The Double Bass Player by Adrian Thomé

Author:Adrian Thomé [Thomé, Adrian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime Story
Publisher: Adrian Thome Verlag
Published: 2017-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

6. Paternal love - an eye for an eye, an ear for an ear

The faded doorplate had the name Sachow written on it. Inspector Schrenk rang the bell twice. He felt how stiff the button was; it hadn’t been used in years. After a while, he heard a voice behind the door.

‘What do you want? Go away or I’ll call the police!’

‘Mr. Sachow? My name’s Schrenk, Inspector Guido Schrenk. As you might have heard in the news we’re looking for your son.’ No response.

‘He’s broken out of prison. I have a few questions for you, Mr. Sachow.’

In the next-door apartment a dog had started barking.

‘Please open the door, Mr. Sachow.’

‘Go away!’ the voice behind the door ordered. ‘I’ve said everything I had to say. If you’re too incompetent to keep your eye on that loser, that’s your problem.’

‘Mr. Sachow, I have to ask you to open the door. Your son might kill another person.’

‘So let him! It’s the only thing he’s good at. In everything else he’s a complete failure,’ the voice answered.

‘If you don’t open the door, I’ll have to charge you with impeding a police investigation.’

The voice didn’t react. The dog was still barking. Suddenly, the door to the neighboring apartment opened, and an old woman’s eyes peered through the crack allowed by the security chain. A dachshund pushed its grey snout out past her legs. It sniffed, then went back into another fit of barking.

‘You can wait all you want. Only comes out once a month. Be careful,’ she warned, her voice breaking.

‘Mind your own business, you old witch!’ the voice behind the door shouted. ‘One of these days I’m going to poison that fleabag of yours and get some peace!’

The lock clicked. ‘Five minutes, not a second more.’

The door opened, and Schrenk was hit by the smell of stale air. The neighbor shut her door with a bang.

‘Watch your feet,’ the voice ordered. Schrenk stepped into a dark apartment. Dimitri Sachow’s father switched on the light. The first thing Inspector Schrenk saw in front of him was a huge double bass at the end of the corridor. Only then did he notice the old man standing directly next to him. Old Sachow had white hair and a pinched face.

‘Don’t be shocked, lad. Just a fungal infection feasting on my iris. At least I can now turn a blind eye on this miserable world, eh?’ Except for two small black dots, Sachow’s eyeballs were completely white. Inspector Schrenk gulped.

‘Follow me and switch off the light behind you,’ Sachow ordered. Schrenk was led into another dimmed room. There were sheets of music everywhere. He read the names: Tchaikovsky, Brahms, and then Koussevitzky, again and again. The walls were covered with crucifixes and pictures of the Virgin Mary. The smell of fermented milk permeated the room. Sachow headed straight for his armchair, the centerpiece of the room.

‘Don’t sit. I don’t want you staying too long, not like the cop who came here last time,’ Sachow growled.

‘Your son’s on the run, Mr.

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