Frank Tallis - Death And The Maiden

Liebermann played a five-finger exercise on his chair arm. When the drumming ceased, he said: ‘I would offer you my congratulations, if I thought this news gave you a true sense of achievement.’

‘How could it?’ said Rheinhardt.

They looked at each other with grim expressions.

‘Well,’ said Liebermann, ‘I was right.’

‘In the end,’ said Rheinhardt. ‘Yes.’ Liebermann frowned but Rheinhardt took no notice. ‘Although it is a pity that we were denied bringing the perpetrators of such heinous crimes to justice.’

‘Indeed,’ Liebermann replied. ‘But life is not like a piece of music, structured, logical, and concluded with the precise finality of a perfect cadence. No, life is more like the unconscious — murky, strange and unpredictable.’ The young doctor stood and walked to the fireplace. He took a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles from his top pocket, hooked the arms behind his ears, and adopted a professorial attitude. ‘When Ida Rosenkrantz’s association with the mayor ended, her dreams of escaping the opera house and becoming the first lady of Vienna were shattered. She developed a hysterical throat condition, a telling symptom arising as it did in an unhappy singer, and transferred her libido — a libido that became attached all too easily to father figures — from Lueger to her psychiatrist, Saminsky. When she became pregnant with Saminsky’s unborn child, she accepted his paternal authority and obediently went to see an angel maker. Afterwards, when Saminsky declared, with considerable regret, that he had come to realise that it was not in their interests (for her as a patient and for him as a married man) to continue seeing each other as lovers, she acquiesced once again. Time passed. The infection she contracted due to the termination flared up and she was confined to her bed. Isolated, with only her maid for company, she became resentful and angry. Although she recovered from her physical problems, her psychological state was not good: she brooded on her sorry personal circumstances, becoming depressed and eventually desperate. On Monday the seventh of September she telephoned Lueger and demanded that he come to her villa in Hietzing. For reasons which are still unknown to us, he agreed. He did not try to conceal himself when he was seen by your witness Geisler, because the mayor was not contemplating murder.’

Liebermann flicked some ash into the fire. ‘Obviously, when the mayor entered Rosenkrantz’s villa there were emotional scenes. But he used his famous powers of persuasion to calm her. Soon he was satisfied that the situation was under control and felt confident enough to leave. But Rosenkrantz was still deeply distressed. She felt alone, abandoned. She burned the mayor’s love letters and telephoned Saminsky. When Saminsky arrived she was probably beside herself. She told him that the mayor had recently departed and complained about her lot: she was sick of being the pretty plaything of older men. All she had ever wanted was their love, but all she had ever received were empty promises and shabby treatment. Her condition worried Saminsky. She was out of control. The last thing he wanted was a scandal.’

A burning piece of wood cracked and a shower of sparks illuminated the hearth. ‘Saminsky was doubly motivated,’ Liebermann continued. ‘He realised that in one fell swoop he might rid himself of Rosenkrantz and perform a great service to the crown. If the mayor was implicated as a suspect in a murder investigation, just before an election, it might bring about his downfall. The man responsible for accomplishing such a coup could expect the shadowy powers that operate in the Hofburg to show their gratitude with a generous dispersal of honours and rewards: a carriage with a coat of arms on the door, a Schloss overlooking the Danube.’ Liebermann threw his cigar stub into the flames. ‘Saminsky must have delivered a performance the likes of which we rarely see outside the court theatre. Yes, he had been weak. Yes, he had been a fool, an insensitive coward, and if only dearest Ida could find it in her heart to forgive him he would make amends. He would leave his wife — whom he had never really loved — and take Rosenkrantz away to a better place. The vulnerable singer succumbed to his kisses and caresses, his gentle ministrations, and finally complied when he suggested that she should take a little laudanum to calm her nerves and help her sleep. Only minutes later he encouraged her to take a few drops more … and then a few drops more.’

Liebermann rested his elbow on the mantelpiece and continued: ‘When Rosenkrantz lost consciousness, Saminsky set her down on the floor and sat on her chest. Her lungs could not expand and she quickly suffocated. Saminsky then bounced on her chest until he heard one of her ribs snap. I am not sure whether he placed Rosenkrantz’s body in the middle of the rug to arouse suspicion, or whether that was merely the result of his obsessiveness. He was fastidious in dress and was a collector. Individuals of this personality type have a distinct tendency to line up objects, often automatically and without thought. Whatever the case, he informed the lord marshal’s office of his actions and was probably praised for showing initiative. Rewards would follow.

‘When we first interviewed Saminsky, he misdirected us concerning his whereabouts on the night of the murder — claiming to have recently returned from Salzburg — and led us to believe that the mayor was responsible for Rosenkrantz’s pregnancy. He must have felt quite pleased with himself; however, when we reappeared, challenging the accuracy of his testimony and accusing him of unprofessional conduct, the experience understandably unnerved him. Saminsky was an opportunist, not a hardened criminal. He panicked and immediately went to the lord marshal for assistance. Unfortunately, Saminsky’s discomposure did not impress the lord marshal, who began to doubt whether the psychiatrist had the stomach to carry through the undertaking he had embarked upon. What would happen, he wondered, if Saminsky went to pieces during questioning? The consequences, so soon after the Crown Prince’s demise at Mayerling, were unthinkable. The lord marshal’s agents were dispatched, and the following day Saminsky was no longer a problem. The same, however, could not be said of Detective Inspector Oskar Rheinhardt. Even though your superior gave you a clear indication that the Saminsky case was best left alone — you continued to investigate. You were put under surveillance, and the resulting intelligence was not good. Had you not dealt with the lord marshal’s agent so deftly, I very much doubt you would be sitting here now, drinking brandy and enjoying my excellent cigars.’

Liebermann crossed the floor and returned to his seat.

‘The commissioner was, of course, quick to endorse the most expedient account of Saminsky’s death.’ Liebermann’s voice became laboured: ‘Rosenkrantz had insisted that Saminsky leave his wife. She had started to issue threats. To avoid a scandal Saminsky killed her, taking care to make it look as if she had committed suicide. Unfortunately, he accidentally broke one of her ribs, thus drawing attention to his crime. When Saminsky realised we were catching up with him, he took his own life.’ Liebermann returned to his professorial mode of address. ‘Commissioner Brugel made sure that Saminsky’s file was in order, removing and presumably destroying the supplementary autopsy report by Professor Mathais. Within a few weeks, the palace had discovered evidence ,’ Liebermann raised his eyebrows, ‘that Saminsky was an embezzler, giving the public reason to contemplate the effect that the prospect of imminent exposure might have had on a man who already had a murder on his conscience. The commissioner was rewarded for his cooperation with the Order of the Iron Cross, and you, my friend, have been offered promotion and future honours as a reward for demonstrating good judgement and discretion .’