Raven Sisters (Franza Oberwieser Book 2) (31 page)

79

It was as if it were normal for him to come to her house at that time of night, as if it were normal for him to bring death with him. Because he did bring death. Not immediately. Not right away. He probably didn’t even know it when he arrived. He was probably as surprised by the dreadful sequence of events, the awful dynamics of all the decisions that followed, as Tonio out on the terrace, as Gertrud.

It looked like a peaceful visit. They sat across from one another at the table, talking quietly. Tonio couldn’t hear any of it.

He didn’t dare come any closer to the window. They would have seen him: a ghost in the night, a shadow that didn’t belong there.

Later, Tonio couldn’t recall how the idea had come to him. Suddenly, it was there in his head and he gave in to it, quietly leaving his place on the terrace and slipping down the garden path until he reached the man’s car. Tonio felt the hood. It was still warm. He nodded in satisfaction, and then took a picture of the license plate with his cell phone. Later he would do a bit of hacking, child’s play. It was always good to know who he was dealing with.

Cautiously, he slipped back to the terrace.

The scene in the kitchen had changed. No longer peaceful. Gertrud had leapt up and was gesticulating wildly with her arms, her voice loud, shrill, cracking. She had been stirred up by the day’s events, which had exposed her life like never before. She had been drinking, she had lost all stability—but the visitor couldn’t have known all that.

From behind his bush by the window, Tonio heard his father’s name, heard Hanna’s name. He stared, transfixed and shocked. He saw the silhouettes of the two people whose voices had suddenly grown loud, who were fighting with one another. He saw the knife in the man’s hand, as if it had arrived there by chance, and then saw his arm move
. . .
his hand
. . .
forward
. . .
toward Gertrud
. . .
who stood as if mesmerized
. . .

. . .
and then the pain spread, the cold, the gray of the in-between
. . .
she fell
. . .
lay
. . .
stretched out
. . .

. . .
the man
. . .
as if mesmerized, the knife still in his hand, Gertrud lying on the floor, stammering out words. The knife fell, clattering on the tiles, into the blood that flowed fast from the wound, spreading out around Gertrud, giving her back her stability, her contours
. . .

Tonio thought
. . .
nothing, nothing
. . .

The man in the kitchen eventually broke the spell that bound him, took a step back, looked around, breathed deeply, leaned briefly on the table with both arms, and gradually got control over himself.

And then, finally, he ran from the kitchen—out the front door, down the garden path, and through the gate.

Tonio sprinted after him, saw him get into the car and drive away, saw the rear lights of the car gliding away into the darkness and being swallowed up by the distance. His hand gripped the cool case of his cell phone tightly. He thought of the photo of the registration number. He thought that it would now be easy to find out to whom the car belonged. He felt his heart racing.

Later, back in the apartment, he began to shake.
So you’re not so tough,
he thought,
not such a cool character.
For some reason that pleased him.

He lay down on the bed, but as soon as he closed his eyes, he saw Gertrud in front of him, lying in her own blood, with staring eyes and a new knowledge on her face.

Eventually he slept, and dreamed of Kristin.

80

The morning had been sobering. Franza had found it a great effort to force herself out of bed.
An old woman,
she thought,
that’s what I am. I can’t even handle two glasses of red wine and a few cigarettes.

“Couldn’t you sleep?” Herz asked when she reached the office.

She looked at him and saw that he didn’t look any better. “You neither?”

He nodded. “The time always comes when they start to haunt you,” he said with a sigh. “When that happens, there’s nothing to be done about it. It’s time for the final leg.”

Franza nodded. “I don’t think Lilli has anything to do with Gertrud’s murder. I don’t want to believe it.”

“But she was in the house.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And she would have had a motive.”

“Yes, I know.”

They were silent. Then Herz began again. “What really worries me is the fact
. . .
”

“.
 . .
that she also turned up at Tonio’s.” Franza completed his sentence. “And what he could have done with her. And what he could have done with Hanna.”

