The Sinner (41 page)

Her tone became harsh and mocking. "Now don't look so
scared. I'm not mad; I only act that way. It's practical, being
mad in here. I didn't take long to discover that. You can talk
utter crap. If they ask unpleasant questions, you can fob them
off with any old rubbish. They like that. They need it to justify
their existence - that's what they're paid for, after all. But the
two of us are talking sensibly together. You mustn't tell anyone
I'm still capable of it. As my attorney you're pledged to secrecy,
I presume. Except that I don't need you. I'm sorry you've had a
wasted journey."

Eberhard Brauning felt like someone exposed to an alternation
of hot and cold baths. He didn't know what to make of her outpourings or how to respond to them. "The court has entrusted
me with your defence," he repeated lamely.

She shrugged, and an arrogant smile appeared on her bruised
and battered face. "What makes the court think I want to be
defended? Tell them I chucked you out. Or say you changed your
mind after speaking with me."

"That's impossible, Frau Bender," he said. "You need an attorney,
and

"Nonsense," she broke in coolly. "I don't need anyone. I get on
best when I'm all alone, not that I ever am. Do you know `The
Sorcerer's Apprentice'?"

He nodded, looking baffled, and she went on: "I didn't summon
the spirits. It was the chief That bastard summoned them from
hell, one after the other. Now he's ramming Magdalena down my
throat. I knew that would happen if I brought her into it, that's
why I kept quiet about her. But then lie talked to Grit, and now
I don't know how to get rid of her. I can't get rid of the others,
either. Johnny, Billy-Goat, Tiger - I've no idea where I got them
from, and I don't know where to put them or how to stop them
trampling around on my mind."

She drove her fist into her palm and drew a deep breath. Then
she smiled again. Pathetically this time, not arrogantly. "I'm in
good company here, believe me. It wasn't my ambition to wind
up in a loony bin, but beggars can't be choosers. It's not much
different from prison; in fact, it may even be preferable. At least I
don't get into arguments with other women. I swallow my pills like
a good girl, finish most of my meals and tell the professor what he
wants to hear. But let's leave it at that. I don't want anyone turning
up and bugging me with questions so he can defend me in court.
I've no wish to be defended. I can defend myself."

Eberhard Brauning was feeling just as Rudolf Grovian had felt
during his first few hours with her. He failed to see the knife-edge
on which her mental state reposed. Although he felt like losing his
temper, he strove to remain calm and businesslike.

"No, Frau Bender, you can't. In this country, accused persons
can't defend themselves in a jury trial. Not even I could, if I stood accused of a capital crime. The verdict would have no legal validity
and could be challenged at any time if the accused person had no
defence counsel."

He waited for a moment to see if she would answer. When she
remained silent he went over to the table and deposited his briefcase
on it. He didn't open it at once, just pulled up a chair. "That's the
fact of the matter. Whether or not we like it is irrelevant. When
I was appointed your counsel I couldn't refuse. Now I could. I
could tell the judge that Fran Bender refuses to cooperate and I
cannot represent her under the circumstances. The judge would
appreciate that. He would release me from my undertaking and
appoint another attorney. You could naturally reject him as well,
and a third, and a fourth. I don't know how long the judge would
stand for this little game before his patience ran out. But you've
only two alternatives: me or someone else. Perhaps you understand
that now"

He didn't know why he'd explained this to her. It would have
been far simpler to apply to the judge, except that he couldn't for
the moment see anything that would have prompted him to regret
his words. He felt she was leading him a dance and could have
sworn she was playing the same tricks on him as she'd played on
the police officer who had questioned her.

Johnny, Billy-Goat, Tiger! Not again, not with him! She was good
at her role. She was almost brilliant, but he'd lived with Helene for
as long as he could remember, and if there was one thing he'd
learned from her, it was this: those who could laugh at the idiots
who blithely swallowed their stories knew exactly what they were
doing.

It was fascinating to watch her face and see the derision that
twisted those lips and breathed life into those glassy eyes. No doubt
about it: she was having fun at his expense. He felt sure Helene
would have confirmed his impression had she been there. Cora
Bender thought she could lead everyone by the nose.

"So we're both in the same boat, aren't we?" she said, coming
over to the table and sitting down. "Where do we go from here?
I'm really sorry you've been landed with me, but if that's the way things are I'd sooner hang onto you. I mean, they might send me
some old fogey. At least you're easy on the eye. I don't want this
case to overtax you, so I'll make things as simple as I can. I'm guilty,
that's beyond dispute. I don't deny it. I've made a full confession,
but I don't intend to make any further statements. Will that do?"

Brauning sat down at last. He opened his briefcase, took out the
sheaf of papers and put it down in front of him. "It'll suffice for
a conviction," he said. He laid his hand on the file. "This doesn't
look good for you."

"I'm used to that," she said, grinning again. "Nothing has ever
looked good for me. Put that away, I know what's in it. `Deliberately
inflicted wounds. . .'And that's not all. Heaven alone knows what
else the chief is digging up, and when the professor's through with
me he's bound to write a nice report for the district attorney. Perhaps
he'll do you a favour and mention a few mitigating factors."

She heaved a big sigh. "We'll see," she went on. "When you've
got everything together, work out your strategy. Then pay me
another visit, and we'll talk it over quietly. I may be a bit wiser by
then. At the moment we're only wasting our time."

She cast a yearning glance at the window, and her voice took on
a melancholy note. For a while, it seemed to Brauning that she was
merely trying to demonstrate her mental faculties.

