Eye Wit (12 page)

At that moment, Dan walked into the study from the office and carefully shut the door behind him. “Sorry. Always takes a while at the morgue. No real surprises, except Dante confirmed that hunting arrows were used in both of these seemingly unconnected attacks. Dante even suggested the arrows are so much alike, they could have come from the same quiver, which means the same archer probably shot both arrows. One arrow in the back of Fellini––a lethal wound––and one in the back of the balloonist, who is also likely to die. I just got word that he’s still in surgery, pretty serious internal damage.” Dan held up a small zip-top baggie. “Look, here’s what the hospital gave me, although there was no ID on the balloonist.” He shook the bag provocatively.

“It’s faint and worn but still legible.” Dan grinned mischievously at Yoko. Zoran sighed and Dan hurriedly added, “It’s in German,
Ich liebe dich, Hans – Brigitta.”

Yoko shook her head in disbelief. “Wait a minute. Did you say ‘Hans?’ Was that the balloonist’s name? What a coincidence, not that we believe in coincidences. Zoran and I just talked to Sophia as well as to Marco Fellini’s assistants, and they were telling us about a Hans Reiniger, a man from Switzerland, who’d been accosting Marco Fellini—for months, apparently—about something he claimed Fellini had stolen. Could Hans Reiniger be the balloonist?”

“I’ll take that bet, Yoko. Whatever odds you’re offering. There can’t be that many balloonists with the name of Hans in New York, who happen to be shot with an arrow the same time—or close to the same time—that Marcus Fellini is shot with an arrow. That’s way too big a coincidence, even in a city of nine million.”

Zoran sighed again. He rarely showed signs of impatience but his sighs carried a definite message.

“I heard your question about the neighbors as I was coming in, Zoran,” Dan said. “Don’t worry, we’ve got folks checking with the residents of all the nearby buildings. They’ll let us know promptly if they find anyone who admits to being an eye witness. That won’t happen, of course. People are either deaf, dumb or blind when it comes to ‘fessing up about seeing crimes.”

“I am not convinced that the hot-air balloonist, this Hans Reiniger, killed Marco Fellini, unless he shot him with a bow and arrow from his balloon as it floated by,” Zoran said. “So far no one has reported a bow being found on the street near the crash site and there was no bow found in the wreckage of the balloon. Therefore, that possibility simply does not make sense. Besides, the balloonist was found with a Luger pistol, which would have made a more likely murder weapon, except Fellini was shot with an arrow, not a gun.

“So I think we must consider more likely scenarios and more likely suspects, namely, Jessica Ware, Iona Duncan and obviously, Sophia Fellini. They are the most logical suspects, and we are told that all of them are skilled archers. Conveniently for us, although not for the victim, all of them were here, or nearby, at about the same time that Marco Fellini was killed.” Zoran took a deep breath, then continued.

“Let us consider alibis. The wife does not have one. Nor does one of the assistants, Iona. What about the alleged argument between the wife and Iona at the gallery benefit last night? It sounded as though it was heated.”

Dan shrugged. “Nothing ‘alleged’ about that argument, Zoran. Both women were open about it when I spoke to them. Iona Duncan said Marco Fellini had told her he’d asked his wife for a divorce. The wife says she was brutally frank with Iona, told her Marco would never ask for a divorce. Said something like the affair being nothing more than a sideshow for her husband.”

“Undoubtedly, that must have made Iona quite angry,” Zoran said.

“It’s got to be either the wife or the mistress,” Dan said. “Never underestimate a mistress scorned or a wife whose husband cheats.”

“Neither one has an alibi,” Zoran said. “The wife says she was alone, doing her regular yoga, while her husband was in the archery run this morning. Iona says she came in unusually early today. Before eight o’clock, she says. She claims she hardly slept after the confrontation with Mrs. Fellini at the benefit last night and the scene she had later with Marco Fellini, her boss––her lover. No one saw Iona arrive at the house this morning.”

