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An opalescent full moon hung over the horizon as Minki drove into the outskirts of Hadamar. A small town, nestling in a steep valley, it was a tranquil semi-rural place – a mixture of small terraced cottages and fine detached houses. Realising it was too late in the day to either locate or visit the institution, she checked into a small hotel. A middle-aged man stood behind the reception desk, which doubled as a bar.
‘Just the one night, is it?’ he asked, laying the register in front of her.
‘Yes.’
‘Sign here, please.’
He took Minki up to her room on the first floor. When he unlocked the door, it smelt musty and unused.
‘Do you serve dinner?’ she asked.
‘I’m afraid our kitchen is closed, but the inn across the road should still be serving.’
The inn was almost empty, apart from one customer – a man drinking beer at a corner table, his belly spilling out over his trousers. As Minki settled at a table by the window, he glanced furtively over at her. Fearing he might try to pick her up, she pointedly averted her gaze and studied the menu.
The waitress arrived and took her order – schnitzel and potatoes, and a carafe of local red wine.
‘I’ve not seen you here before,’ the waitress said when she returned with the wine. ‘We don’t get many visitors in Hadamar.’
‘I’ve not been here before.’
‘What brings you here now?’
Minki paused, unsure how much she should reveal. ‘Family.’
‘Oh…you got family here?’
‘Possibly.’
The waitress looked at her quizzically and went off to get her order.
Minki was in two minds as to how much she should reveal about the purpose of her visit. But she needed local information, and the woman seemed friendly enough. So, when the waitress returned with the schnitzel, Minki broached the subject of the institution.
‘What do local people here in Hadamar think about the home?’
‘What home’s that?’
‘The mental institution…’
‘Oh that…’ The woman shrugged. ‘Awful place – we don’t have much to do with it. Can I get you anything else?’
Minki shook her head.
The following morning she woke just before dawn. She washed, packed up her suitcase and came downstairs. A young girl was manning reception.
‘Good morning. I’m leaving today – I’d like to pay my bill.’
The girl smiled – an open, friendly smile. ‘Of course, Frau vonZeller. Did you enjoy your visit?’ She began to write out the bill.
‘Yes, thank you. There’s a medical institution here in Hadamar. What is it exactly – a mental hospital?’
‘Sort of,’ said the girl.
‘What do you mean – sort of?’
‘Well…’ The girl leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘People say they do terrible things there. There have been complaints, you know,’ before adding in a whisper, ‘about the smell.’
‘What smell?’
