Where the Bones are Buried

by Jeanne Matthews

  “I’m fine. I’ve seen dead bodies before.”

  “Embalmed and in a casket,” Dinah clarified for Lohendorf’s benefit, but if he heard, he gave no sign.

  Dinah had boycotted funerals since she was ten and forced to look at her father embalmed in a casket, but she had seen other dead men. She had witnessed Cleon’s murder and last year in Greece, she and Thor happened on the body of a man who’d been shot to death. Those sights were seared into her memory. Now she was being compelled to look at corpse that had been scalped.

  A pasty-faced man stepped forward to meet them. He had small, sad eyes and a chin that receded like a terrapin’s. The coroner, she presumed. Lohendorf spoke to him in German and he beckoned them to come and stand beside the covered gurney. At a signal from Lohendorf, he drew back the sheet to reveal Alwin Pohl.

  “His hair…” Dinah was flummoxed. “I thought he’d been scalped.”

  “I asked the doctor to cover his head wound for the purpose of this viewing. Do you recognize him?”

  Even with the platinum blond hairpiece, his face was unforgettable. “It’s the same man who came to my apartment and identified himself as Reiner Hess.”

  “How about you, Mrs. Calms?”

  “I don’t know the man from Adam’s off ox.”

  Lohendorf frowned.

  “She means,” said Dinah, “that she’s never seen him before.”

  “Would it help you to remember him if we removed the wig?”

  “No. He’s a complete stranger.”

  “Why would a stranger seek you out, Mrs. Calms?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea.”

  “And you still maintain that you’ve never met Reiner Hess, or anyone calling himself Reiner Hess?”

  “That’s right. I’ve told you all the people I know in Germany.” She turned away from the gurney. “May we leave now?”

  Lohendorf nodded and the coroner drew the sheet back over the deceased.

  Dinah avoided Lohendorf’s eyes and trailed her mother out into the hall. She had prepared herself for something grisly and it wasn’t. She couldn’t understand why Margaret had been so shaken unless—

  “Mrs. Dobbs and Mrs. Calms, you will please provide Sergeant Wegener with a DNA sample and we will speak again tomorrow.” Lohendorf sounded annoyed and he didn’t seem to care who knew. “Sergeant, when you have their samples, drive them back to their lodgings and be certain that they surrender their passports.”

  “Are we under arrest?” asked Swan.

  “When I have made that decision, you will not be in any doubt.” He gave them a slashing look and walked away.

  “Snippety when he’s thwarted,” said Swan. “Can he take our passports, just like that? I swear I don’t know how some people live with themselves.”

  Margaret’s eyes smoldered. “You’ve turned not knowing into an art, Swan.”

  “If wishes were horses, Margaret. But you’re too chewed up with envy and bitterness to see straight.”

  Sergeant Wegener’s eyes widened expectantly, but the heat passed without shedding any light. After the cheek swabs had been collected, the two women retreated into a frigid silence. Nobody said a word in the police car on the way home. But today, Margaret commandeered the front seat. Dinah sat in the back with Swan.

  If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Was there a message in the rhyme? Did she wish she didn’t know? Know what? Dinah finished the rhyme in her head. If turnips were swords, I’d wear one at my side. Other than a growing fear that it would take a sword to prize the truth out of her mother, she was at a loss. But she had a sinking feeling that Margaret had recognized the dead man, and so had Swan.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wegener pulled up in front of the Wunderbar and Swan reached for the door handle. Wegener reached an arm over the seat. “Your passport, please.”

  Swan rooted it out of her bag and handed it over without protest. She seemed less defiant than she had been at the morgue, although it was impossible for Dinah to intuit what was going on in her mind.

  “Thank you,” said Wegener.

  Swan didn’t hear. She was already out of the car and making a beeline for the hotel door. Margaret handed over her passport and clambered out, coughing.

  “You can let me out here, too,” said Dinah. “Assuming it’s no longer verboten for me to communicate with my mother.”

  “Do as you wish.”

  “Dankeshön.” She got out and followed Swan and Margaret into the lift. They rode up in silence and walked single file to the room. Swan unlocked the door and went directly to the toilet.

  Margaret went to the minibar. She said, “I did some shopping yesterday afternoon at that KaDeWe store. Amazing place.” She brought out a bottle of gin and a jar of olives. “These come all the way from Morocco. Care for a martini?”

  “You recognized him, didn’t you?”

  She blew her nose and poured four fingers of gin into a water glass. “He was Cleon’s driver and bagman for at least a dozen years. Always had a smartass remark about something or somebody.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Lohendorf that you knew him?”

  “Did you see the way he and that female storm trooper look at me? They’re thinking hey, she’s already killed one man. They probably think I killed Pohl and Swan went native and took his hair.” She plunked two olives into her gin and downed half of it in one gulp. “Anyhow, chump that I am, I thought Swan might have stepped up and ID’d the bastard instead of playing dumb and pretending to be outraged.”

  “Mom knew him, too?”

  “Cleon hired him shortly after Swan took over the title of Mrs. Dobbs. She dubbed him Polly. Polly Wolly Doodle. What a piece of work.”

