Frank Tallis: Deadly Communion

‘Frau Lachkovics,’ said the inspector, reaching out and gently touching the woman’s sleeve. ‘Herr Doctor Liebermann is my colleague. He is not here to act in a medical capacity.’

The woman sighed: a release of tension.

She motioned as if to speak — but an idea seemed to rise up in her mind which robbed her of confidence.

‘Frau Lachkovics?’ Rheinhardt inquired.

She shook her head: ‘Please sit.’

Rheinhardt and Liebermann were obliged to share the narrow space between the arms of a small sofa. They found themselves squeezed together, and no amount of shifting, wriggling or turning eased their compression.

‘You were out earlier,’ said Rheinhardt to Frau Lachkovics, withdrawing his elbow from beneath Liebermann’s arm.

‘Yes,’ replied Frau Lachkovics, drawing up a stool. ‘I’m sorry, we were in Ottakring. My mother … you remember — I told you I have an elderly mother?’

‘Indeed.’

Frau Lachkovics adjusted the drop of her skirt as she sat down.

‘The tram was late — I don’t know why. Did you send a message? If I had known then-’

Rheinhardt cut in: ‘Please do not fret on our account, Frau Lachkovics, your late return afforded us an opportunity to enjoy the splendid tafelspitz served at the Trinklied.’ He gestured vaguely towards the street. ‘Frau Lachkovics, I have some more questions I would like to ask you in connection with Fraulein Wirth.’ Frau Lachkovics did not raise any objection.

The arrest of Markus Sprenger had been discussed interminably at the laundry; however, knowledge of his arrest did not embolden her to ask Rheinhardt why he had come back again to ask more questions. She passively accepted the policeman’s authority.

‘Frau Lachkovics,’ Rheinhardt continued, ‘are you quite certain that Fraulein Wirth did not have any gentlemen friends?’

‘I cannot be absolutely sure. But I think it very unlikely. You see, we saw a great deal of each other. We would walk to the laundry together in the morning and return together at the end of the day. And I always knew when Selma had visitors. You can hear people knocking on her door from here. The walls are thin. I never saw any gentlemen arriving, apart from Herr Shevchenko, the landlord’s agent. I saw Selma’s friend Frau Vogl and some other girls from the laundry, Christa and Steffi — but never any men. Besides, if she had met someone, I’m sure she would have said something. It was in her nature to share personal things. She was never reticent.’

‘About the time when Fraulein Wirth …’ Rheinhardt glanced at the girl in the corner and searched for a diplomatic turn of phrase. ‘About the time when Fraulein Wirth met with her sad end, do you recall ever seeing any strangers loitering in the courtyard?’

‘No.’

‘A man wearing a bowler hat and a long coat?’

‘I do not recall seeing any strangers.’

‘But what about any gentlemen answering to that particular description?’

‘A bowler hat and long coat? There are many men who dress like that.’

‘Indeed,’ Rheinhardt altered his position: ‘You mentioned Herr Shevchenko …’

Frau Lachkovics frowned.

‘Yes?’

‘Has he always behaved … correctly?’

‘I don’t understand …’

‘Always shown you the proper respect that a lady is entitled to expect from a gentleman?’ The woman looked at Rheinhardt blankly. ‘I am sorry,’ Rheinhardt continued, ‘but I must ask you an indelicate question. Did Herr Shevchenko ever proposition you? Did he ever make an unwelcome amorous advance?’

‘Herr Shevchenko! Good heavens, no!’

Frau Lachkovics’s cheeks became luminous and a hectic flush travelled down her neck.

‘I am sorry, madam, but I am obliged to ask you yet another indelicate question. Did Herr Shevchenko — to your knowledge — ever proposition Fraulein Wirth?’

The flush intensified.

‘No, no …’

‘Would Fraulein Wirth have told you — do you think — if he had?’

Frau Lachkovics paused before answering. Rheinhardt could see that she was giving his question serious consideration.

‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘Yes, I think she would. Herr Shevchenko is not that sort of man. His only concern is collecting rents. He never makes small talk, never dallies. He just collects the rent and leaves. Most of the tenants around here don’t like him. It’s true: he never smiles and he can be abrupt and surly. But I do not think he is a bad man — rather someone who is sad and lonely.’

The wicker chair creaked as the girl in the corner stood up. She crossed the floor and stood behind her mother. Frau Lachkovics turned and smiled.

‘Jana?’

The girl did not respond. Instead, she fixed her stare on Rheinhardt. Her gaze was purposeful, yet her expression remained disconcertingly void. Her lineaments gave no clue as to the nature of her personality, her mood or what she might be thinking. She raised her arm. In her hand she was holding a book.

‘Can I keep this,’ she said in a dull monotone, ‘now that she is dead?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ said Rheinhardt.

‘Jana!’ exclaimed Frau Lachkovics, tugging the girl’s skirt sharply to express her disapproval. The admonishment had no effect.

‘Now that Selma is dead,’ Jana continued, ‘can I keep her books?’

‘Selma gave you that?’ said Rheinhardt.

‘Yes.’

Rheinhardt extricated himself from the sofa and rose to take the volume from the girl’s hand. He examined the spine and discovered it was a collection of children’s stories.

‘There’s another one in the kitchen,’ said Jana.

Rheinhardt fanned through the pages. Some illustrations flashed out from the blur of text. Suddenly the fluttering came to a halt at a point where a little ticket had been inserted. Rheinhardt pulled it out, studied the print, and then said to Frau Lachkovics: ‘Is this yours?’

‘No.’

‘What is it?’ asked Liebermann.

‘A ticket for one of the luggage lockers at the Sudbahnhof.’

The ensuing silence was broken by Jana.

‘Well — can I keep the books?’

‘You can keep the books,’ said Rheinhardt, ‘if I can keep this ticket.’

Heinz Vogl entered his wife’s bedroom. It was not very late and he was surprised to find that she had retired so early. Indeed, he felt a little indignant and persuaded himself that, if she was asleep, waking her could be justified.

‘My dear?’ he called. The eiderdown undulated as she turned to face him.

‘I’m still awake,’ she said, somewhat redundantly. Vogl advanced along the wedge of light that infiltrated Kristina’s room from his own. He sat on the edge of the bed. ‘What time is it?’ she asked, blinking up at him.

‘Ten o’clock — or thereabouts.’

‘How was your meeting?’

‘It went well enough. Professor Raich was in favour of appointing Mitterwallner — but Professor Lischka and that fool Kinigader objected. Fortunately, I was able to persuade Salvenmoser to vote with us and in the end the outcome was satisfactory. But it was a tiring, frustrating process, and I fear that the discussion — which became quite heated — will leave an atmosphere of ill feeling in some quarters. The air will have to be cleared in due course.’

Vogl reached out and touched Kristina’s cheek.

‘What is it, my dear?’

‘Do you remember the police inspector — Rheinhardt — and his colleague Liebermann?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘They came to the salon today.’

‘Really? What did they want?’

‘They said that they have acquired some more evidence and that the man whom they caught — Sprenger — the man who was supposed to have killed Selma, well, now it seems he didn’t kill her after all.’