The Defeated Aristocrat (7 page)

‘Wolf,’ there was anguish in Franz’s voice, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘That I lived?’

‘What are you going to do about me and Gretel, Wolf? Legally she’s your wife …’

‘She’s no wife of mine, legal or otherwise. The first thing I intend to discuss with Johanna Behn is how to dispose of the remnants of our marriage.’ He closed the front door behind him.

CHAPTER SIX

Munz Platz, Konigsberg, Early hours of Saturday January 11th 1919

Lilli lay rigid in her bed. She heard the clock strike three in the living room and waited impatiently for sleep. A week had passed since she’d found the mutilated remains of the police officer who’d been identified as Anton von Braunsch, the husband of her assistant, Charlotte, and still the sight haunted her, and not only because she had known him in life. The experience had turned her dreams into nightmares where the hacked and bloodied corpse opened his eyes beneath the mask, leapt from the bed, and chased her out into the dark, eerie street.

Restless, knowing sleep would elude her until it was time to get up, she longed to move to the sofa in the turret, but she couldn’t risk waking Dedleff. He was stretched alongside her, mouth gaping as he snored in schnapps-induced torpor. Her head and chest throbbed from the blows he’d rained on her when he’d arrived home in the early evening hours before she’d expected him. Mercifully – this time – his belt had remained threaded through his trousers.

She knew he must have been drinking on duty to get into that state before his shift finished. She also knew she had to stop him from beating her but simply didn’t know how. On the few occasions she’d seen him sober since his return, she’d begged him to move out of her father’s house. He’d point blank refused. Their six-year-old daughter Amalia had stopped skipping and singing around the apartment, and crept from room to room like a terrified mouse even when Dedleff wasn’t home.

Every evening she insisted Bertha take Amalia downstairs to her father’s apartment so they could sleep in his spare room within call of Ernst. Bertha was reluctant but she, like Lilli, knew Dedleff never allowed his police issue gun out of his sight. Awake, he kept it close, asleep, beneath his pillow, and he’d threatened to kill not only her, but her father and Amalia if she also moved downstairs.

She didn’t doubt he’d look for her in her father’s if he returned home drunk and couldn’t find her. She also knew he’d be contrite in the morning. He’d see her bruises, weep, and promise to never beat her again. But painful experience had taught her his promises would last only until his next visit to a bar.

The bedroom door opened. A shaft of subdued light trickled in. Bertha stood in her nightdress outside the door, a woollen shawl thrown around her ample shoulders. Careful to avoid touching Dedleff, Lilli slipped sideways from the bed. She stifled a cry when her bruises ached into painful life, held her breath when her husband stirred, and exhaled only when he fell back into unconsciousness. She tiptoed out.

Bertha was waiting for her at the apartment door. Lilli glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes past three. ‘My father …’

‘Is sleeping, as all good Christians should at this ungodly hour. God bless him and Sister Luke who’s sitting with him. You’ve had another note.’ Bertha was breathless after her climb up the stairs. ‘Like before, the bell rang but when Ernst opened it there was no one to be seen.’

Lilli scanned it.
Lilli Richter, Konigsberg Zeit
was scribbled in pencil on the outside. Inside was,

Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe. For the wages of sin is death.

4 Koggen Strasse, Room 9. The fourth is second.

‘I’ll telephone Uncle Georg. Go downstairs, stay with Amalia. Tell Ernst to lock and bolt my father’s apartment door and let no one in. No one,’ she reiterated, ‘especially Dedleff.’

‘As if Ernst would allow that beast near our little angel or your father. I won’t go downstairs until you go in case the brute wakes and you need me.’

Lilli knew there was no point in arguing with Bertha. She picked up her keys, coat and shoes, the lamp she kept burning in the hall, and walked across the landing to the turret she’d kept locked since Dedleff had attacked her in there. She unlocked the door, and went to the cupboard where she kept a spare set of clothes.

Bertha followed. ‘You’re going out, now? At this hour?’

‘Uncle Georg will need me.’

‘And tomorrow morning?’

‘You’ll take Amalia to school if I’m not back?’

‘I’ll take care of Amalia. Don’t I always?’ Bertha countered. ‘But you have to stop the swine beating you. Look at your face?’

Lilli glanced in the mirror behind the door. Her eyes were swollen and there was an ugly bruise on her temple. The skin on her left cheek was mottled red and purple, already turning dark. ‘I shouldn’t have let him see me.’