“Love and murder with a side order of red-hot revenge,” Dan said. “Three women and only one with an alibi.”

“Yes,” Zoran agreed. “The assistant Jessica Ware does appear to have an alibi, one that we need to verify.”

“We already did,” Dan said. “It’s just about watertight. Jessica’s a regular at Pete’s, at the end of the block. Arrives at Pete’s around the same time every day, about 7:30. Always has herb tea and a muffin. Often buys more to go. Sits at Pete’s a little bit then walks down the block and usually gets here just before 8 a.m., sometimes a little after. Two of Pete’s staff confirm she was at Pete’s this morning. They say she’s as regular as clockwork, except when she has a day off in the week, usually a Wednesday, or will be away on a trip, and then she always mentions that beforehand—like she’s afraid they’ll end up with stale, day-old muffins if she’s not around.”

“A sound alibi, validated by time of day and conforming to habit,” Zoran said. “That is convincing.”

Zoran resumed his exploration of Marco Fellini’s study. Large glass display cases lined two of the walls, and a superb cherry bookcase holding more pieces of art than books stood near the door. Yoko and Dan watched Zoran walk around the room methodically examining the art hanging on the walls then focusing on the contents of the bookcase and the mantel. At the mantel, he bent forward to look more closely at a crystal ball mounted on an elaborately worked copper base. Yoko stared at it too, realizing it was one of the most unusual crystal ball sets she’d ever seen. That figured, this was the home of a dealer and collector. Zoran continued his careful tour. Just when she thought he was done, he strode purposefully to a display case filled with archery artifacts, antique bows, and arrows.

Sophia Fellini shook her head. “Excuse me, Mr. Zeissing, but what does Ishi have to do with my husband’s death? This is how you so-called top detectives work on cases?” Sophia Fellini turned and walked off, her back stiff with outrage.

“Ishi…” Yoko said. “Jessica mentioned an exhibit at the Arts Club about him, and I read in the club newsletter that Marco Fellini and his assistant Jessica planned it.”

It had been years since Yoko worked the front desk at the National Arts Club, back when she a student at the College of Optometry. These days, her godmother, Lanny Oldenburg, a longtime club member, often invited Yoko to meals and receptions. It was a pleasant way for them to catch up with each other—and for Yoko, a valuable opportunity to check, unobtrusively, how Lanny was coping after her traumatic brain injury. Over the months, it was clear that various therapies, including the optometric vision therapy Yoko had recommended, had helped her godmother get her life back on track. She knew that for those recovering from TBI, life would never be the same, but Lanny was doing so well, nearly always happy and busy with the planning of club exhibits.

“What sort of name is Ishi?” Dan said.

“Native American. ‘Ishi’ means ‘man’ in the Yahi dialect,” Zoran said. “I read an interview with Marco Fellini in the
New York
Times
. He said he believed, like many archers, that Ishi, an expert archer, had greatly influenced the development of modern-day archery. Indeed, one of the most prestigious awards in archery is the Ishi Certificate.”

“All that is interesting, Zoran, but I think the widow’s question is reasonable. What
does
this have to do with the case?” Dan said. Later he told Yoko that when Zoran gave him the fish-eye look, he knew Zoran wasn’t off on a tangent but had detected a possible connection between Ishi and the murder of Marco Fellini.

“The Ishi Certificate goes to any archer who can put all 30 arrows in a 20-yard target then get a score of at least 99 on a 40-yard target, plus have one arrow that is on-target 100 yards away,” Zoran said.

Hmm, Yoko thought. Zoran said those very words moments ago. He’s not only encyclopedic in his knowledge, he’s eidetic and recalls everything verbatim. She shook her head.

“Prime shooting,” Dan said. Then, hoping to wheedle a hint out of Zoran, he added, “I still don’t see any connection.”

