The Silence (32 page)

‘Blame? I should hope not. Now I am finished with talking. I have cleaning to do.’

This time she shut the door before Gross had a chance to offer further flattery.

Werthen was at the Ritterhof at twelve thirty as scheduled, eager to share his new information with Gross, but in the event he had to wait another fifteen minutes before his colleague arrived. Time enough, despite his excitement, to dispose of a bowl of
Leberknödel
soup, one of the specialties of the house, and to figure out the motives of Herr Kulowski – and ultimately Mayor Lueger – in supplying the information regarding Frau Steinwitz. It was clear Kulowski had not made a simple slip of the tongue, but had, in fact, attended the funeral in order to impart this very piece of information. But why?

By the time he had finished the nicely warm bowl of soup, Werthen had come up with several plausible reasons. First, it was obvious that his and Gross’s interest in the Vienna Woods scheme and in the deaths of Steinwitz and Praetor had rattled Lueger. He was eager, as Gross had pointed out yesterday, to deflect suspicion from himself for these murders. That much was patently clear. So, perhaps Lueger simply invented the presence of Frau Steinwitz at the scene of the crime to divert Werthen and Gross in their investigation. Or perhaps she really had been at the Rathaus that day. But why (if indeed Kulowski had actually seen the lady leaving the scene of her husband’s death) had Lueger protected her in the first place? To that, one could answer that Steinwitz’s death was put down to suicide initially and Frau Steinwitz’s presence would then be in no way unusual. However, once he, Werthen, and Gross had begun to investigate, why protect her? Two reasons presented themselves to Werthen. First was simple gratitude. If Lueger believed the woman had killed her husband, would he not be happy to simply have this nettlesome problem – a councilman with a conscience – taken care of for him? Or perhaps Lueger had thought to cash in this favor later with Frau Steinwitz’s powerful father. After all, if Lueger really did have imperial pretensions, then he would need the army in back of him in a standoff with Franz Josef. In this scenario, knowing what he knew about Frau Steinwitz provided Lueger with powerful political capital. Now, however, with a net closing around the killer of Steinwitz and Praetor, Lueger simply cut her loose to keep prying eyes off his business.

One thing supported this last theory. Kulowski’s absolute befuddlement at the mention of the attack yesterday. Werthen did not think the man was acting. So if Kulowski’s tale could be trusted, if Frau Steinwitz had been to see her husband the day of his death, did that make Frau Steinwitz the killer? Perhaps she merely found him dead and left in a panic. But why never mention that fact to the police?

Werthen knew there were many things people did not want to offer up to the police, who were paid to be suspicious. Yet she never mentioned it to him either when she was supposedly attempting to hire him for protection. Did that make her guilty of murdering her own husband?

And then another and much more unnerving thought: If she killed her husband, did she also kill Praetor? But why?

No. He was running much too far ahead of himself. This made no sense. The only ones who stood to gain from Steinwitz’s death would be those involved in the Vienna Woods plan.

At this moment in his ruminations, Gross arrived at the restaurant. Red-faced and somewhat out of breath.

‘We must be off, Werthen. Things draw to a close.’

Werthen barely had time to leave the proper change for his slight repast before Gross was out the doors of the restaurant.

‘Gross, I have startling news,’ he said, finally catching him up.

‘I too, Werthen. But you first, please.’

As they kept up a brisk pace, Werthen explained his meeting with Kulowski and the man’s mention of having seen Frau Steinwitz at the scene of the crime at the Rathaus. He also voiced his concerns about the veracity of such a claim.

‘There is something in favor of the Kulowski story, though,’ Werthen added. ‘Now that I think of it, both times the thug struck followed close upon a visit not only to the Rathaus, but also to Frau Steinwitz. Berthe and I postulated that Frau Steinwitz would have had no time to organize the first attack. But there was something we neglected. What if this thug works for her and was thus already at her apartment the day I was attacked? And then there is the fact of her visit to my law office the day after that initial attack. It was as if she was checking to see if her warning salvo had put me off the investigation.’

‘Bravo, Werthen. Exactly so. I received partial confirmation of these new suspicions this morning from Frau Czerny at Zeltgasse.’

