Frank Tallis - Death And The Maiden

Rheinhardt straightened his back.

‘Sir: I tried to speak to you before I wired the Obersthofmarschallamt , but you were unavailable. I telephoned from the post office in Hietzing.’

‘Then you should have waited for me to return.’ There were several arguments that Rheinhardt could have proferred to justify his actions, but he knew that to do so would very likely make matters worse. The commissioner was famous for his intransigence. Once he had taken a view there was little point in trying to persuade him otherwise. ‘You can’t just go blundering into the palace,’ Brugel continued. ‘There are procedures, protocols, and customs that must be observed. Fortunately, the lord marshal was not offended by your impertinence. A less gracious individual might have taken umbrage and issued a complaint.’

The commissioner proceeded in this vein for some time, his invective becoming more heated until he finally began to rant. Rheinhardt remained calm, knowing that the storm would eventually pass. When it did, the commissioner fell back in his chair, exhausted by his own choler.

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said Rheinhardt, lowering his head deferentially. ‘It won’t happen again.’ A show of remorse usually helped to expedite matters.

The commissioner, who was still breathing heavily and whose nose had darkened to the shade of a ripe plum, made a grunting noise which Rheinhardt took to be a sign of reluctant approval. After making some adjustments to his clothing, Brugel turned his attention to Rheinhardt’s report. He flicked the pages backwards and forwards and finally said, ‘Your conclusions are equivocal, but it’s obvious what happened. Isn’t it? Saminsky made Fraulein Rosenkrantz pregnant, she agreed to see the angel maker, but subsequently made demands that Saminsky was not prepared to meet. Perhaps she wanted him to leave his wife and family? The crime was well thought out, and had it not been for the broken rib we might easily have concluded that Rosenkrantz’s death was accidental. When Saminsky learned that we suspected foul play he impulsively tried to implicate the mayor. In due course, he recognised the direction the investigation was taking and elected to take his own life in order to escape the scaffold and public disgrace.’

Rheinhardt nodded. ‘Indeed, sir. However, I am still of the opinion that Herr Geisler’s statement is accurate. I believe that the mayor was with Fraulein Rosenkrantz the night she was killed, a fact which cannot be overlooked, and recommend caution with respect to what we are at liberty to conclude.’

‘No, Rheinhardt,’ said Brugel. ‘It is clear now that your witness must have been mistaken.’ These words were spoken with an air of finality. The commissioner had evidently lost his appetite for indicting the mayor. ‘On reflection, it is most unfortunate that you decided to pursue that particular line of inquiry.’ Brugel’s hard stare dared Rheinhardt to object to his use of the personal pronoun. ‘Let us hope that the mayor is a man who does not hold grudges.’

‘Sir: this is most unsatisfactory.’

‘On the contrary, Rheinhardt, the mystery of Ida Rosenkrantz has been solved and when the newspaper reports appear, I promise you, the security office will be warmly congratulated.’ The commissioner’s face contracted as if in response to a sudden attack of indigestion. ‘I suppose I should congratulate you.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Rheinhardt. ‘That is most kind. However-’

‘There is nothing more to discuss,’ Brugel cut in. He collected the photographs of Saminksy, slid them into a buff folder and snapped it shut. Looking up at Rheinhardt with peculiar intensity he added, ‘The case is closed.’ Brugel’s severe expression declared that he was not in the mood to be contradicted.

‘Very good, sir.’

Rheinhardt felt that some kind of bargain had been struck, although he couldn’t specify what exactly. He also sensed that the commissioner might owe him some small favour in return for his acquiescence.

‘Sir?’

‘What is it, Rheinhardt?’

‘I would like to conduct an exhumation.’

Rheinhardt returned to his office where he found a message from Professor Mathias. The old man wanted him to visit the pathological institute as soon as possible. Paying less attention than he should have, Rheinhardt rushed through some outstanding paperwork and was soon waving down a cab on the Schottenring. Within minutes he was sitting in the morgue, next to the autopsy table. Professor Mathias was still working on a corpse. Rheinhardt registered the pretty and youthful face: golden braids, gemstone eyes, and translucent skin. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen.

The professor stroked the girl’s smooth forehead. ‘Voltaire once wrote that it is one of the superstitions of the human mind to have imagined that virginity could be a virtue: witty, of course — as one would expect — but woefully wrong-headed. Why is it that the French, whose medieval courtiers invented romance, have become so cynical in modern times? A German writer would never make jests at the expense of modesty. I fear that, now, we alone among the peoples of Europe carry the flame.’

‘Perhaps you haven’t been to the theatre lately, Herr Professor. Our young writers show little respect for the old ways. They mock romance.’

‘God help us, then. We’ll go the way of the second empire. You mark my words.’ Mathias put down his instruments and covered the girl’s face with a green sheet.

‘Why did you want to speak to me, Herr Professor?’

The old man took off his spectacles and began to clean them with his apron.

‘Something’s been troubling me.’

‘Oh?’

‘Was the lake in which Saminsky drowned very muddy?’

‘I didn’t pay much attention to the lake. I was rather preoccupied with Saminsky. Why?’

Mathias put his spectacles back on and reached for a small bottle. Holding it up to the electric light he said, ‘What do you see?’

‘Water? A brown sediment of some kind has collected at the bottom.’

‘Correct.’

‘Watch.’ The Professor gave the bottle a vigorous shake and held it up again. The water was now cloudy and opaque.

‘Herr Professor, what has this got to do with Saminsky?’

‘I obtained the contents of this bottle from Saminsky’s lungs — which isn’t always possible. You may be surprised to learn that sometimes the lungs of a drowned man are dry. Now, observe the particles. They are fine and take a long time to settle. I must confess, I didn’t notice how much precipitate there was at first.’ Mathias appeared somewhat embarrassed by the admission.

Rheinhardt made a forgiving gesture. ‘What does it mean?’

‘Unfortunates who drown themselves don’t usually thrash around. They simply lie back, allow their lungs to fill, and lose consciousness. Drowning isn’t as unpleasant as you might imagine. Individuals who have been saved from drowning often describe having experienced a feeling of detachment and peace after an initial stage of panic. The fact that there’s so much mud in this bottle suggests to me that it was kicked up.’

‘Saminsky was struggling?’

‘Indeed.’

The two men looked at each other. Professor Mathias’s eyes blinked behind the thick lenses of his spectacles.

‘Are you saying, Professor, that Saminsky might not have committed suicide after all?’

‘I am saying that you had better take another look at that lake. If the water is relatively clear …’ Mathias allowed the implications of the incomplete sentence to multiply.

Rheinhardt took the bottle from the old man. ‘May I ask you to compose a brief supplementary report, Herr Professor?’

‘Of course.’

Saminsky had made Rosenkrantz pregnant. He had attempted to implicate the mayor, and now there was reason to believe that Saminsky might — like Rosenkrantz — also have been murdered.