Raven Sisters (Franza Oberwieser Book 2) (32 page)

82

Back into the world?

Now?

Back from the peace and quiet?

Perhaps
. . .
yes, perhaps it’s time to face things. I have to see Dorothee again, to talk to her. Not everything can have gone wrong.

I switched my cell phone on briefly a few hours ago, and the world has slipped a little closer. A lot of calls. A lot of texts. I’m not going to answer any of them. We’ve reached the end.

I don’t know,
he wrote.
I don’t understand why anymore.
I only know I have to die.

Have to die . . .
What a strange expression. Isn’t that coming to us all?

The birds are flying south. I’m not going with them.

He asks me to forgive him. For everything.
Forgive me, Hanna.
For everything.

83

He ascended the stairs at his usual leisurely pace and asked for directions. They sent him to Oberwieser and Herz, but they were not there. He eventually ended up in Hansen’s office.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” the visitor said, mischievously. “You can’t do anything for me. But maybe I can do something for you. Does the name Hanna Umlauf mean anything to you?”

He immediately had Hansen’s attention.

He said she’d been at his cemetery. He was the priest of St. Peter’s parish, and she had turned up there looking for a particular grave. He’d helped her to find it.

“So she’s alive,” Hansen said, filled with relief. “Are you sure?”

The priest frowned and stroked his beard.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes. She was very much alive. A very likeable lady and very much alive. We had a good talk, but sadly not for too long. She seemed to be in a bit of a hurry.”

The priest also had a good talk with Hansen. This one was also not for long. Hansen was also suddenly in a hurry.

84

“She’s alive,” Hansen said on the telephone. “Hanna Umlauf’s alive.”

He announced it twice, once to Franza and once to Felix. Both times he felt his colleagues’ huge relief. He intended to announce it a third time, but that didn’t happen because the call wasn’t answered—the cell phone was off.

Hansen tried a few more times before finally giving up. He stared into space for a moment. And suddenly had an idea, as if pulled from the air. He began to investigate, without quite knowing why. And he made some surprising discoveries.

85

“Hanna’s alive,” Franza said after getting off the phone with Hansen. “We still don’t know where she is, but at least we know with some certainty that she’s alive.”

“Thank God,” whispered Dorothee, closing her eyes for a moment. “At least that’s something.”

“Maybe . . .” Franza said on a sudden impulse, “. . . maybe Lilli is with her.”

Dorothee’s eyes shot open, and she stared at Franza with a long, dark gaze.

Just under an hour ago, Franza had arrived and found Dorothee alone.

“Do you know where your husband is?” she had asked her.

Dorothee had merely shrugged helplessly.

“Why?” she asked now, with a choke in her voice. “Why would Lilli be with Hanna? And how would she have found her?”

“Perhaps it was just a question of logic,” Franza said. “Yes, that’s probably it—it’s so logical that Lilli grasped it.”

“But she doesn’t know her at all.” Dorothee was still trying to defend herself.

“Hanna is
. . .
”

“Hanna is Lilli’s mother.” Dorothee completed Franza’s cautious statement for her. “Yes, she is. But there’s no way Lilli can know.”

Franza felt a small, sad smile rising inside her. Dorothee was doing what many people do: she was shutting herself off from knowledge that was already there, that had already crept into her heart and her mind. She had closed off, afraid of facing its power, afraid of facing what it represented, what it would change.

“Yes, she can,” Franza said quietly. “She can, and you know that, Frau Brendler. All Lilli needs to do is put two and two together.”

“If she’s done anything to herself
. . .
” Dorothee said tonelessly.

Franza shook her head vehemently. “No, I don’t believe she has! I’m sure she hasn’t.”

“If my husband
. . .
” Dorothee continued.

Franza shook her head again. “There wouldn’t be any reason for it. We’ll figure everything out. And until we do, you shouldn’t think such thoughts.”

But she knew people always thought such thoughts. People turned them over and over in their minds, and they grew into huge monsters that ate them up. Then they were trapped in their thoughts, in fear.