Herz nodded. “Precisely! And the fact that we’ve still found no trace of him.”

Franza’s cell phone rang. It was Borger. “The fingerprints on the knife. None of them belong to your young Lilli.”

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Is that a sigh of relief?” Borger asked.

She had to smile. “Yes, it is.”

“And now you’re smiling,” he said with a grin.

“And now you’re grinning,” she said.

“You got it. But back to the point, I’ve got something else. We’ve run everything. All the things you sent us. So, there are some interesting patterns.”

“Lilli is Hanna’s daughter,” Franza interrupted. “And Tonio is Lilli’s brother.”

“Yes,” Borger said, sounding a little disappointed. “Yes, though I see you know that already.”

“Don’t be upset, Borger,” Franza said, unable to stop herself from smiling again. “We needed confirmation. So you’ve been a great help to us.”

“OK.” Borger sighed. “Back to work.”

“Well, at least it’s something,” Herz said, although he didn’t sound too pleased.

“Let’s go back to the Brendlers’,” Franza said. “Perhaps there’ll be some news. Perhaps our distinguished attorney will have reappeared. Perhaps
. . .
”

“Deep breath, Franza,” Herz said. “Breathe deeply!”

But it wasn’t so easy.
If you only knew,
she thought as they went out to the car.
If you only knew, my dear Herz!

Last night there had been hardly anyone there—no wonder, given how late it was. He’d been at the bar, all alone, his back turned to her. Wearing a blue jacket. With a glass of red wine in front of him. All as he had described. It was as if he was giving her the chance to have a good look at him before approaching. But she’d had no need to look. She recognized him immediately. And fled.

Herz’s cell phone rang. He switched it to speaker.

“One of you should come,” Arthur said. “We’ve got Bonnie and Clyde.”

81

They didn’t actually have Bonnie and Clyde yet, but they had received an interesting call—a very interesting call. It was from the maid at a motel by the autobahn, who had been watching television on and off, her attention wandering. An item caught her eye—the missing-person announcement that appeared on the noon news. When they showed the composite, it looked somehow familiar—a customer she had seen fleetingly, very fleetingly.

He had seemed a little reserved, and she had also noticed hair lying around the toilet in his room. Not too much, just a small clump that she only noticed when she bent down to give the toilet and the area around it a thorough clean. She did this, she pointed out, because she was a thorough person. Always had been. She’d wondered where the hair had come from because the woman who was also staying in the room had light brown hair and the man had a shaven head.

There had been something about the picture on the TV screen that nagged at her, but she hadn’t realized its significance immediately. Then she remembered the little clump of hair, dark, slightly curly, like the hair of the man in the picture
. . .
it had clicked.

She’d told them all this over the phone, first to some dumb duty officer with no responsibility, who was only doing his job, and then to someone who had at least a bit of responsibility, and finally to someone who had even more. And now two plainclothes officers had arrived at the motel, one introducing himself as Herz, the other saying he was the one she’d spoken to on the phone: Arthur Peterson.

“Heppner,” she replied, refusing the proffered hand. “Sieglinde Heppner.” She told her story once again, eagerly, in great detail and with some excitement.

She looked a little embarrassed as she came to an end.

“I hope I’m not getting anyone into trouble here, but”—she paused, as if examining her own thoughts—“but it seemed strange to me, is all. Odd. Yes, that’s it, odd. They were behaving oddly, those two. As if they were hiding. And he hardly left the room. Only at night, when it was dark.”

How does she know so much?
Herz thought.
Is she always working, day and night?

He sincerely hoped that he’d never find himself in a situation where others watched him surreptitiously and later described him as “odd” and “strange.”

On the other hand, they had to be pleased that there were people like this Sieglinde Heppner in the world, who watched others observantly even if only to satisfy their own curiosity or out of boredom.

No!
He shook his head. That was unfair.

Frau Heppner paused, looking irritated. “No? What do you mean?”

He laughed. “Nothing, Frau Heppner, nothing at all. I’m sorry, I was just thinking. Please continue.”