‘You want to live your life hiding in your own house?’

‘I can’t talk about Dedleff. Not now.’

‘He won’t stop until he kills you. Then what’s going to happen to your father and Amalia?’

To avoid answering, Lilli picked up the telephone. ‘Connect me to police headquarters please.’

‘Certainly, Frau Gluck,’ the operator replied.

A few clicks and a masculine voice snapped. ‘Duty officer.

‘It’s Lilli Richter,
Konigsberg Zeit
. I need to speak to Kriminaldirektor Hafen urgently.’

‘He’s not available, madam.’

‘Is he at Koggen Strasse?’

The officer blurted, ‘How did you know?’

‘I’ve received another communication.’

‘An officer will be with you in five minutes, madam.’

Lilli replaced the receiver. She rolled her stockings on under her nightdress, fastened them with garters, pulled on a pair of long drawers, and stepped into a thick woollen skirt.

‘You’re not taking off your nightdress?’ Bertha reprimanded.

‘It’s too cold. The flannel makes a warm petticoat and blouse.’ Lilli had no intention of showing Bertha the full extent of her bruising. She donned a sweater, fur coat, hat, gloves, scarf, and boots. After checking her reflection, she pulled her hat lower and her scarf higher to conceal the damage Dedleff had inflicted. She thrust her keys into her coat pocket, folded the note into an envelope, tucked it into her reporter’s bag and made her way downstairs, leaving Bertha to turn down the lamp.

Ernst was in the hall talking to a fresh-faced boy who looked as though he should be in school, not in the uniform of the lowest grade police officer. The boy clicked his heels and bowed.

‘Kriminalassistent Blau, at your service, madam. The Duty Officer instructed me to pick up a communication for Kriminaldirektor Hafen.’

‘I need to hand it to the Kriminaldirektor personally at Koggen Strasse.’

‘I was given orders to fetch the communication, not escort you anywhere, madam.’

‘Then I will go alone. Be so kind as to call me a cab, Ernst.’

‘Are you sure you’re well enough go out, madam?’

‘Quite sure, thank you, Ernst.’

‘I could accompany you.’

‘I need you to stay with Amalia, my father, and Bertha.’

‘I will watch over all three, and Sister Luke, madam.’ Although he was dressed only in a nightshirt, cloth slippers, and dressing gown, Ernst opened the street door.

Blau hesitated. He’d been given a thorough dressing-down for signing in the murdered von Braunsch as well as himself at an incorrect time by the kriminaldirektor, who didn’t usually acknowledge officers of the lowest grade, let alone speak to them. He’d also been left in no doubt that one more transgression would lose him his post. Torn between his orders and Lilli’s assertion that she had to see the kriminaldirektor, he ventured, ‘Are you certain you have to give the communication to the kriminaldirektor personally, madam?’

‘And quickly. If you have a sleigh it won’t take us ten minutes to reach Koggen Strasse. I assure you, the kriminaldirektor will be grateful, Kriminalassistent Blau.’

‘My orders were to pick up the communication, madam.’

Lilli had become an accomplished liar since she’d become an editor. ‘And mine to retain it until I hand it to the kriminaldirektor. Shall we go?’ Before Blau could collect his thoughts, Lilli was out of the door.

Konigsberg, Early hours of Saturday January 11th 1919

Snow was falling thick and dry, but the wind that had blown for days had dropped. Blau helped Lilli into the back of the sleigh. Around them the city glowed blue-white, clean and deserted. The driver clicked his tongue and the horses moved on through the square that fronted the lake, past elegant four- and five-storey buildings. The few houses that weren’t medieval had been built to match in the Gothic style. All were in good repair. Germany and Konigsberg might have just lost a war but defeat was no excuse for neglect.

Ahead lay a fairy-tale illustration come to life amidst the swirling snowflakes: the castle built by the Teutonic Knights in the thirteenth century. The driver took the road that circumvented its east wall. The city lay still and peculiarly quiet around them. It was as though all sound had been muffled by the snow that fell ever thicker.

‘Have you been in the police long?’ Lilli asked the boy.

‘I commenced training in September and finished last month, madam.’

‘Your first night duty?’

‘No, madam, this is my sixth night duty and the fifth in the station.’