Franza knew it from her own experience. Yet she still tried to calm them when they were worried, tried to take away their fears, to relieve the agony of realization, of knowledge.

“So,” she said, “let’s start at the beginning. Have you called all Lilli’s friends and acquaintances?”

Dorothee nodded. “Yes, we have. Christian and I. All of them. No one knows anything. She isn’t with any of them.”

“And you believe that?”

They heard the front door. Dorothee turned around, jumped up. Hans Brendler entered.

“Hans! Where have you been? I’ve been worried. I thought
. . .
Lilli
. . .
”

“What?” he asked blankly. “Lilli? What’s going on with Lilli?”

“She’s gone,” Dorothee yelled. “Our Lilli has gone!”

“Our Lilli,” he murmured. “Our Lilli will never forgive us
. . .
”

His expression was so empty that Franza was suddenly no longer certain that he wouldn’t do anything to himself. He turned away, turned to his wife.

“And you thought I
. . 
. ?”

She was silent, didn’t look at him.

They’re losing it,
Franza thought.
Now they’re both lost to one another.

“Where have you been?” Dorothee asked.

He shrugged. “No idea. Somewhere or other. It’s not important. I wanted to be alone. Get my head around it all somehow.”

“I needed you,” she said.

He didn’t reply.

86

They parked the car around the corner. They wanted to remain inconspicuous, not rush in guns ablaze—no blue lights or sirens, a nice quiet approach. At least at first.

Arthur grinned. This was pure adrenalin, warming his veins and causing his blood to simmer. It was almost like sex with Karolina, so much fun. It was a kick, all right—showing up, talking, acting, if necessary. And he really hoped it would be necessary to act. To put dangerous murderers behind bars, a certain amount of commotion was certainly allowed, even expected. IDs out first. State the case. Explain themselves clearly, calmly. Then:
Pow!
Cut to the chase. Handcuffs clicking around Bonnie and Clyde’s wrists after their weapons have been taken away. Later, he’d welcome the flurry of flashes from the regional press cameras—or even better, those of the national press—and finally a pat on the back from the chief of police and some words of praise for our capable young Arthur Peterson, the rising star in the police force, the nemesis of all criminal elements. Finally, the high point: Karolina would be waiting in the wings, her not-inconsiderable breast swelling with pride, and his mother, shedding a tear or two of joy.

Yes. That was how it should be. Arthur grinned to himself, but outwardly a little, too.

“Hey!” Herz said. “Boy! Daydreaming of fame and fortune again?” He smiled affectionately. “Keep calm, OK? We don’t know what’s waiting for us. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps zilch, nada,
niente
.”

Shit,
Arthur thought.
Caught in the act.
He blushed and lowered his head so that Herz wouldn’t notice. But Herz noticed everything, as Arthur well knew.

“Yes,” he said, subdued. “Yes, Boss, I know.”

Herz smiled and touched the young man’s elbow.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Nothing to worry about.”

Then they were there, and it all happened fast. And unspectacularly—too unspectacularly for Arthur’s liking.

It didn’t begin too badly. They entered the bar and looked around. No familiar faces. The door to the terrace was open, and there were a few tables out there as the sun was still pleasantly warm.

Arthur recognized the woman immediately. His heart began to beat a little more loudly.

She was sitting at a table by the door—a woman in her early thirties, face turned to the Indian summer sun, soaking up the last vestiges of warmth before the gray of the approaching fall and winter. The wisps of smoke from her cigarette rose into the light, dissipating like fine dust motes.

Huh,
thought Arthur with a slight feeling of regret,
smoking’s just bad for your health; so bad for your health that—zap—it’ll get you. What a waste.

But she suspected nothing. Her eyes were closed as if she was waiting for something, for someone. It was as if she had all the time in the world, as if nothing or no one could want anything of her. She was an angel, beautiful, innocent.

Opposite her and turned slightly away, with his back to the police officers, sat a man with a shaved head. He was a little older than she was. He looked tense, restless, nervous, his head turning back and forth, his foot tapping the ground, beating out a rhythm that only he knew.

