Frank Tallis - Deadly Communion

A faint ringing emanated from somewhere within the building.

In due course, the door at the rear of the vestibule opened and a young woman with blonde hair entered. They both recognised her from their visit to Frau Vogl’s house.

‘Inspector,’ said the young woman.

‘Fraulein,’ Rheinhardt responded, bowing.

‘Was Madame expecting you? She didn’t say-’

‘No,’ Rheinhardt cut in. ‘Frau Vogl wasn’t expecting me; however, I would be most grateful if she would spare us a few minutes of her valuable time.’

‘What shall I tell her?’

‘That I wish to speak with her.’

‘In connection with …?’

‘A matter of utmost importance.’

‘Madame is upstairs with the machinists. I’ll let her know that you’re here.’ Then she curtsied and excused herself. The sound of her footsteps — remarkably heavy for a young woman — could be heard as she made her ascent.

Several minutes later the figure of Kristina Vogl appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a blue dress which complemented her eyes and her dark hair had been skilfully arranged in a bouffant wave. A few loose strands hung down past her ears: a hint of dishabille which softened her features and carried with it a suggestion of the bedroom. Above her heart was a large brooch. It was square-shaped, partitioned into quadrants by a silver cross, and each of these quadrants was filled with colourful semi-precious stones.

‘Inspector,’ Kristina said warmly. ‘What a surprise.’ She advanced and offered Rheinhardt her hand, which he took and kissed. When he lifted his head, he took a step backwards, as if he could not tolerate standing so close to such a radiant being.

‘Frau Vogl,’ he said, unable to conceal his admiration.

‘May I get you some refreshment, inspector? Some tea, perhaps?’

‘No, thank you.’

Kristina addressed her assistant: ‘Wanda, is the reception room ready?’

‘Yes, madame,’ replied the young woman.

‘We’ll continue when I’ve finished with Inspector Rheinhardt and Doctor Liebermann. Run along now.’ Liebermann was surprised that Frau Vogl could remember his name — particularly as she had not taken the trouble to acknowledge his presence. ‘This way, please, gentlemen.’

She led them to a large room which so overwhelmed the young doctor that he found himself surveying his surroundings in a state of blissful enchantment. Being a devotee of all things modern he was almost incapacitated by the white lacquered walls and the long mirrors, the glass lamps and the elegant simplicity of the furniture. The cuboid table looked very much like the one he had purchased for his smoking room.

‘Beautiful,’ said Liebermann. ‘Is the decor by Moser?’

‘Moser and Hoffmann: if you are interested, there are some examples of their jewellery-work displayed in the vitrine.’ Liebermann looked through the tilted window at the treasures displayed within. His attention was immediately captured by a bracelet, made from coral salamanders. ‘Please,’ the hostess continued. ‘Do sit down, inspector.’

Rheinhardt waited for Kristina to settle before lowering himself onto one of the hoop-backed chairs.

‘Herr doctor …’ said Rheinhardt, looking up at his friend. ‘Would you care to join us?’

‘Of course,’ said Liebermann, a little embarrassed. ‘My apologies.’

With some difficulty, he pulled himself away from the vitrine. Taking one of the vacant places, he addressed Frau Vogl: ‘Delightful. I am very fond of Moser. I have a table just like this one.’

‘By Moser?’

‘Yes.’

Kristina’s expression showed that she was impressed; however, she did not enccourage Liebermann to elaborate. Instead, she turned to face Rheinhardt.

‘Inspector, I must congratulate you. When I saw the headline on the front page of the Wiener Zeitung … well, you cannot imagine my relief. My dear husband was so worried for my safety he would not let me leave the house without an escort! It is wonderful to be free of fear once again.’

‘Frau Vogl, you are most kind, but I did not catch Sprenger alone. Much of the credit for his capture must go to my colleague here — Doctor Liebermann — who, for professional reasons, prefers his police activities to remain unreported in the newspapers.’

Kristina glanced at Liebermann, somewhat uneasily.

‘You wanted to speak to me concerning a matter of utmost importance. I presume it has something to do with poor Selma.’

‘Yes,’ said Rheinhardt. ‘That is correct. There are some aspects of Fraulein Wirth’s circumstances which require clarification. You may be able to help us.’

‘Oh?’

‘You will recall that during our prior interview, you suggested that Fraulein Wirth might have found an admirer.’

‘I …’ Kristina hesitated and shook her head. ‘I really don’t know. I pitied Selma. Her life was never easy and she seemed to be the recipient of more than her fair share of bad luck. I was always hoping that she would meet someone. I think in my eagerness to see her happily married I rashly overestimated the significance of the small changes I observed in her dress and manner.’

‘Frau Vogl,’ Liebermann ventured. ‘What were these small changes?’

‘Oh,’ Kristina replied. ‘I can’t remember, precisely. She smiled more: I suppose one would say she was … I don’t know, more girlish.’

‘And her dress?’ Liebermann pressed.

‘What about it?’

‘How was it different?’

‘She had bought a new … no.’ Kristina looked flustered. ‘No. She looked more groomed — that’s all …’

Rheinhardt leaned forward in his chair.

‘Frau Vogl, you said that you saw a man waiting outside Fraulein Wirth’s apartment.’

Kristina looked confused — but then, quite suddenly, her face brightened with recognition.

‘Yes, that’s right: a man with a bowler hat.’

‘Please, Frau Vogl. Think very carefully. Can you remember anything else about him?’

‘No. He was just … a man.’

‘Is it possible that this gentleman could have been Fraulein Wirth’s admirer?’

‘Inspector, on reflection, I do not think that Selma had an admirer.’

‘But, let us assume — for argument’s sake — that your early suspicions were correct. Is it at all conceivable that the gentleman who you saw might have been Fraulein Wirth’s lover?’

‘I couldn’t possibly say.’ A note of irritation had crept into her voice. ‘With respect, inspector, I don’t understand why you’re asking me these questions. What difference does it make if this man was or wasn’t Selma’s lover? Indeed, what difference does it make if she did or didn’t have a lover at all?’

Rheinhardt leaned forward.

‘I regret to say that the answer to these questions may be of considerable importance, Frau Vogl, because we now have good reason to believe that Markus Sprenger did not kill Selma Wirth.’

Frau Vogl’s expression hardened.

‘What?’

‘I am sorry. I appreciate that you will find this news most distressing.’

Kristina breathed deeply and her bosom rose and fell.

‘I don’t understand. What are you saying, inspector?’ The pitch of her voice rose hysterically. ‘Sprenger … it was in all the newspapers. Markus Sprenger.’

‘I am afraid that some new evidence has come to light.’

‘New evidence?’

‘Yes,’ said Rheinhardt. He did not reveal more, even though Kristina’s expression communicated an urgent appeal for more information. Some moments passed before she straightened her back and recovered her composure. ‘Do you think then,’ she said in a lower, more controlled register, ‘that I am still in danger?’