A Matter of Breeding (31 page)

‘I do not believe we have met,’ Gross said, offering his hand.

‘And we are not going to, either,’ Kurt said. ‘Now, out of here. You have pestered my family enough. Just leave.’

Werthen did not want to do it, but he had to make the youth understand he would reveal information the boy did not want his father to hear.

He said, ‘But I thought last time we talked—’

It was enough to make Kurt set his jaw. ‘Let me handle this, Father. Perhaps we can speak outside, gentlemen,’ he said less aggressively.

Herr Reiter made no protest, and turned back to his painting as they left.

Outside Kurt took Werthen’s arm in a vice-like grip and pulled him away from the studio and cabin.

‘I don’t know what you’re about,’ he said, ‘but I told you everything I know last time you were here.’

Werthen freed his arm, looking the youth squarely in the eye. ‘I don’t think so. I think you know something about your sister that you desperately want to keep from your parents. And it is not just that Herr Paulus at work might have made advances, or that she gave you the money to buy your crossbow. What is it?’

Kurt’s right jaw muscle flexed. He looked about to speak, but then thought better of it.

‘Last time I was here you asked me if I had doubts about Klapper being your sister’s murderer.’

Kurt looked at him with more interest now.

‘I didn’t answer you then, but now I will. I and my colleague –’ he gestured towards Gross – ‘the criminologist, Doktor Gross …’ Gross tipped his hat at this introduction. ‘We are beginning to suspect that there may have been someone who put Klapper up to these murders. Someone who stood to benefit from some of the deaths at least.’

‘Who? I’ll kill him myself.’

‘Easy, Kurt. You can help us most by telling us everything you know.’

No one spoke for several instants. Finally Kurt sighed.

‘I caught her burning the clothes.’ He looked off in the distance as he spoke as if unable to look them in the eyes as he told them his story. ‘I couldn’t understand what she was doing burning perfectly good undergarments. She started to cry when I asked, and then I looked more closely at the fire pit and saw the stains.’

He sniffed as he spoke.

‘Blood?’ Werthen asked.

He nodded, sniffing once more. ‘She said there was this man who fancied her and had been willing to pay her handsomely to spend the night with him. And I shouted at her then. I didn’t mean to, it just came out.’

He turned to look at them now. ‘I told her she wasn’t some sort of prostitute. How could she have done such a thing? She cried even harder then and I felt awful. I didn’t know what to say. Finally she stopped crying and told me how desperately she wanted to get back to Vienna. To study art. To never have to look at an alp again. She hated it here. I guess I never realized how much. You see, for me, it’s the perfect life.’

‘Who was this man, Kurt?’

He shook his head violently, staring at the ground now. ‘She wouldn’t tell me. All she said was that if she had not gone with him, she would have lost her job.’

‘And was it your idea to blackmail him?’ Werthen asked.

He looked up in amazement. ‘How did you know?’

‘It was your secret guilt, right? You couldn’t tell anyone about that, could you?’

‘No.’ More shaking of his head. ‘Never. I was trying to find out who it was … maybe he was the one who killed my sister. Then they caught Klapper … You won’t tell my parents, will you? It would kill them to know she had gone with this man for money.’

‘She was forced into it,’ Gross said. ‘She was not at fault, but the man who compelled her to his bed. She gave no hint as to his identity?’

Though
they
both now had a very good idea who it must be: if Annaliese’s job were threatened if she had not complied with the man’s wishes, that would seem to point directly to von Hobarty.

‘No.’

‘How was the blackmail arranged?’ Werthen asked.

Again the play of the muscle in Kurt’s jaw. ‘Paulus. Her supervisor. He was the go-between, according to Liese.’

‘Was she alone in this?’ Gross asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Was there another young woman involved from another spa?’

‘Liese didn’t say anything about another girl, but then she wouldn’t have mentioned anything if I hadn’t caught her burning her clothes. Was she murdered, too?’

Werthen nodded.

‘What was her name?’

‘Feininger,’ he said. ‘Maria Feininger.’

Kurt cast his eyes to the sky as if it were an effort to think. ‘No, I never heard of her. She have family?’

‘Just a father.’

‘Good,’ Kurt said. ‘Fewer people to cry.’

The sun had gotten stronger in the sky as the day progressed and now the snow was melting, turning the road into a gooey mess.

