Faye Kellerman - Street Dreams

Anika drank her tea and appeared to collect her thoughts.

“But then another is found dead. Then it was your grandmother. By then, mothers tell their daughters never to walk the streets alone. That there are madmen other than Hitler.”

“I found my grandmother’s mordakte- her homicide file,” Rina said.

“ Mein Gott, how did you find?”

“It’s a long story. But her file was found with those of the two others murdered before her. The cases were all packaged together in one big box apparently. I was sent a copy, not the original.”

“What was in your grandmother’s file?”

“Not much,” Decker said. “A pathology report, interviews, witnesses, crime scene report. Comparison of her murder to those of the two other women-Marlena Durer and Anna Gross. From what I could tell, the police investigation was pretty primitive. Do you remember any other murders?”

“There were two more after your grandmother, Mrs. Decker. Then we move. But the last I remember well because it was a young girl who lived near me in Schwabing. Her name was Johanna, a little older than I was but close enough in age to truly frighten. Ach, it was terrible murders in a terrible time that only got more terrible before it got better.”

The woman had turned red and was panting hard.

Rina said, “Thank goodness it’s in the past, Anika.”

“Yes…” The old woman took a few moments to steady her breathing. “Yes, it is all in the past and every day I walk past mountains, sky, and beauty.” She exhaled loudly. “Your grandfather did a good deed when he moved your mother away. The other families stayed, the motherless children receiving not pity but suspicion: ‘What did your mother do to deserve her death?’ If you want my opinion, Mrs. Decker, I say your grandmother was murdered by the same hand, even if the women were different. Thinking about it… it was all so much the same.”

“Any idea who might have done it?”

“ Ach, no, sorry. A madman, a political man, a man who was both mad and political. You choose.” Anika clenched her jaw. “There was one investigator… he talked to us. I remember him well-strong, blue eyes, and black curly hair. He had… I don’t know… a swagger in his step… a charisma. He spoke softly but with much intensity. If we see anything, if we hear anything, we must tell him. He was terrifying and appealing at the same time. I don’t remember his name.”

“Heinreich Messersmit?” Decker tried.

She shrugged.

“Rudolf Kalmer?” Decker paused. “Axel Berg?”

“Maybe that was it. I wonder what happened to him?” She waved a bony hand in the air. “Now he’s dead. They’re all dead. I should be dead.”

“God forbid!” Rina said.

Anika smiled. “I was glad when we moved. Hamburg was different-a free state, a port city, more international, less Bavarian. And the beer in Hamburg is stronger.” She looked at an empty wrist.

Decker said, “It’s twelve-ten.”

“Marta should be here soon,” Anika repeated. “Maybe we take a walk?”

But just then, the door opened.

Marta was definitely Anika’s sister, having the same wrinkled face, same long jawline, and white hair, except she had it tied into a bun. She wore a fitted blue suit but had orthopedic shoes on her feet. She met Rina’s eyes, then clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh mein Gott, it is Marta Gottlieb!” Tears welled in her blue eyes. “I can’t believe…”

She started to cry. Anika said, “My sister is emotional.”

Rina held out her hand. “I do look like my mother.”

But Marta was weeping too hard to respond. Anika hit her shoulder. “Stop!”

“You stop!” Marta choked back. Finally, she took Rina’s hand and clasped it. “How is your mother?”

“Mama is fine. Very fine and very well.”

Marta exhaled. “We were very good friends once. A lifetime came between us.”

“I know.”

“She was in Auschwitz?”

“Yes.”

“ Ach … terrible, terrible.” She brought her hand to her chest. “Such a strong woman. If anyone could survive, it would be Marta. I would have surely died.” She wiped her eyes. “It smells good, Anika. I am hungry.”

“They can’t eat. They are kosher,” Anika explained.

“Yes, yes… I should have thought of that.”

“It’s really fine,” Rina said. “Peter and I have to start heading back. We still have a young child at home. How long are you staying in town, Mrs. Wallek?”

“Marta, please. This time, I stay through August. A long time. I must see your mother. Please. It would do well for me. I think it would do well for her, too.”

Rina nodded. “I’ll ask her. But I have one favor-no more talk about the murders. It should be only pleasant recollections.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Marta said. “So many bad memories.” A sigh. “It is bad to be senile, ja? But not so bad to forget some things.”

“Selective repression,” Rina said.

“Exactly,” Marta said. “Our lives now are very short. It is not a time to dwell on the past.” She squeezed Rina’s hand. “We can come to Los Angeles.”

“We can?” Anika said.

“Yes, we can,” Marta insisted. “I can drive.”

That thought was truly terrifying. Decker said, “How about if I arrange to have you driven down? Arrive in style.”

“No, I wouldn’t accept!”

“As a present to Rina’s mother,” Decker insisted. “It would be my pleasure.”

“He doesn’t want you to drive,” Anika told her sister.

“I want you two to be comfortable,” Decker said. “Let us talk to Magda-Rina’s mother-and I’ll e-mail you some dates.”

Again Marta brought her hand to her chest. Again, her eyes watered. “That would be wonderful. Thank you so much.” She kissed Rina’s left cheek, then the right one. The tears came streaming down. “I am so sorry!”

“Please, Marta-”

“All the pain and suffering that we did to your people!”

“Marta, it’s a new world.” Rina squeezed her hand and sighed. “Hopefully.”

“Yes, hopefully.” She smiled. “That’s all we have… hope.”

As soon as they hit the freeway, Rina said, “I wonder how Mama will react when we tell her we’ve found Marta Lubke.”

“ We? ”

“I was hoping you’d help me out. Give me a logical reason for why we’d be looking up Marta.”

“That’s easy. Tell your mother that talking about her past made you curious.”

Rina nodded. “I think that will work just fine, you devious devil you.”

“I take exception,” Decker said. “You’re just as devious as I am. I’m just better at it than you.”

“More practice.”

“That’s true enough.” Decker stroked her cheek. “Are you really all right with the outcome? Having your grandmother’s murder remain an open file?”

“Honestly, yes. Like I said, it wasn’t about the murder, it was about my mother’s childhood.” She felt her eyes mist. “I have only known my mother as a burdened woman. I think I needed to know that once she was a little girl.” She put her hand on Peter’s knee. “Are you okay with not knowing the specifics?”

“Doesn’t bother me at all.” He let his thoughts go for a moment. “Besides, we both know a little more now than we did going into it.”

“You think it was a political thing?”

“Maybe. But it also could have been a serial killer who used politics to mask his murders. We really don’t need the gruesome details.”

“I agree.” Rina felt her eyes closing. “Do you mind if I take a nap?”

“No, of course not. Do you mind if I listen to a CD?”

“No. As a matter of fact, the background noise will help me sleep.”