Raven Sisters (Franza Oberwieser Book 2) (16 page)

33

Hanna is the center,
Gertrud wrote in the red book,
and that’s nothing new. That’s how it’s always been. She is the point around which everything turns, around whom we circle like tigers around a piece of meat.
I know I’ll be the loser in the end, but the crumbs she gives me, because she’s happy and radiates her happiness in every direction, these crumbs are worth any pain . . .

They knew nothing of love or its power. They were young, still children in some ways. They had no way of foreseeing what they should have foreseen.

Three people, surrendered to one another in their helplessness, unsuspectingly destroying each other, excessive in their demands of life and love. All three of them were happy if only for a brief time—even Gertrud. She greedily took the enthusiasm Hanna radiated from her love for Tonio. He, an intruder, an interloper, had awakened a love the like of which had never been before, which permeated them all with the certainty that they had been made for each other.

They became dependent on one another, plunged into a feeling of imprisonment, which was deceptively weightless and clear. It made them happy, and if there was the slightest hint of fear and the inkling of a suspicion that this happiness couldn’t last, they didn’t want to believe it. They became dependent on the feelings they held inside. But dependence was the last thing they intended or wanted.
Freedom
—as Janis Joplin sang—
is just another word for nothing left to lose.
They now had a lot to lose. But they didn’t realize it at first. The loss happened gradually, and for a long time they had no idea what it looked like, what it felt like, or how bitter it tasted.

Because they were happy at that time, every one for themselves, happiness at least seemed guaranteed. But was it guaranteed? No.

It’s all in vain,
Gertrud wrote in her diary while sitting in the departure lounge two hours before their flight to Greece.
All in vain.
Hanna won’t let me touch her, inwardly or outwardly. Her boundaries are clear as glass.
I’m lost . . .

And then Tonio died.

34

“Shit!” Felix exclaimed fervently when he and Franza met at a bar on Hollingerstrasse for a quick lunch and a brief team meeting, taking a table outside to make the most of the good weather. “Shit! She’s simply vanished without a trace, this Hanna Umlauf! We’ve found nothing—nothing! Nada,
niente
, zilch!”

He’d been to the hotel and asked the staff whether they knew where she intended to go, whom she had met, what her plans were. But no one knew anything.

Checking the telephone records had yielded nothing. No interesting numbers on the telephone company’s list, no one who might be the slightest bit likely to have anything to do with the case. She’d hardly made any calls at all. Jonas Belitz, on the other hand, had tried to make contact with his wife innumerable times, but without success. Since the night of the murder, her cell phone had been switched off, so there was no possibility of locating her that way. That was an additional cause for concern. It meant that either Hanna was dead or held captive somewhere, or that she didn’t want to be contacted—which gave credence to the scenario in which she was Gertrud’s murderer.

They had, of course, also checked Gertrud’s telephone calls. Disappointing. There was only the usual contact with family. The only thing of interest was a number of calls from a prepaid SIM card, although that didn’t really help, as it was not registered.

“What about you? Have you found anything new?” Felix asked, taking a halfhearted bite of his ham-and-cheese toasted sandwich. The cheese dripped, and Felix began to curse again.

Franza shook her head. “Now, now, calm down! Things are never as bad as they seem.”

“They are,” he snapped. “This damned cheese, for a start!” He rubbed at his mouth and chin with a paper napkin. “It’s damn hot. Burned me!”

Franza waited a few moments for him to calm down, and then she told them about her conversation with Gertrud’s mother.

Felix listened attentively. “Perhaps we shouldn’t concentrate on Hanna as the sole suspect.”

“No, of course not,” Franza replied. “She could still be a victim. But of course she’s a trail to follow. Did Gertrud’s husband come to the station this morning? And the children?”

Felix nodded. “Yes, they came. We took their fingerprints. They’re in for analysis now. But Robert thinks it could take a while until they’ve all been filed and sorted. In a family home like that, with children and visitors and all the comings and goings, there are a lot of fingerprints.”

He thought for a moment, shaking his head. “This Rabinsky
. . .
I don’t know. There’s something strange about him. He knows more than he’s saying. Perhaps Brückl’s right after all. Jealousy has always been a strong motive. And that red hair in his bed
. . .
”

“Have you confronted him with it?”

“No, not yet. I thought we’d wait until we’ve checked out his alibi. Then we’ll do it together.” He grinned. “You know, good cop, bad cop. Sometimes we just have to live the cliché.”

Peter Hansen joined them, carrying a beer.

He had no news either. He had questioned Jonas Belitz again, but he knew nothing about any stories from the past. When asked about his friendship with Hanna’s foster father, he confirmed what they had already found out from Brendler—there had been no contact between them for many years. That was likely because Belitz had married Hanna, which was not met with great enthusiasm. But love rules all.