Gross now shared his newly won information, as well.

‘I was late for our meeting as I stopped off at the telephone exchange to place two calls. The
Portier
at the Zeltgasse was good enough to supply me with the telephone number of the domestics firm that employs Frau Novatny. They confirm that the lady has been seriously ill for the last two weeks and in hospital. Thus, hers could not have been the voice Frau Czerny heard at Herr Praetor’s flat that night.’

He looked rather pleased with himself.

‘You mentioned two calls,’ Werthen reminded him.

‘Yes. I was just getting to that. The second was a trunk call to my laboratory assistants in Czernowitz. The long-distance lines only opened this year via Budapest. I can assure you I do not wish to spend more time in the confinement of a telephone cubicle. After a half-hour of attempts, I was finally put through to my chief assistant, Nagl. Bright young lad.’

A twinkle in the man’s eye made Werthen expectant. ‘And what did you learn?’

‘I put a simple question to the lad, for I know they have not yet had time to analyze the entire ribbon from Henricus Praetor’s typewriting machine. One name only I was seeking.’

‘Frau Steinwitz?’

A nod from the criminologist. ‘Nagl supplied me with the desired outcome. Happily, the ribbon was quite new and Nagl and his team did not have to analyze the entire length of it. They had, in fact, already come upon the name of Frau Steinwitz. They are attempting to put together the message accompanying this name, but one other bit of information has already been culled. A date was clearly typed in close proximity to the name. February fifteenth.’

The date was not lost on Werthen. ‘The night Praetor was shot,’ he said.

They were shown into the parlor, and the maid told them the mistress was still at table.

Werthen took a seat on the settee, but Gross wandered about the room, picking up silver-framed photos off a cherry wood side table, examining a vase of hothouse tulips, and then meandered off to the hall. In search of the facilities? Werthen dared not ask.

After a few more moments, Gross came back into the sitting room, smiling to himself. Werthen had no chance to ask about his discoveries, for at that instant Frau Steinwitz breezed into the room, dressed in a no-frills house dress.

Werthen stood as she entered; Gross was already standing.

‘I thought I told you, Advokat, that I no longer have need of your services.’

‘Yes, Frau Steinwitz. You made that very clear.’

She tilted her head an inch or two to the left as if to say, ‘Well, then?’

‘We have come about a related matter, Frau Steinwitz,’ Gross said. ‘To wit, what brought you to Herr Praetor’s apartment the night of February fifteenth?’

Werthen had to hand it to her. She did not flinch. Not even so much as a blink. It was as if she were expecting this visit. Had Lueger let her know he could no longer protect her?

‘Is that any of your business?’ she asked, still cool and in control.

‘I notice that you have a fine collection of pistols,’ Gross said, suddenly changing the subject.

‘What are you prattling on about?’

‘Among them is a very nice piece. A sample of one of the new Roth-Sauer automatics, in point of fact. And the space next to it looks to have once contained another weapon but is now empty. A matching automatic perhaps?’

Still she did not respond, but no longer did she wear such a haughty countenance.

‘I observe also a bevy of ribbons in those same glass cases,’ Gross said. ‘Forgive the
prattling
, but I notice they were won by you, Frau Steinwitz. You are no stranger to guns?’

‘I come from a military family,’ she said in a voice much subdued in tone.

‘Tell me, Frau Steinwitz,’ Gross pushed on, ‘why did you kill your husband and Herr Praetor?’

The question shocked Werthen; Frau Steinwitz seemed to crumble once it was put to her.

‘I didn’t want to,’ she said, tears beginning to form. She cupped her hands around her mouth and slumped down on to the settee recently vacated by Werthen.

‘You admit it, then,’ Gross said.

She waved a dismissive hand at the question. ‘They shamed me. Shamed the Gutrum name.’

‘Because they were ready to tell the public about the Vienna Woods plot?’ Werthen said in disbelief.

‘Shame,’ she said. ‘Humiliation. Do you know what it feels like to be betrayed, gentlemen?’

Neither Werthen nor Gross spoke for an instant. Frau Steinwitz pulled a linen handkerchief out of a sleeve of the smock and dried her eyes. She forced herself to sit up straight like a subaltern coming to attention and breathed in deeply to control her emotions.

