Wolf Haas - Brenner and God

In retrospect, the seven funerals seemed like one single long funeral to Brenner, even though nearly three weeks passed between the first and the last. It’s always fascinating when human paths cross, and two people can be born a thousand kilometers apart, grow up on different continents, never hear of each other, and then by some fatal accident while on vacation they should meet. And it was exactly the opposite for the four in the cesspit now. They would’ve been buried together, but first they had to be fished out, and of course autopsies had to be performed, and so they landed in four different cemeteries.

For the security boss, Brenner even had to drive all the way to the Czech border, because he was interred in Gmund. Nobody recognized Brenner in Gmund because, even though he’d been in the newspaper again, this time as a liberated Kressdorf-hostage, black bars had been put over his eyes. At first the funeral seemed a little strange to him, but then he realized that the parents of the deceased were Jehovah’s Witnesses, ergo their own rites and rituals. And after the funeral he had to call the OAMTC because the Mondeo wouldn’t start. But don’t go thinking that the Jehovah’s Witnesses in Gmund had something against him. Because a marten had chewed through the fuel line.

For the foreman, he also had to drive outside of Vienna, but only half an hour out to Tulln. You should know, Vienna’s workers generally come from the surrounding areas-Waldviertel: the forest region, Weinviertel: the wine region, Bucklige Welt: land of a thousand hills, Burgenland: the sunny side of Austria, Steiermark: Austria’s green heart-never from Vienna itself. Because the Viennese, generally speaking: lazy hogs. The foreman had a twin brother who resembled him down to the last freckle. And that was enough to make your skin crawl. Like the deceased was standing at his own grave site! The brother was a very decent male nurse at a regional hospital in Krems. The little girl at his side really looked like Pippi Longstocking what with her pigtails, and Brenner wondered whether she was the daughter of the dead or the living twin.

Interesting, though: regardless of whether it was her father or her uncle lying in the coffin, Brenner had enormous sympathy for this girl, who he didn’t know and hadn’t known about. But a few days later at Kressdorf’s funeral, when he saw Helena again for the first time-zero feelings. If that’s even possible! He cast an aloof glance at her from across the church pews to where she stood holding her mother’s hand behind the coffin. As though he hadn’t spent days fearing for her life. As though he hadn’t been holding on to a chocolate bar for weeks just for her. And he even forgot to give it to her now. I can’t fully explain it, but maybe a psychologist could, who might say, such and such, and therefore, Brenner, at that moment, no feelings.

And while I’m on the topic of psychologists: maybe that’s where the answer lies, and Brenner paid no attention to Helena because he was so worked up about Natalie. Or, actually about Peinhaupt, because he wondered what the cop was doing hanging around Natalie this whole time. What was there for him to go snooping around for at a funeral?

Brenner was of two minds. Because on the one hand, you shouldn’t be ungrateful to the person who saved your life; on the other hand, Peinhaupt had interrogated him so much the last few days that he could have gladly done without him. And one thing you can’t forget: as a cop, you don’t usually go to the funeral of a criminal who you shot dead.

At least Peinhaupt didn’t go to the congressman’s funeral. Neither did Natalie. And even with the best of intentions, the Frau Doctor couldn’t go. The newspaper people would have pounced on her, don’t even ask. You should know, Stachl’s murder by Kressdorf was hyped as the jealousy drama of the year- Othello ’s got nothing on it. They couldn’t get enough of the “double widow” who got her child back on the same day that she lost both of her men.

They didn’t know anything about the bribes, because that was the small deal that the cops and the politicos and Brenner and Bank Director Reinhard all agreed on: that a connection didn’t need to be established unnecessarily between the jealousy drama and MegaLand. And for that they were willing to cooperate with Brenner on the matter of the South Tyrolean, i.e., the South Tyrolean was released and was only charged for having waited as long as she did before turning the stray child in to the police.

You’re going to say, Brenner could’ve quietly exposed the construction mafia so that even the big guys would get theirs, too. But what good would that have done? Stachl and Kressdorf were dead, and everything that would eventually come to light would get blamed on the two of them. And so Brenner just said, I’d rather see if I can set things right for the South Tyrolean. Because who’s going to water her flowers if she’s locked away for months? And so you see, there was also some self-interest involved, because he was worried that she’d ask him to water the flowers.

When he called and informed her that she didn’t have much to fear, all she said was, “I knew from the shtart that you were a decent man. But could you do me a favor?”

Brenner was a little disappointed, of course, because in his opinion he had just done her a favor. On the other hand, he was glad for the chance to see her again. You should know, to his question what kind of favor? she’d only say, “Not over the phone. But if you’re here in twenty minutes, the eshpresso will shtill be warm.”

Her apartment felt a little strange to him at first.

“Everything’s new in here.”

And from Brenner’s mouth, a sentence like that isn’t a compliment.

“Because of the blood, I needed a painter and a floor sander. And because of the painter and the floor sander, I had to move the furniture outshide. And because they were already outshide, I let them get hauled away. I’m happy to be rid of that old junk.”

“And the plants?”

“They’re in the other rooms. I jusht have to put them back again.”

“And that’s what you couldn’t say over the phone? That’s what you dragged me here for?”

“The plants I can move by myshelf. But maybe only a few. It’s gotten to be too many. I’m not some ape living in a jungle, you know.”

“I liked them.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a greenhorn.”

“So then, what do you need me for?”

Beaming, the South Tyrolean led him to the kitchen window and pointed to the street, where a factory-new VW bus with dealer plates was parked.

“You’ll have to drive the car for me. I haven’t driven in so long. It would be a pity if I drove it wrong.”

“A VW bus?” A laugh nearly escaped Brenner. “What do you want a VW bus for?”

“So I can give somebody a ride now and then.”

On the drive, she sat beside him beaming like a kid on her confirmation day and alternated between watching Brenner and watching the pedestrians and the cars and the bicyclists and the shops. And every few minutes when Brenner pressed on the gas or the brakes or made a turn, expectantly she’d ask: “And? How’s it drive?”

“Perfectly,” Brenner replied, but meanwhile he started up on how a smaller, women’s car would’ve been better for her, a Polo or a Mini or a French Musketeer or a Japanese Micra Mouse, and whether she couldn’t still trade in the bus. But he might as well have been talking to the windshield, because at the next traffic light, the South Tyrolean, expectant again, asked, “And? How’s it drive?”

“I need to step on it a little more,” Brenner said, and he drove along the Danube in the direction of Klosterneuburg. Within a few meters of the road sign he was already going 120, and satisfied, the South Tyrolean determined, “It’s got zing.”