As they set off in the waiting fiaker for the Köflach Bad Terminus, Berthe told them that she had learned very little from Petra Reiter, only that her girl was an artist at heart and that she had been desperate to return to Vienna.

‘Was it selfish for us to move the family here?’ Frau Reiter had said as Berthe was leaving.

Werthen in turn shared Kurt’s information with Berthe en route, letting her know that her surmise about the blackmail was accurate.

‘Von Hobarty, obviously,’ she said after considering this a moment. ‘The employer. And he must have also forced Maria Feininger with the same threats. Was she part of the blackmail scheme?’

‘The brother had never heard of her.’

‘Even so,’ Berthe reasoned, ‘whoever had Annaliese killed would probably be concerned that if one girl would blackmail him, another might also in the future.’

Gross had been surprisingly quiet during the trip. Now he broke his silence. ‘Seems extreme to me. If von Hobarty is such a renowned womanizer, why would he bother to pay extortion money to keep quiet what is already publicly assumed? A possible black baby is one thing, but dalliances with the hired help …?’

‘Just like a man,’ Berthe grumbled.

‘No offense meant,’ Gross said. ‘I too find it reprehensible someone should use their position of power to coerce sex from a young woman. But to have them so horribly murdered to cover it up? It rather beggars my imagination.’

‘Maybe it is the Bathory curse at work,’ Werthen postulated. ‘If the stories of the Blood Countess really are true, then perhaps such proclivities can be inherited.’

‘Like blue eyes or black hair?’ Berthe said with a hint of sarcasm. ‘
Karl
.’

‘A thought only,’ he said. ‘What is your theory?’

Berthe eyed them both coldly. ‘Von Hobarty might have peculiar tastes in sex. Something that he did not want aired in public.’

Werthen felt his face go red and saw that Gross, too, had to look away in embarrassment.

‘Well, it is a possibility, and you two do not have to become so pained and patriarchal at the suggestion. I mean, we are only animals.’

They rode on in silence until reaching the Bad Terminus. As Gross said, they needed to be sure about the man’s identity and it appeared Paulus could give them that verification.

That is why it was such a disappointment when the receptionist at the Köflach spa told them that Herr Paulus and his family were vacationing in Italy.

‘A long overdue break for him,’ the woman said. ‘He works so hard.’

The receptionist was able to secure for them the hotel where the family was staying in Rome. It proved to be of lesser quality – Werthen was unsurprised in such a show of frugality on the part of Paulus – and was not on the telephone. In the end, they sent off a telegram asking the identity of the man for whom Herr Paulus had procured the two young women. Included in this was the subtle threat of letting his wife know of the despicable services he had performed.

They had been through much together, and yet Herr Meisner had never before suggested that he and Werthen use one another’s first names. Now, however, after an afternoon caring for Frieda, Berthe’s father shocked the table.

‘Could we please dispense with formalities?’ he said, addressing his son-in-law sitting across from him in the dining room of the Hotel Daniel. ‘I know it is long overdue, but would Joseph and Karl be acceptable?’

‘Very much so,’ Werthen said.

‘Excellent,’ Herr Meisner said.

‘Most gratifying,’ Gross said.

‘And when,’ Berthe said teasingly to the criminologist, ‘are you going to suggest I call you Hanns?’

Gross did not blink. ‘When you become my daughter-in-law, Frau Meisner. I am not a great one for informality. But if you prefer, you could address me as Gross.’

Frau Juliani seemed to take great amusement at this comment; it was not altogether clear that Gross was being ironic.

‘Well, Doktor Gross,’ Herr Meisner said, ‘I assume you are going to dazzle us at any moment with your insights.’

‘What insights might those be?’ Inspector Thielman said, standing suddenly at their table.

No one had noticed him approach and the unexpected voice made the assembled sit up suddenly. Freida, mistaking his uniform, cooed, ‘Conductor.’

‘No, honey,’ Berthe said. ‘He’s not a train conductor. This is a police officer.’

‘Fissur,’ Frieda said.

Thielman did not seem amused, Werthen noted.

‘Pull up a chair, Inspector Thielman,’ Gross said.

The inspector nodded and joined them. ‘I repeat, what insights, Gross?’

‘I am not sure I have any just yet.’

‘No discoveries about Hohewart?’ Thielman said. ‘No secret enemies?’

Gross shook his head.

Herr Meisner picked that moment to join in. ‘I thought it was this von Hobarty fellow you were looking at, Karl.’