‘He was going to leave me. Me and the children, for that, that . . . creature.’

‘You mean Herr Praetor.’

‘Reinhold said he was in love with him. It was awful. I could not let that happen to us. To the children. To the good name of Gutrum.’

Before Werthen had a chance to digest this shocking revelation, a commanding, gravelly voice sounded from the doorway to the sitting room.

‘Valerie.’

An elderly gentleman stood there with firm dignity, dressed in a wool suit, but carrying himself as if he were in cavalry uniform.

‘What are these men doing here?’

‘Colonel Gutrum?’ Werthen asked. He had not heard an arrival and assumed that the father had already been at the flat, perhaps lunching with his daughter.

‘It is nothing, Father.’

‘You look distressed. Are they bothering you?’

She began crying again.

The colonel looked at them with savage eyes. Old he might be, but the pistol he now drew from his suit coat pocket was quite new and appeared to be in fine working order.

‘I want the pair of you out of here.’

Gross made to speak to the man.

‘Now!’ He cocked the pistol.

‘I assure you, Colonel Gutrum,’ Werthen said as he moved to the door, ‘we have come here only to ascertain the truth of your son-in-law’s death. Your daughter says she killed him. A matter of honor.’

The old man seemed not to listen or not to care. He pursed his lips and his leathery cheeks twitched as he worked his jaw muscles.

‘Both of you must be gone in one minute or I will not answer for my actions.’

Gross and Werthen moved quickly down the hallway, the colonel following them with the pistol at their backs. Out on the landing, the apartment door closed heavily behind them, echoing in the vast, empty hallway.

Of course, Werthen thought as they walked toward Schottenring. Praetor’s ‘someone important’ whom the journalist’s father had become aware of, was none other than Councilman Steinwitz. And Councilman Steinwitz also had his ‘special friends,’ as Kraus had mysteriously alluded. Discovering such a tryst had been too much for Frau Steinwitz. She killed them both out of rage and jealousy.

But this was hardly a crime of passion; she had evidently planned the murders over weeks. Not a crime of passion then, but cold-blooded murder. Yet would a court in the land bring in a guilty verdict against such a wronged woman? Werthen doubted it; the very mention of a homosexual affair would be enough to sway most jurors.

Still, they had to try, Werthen thought as they approached the Police Praesidium.

‘I am afraid we need more than that to proceed,’ Inspector Meindl said, a gnome of a man seated as usual behind his monumental desk.

‘More than a confession?’ Werthen said, bewildered at Meindl’s statement.

‘More than an emotional outburst,’ Meindl said. ‘The woman is the daughter of Colonel Gutrum, after all.’

‘Who threatened us with a pistol,’ Werthen said.

‘You were on private property,’ Meindl said almost with disgust. ‘One does not simply accuse the daughter of such a man.’

Werthen looked to Gross to intervene, but the criminologist seemed lost in his own thoughts.

‘I know we could find evidence,’ Werthen said. ‘I mean, your men could find evidence. Send Detective Inspector Drechsler to the Steinwitz flat. Let him search through the lady’s closet. There is sure to be a skirt or shoes with traces of blood on them.’

Drechsler, seated against one wall, made no comment to this suggestion. A faint smile only showed on his features.

‘Because you have a theory? Please, gentlemen.’ Meindl directed his attention to Doktor Gross. ‘I have the utmost respect for you, Herr Doktor, but theories are hardly enough for a judge’s order to search the Gutrum premises.’

‘It is Councilman Steinwitz’s premises we want searched,’ Werthen said, but Meindl ignored this, continuing to stare at his former mentor, adjusting his tortoiseshell pince-nez and passing a forefinger along the tidy hairline over his right ear.

Finally Gross came out of his thoughts long enough to address the head of the Police Praesidium. ‘There is the matter of the typing ribbon from Herr Praetor’s flat.’

‘Circumstantial only,’ Meindl retorted.

‘Not if we decipher the accompanying message. I believe Herr Praetor was writing to confirm an appointment with Frau Steinwitz for the night of his death.’

‘Beliefs, suppositions, theories.’ Meindl spread his tiny and immaculate hands as if begging for more.