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the underbrush.
    “You know what, come up to the Dolder,” Helene suggested. “It’s nearby.”
    Josefa hesitated. The famous Dolder Grand, renowned for its sublime site on a slope above the city, was the most expensive hotel for miles around.
    Helene took her silence as a sign of agreement, adding, “Four o’clock in the bar,” before hanging up. Helene didn’t waste time on small talk.
    Josefa finished her tea and dialed Stefan’s number. The sun’s feeble rays shimmered in the early summer air outside her window, its pale beams reflecting into Josefa’s room. His voice mail picked up.
    “It’s me. I’ve been trying to get you since yesterday,” Josefa chattered away. “Today’s the first day of my vacation, but I’ve got a big hassle at the office. Nothing to do with St. Moritz, that all went well, very well, as a matter of fact. I’d just like to hear your voice again. I’m home this evening. Ciao.”
    Stefan was seldom in when she phoned, which usually didn’t bother her. She’d decided to have this affair because Stefan was married, and a father, and didn’t want anything more from her than she was prepared to give. She was on safe ground with him; it was a passing relationship free of any anxiety over impending loss.
    Before Josefa left for the Dolder, she glanced into the laundry room. Somebody was monopolizing both washing machines once again. She met a woman of indeterminate age on the staircase wearing a kaftan and a headscarf. Josefa had never seen her before, but that was not unusual as the tenants changed frequently on the lower floors. The city administration had been putting up asylum seekers on the second and third floors; some of the long-time tenants had protested to no avail. Josefa really couldn’t care less; she was traveling most of the time anyway.
    “Are you just doing the washing?” she inquired. The woman raised her hands and said something Josefa didn’t understand.
    “Washing?” she repeated, feeling rather stupid. The woman laughed in embarrassment, a bit intimidated. She was missing a few teeth, which made her look older than she probably was.
    Josefa gave a shrug of resignation. The woman rushed ahead of her and disappeared behind a door. The aroma of exotic food poured from the apartment, filling the entire stairwell.
    Josefa took the streetcar through the downtown and then the mountain line up to the Dolder. The silhouette of the luxury hotel with its picturesque little towers jutted into the gray sky. The sun’s sparse rays had vanished long ago.
    Men in stylish uniforms attended to black limousines in front of the hotel entrance, and Josefa proudly recognized some elegant Loyn pieces being unloaded.
    At the entrance steps she changed from her running shoes into suede pumps. She didn’t dare leave dirty tracks on the carpet of a five-star hotel, where butlers would iron guests’ newspapers. Helene didn’t seem to have any similar compunction, however. She came tearing into the bar shortly after Josefa arrived—in knee-high hunting boots and green Gore-Tex pants, carrying a large basket. A cluster of formally dressed ladies and gentlemen turned in her general direction, eyeing her surreptitiously. Helene’s cheeks were glowing red, a deeper red than her short hair; her glasses were slightly fogged up; and she was boyishly slim, with the austere face of a Buddhist monk. Although Helene was always outside in wind and weather, her skin was amazingly smooth.
    Josefa looked over at her basket, anticipating what it held. It would be some small creature Helene had found abandoned in nature or in the asphalt jungle of Zurich and taken under her care, no doubt. She only hoped it wasn’t one of those chirpy birds like the one Helene had fed — more specifically had stuffed squashed worms into the little orphaned alpine swift’s maw — in a restaurant last summer. Josefa had wanted to sink through the floor when curious people at other tables turned to watch.
    But