Arthur tapped Herz on the shoulder. Herz turned to him with a questioning look, and Arthur indicated the terrace door with his head.

“OK,” Herz said softly. “Let’s go. Quietly—we don’t want to disturb the other customers.”

Slowly, silently, they approached the table, their right hands poised inconspicuously over their holsters—out of sight of other patrons but ready to remove the safeties rapidly if needed, if the situation escalated. Their left hands held their IDs.

Felix stayed in the background to allow Arthur to step forward, a shadow falling in the path of Kristin’s sun. She opened her eyes in irritation and blinked.

“Hi, Bonnie,” Arthur said with a smile. “Lovely to see you again.”

87

The computer spewed a lot of information onto the screen. Hansen sighed. Looked like a lot of work. Ah well, such was life. He thought briefly of his approaching holiday. Two weeks in Spain in the late September sun. He immediately felt better.

He quickly scrolled through the reports. He was convinced it wouldn’t produce anything, but it was better than sitting there with a thousand thoughts about Gertrud Rabinsky’s murder and Lilli Brendler’s disappearance swirling around his head. It was a good distraction.

At first it was mostly uninteresting. A successful man, this guy—respected, wealthy. A perfect life. Almost. And then
. . .
suddenly
. . .
that little twist, that little niggle.

88

The detectives had everything under control. Kristin sat frozen in her seat, while Tonio jumped up.

Felix directed the proceedings in a sharp voice. “Police! Sit back down! Hands on the table! You’re under arrest!”

Arthur pacified the other customers and the staff, showed his ID, and said loud and clear that they were carrying out a police operation. There was no reason to panic. Everything was under control.

Then he asked the head waiter for a quiet room where they could talk in peace with the pair under arrest. With a sigh of relief that the excitement was over, the head waiter guided the four troublemakers into a room that smelled as though it was a staff smoking room.

“Take a seat,” Herz said, showing Kristin and Tonio where to sit. Already the cogs of Kristin’s cool legal brain had begun to turn.

“What exactly are we accused of?” she asked. “Is it a crime to enjoy a coffee in peace?”

“No, no,” Herz said in a firm voice. “That’s certainly allowed, provided you don’t also have any criminal intentions, or you haven’t previously committed a crime such as murder.”

Tonio leapt up. “What? Murder? You can’t believe I’d—”

“We do believe it, yes,” Herz said slowly, although for some reason he was no longer so certain. “You’ve already avoided arrest once by running away. We normally take that as a clear admission of guilt.”

“That’s garbage! Sheer garbage!”

“Prove me wrong.”

Kristin stepped in now. “Since when has it been the norm in this country for respectable citizens to be required to prove their innocence? As far as I know, the opposite is true. You have to prove our guilt, and you can’t do that! Because we’re not guilty.”

Herz suppressed a smile.
A fierce young woman,
he thought.

“Easy,” he said calmly. “Easy, now! Let’s just talk calmly to one another. That’ll get us a whole lot further.” He paused briefly. “So, what are you doing here? What, or rather
who
,
were you waiting for here?”

They looked at each other, shrugged.

“Nothing,” they said together. “No one. We were having a coffee here, enjoying the sun.”

“Listen,” Herz said, gradually becoming harsher, “we don’t have all the time in the world. So, once again: What were you doing here? What or who were you waiting for here?”

They were silent for a moment before Tonio asked a question of his own.

“What on earth gives you the idea that I
. . .
could have murdered Gertrud Rabinsky?”

Felix smiled. “Well, that tells me that you do know what all this is about. Now, let’s begin calmly at the beginning. So you admit that you knew Frau Rabinsky.”

He hesitated. “Knew? No. You can’t really say that.”

“Well, it seems you knew her well enough to have—how shall I put it?—stalked her a little. I assume you’re not really going to deny it.”

Shit,
Tonio thought.
Shit.
He shook his head uncertainly. “Now, you shouldn’t take that the wrong way.”