‘You’ve been warned to be careful what you say to me lest it end up in the newspaper?’

‘No, madam.’

His hesitant reply suggested she wasn’t the only one lying.

The air was unexpectedly warm, the light ethereal, almost hallowed, reminding Lilli of the cathedral on Holy Days when all the candles were lit. Lamps shone in the castle windows, and Lilli recalled her grandfather’s account of the coronation of the King of Prussia in 1861. He’d been so honoured at receiving an invitation he’d framed it. It still hung on the wall of her father’s sitting room.

They left the castle behind them and the River Pregel loomed into view. Lamps glowed gold and silver in a sprinkling of the windows of the houses and warehouses that lined its banks.

An officer moved in front of their sleigh when they turned into Koggen Strasse. He held up his hand. The driver reined in his horses. On their right, the Hundgatt, the sliver of river that bordered the east side of Kneiphof Island, flowed sluggishly, heavy with ice.

Blau left the sleigh, snapped to attention and saluted the officer. ‘This lady has important business with the kriminaldirektor, sir.’

‘Does she now?’ The officer smiled at Lilli. ‘Good morning, Fraulein Richter.’

‘Good morning, Officer Klein.’

‘The kriminaldirektor is inside.’ He indicated a building.

Lilli checked the number, 4, remembered the events of three days ago and her blood ran colder than the air. Klein offered her his hand and led her past the police barriers. A crowd had gathered behind them in the hope of seeing something interesting – or gruesome. Most were rubbing their arms and stamping their feet against the cold. Three nuns, whom Lilli recognised as Sister Ignatius, the senior nun who arranged the rota for the care of her father, Sister Bernadotte, and Sister Marie, were handing out tea, blankets, mufflers, and religious tracts. She waved to them.

A short, plump, middle-aged man called out. ‘Did the kriminaldirektor send for you, Lilli?’

Lilli knew Max Meyer. A reporter for the
Konigsberg Sun
, he could be relied on to depict anything unsavoury  in an even worse light.

‘No comment, Max.’

‘Come on, Lilli, one hack to another, was this murdered police officer a friend of your husband’s like the last? Did he have the same taste in low women?’

‘May I ask exactly who told you a second police officer had been killed, Herr Meyer?’ The splendidly uniformed man who’d just arrived was well built with hawk-like, hooded eyes and a long nose. When he left his sleigh a murmur rose from the crowd.

Kriminalrat Colonel Adelbert Dorfman ignored those who shrank from him. The head of the Konigsberg police, he was accustomed to instilling fear. He turned to Klein.

‘Detain Herr Meyer for questioning.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

Koggen Strasse, Konigsberg, Early hours of Saturday January 11th 1919

Klein thrust Lilli towards Blau. ‘Look after Fraulein Richter.’ He moved in on Max but his colleagues, mindful of the kriminalrat’s orders were ahead of him.

‘Lilli … Lilli … tell them who I am,’ Max shouted as two kriminalassistents, lifted him by his elbows and half carried, half dragged him inside the hotel.

‘We know who you are, Max.’ Klein entered the building behind Kriminalrat Dorfman, his colleagues, and Max. ‘How did you know there’d been a murder and the victim was a police officer, Herr Meyer?’

‘I asked the maid before you lot arrived.’ Max appealed to Lilli. ‘Tell them. You know what’s it’s like to work on a story. You get information where you can. A good reporter always starts by talking to the cleaner. They pick up more than dirt …’

‘How did you know there was a story here?’ Klein demanded.

‘I didn’t. Von Braunsch’s murder sparked interest in Konigsberg at night. I was working on an article that chronicles night vices …’

‘Night vices!’ Klein pushed Meyer into a corner. ‘Only the
Sonne
would want to print dirt like that.’

‘Take him to HQ so he can be interviewed at our leisure,’ Kriminalrat Dorfman ordered.

A kriminalassistent handcuffed Meyer. Another went to the door and called for a sleigh.

‘Kriminaldirektor Hafen?’ Dorfman asked.

‘Upstairs, sir.’ Klein offered Lilli his arm and they followed the kriminalrat to the first floor.

A tall, thin spare man with grey hair was standing in the doorway of a room at the top of the stairs. He turned when he heard them.

‘Kriminalrat Dorfman,’ Georg Hafen bowed to his superior. ‘Fraulein Richter, what are you doing here?’