“He’s really upset,” said Hansen, taking a drink of his beer. “It’s time we found her. The missing-person alert will be on the evening news. Let’s see if that yields anything.”

He studied the menu, which was rather scant, and finally ordered what he always did: egg on toast. “What do you think about the older man–younger woman thing?”

Felix had to smile, and Franza raised her eyebrows. Hansen hesitated. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. Nothing wrong.” Felix cleared his throat. “Well, to each his own, I say. Variety is the spice of life. Live and let live. That’s what’s so good about democracy and human rights, isn’t it? Franza?”

He gave her a little nudge and grinned again. She nudged him back with a smile of her own. Hansen watched them in amusement. “Well, you two understand each other well enough. You’re a good team, aren’t you? It’s enough to make me envious.”

“Yes, it is,” Franza said. “Oh, here comes the rest of our team. Just a word of warning: he’s walking on air, don’t drag him back to earth too suddenly!”

Arthur did indeed seem to float over to their table, his face slightly flushed, stars in his eyes.

“Jesus Christ!” Felix said. “What’s up with him?”

“He’s getting married.” Franza raised her hands in the air. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Oh my God!”

The men stood up to greet him, Arthur looking bewildered as they clapped him on the shoulder.

“So you’ve finally gotten your way with our little Karolina,” Felix said and smiled.

“But how
. . 
. ?” Arthur stammered.

“She couldn’t keep it shut,” Felix said affectionately, nodding in Franza’s direction. “But don’t be angry with her. You couldn’t have hidden it in any case—it’s obvious a mile away.”

Franza punched Felix playfully, and then shrugged, her head to one side. She smiled remorsefully and gave Arthur a hug. “I’m sorry, fella, but it’s no big secret, is it?”

“No, not a secret,” Arthur said. “Just total madness!”

He thought of his hometown in the north, the moors and heathland—everything he wanted to show Karolina—and of his mother, who could be a bit complicated at times but was basically fine.

They eventually turned their attention back to Gertrud, to Hanna, and to the case.

“So, this café owner, Renate Stockinger,” Arthur began. “She used to have a bar in Munich, a place Gertrud and Hanna often frequented. Then a man turned up, around thirty years old, Tonio. He was interested in Hanna and it turned into a passionate love affair. But then there was Gertrud, who, according to Stockinger, was inclined toward Hanna, in a romantic sense. So it looks like there was a bit of a triangle going on.”

“Long live democracy and human rights,” Felix said. Hansen and Franza nodded.

Arthur raised his eyebrows in question. “What?”

Franza shook her head. “Nothing. Inside joke. What else did she say?”

“One day, the three of them set off on holiday together. Greece, the island of Kos. Brendler has a holiday home there.”

“And?”

“Only Gertrud came back.”

“Because?”

“Tonio died and Hanna took off.”

“Well, would you believe it?” said Hansen.

“That matches up with what Gertrud’s mother told me,” said Franza. “Did Frau Stockinger know any more details?”

“He drowned. He went swimming on a stormy night and drowned. Apparently he was an amazing swimmer, but it didn’t help him that time.”

“Why would someone go swimming in the open sea on a stormy night?” Hansen frowned and shook his head.

“Hopefully our Greek colleagues were able to find out,” Franza said.

Felix nodded. “Indeed. But what do you mean, Hanna took off?”

“Well, Stockinger didn’t really know. Hanna simply failed to return to Germany. She
. . .
set off into the world. She never saw her again. Unlike Gertrud.”

“It’s an incredible coincidence, isn’t it? The café and the pottery shop being opposite one another. The fact that the two met again there.” Franza sipped her coffee.

Arthur nodded. “It certainly is. Stockinger thought so, too. She was quite amazed when Gertrud moved in. It wasn’t that long ago. Just over a year. Before that Gertrud had stayed home with Moritz. When Stockinger went over to greet her new neighbor and invite her over for a coffee, she found out it was Gertrud from Munich. It seems Gertrud wasn’t particularly pleased to see her old acquaintance at first. It was a while before she accepted the coffee invitation. They weren’t particularly close. In fact, it had only been in recent weeks that Gertrud had come over to the café with any regularity.”

“She obviously didn’t want to be reminded of the past,” Franza said. “I’m not surprised, given all that happened. I’m not too thrilled myself to meet people who witnessed my past defeats.”

Arthur shrugged, nodded.

“Well,” Felix said. “We’ve got a lot to do, guys. A hell of a lot to do.”

They stretched a little in the mild September sun, momentarily lost in thought.
The world seems to be constantly drifting a little toward the void,
Franza thought.

Felix took up the thread again. “Had that been Hanna’s intention, do you think? To set off into the world?”

And back,
Franza thought.
It also drifts back, but not everyone can rely on that.

