Richard Zimler - The Warsaw Anagrams

‘And it became more expensive, too,’ she continued. ‘We were getting desperate, but in early January Papa told me that his German supplier had promised to get him insulin for almost nothing. All we had to do was find him Jewish children to photograph. Papa’s friend was a medical researcher who’d just moved to Warsaw – a German doctor my father had known in Zurich. He told Papa he had theories about the Jews involving their skin, but I never found out exactly what he meant.’

Ewa – the quietest among us – was opening the final door of this mystery.

‘Did your father mention this man’s name?’ I asked.

‘I’ve tried to remember. I think I must have heard it.’

‘It has to be either Rolf Lanik or Werner Koch. Think, Ewa.’

‘Those names, they seem close, but… Could it have been Kalin… or maybe Klein?’

Ewa gazed at me questioningly, but I closed my eyes – out of gratitude, because I suddenly realized why a string had been put in Adam’s mouth and a piece of gauze in Georg’s hand. And how they identified the murderer. Though I still didn’t know who had given me those clues. Might Irene or her mother have been brilliant enough to leave them behind?

Knowing who the murderer was also made me understand why his helper inside the ghetto hadn’t been persuaded by our note to go to the Leszno Street gate.

Yet it was then that a first regret pierced my excitement: if only I’d figured out earlier that the Rolf who’d signed the photographs of the Alps hanging on Mikael’s office walls had been Rolf Lanik, a talented little boy who’d juggled socks to earn his supper would still be alive.

‘Are you all right, Dr Cohen?’ Ewa asked me, and Izzy reached for my shoulder.

‘Yes, I’m fine. Go on.’

‘The researcher friend of my father’s wanted to photograph skin defects, particularly on children,’ Ewa continued. ‘We were both so relieved to have his help! So when Papa examined Anna and noticed a blemish on her hand, he told her to go to an address outside the ghetto, where she’d receive a hundred and fifty złoty for letting a doctor there photograph her. Papa didn’t know that she’d be killed.’ Ewa held my gaze. ‘He didn’t know. He swore to me he didn’t.’

‘I believe you,’ I told her, but I didn’t believe her father.

‘Anna told Papa she was going to sneak out of the ghetto anyway, so it seemed all right,’ Ewa continued. ‘He only began to think that something bad might have happened to her when she didn’t show up for her abortion. Later, he learned from her parents that she’d been murdered.’

I faced Izzy. ‘After Anna was turned away by Mrs Sawicki, she must have gone to the address Mikael had given her.’

‘She risked everything because she needed money to pay back her friends,’ he observed regretfully.

‘Papa confronted his photographer friend,’ Ewa continued, ‘but he swore that he hadn’t hurt Anna – that she must have been murdered after being photographed at his office and receiving her payment. Papa was sure he was telling the truth. Then Rowy chose Adam for the chorus, and my father noticed his birthmarks at his check-up – though I didn’t know that then. Apparently, Papa visited backstage at a rehearsal one afternoon, and he told Adam that if he ever left the ghetto he should go to have his leg photographed because he’d get a hundred and fifty złoty.’

That made sense; Adam would have trusted Mikael because of the horseradish the physician had given him.

‘With all that money,’ I told Ewa, ‘Adam must have thought he’d be able to buy enough coal to keep Gloria warm till spring.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ she told me, and she began to cry.

I felt nothing for her; her tears were too late to do any good. ‘What was the address?’ I asked her impatiently.

She wiped her eyes. ‘I’m not sure. Somewhere on Krakowskie Przedmieście.’

Izzy looked at me knowingly. ‘We have to find Jesion,’ he told me.

Ziv put his arm over Ewa’s shoulder, which only made her tear up again.

‘Please go on, Ewa,’ I pleaded. ‘Every moment we wait puts another life at risk.’

‘After I found out what happened to Adam,’ she resumed, ‘I remembered seeing his birthmarks once, when Stefa was getting him dressed for school. To think that my father might have been responsible… A black terror took hold of me.’

Ewa gazed down into her guilt. ‘On the morning of Stefa’s funeral, I finally confronted my father. At first he lied and said he hadn’t spoken to your nephew, but then, when I threatened that he’d never see Helena again if he didn’t tell me the truth, he admitted that he’d suggested to Adam that he go visit the photographer on Krakowskie Przedmieście – but only when he was still under the belief that his friend was innocent. Papa promised me he’d never tell another child about the photographs – and that he’d never speak to his friend again. That’s why I didn’t go to you or the police. I should have. I know that now. I’m sorry, Dr Cohen.’ She turned to Ziv and squeezed his hand. ‘And I’m sorry for risking your life,’ she told him. ‘It’s my fault that you were almost killed.’

‘It’s all right,’ Ziv told her. ‘I’m fine now. And you were just trying to protect Helena and your father.’

Ewa shook her head as if he was too kind to her. Turning back to me, she said, ‘After Stefa died, I couldn’t face you. I’m sorry. And Papa… I couldn’t entirely trust him, so I told him I no longer wanted his help in getting insulin. But it was hard to find another regular supplier, and Helena went into shock and nearly died. So Papa began helping me again – though he promised he wouldn’t get insulin from his friend any more. He has another source now – a good, reliable source.’

‘No, that can’t be true,’ I told her. ‘And I think your father has lied to you all along.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Another boy was murdered more recently,’ I told her coldly, wishing she’d come to me sooner. ‘He was murdered after Stefa’s death, and skin around his hip was sliced away.’

She shook her head disbelievingly. ‘Which boy was killed?’

I held up the Virgin Mary pendant. ‘The owner of this,’ I told her. ‘His name was Georg – Rowy or Ziv must have recruited him for the chorus. He juggled socks and sang old Yiddish songs.’

‘It wasn’t me,’ Ziv told me urgently. ‘Dr Cohen, you have to believe me. Rowy must have found him.’

‘I believe you,’ I replied. ‘I’m sorry for ever doubting you. And I should never have put you through this.’

‘It’s all right, I understand,’ he said, smiling sweetly.

I’d nearly killed him, and he smiled at me as if our friendship was stronger than ever.

‘Ewa, your father must have decided that he couldn’t risk Helena going into diabetic shock again. He’s still sending kids to his photographer friend.’

‘No, he swore to me he wouldn’t do that!’ she replied, moaning.

‘There are other things you should know about your father,’ I told her bitterly. ‘He must have realized I was close to learning what he’d done, so he paid someone to shoot me. But he didn’t know that new tenants were sleeping in my room. So the killer shot the wrong man.’

‘It doesn’t seem-’

‘Possible?’ I cut in harshly. ‘Don’t you see? He’ll do anything to keep Helena and you alive – and to keep from being caught. He’s even tried to frame Rowy and Ziv – he didn’t care which one. He left Georg’s pendant here, and I’ll bet he left Anna’s pearl earrings with Rowy. Ziv says he noticed the Virgin Mary pendant two days ago, which means your father has known for at least that long who my main suspects were. Though I don’t know how.’