“So, in what way should it be taken?”

He said nothing, suddenly aware of how bad his position was.

Felix continued, “We’ve searched your apartment. And found a whole load of things. A whole load of evidence that suggests you’ve created a veritable list of grievances against Gertrud Rabinsky and Hanna Umlauf.”

Tonio shook his head in amazement. “What garbage! Why would I have done that?”

“Because they effectively took your father from you.”

Tonio laughed out loud. “Bullshit! No one took my father from me. He did that himself. I never knew him, never even saw him.”

“So what
was
your motive for killing Gertrud Rabinsky?”

Tonio jumped up, stretching out his arms in despair. “None! Please believe me! I didn’t have a motive. And I didn’t kill her either! You’ve got to believe me!”

“Sit down,” Felix said firmly. “We haven’t
got
to believe anything you say. I hope you realize how serious your situation is. You should cooperate with us.”

Tonio slumped into his chair, a picture of misery.

“I’ll cooperate,” he said. “I know when I’ve lost.”

“Good,” Felix said. “I’m listening.”

Tonio turned toward him.

“I watched her. Yes, that’s true. It became a bit like an addiction. Suddenly
. . .
you get involved in the life of another person and then you can’t tear yourself away.” He shook his head, as if unable to believe it himself. “It takes on a life of its own, everything starts moving so incredibly fast.”

“Why were you watching her? Were you looking for something you could blackmail her with? And then, when you saw that wasn’t working, you lost your nerve and grabbed the knife that was already there in the kitchen?”

Tonio shook his head again.

“No,” he said. “No, honestly, that’s not true. There was nothing I could have blackmailed her with. I simply wanted to
. . .
hear her story. I wanted to hear something about my father. I wanted to know what happened. How he died. How it was possible to drown in a sea like the Aegean.” He broke off, laughed softly, a little bitterly. “I wanted to know whether he ever talked about me. Or about my mother. What we meant to him. Whether we were ever anything to him. Anything at all.”

He fell silent.

Felix felt Tonio’s nebulous pain and could suddenly understand why this lack of memories haunted him, why he wanted to know about his father, and when the opportunity arose, he
. . .

Felix believed him. Gradually. Increasingly.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me from the beginning.”

And Tonio told his story: about the inheritance; about how this family suddenly erupted into his life, a family that was new to him, unknown and unexpected; and about how, at first, fear had been greater than pleasure.

He told them how all these people had suddenly emerged. First his father and then the two women. He’d been amazed at what a deeply rooted part of his father’s life they’d been. He sensed that their traces ran more deeply and more forcefully than those of his mother or himself. If he were honest, neither he nor his mother had left any traces at all in his father’s life.

That had hurt in a way that had taken him completely by surprise, because he had never imagined it would affect him like that. But now it propelled him to look into the past. He wanted to know, know, know.

And so he sent that letter to Hanna, who was living in France. And forced his way into Gertrud’s life.

“And with your actions you set a lot of wheels in motion,” Felix said.

Tonio nodded and hung his head. “Yes, I certainly did.”

“Where’s Lilli?” Felix asked.

“Lilli?” Tonio looked up, and smiled. “My little sister?”

“Yes,” Felix said. “That’s exactly who I mean.”

“I have no idea,” Tonio said. “Honestly! No idea. She came. We talked. She left.”

“Where did she go?”

“She wanted to look for Hanna.”

“And where’s Hanna?”

“I don’t know that, either,” Tonio said. “I really don’t! No idea!”

Felix nodded. And he believed him. There was no reason not to believe him.

“But you saw something that night.”

Tonio sighed, glanced at Kristin.

“Canada,” he murmured. “We can forget Canada.”

She said nothing. A scenario began to take shape in Felix’s mind.

“Doesn’t matter,” Felix said. “It’s beautiful here, too. The trees change color in fall here, too.” He smiled. “So, what did you see? And, most importantly, who did you see? Who did you see that you wanted to blackmail now?”

Tonio sighed.

“A lot,” he said. “I saw a lot.”