Arthur shook his head. “Stockinger didn’t seem to think so. She was in the middle of her degree course. She hadn’t graduated. It looks like it was a sudden decision. A reaction to the shock of her boyfriend’s sudden death.”

“Yes, that fits quite well with what Frau Brendler told me,” Franza said. “Hanna traveled for a while, she thinks it was for around two years, but couldn’t remember exactly. Then she broke off all contact and they were unable to get back in touch with her.”

“What exactly happened in Greece?” Felix wondered. “I’d be very interested to know. Maybe that’s the key.”

“We’ll contact our colleagues in Greece tomorrow via Interpol and ask a few questions,” Franza said. “They must have investigated what happened at the time.”

“I’ve already taken the liberty of initiating it, Boss.” Arthur grinned, a little embarrassed.

“Very good!” Franza nodded her approval. “Good lad!”

Arthur spoke again. “I’ve got something else. You remember the guy who came to the café two days running and claimed to be visiting Gertrud?”

They all nodded.

“It was because of this man that Stockinger told me about Tonio. When we’d finished making the composite image, she suddenly turned quite pale and said”—Arthur paused dramatically—“she said it was
. . .
Tonio.”

“Oh,” Franza said.

“Wow,” Hansen said.

Felix whistled through his teeth.

“But that’s impossible, of course,” Arthur continued, “because he’s dead. Drowned in Greece twenty-two years ago. Besides, if it were him, she probably wouldn’t even have recognized him. He’d be twenty-two years older and would have looked correspondingly different.” He moved to stand by Felix and gave him an innocent smile as he aimed his words at Franza. “What I mean is, there’s quite a difference between him and me, isn’t there?”

“Yes, there certainly is!” Franza said with a grin. “Twenty-two years certainly makes a difference.”

Felix gave Franza a dark look. “Traitor!” He turned to Arthur. “May you age badly, my friend!”

Arthur laughed. “Yes, Boss, I’ll do my best.”

They thought for a moment. So there might be a son—maybe a younger brother, but more likely a son. One from a previous life.

“Do we have a surname for this Tonio?”

“We do.”

“Good. Find out about his relatives.”

“It will be difficult if this supposed son has a different family name. Which isn’t impossible.”

“Well, perhaps we’ll be in luck. You need a bit of luck sometimes.”

Felix’s cell phone rang. He took it out. A new smartphone.

“Oh,” Franza said.

“Wow,” Hansen said.

Arthur whistled through his teeth.

Felix gave a subtle smile, looked at the display, and moved to another table. He exchanged a few sweet nothings with Angelika, something he’d taken to doing recently. The others waited in a reverent silence. When he returned, he placed the gadget on the table.

“You’re impressed, aren’t you?”

“We’re impressed,” Hansen said. He picked up the phone and examined it from all sides.

“We’re not
that
impressed,” Arthur said, delving into his pocket. “I’ve got one, too.”

“But we
are
impressed,” Franza said. “Our Felix getting himself such a nice man toy? Are you entering male menopause, Herz? Or having a midlife crisis? I’d have thought you’d have gone for a bigger toy—a sexy convertible, for example.”

They laughed.

“Or
. . 
.
 
,” Hansen began, his face lighting up, “. . .
 
or a sexy
. . .
”

“Stop!” Franza said, raising her hands. “Stop right there! We don’t need to hear it, Hansen!”

They laughed again, and Felix grabbed Hansen by the shoulders, giving him a light shake.

It’s good to be here laughing,
Franza thought,
and knowing they accept you as you are. You can be yourself. They take you seriously but know how to laugh with you. This is how you manage not to let it drag you down—this way you can stay afloat and face life
.

That was how it had always been—cases, obstacles. People tripped, went under, and then they arrived, the detectives, bringing things to light and finding answers. It was an eternal cycle, always in motion. A cycle which, to look at it pragmatically, assured their livelihoods, their income, their economic foundations. Everything had its place.

“OK,” Franza said. “I think it’s all coming together. I’m totally convinced of it. These aren’t mere coincidences. This young man, Tonio. He appears suddenly. Gets in touch with Gertrud. She’s scared to death. Hanna. She comes to this town for the first time in more than twenty years. And disappears without a trace. No, these can’t be coincidences. It all hangs together, somehow connected with Gertrud’s death. And her past. Once we know her past, her story, we’ll see the motive. And we’ll know why she died. And then we’ll have the murderer.”

“What could the motive be? What do you think?” Arthur asked.

Franza smiled. He was still so young; he knew so little of life.

“Love’s the motive.” She picked a bit of fluff from his jacket. “Hate, revenge. The usual stuff.”

They were silent. A little reverential for a brief moment. The toasted sandwich on Felix’s paper plate had long since gone cold. Franza had drunk her coffee.

“Aren’t you eating anything?”