Therapy by Sebastian Fitzek Page B

explanation.
    Viktor heard a door close upstairs and a bolt shoot home. Anna was safely in the bathroom.
    He gave the coat a little shake and traced the clunking noise to the right-hand pocket. Without really thinking, he thrust his hand inside. The pocket seemed virtually bottomless and Viktor was on the point of giving up when his fingers met with a handkerchief and, a few centimetres later, a large wallet. He whipped it out and weighed it in his hand: an Aigner wallet from the men's collection. He thought of Anna and her beautifully coordinated, ladylike style. What would she want with a man's wallet?
    Who is this woman?
    Upstairs, the toilet flushed. Since the bathroom was almost directly above the sitting room, Viktor could hear the clacking of high-heeled shoes on the marble floor, from which he deduced that Anna was standing at the basin. As if on cue, he heard a squeaking of taps and a tumbling of water through the ancient copper pipes.
    Time was running out. He flipped open the wallet and checked the plastic pocket at the front. No ID; no driving licence. His heart slowed to a crawl as he realized that his discovery, far from solving the enigma of Anna's identity, only added to the mystery. She wasn't carrying a single bank card or even any cash – at least not in notes.
    Viktor suddenly lost his nerve and his hands began to shake. The tremor was only slight, but he couldn't control it. In the past, it had always been a physiological response to a dip in blood alcohol, but this time it wasn't the drink that was making him jittery. The silence was to blame. Anna had turned off the taps.
    He closed the wallet quickly and picked up Anna's coat. Just then the telephone rang, and he stumbled back guiltily, dropping the wallet that he should never have touched. It hit the floor with a thud, landing in the expectant pause between two rings. And Viktor, watching in frozen horror, learned the secret of its heaviness: coins were spilling in all directions, rolling across the parquet floor as if propelled by an invisible hand.
    Damn .
    Upstairs, the bathroom door opened. Viktor knew it was only a matter of seconds before Anna got back to the sitting room and found the contents of her wallet on the floor.
    Dropping to his knees, he scrabbled after the spinning coins, snatching at them with trembling hands. Meanwhile, the phone was ringing in the background, and his fingernails were too short, his hands too unsteady and the floor too slippery to get any leverage on the coins.
    And so he knelt there, sweaty, flushed and panicking, and suddenly remembered a distant afternoon when he and his father had sat on the sitting-room floor and practised picking up change with a horseshoe magnet. Ifonly he had a magnet now. Anything to spare him the humiliation that almost certainly lay ahead.
    ‘Feel free to answer it, Dr Larenz,’ shouted Anna.
    The infernal ringing made it difficult to locate her voice, but Viktor guessed she was on the landing at the top of the stairs.
    ‘Uh-huh,’ he called back, unable to think of a more appropriate response. He could still see at least ten coins scattered over the floor and under the couch. One had made it as far as the fireplace, collided with the fender, and stopped.
    ‘I don't mind if you answer it. I'm happy to wait.’
    This time she sounded much closer. Viktor wondered what was keeping her. He glanced at the coins in his hand and froze. He had been chasing a stash of scrap metal. The contents of Anna's wallet consisted exclusively of Deutschmarks, which had been taken out of commission when the euro was introduced. Some people, Isabell included, liked to use the one-mark coins in supermarket trolleys, but Anna's collection numbered four dozen or more.
    What was she doing with a wallet of obsolete coins? Surely everyone these days carried credit cards and ID?
    Who is she? How does she know about Josy? What's taking her so long?
    Viktor did the first thing that came into his head. Hastily, he