“Nor do I.” It was Sophia Fellini. She had returned as quietly as the first time and stood in the doorway bristling with irritation. “My husband was rightfully proud of his Ishi Certificate, as are many of the archers in New York, including Iona and Jessica.” Her voice became strident. “I hope you will not continue to waste time with this fruitless talk about a dead Yahi Indian. It is my husband who is dead and if you insist it is not an accident, why aren’t you trying to find his killer?” She turned and left the room, paused just outside, looking back as if to gauge the effect of her tongue-lashing.

No one in the room looked upset, nor did anyone pay attention to her departure.

Dan was distracted from his quiet discussion with Zoran by his cell phone ringing. He turned away to answer it. The call was brief. Dan explained he’d been called to the station and left, nodding politely to the widow as he passed her on his way out. Zoran peered into the display case again and Yoko followed his gaze, wondering what it was that he saw. Sophia Fellini watched Zoran as well.

“Is there a connection between Ishi and Marco Fellini’s death?” Yoko asked. Perhaps she’d be able to get some answers out of Zoran.

Sophia Fellini came hurrying into the room. “Taken something? What are you talking about? I don’t….” She peered into the display case.

Zoran reached out, almost touching the glass, then pulled back, startled.

“Here,” he said, pointing. “Those empty brackets probably held two hunting arrows like the ones above them. Those arrows are identical to the photographs in the ME’s report of the arrow that killed Marco Fellini and also the arrow that caused serious injury to the balloonist. They are hunting arrows, antique hunting arrows. One of those missing arrows is the one Dan brought back from the morgue in an evidence bag.”

20

In August of 1944, Dr. Josef Mengele knew Auschwitz-Birkenau’s days were numbered, as were the
remaining
days of the Third Reich. Himmler’s order to liquidate the Gypsy Family Camp was one indicator, the recent liberation of Reichs-Kommissariat Ukraine by Russian troops a more obvious one. The Russians would soon reconquer all of Generalgouvernment (Poland). In months, perhaps we
eks, they would reach Auschwitz-
Birkenau. Liberation of the extermination camps at Treblinka, Sobidor, Majdanek
,
and Belzac was
more
imminent, and after the Russians had seen the horrors of those camps, they would show no mercy to SS officers at Auschwitz-Birkenau.

Mengele, who had already been wounded on the Eastern Front in 1942, knew he would never survive internment in a Russian POW camp. The Angel of Death needed a safer posting.

Mengele, like many of his Waffen SS colleagues who had se
en the end of the Reich coming,
had taken preliminary steps to safeguard himself. In particular, he had kept up contacts with like-minded SS officers who would create ODESSA (Organization Der Ehemaligen SS-Angehörigen – the Organization of Former SS Members). ODESSA existed for one purpose only: to help former SS officers emigrate, when it was time, and to transfer their assets to safe locations—assets mostly comprised of artworks stolen and fortunes secreted during the war.

Mengele was convinced of Aryan supremacy—indeed,
he
had devoted his professional career to finding biological shortcuts to Aryan-ness. Josef Mengele was dedicated and deluded, but he was not stupid. He did not need Luludji Krietzman’s crystal ball to foresee that the Third Reich’s reign would not last the thousand years
Herr Hitler had promised
. It probably would not last even one more year.

The SS abandoned Auschwitz just before it was liberated in January 1945, and Mengele moved to the Groß-Rosen camp in lower Silesia, a posting lasting less than a month; he fled
that
camp a few days before it too was liberated by the Russians.

In May, he joined a Wehrmacht medical unit led by Hans Otto Kahler, his former colleague at the Frankfurt University Institute of H
ereditary Biology and Racial Hygiene. The unit fled west from the Russians. In June the unit was captured by the Americans and Mengele was held as a POW under his own name.

Later that same month, using identification papers that showed him to be Fritz Ulmann, POW Mengele was released by the Americans. He moved to a small village near Rosenheim in Bavaria
,
where he worked as a farmhand under an assumed name until May of 1949. During those four years, he maintained contact with his wife and his friends.