J. Jones - The Third Place

But Berthe now quickly cut in. ‘Herr Postling was just telling us about Herr Wenno.’

‘Indeed?’ Gross said.

‘You’re not here to tell me it was all a hoax, are you? I’ve got my heart set on the twenty pieces of silver.’

‘No, no,’ Werthen assured him. ‘Nothing of the kind.’

‘You’re to be the star of the show,’ Berthe added.

This brought a smile to the old man’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a suspicious scowl.

‘Then what’s this all about?’

‘We were just curious if Herr Wenno has visited you lately. Say, since Monday.’ Berthe smiled reassuringly at him.

‘And what if he has?’

‘Well,’ Werthen began.

‘You’re not taking it back. Not on your life.’

‘Slowly, Herr Postling,’ Berthe said in the calmest of voices. ‘What is it we can’t take back?’

He warmed to her. ‘The good smelling stuff. A bottle of cologne. One of those nice little bottles with the little rubber ball for spraying. He meant for me to make a present of it to the emperor tomorrow. After he washes my feet. Well, I figure an emperor can afford his own cologne. So-’

‘Where is the bottle now?’ Berthe asked. ‘We may need to give you a replacement. That one might not be good anymore. Did you use any of it?’

‘Not a drop.’ Then Postling’s face crumpled. ‘That’s not right. Not fair.’

‘We’ll get you another bottle,’ Werthen reassured him. ‘Don’t worry. A bigger one even. Now maybe you could show us that bottle.’

The old man shook his head. ‘Can’t.’

‘Why not?’ Berthe asked.

‘Because I don’t have it anymore. I already made a present of it. To that nice little boy who drew my picture.’

Werthen, Gross, and Berthe made the connection at almost the same instant, suddenly understanding why the old man looked familiar to them. He was the man from Franzl’s sketch.

‘A young boy named Franzl?’ Werthen said.

‘Well, that’s the very one. I sit for the folks to draw at this studio out in the Prater. Sweet young boy. Reminds me of my own before he ran off for Canada and got himself drowned. Gave it to him this afternoon.’

Werthen’s mind raced. Then Franzl must have already had the cologne with him when he was showing off his sketch at the office. Had he sprayed it? Werthen could not remember any scent in the office.

‘We’ve got to get to the boy, Herr Postling,’ Berthe told him.

‘Tell him I didn’t know it had gone bad,’ the old man said mournfully as they rushed off to a fiaker rank on the corner.

Gross told the driver they would double the fare if he could get them to Habsburgergasse 4 in half the time. The man’s eyes bulged and he had the whip to the horse even as they were settling into their seats.

Later, Werthen could remember nothing of the ride. He was going over every possible scenario. It was obvious that Klavan had put the plague bacilli in the cologne bottle, hoping the emperor would use it, charmed by the gift from the old man. But what if Franzl decided to try it, sprayed it on in the office with Erika next to him? My God, they would both die horrible deaths. If Franzl sprayed it in an open area it could spread to all those around him. His heart was pounding in rhythm to the horse’s hooves.

Finally the carriage came to a stop at the office and as Gross paid the driver, Werthen and Berthe leaped to the sidewalk and raced up the flights of stairs to the law offices, bounding in out of breath. Erika was at the typing machine, alone in the outer office.

‘Franzl,’ Werthen said, between breaths. ‘Where is Franzl?’

‘What is it?’

‘Where is he?’ Berthe asked. ‘He may be in danger.’

Before she could answer, Werthen said, ‘Did he have a bottle of cologne? A spray bottle?’

‘Why, yes. He showed it to me, proud as anything. Said it was like payment for his art.’

‘Did you smell it? Did he spray it in here?’

‘Advokat. What is it? This is frightening me.’

‘Did he spray it?’ Werthen asked again.

She shook her head. ‘No. Said it was going to be a special gift. He left early to give it to her. I said it would be all right just this once to leave early.’

‘Her?’ Berthe said. ‘Who?’

‘The friend he made when he was at Frau Schratt’s.’

‘Oh, Lord,’ Berthe said. ‘We’ve got to get there.’

Werthen went immediately to his phone, looked into his address book, found Schratt’s number and had the operator place the call.

The phone rang five times before finally it was answered.

‘Schratt residence.’ It was Netty’s voice, steely and efficient.

‘Hello, this is Advokat Werthen. My colleague Doktor Gross and I conferred with your mistress about a missing letter.’

‘Yes.’ There was the hint of animosity in her voice. After all, they had incriminated her beloved mistress in their investigations.

‘There was a young boy in service with you at the time.’

‘Young Franzl. Yes.’ Her voice softened.

‘Have you seen him today?’

‘He’s at the kitchen table as we speak. Enjoying a cup of hot cocoa. Such a thoughtful gift for Anna.’

‘Has she opened it? I mean, sprayed it?’

‘I beg your pardon.’

Werthen did not know how to get through to her. Finally he opted for fear.

‘It’s poisoned. Understand. Do not spray the cologne.’

‘ Gott in Himmel. ’

‘Exactly,’ Werthen said. ‘Has she sprayed it?’

‘No!’ came a scream down the line, as if Netty were yelling at those in the kitchen. ‘Don’t touch it! It’s poison.’

And then the line went dead.

He stretched out in the comfortable chair in his hotel room. It had been a busy day, but it was all coming to fruition now, he thought, looking at himself in the full-length mirror of the wardrobe. He was amazed at the transformation a suit of clothes and a pair of glasses could make. The spectacles, purchased at an optical shop this afternoon, had glass for lenses as they had been the model for the window display. The optician had been only too happy to sell them, however, when he got a look at Klavan’s money.

He smiled at the reflection, almost unrecognizable even to himself. With his hair combed back off his forehead as it now was and the new and very special clothes, his own mother might not recognize him.

All was in readiness. And he would be there himself to witness his great coup.

Berthe held him to her bosom, squeezing so hard Franzl had to finally plead for air.

‘I didn’t mean any harm,’ he said again, and looking abashed at Fraulein Anna. ‘I thought it would make a nice present for you, like saying thank you for being so good to me.’

Her face reddened as he said this. ‘It’s all right, little poppet. You couldn’t know.’ Then to Werthen, who was standing next to his wife and Franzl: ‘Why would anybody put poison in perfume?’

‘That’s a good question, Fraulein Anna,’ he answered. ‘Some people are just bad.’

If only it were that simple, he thought.

‘We really should be going,’ Gross prompted. ‘Business to attend to.’

Werthen nodded at him. Now that they had ascertained that Franzl was safe and that the cologne had not been used, they did have other matters to see to this evening.

Frau Schratt did not deign to make an appearance, even as they prepared to leave. They let Franzl and Fraulein Anna take leave of each other, each promising the see the other soon.

‘And I mean soon, poppet,’ Fraulein Anna urged. ‘But no presents next time, all right?’

Berthe offered to take Franzl home in a separate carriage while Werthen and Gross went to an emergency meeting with Prince Montenuovo at the Hofburg. The prince was in a vile mood, obviously brought on by having to miss his dinner. It was as if he blamed them for the deadly bottle of cologne, which Werthen had passed on to laboratory workers from the General Hospital, who were specially dispatched.