“Yes, well,” she said. “That’s it, really. There’s nothing more to tell. Do you want to see the room? I’ve got the key card here.”

“By all means,” Herz said. “By all means.”

He gave her a friendly smile.
What will we find?
he thought as he followed Arthur and the woman.
What next?

“Are the two of them still here, do you know?”

She shook her head. “No, unfortunately not. They left a while ago. You should have gotten here quicker.”

Hm,
Herz thought,
do you think we can fly? We’re only human.
“By car?”

Another shake of her head. “No, they didn’t have one. At least, not in the parking lot here. I”—she hesitated—“I investigated a bit. But I didn’t dare follow them out onto the street.”

“That’s good, Frau Heppner,” Herz said. “It’s a good thing you didn’t do that. That could’ve been dangerous. And it’s not your job. That’s our job.”

She nodded, blushed slightly, and stopped outside a door.

“This is it,” she said.

“Thank you,” Herz said. “Thank you very much, Frau Heppner.”

She stood there hesitantly. Herz sighed inwardly. The same old story. Burning curiosity. The reluctance to leave.

He smiled. “That’ll be all, thanks. If you could just give me the key card?”

“Oh,” she said. “Right. Yes. The card.”

She gave it to him. “Yes, well
. . .
” she nodded, a little embarrassed. “I hope I’ve been helpful to you.”

“You certainly have. Many thanks once again,” Herz said kindly and offered his hand.

Once she had gone, the two police officers positioned themselves on either side of the door and slipped the safeties off their guns. Herz cautiously slid the card into the slot. There was a soft click, and the door opened. Herz pushed it wide and called loud and clear, “Police!”

Nothing moved.

The detectives entered the room cautiously, checking left and right. Arthur pushed the bathroom door open—the light went on, nothing. Just a gaping emptiness.

They finally stopped in the middle of the room, secured their guns, and slipped them back into their holsters.

“Once again they’re ahead of us,” Arthur said angrily.

“Well,” Herz said, “at least this time we can be on the lookout for them and hopefully catch them. This time they don’t know we’re on their trail. At least I don’t think so. In the meantime, let’s look to see if we can find anything here. There might be something to help us.”

They began a systematic search. Arthur started in the bathroom. Nothing particularly interesting: toothbrushes that looked as though they had just been bought, a few other toiletry items, scarcely touched. On the bed were a few plastic bags containing clothing, some of which still had the tags attached.

“It all looks new,” Herz said.

“No wonder. They needed to buy everything new—they left the apartment in such a rush they didn’t take anything with them.”

He picked up one
of the bags and emptied the contents out onto the bed. The last item that fell out was a set of hair clippers.

“Oh,” Arthur said, “look at this! Look at this! What have we here? The hair clippers for changing his identity.”

“That’s right,” Herz said. “Looking at all this, I’d say we’ve definitely hit on something.”

“But why stay at a motel here? Why didn’t they disappear into the sunset ages ago?”

They thought about it.

“Perhaps they’re not ready yet. Perhaps they still have something to do.”

“But what?”

“Hanna? Is she a hostage? And Lilli too, now?”

Arthur shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. No idea. I’m lost now.”

“Courage, my boy,” Herz said, sitting down on the bed and slowly gazing around the room once again. “It’ll come. Believe me. It always does.”

He suddenly jumped up, went to the desk, bent down, and fished something out from under it. He looked at it and held it up with satisfaction. A book of matches.

“It seems that one of them smokes,” he said cheerfully. “That’s great for us. Especially as there’s something on it.” He held up the matchbook and read out the name and address of a bar.

He smiled. “It’s always nice when our birds sing. Let’s get over there now.”

He threw the book of matches over to Arthur, who frowned. “But it might not mean anything,” he said sullenly.

“It might not,” Herz said. “But it might! Might! And will! I can smell it. Or f
eel it in my bones. Whichever you prefer. Trust an old dog. Onward and upward. Come on!”

And he stormed out, hot on the new trail.