Thielman looked at Werthen. ‘Looking at him for what? Hohewart’s death? You must be insane.’

‘Actually, we had not gotten that far yet,’ Werthen said.

‘Just how far have you gotten? I knew I shouldn’t have let you talk me into giving you letters of introduction again. Magistrate Lechner will have me posted to Croatia if he finds out about this.’

No one spoke for a moment, and Thielman repeated his question. ‘How far have you gotten? Are you going to tell me that Klapper didn’t kill those people? We were there for the last victim. I shot the man.’

‘In point of fact,’ Gross said, ‘we did not see him kill Krensky. We saw him leaning over the body. Klapper’s fingerprints could not be discerned on the knife found at the scene.’

‘So Klapper didn’t kill those women?’

‘I didn’t say that.’ Gross smiled at him. ‘In fact I am quite sure he did.’

‘I am glad to hear that,’ Inspector Thielman said.

‘One wonders, however,’ Gross said as the waiter was finally bringing their dinners, ‘who might have influenced him in the killings.’

Thielman’s face went red at this, but he said nothing while the plates were being handed round; everyone partaking of the nightly special, chamois lung gulasch over buckwheat grits, or
Heidensterz.

Once the waiters left, Thielman said, ‘Influenced the killings. In other words you think someone was behind it all?’

‘It would appear so,’ Gross said. ‘Perhaps you would care to explain, Advokat Werthen. I have an appointment with a chamois.’

At that, Gross began tucking into his meal, not waiting for the others to join him. Werthen did as requested, filling Thielman in on the evidence they had thus far gathered, much of it seeming to give von Hobarty motive for murder.

‘And the Stiegl girl?’ the inspector asked.

‘Misdirection, just as we theorized before,’ Werthen said.

‘And Krensky?’ Thielman said. ‘From what you tell me, von Hobarty would surely not want him dead.’

‘Yes, that does present difficulties,’ Werthen said.

‘Any theories of your own?’ Gross suddenly asked, putting his fork down for a moment and taking a large quaff of Schilcher rosé, its bottle bearing a picture of a white Lipizzaner horse. Gross poured an extra glass and handed it to his former colleague.

Thielman sniffed the rosé, took a sip, and sighed. ‘Speculation only, I hope you understand.’

Gross nodded. ‘But of course. A speculative game over dinner.’

‘Perhaps Krensky’s death and Hohewart’s are connected.’

Gross brightened. ‘My thoughts exactly, Thielman.’

‘Connected?’ Berthe said. ‘How so?’

‘Well …’ Thielman rubbed his chin, finally taking off his kepi and laying it on the table. ‘If we assume von Hobarty wanted Krensky very much alive to inform the world of the Lipizzaner scandal, then of course it makes no sense he would put his creature Klapper on him. Thus, someone else must have killed the journalist, someone with motive, someone who wanted to silence him.’

‘Hohewart,’ Berthe said.

Thielman nodded, seeming to Werthen for the first time not to be the sort of bumbling time-serving bureaucrat he had hitherto appeared to be.

‘And if Hohewart killed Krensky,’ Thielman continued, ‘that would in turn give von Hobarty motive to kill Hohewart, who was making it awfully difficult for him to get his story out.’

‘Excellent, Thielman,’ Gross said. ‘I never thought you had it in you.’

Thielman winced at this, but quickly recovered. ‘Must be my years of associating with you, Gross,’ he said with a smile. ‘But again, this is like a parlor game. Speculation only. I would advise you to let this sleeping dog remain firmly asleep. Von Hobarty has powerful friends.’

‘But inspector,’ Herr Meisner, said, ‘surely you cannot be advising Doktor Gross not to pursue this investigation simply because von Hobarty is well connected?’

Thielman finished his wine, put his kepi back on his nearly bald pate, and rose. ‘I should let you people get on with your dinner in peace,’ he said. ‘You might keep me informed about your activities, Gross.’

He did not wait for a response, but turned on his heels and left the dining room.

‘What a rather disagreeable man,’ Frau Juliani said.

The next day Gross went to the telegraph office first thing in the morning to check on word from Herr Paulus in Rome.

‘I think it is time we paid Herr von Hobarty a visit, don’t you, Werthen?’ Gross asked as he returned, telegram in hand. ‘And I think Inspector Thielman might also be interested.’