"The thing is," she said, "I have to be rather careful what I say.
Have you ever felt you had to cling to your sanity with both hands?
It's quite a job, believe me. There are times when I have to look at
those bars again and again to convince myself that I'm not back
home. Everything seems so real, as if I'm right in the middle of it
all. I help her up to bed and hold her while she cleans her teeth or
see her sitting in the kitchen. Why must I go through it all again?
I'd left it far behind me and shut the door tight. The chief kicked it
open. He shouldn't have threatened me. That's what started it."

She shook her head in surprise and corrected herself. "No, it
started down by the lake, but there I only tasted the raspberryade
and saw the little cross. And now I taste his blood and see the three
big crosses. It doesn't matter where I look, I see them everywhere.
And the one in the middle bears an innocent man."

He felt reluctant to interrupt her monologue, but it really wasn't
appropriate for her to put on such a show for his benefit. High
time she understood that. "Who threatened you and what with?"
he asked.

She continued to stare at the window, looking as detached as she
had to begin with. "The chief," she muttered. Then, somewhat
louder: "Rudolf Grovian, that's his name. A persistent swine,
believe you me. He told me he'd found the girl with the broken
ribs."

Her eyes returned to Brauning's face, glassy once more. "Terrible,
isn't it?" She nodded slowly to herself. "But there's nothing to be
done. He's only doing his job. I know I've no right to complain,
and I've no wish to. But now he's collected so much information,
surely he could give it a rest. He won't, though. He won't stop till
he's done for me. I'm going crazy in here."

Her voice sent shivers down his spine. The last words were
just a hoarse whisper. She smote her chest with a clenched fist,
clamping her eyes shut as though in pain. Then she regained her
composure.

"I could wring his neck, but I like him in a way. Love your
enemies, the Saviour always said. The chief was my first enemy.
I felt so strong to begin with. That man was lying there, bleeding
to death, and I felt great. I felt like Goliath - I was Goliath. I was
so tall, I could see the knife on the high table and pick it up. And
then along came this little David, and said he had to have a talk
with my father. I lost my nerve and lied. And the funny thing was,
the more I told him, the more I could see. The splashy picture and
the green mosaics in the floor and the girl on the stairs. And now I
can see the three crosses. I know I killed an innocent man, and I'm
frightened. I'm terribly frightened of his father's anger."

Brauning couldn't bring himself to do as he'd intended and
bring her back to the point. He wished his mother were there. He
would have liked her advice on what to do.

Cora Bender's lips tightened. She covered her face with both
hands for seconds on end. "Sometimes," she whispered, "when I
think I'm asleep at night, he appears at my bedside. I don't see him, I just feel him. He bends over me and says: `My son wasn't
to blame for this disaster. He did his best.' Every time he says that
I want to shout: `That's a lie!' But I can't. I can't open my mouth
because I'm asleep."

After an eternity she lowered her hands. Her face was just as
he'd imagined a madwoman's face as a child.

"Don't worry," she murmured wearily. "I know how all this sounds,
but I also know who I can say it to and who not. I never breathe a
word to the professor about the Saviour and Mary Magdalene. At
first I wanted nothing to do with her, but then she washed his feet
and everything changed. Do you know the Bible well?"

The look that accompanied the question was appraising and
matter-of-fact, like that of an expert trying to explain something to
a layman. He gave another involuntary shrug `A bit," he said.

"If you've any questions about it," she went on, "just ask me.
I know every word. I even know the bits that were never written.
She was only trying to ingratiate herself with me when she washed
his feet. She wanted to destroy him, and she did. I did it, I don't
know why. I honestly don't know That tune can't have been the
only reason."

Her fingertips started drumming rhythmically on the tabletop.
"It was his tune, and I had it in my head. How did it get there?
I must have known him after all, don't you think? So why can't I
remember him? Do you think lie could really have been one of my
clients? I can't remember them either. All that happened after she
died is gone. I've buried it so deep, I can't get at it any more. I've
turned over the whole of my brain and found nothing. Perhaps it's
behind here."

She tapped the hair covering her forehead. "I won't find
anything, even if I dig away till I die. That's the spot where he hit
me first, I remember that now. And again on the side of the head.
Then everything went black. I suppose they thought I was dead.
They dumped me beside the road. Do you think I should tell it
to the professor the way I told it to the chief? That might be an
advantage, then there wouldn't be any inconsistency. It's best to be
consistent or they catch you out right away"

"So what did you tell the chief?" Brauning asked hesitantly.

"Well, about the two men and Frankie sitting on the sofa. Don't
you have that in your file?"

He shook his head. "That's odd," she said, "I didn't think he was
slipshod. I told him they were friends of Frankie's," she went on
eagerly, "and that the girl wanted me to do it with both of them
at the same time. I'd like to stick to that story, and I'd also like to
explain that Frankie was my pimp."

`And was he?" Brauning asked.

"Of course not," she said, sounding almost indignant, "but no one
can prove the opposite. I'd already thought that over, but now ..."
She broke off and smiled apologetically. "Things sometimes get
mixed up when I'm thinking, but don't worry, I'll work it out."

She sat back in her chair. "Well," she said, nodding thoughtfully,
"we've discussed everything now It's been worthwhile, at least from
your point of view, and you won't need to come again. I'm going to
try to think some more. Perhaps you'd better go."

Brauning thought so too. He had now gained some understanding,
if not of her and her motives, of the police officers who had
questioned her. It was time to discuss the case with Helene.

She kept tripping over fragments, picking herself up and roaming
on across the rubble-strewn wasteland that had once been a brain
neatly divided into two halves by a wall. The chief's visit had left
her in such a bad way, she'd lost herself. Although she occasionally
came across bits of herself, they usually dated from another time.