich, he would forget himself and fetch his video camera or do some other nasty things.
    Having already climbed the narrow ladder ahead of me, he opened the hatch with his free hand and reached behind him. I passed him the flashlight. Before he plunged his head into the darkness of the loft, he uttered several thunderous challenges. Anyone there? he called. No answer.
    The pattering of the rain could be heard at considerably greater volume, and we were enveloped in a cold draft. Eva and my partner remained standing at the foot of the ladder. Heinrich played his flashlight over the loft. It took us a while to solve the mystery: Via some secret route, two cats had succeeded in sheltering there from the storm. Once in the loft, they had evidently romped around. In the course of their cavorting, an open bookcase containing all manner of jumble had fallen over. This was what had caused the crash. When we transmitted this news to the women on the ladder below, it was greeted with hilarity.
    Meantime, I briefly devoted my attention to the unusual appearance of one of the cats, which was endeavoring to hide from the beam of the flashlight: It was dressed up. I pointed this out to Heinrich, who laughed. During a family visit a few days ago, he told me, Eva’s nephews had asked her grandmother for some clothes for the cats. The old woman in question had given them a few crocheted garments, and the animal in front of us had drawn the short straw.
    Let’s go back downstairs, he said.
    Although the situation had resolved itself satisfactorily, there was something sinister about a pitch-dark loft with the beam of a flashlight playing over it, especially at this juncture.
    Heinrich took the flashlight from me and shone it on his wrist. His watch said 11:20. Setting foot on the ladder, he communicated that fact to the women below and urged them to get a move on.
    With considerable vehemence, Eva gave vent to her mixed feelings about our forthcoming viewing of the murder video and voiced the hope that the relevant TV station had since been shut down by the police or stormed by demonstrators. Even though the latter procedure violated the principles of constitutional government and represented a criminal offense, she would nonetheless sympathize with the raiders and fully approve of their action.
    Heinrich told her to stop bleating.
    It fell to me, being the last one down, to shut the hatch to the loft and secure it with a metal bolt. This I did without delay.
    On reaching the first floor, we dispersed to complete sundry preparations before the program began. Eva paid another visit to the bathroom. Heinrich temporarily stowed the unused ax in the hall closet and exchanged his wet bathrobe for some dry indoor clothes.
    In the kitchen, my partner took a tray some three feet long and two wide from a small cupboard. On this, she placed three packets of Soletti pretzels, two packets of chips, a small bowl of peanuts, four far-too-meager portions of vanilla ice cream, four packets of wafer cookies, and a clean ashtray. I watched her meanwhile.
    Heinrich called loudly from the living room that it was 11:28. The program had already started, but not the video yet. We hurried into the living room and took our places. Eva’s attempt to thank my partner for her efforts with the food was nipped in the bud by a harsh rebuke from Heinrich, who, lolling on the sofa with his legs crossed, urged us to devote our attention to the screen.
    A blonde, overweight presenter was currently conversing with a bearded man of about fifty, the latter being described by a subtitle as a psychologist and theologian. The anchorwoman thanked him for his remarks, then turned to face the camera and addressed the viewers.