  It wasn’t clear if the “piece of work” referred to was Pohl or Swan. “You could have stepped up and told the truth, Margaret, instead of acting all weak-kneed and wussy, sniveling for your little flask of courage.”

  She laughed a mirthless laugh, which triggered a hacking cough. “Before I spill my guts,” she wheezed at last, “and get us in still deeper with these Germans, I’d like your mother to tell me if she whacked the bastard. I’d like her to tell me why she gulled me into making this trip.”

  “Gulled you how? Is that what you and she argued about on the beach before the powwow began?”

  “We had some back and forth about lies.” She discharged a snort of palpable disdain. “In short, how many are too goddamned many.”

  Swan walked into the room, fluffing her hair. “I must look a sight.”

  Dinah could have slapped her. “Why did you say you didn’t know Alwin Pohl?”

  “It’s irrelevant that I knew him. It wouldn’t help the police find his murderer.”

  “We’ll come back to that in a minute. How did you gull Margaret?”

  “Let me count the ways,” said Margaret. “She lied about Reiner Hess meeting us at that Indian art place yesterday. She lied about him even being in Berlin. She lied about having something he wanted to buy. I should have checked out the ‘doodad’ that was going to make us rich before we left Georgia.” She plucked a thumb drive out of her jacket pocket and dropped it in Dinah’s hand. “There it is, the insurance policy she says Cleon gave her. I read it yesterday on the hotel’s computer. It’s empty as a bubble.”

  Swan actually managed to look indignant. “Reiner wouldn’t know that right off.”

  Margaret gave a derisive hoot. “Only an idiot would take for granted that it contained what you said it did. An idiot like me. Serves me right for imagining that I would ever come out ahead in this rat-infested world.”

  “Mom?” Dinah labored to keep up. “You were going to try to bluff Hess into giving you money?”

  “Not exactly bluff. I thought the incriminating thingummy might add a little extra incentive, presented in a nice way. Reiner and I are old fr
iends. It’s kind of a ticklish situation.”

  “Ticklish doesn’t begin to cover it,” said Dinah. “You came here intending—in a nice way—to blackmail your old friend, the double murderer?”

  Margaret scoffed. “It was all bullshit. Turns out, they’re pen pals. I smelled a rat when she pulled that disappearing act yesterday. Hanging around waiting for you in that bizarro gallery, I got to thinking maybe she’d kept something back from me. So I returned to the room and rifled her suitcase. Besides the empty thumb drive, I found a letter from Hess, postmarked Cyprus. ‘My dear Swan, I wish I could lend you the money you need, but at this time…’”

  Swan said, “I don’t believe those are his final words, Margaret. And I don’t believe he’s still in Cyprus. His daughter Elke’s expecting a baby any day now and I’m sure he’ll want to be here in Berlin for the birth. If we can find him, I’m sure he’ll help us out with the money.”

  “Why are you so almighty desperate for money?”

  “It’s not a matter of desperation. It’s only fair. I’m the one who has to fend off the government agents still looking for Cleon’s money. I’m the one who has my bank account examined and my poor husband’s accounts questioned, while Reiner gets to enjoy all that money and he doesn’t even pay taxes on it.”

  “Screw Hess!” Dinah was close to her wit’s end. “Can’t you get it through your head that money is the least of your problems? A man you know, a man you’ve lied about knowing, was brutally murdered. You’re a suspect. The police have your shoes and your DNA and your passport and they won’t give up until they find out the truth.”

  “If I thought you’d brought me along to set me up as a scapegoat,” said Margaret, “I’d strangle you with one of your Frederick’s of Hollywood brassieres.”

  “Y’all are ganging up on me. I didn’t kill that man. And the police would never have known we were anywhere near that Müggel-de-doo place if Dinah hadn’t gotten so het up and called ’em in. Not that you’re to blame, baby. You did what you thought was right. As for you, Margaret, I’ve been trying to help you. If there was any money to be had, I’d have given it to you. I would still. Don’t forget, I bought your ticket and I’m the one paying for the hotel.”

  “Thanks for the room and board, Swan, and oh, yes, for putting me in the crosshairs of the German police. All I need is another murder rap. You are too generous.”

  “I’m suffering, too, Margaret. In ways you’ll never know and trust me, that’s a blessing.”

  “Oh, for the love of God. I’ve had more than enough of your forked tongue and your wild-eyed fantasies. I plan to get roaring drunk this afternoon, and quite possibly violent. It would be safer if you found yourself a different place to sleep tonight.”

  Dinah felt ambushed, duped six ways from Sunday by a mother whose veil of lies she couldn’t pierce and whose love she couldn’t trust. She permitted herself a brief moment of self-pity, then gritted her teeth and hardened her heart. Either Swan had come to the end of her lies, or her daughter had come to the end of the umbilical tether. She said, “Take a nap, Margaret. I’m going to give Mom a little walking tour of the city. If you feel the same way when we get back, I’ll help her pack.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  An anemic sun shone through the clouds as Dinah nudged Swan out onto the street and pointed her in the direction of the Gendarmenmarkt. Gendarmenmarkt was Dinah’s favorite square in Berlin, perhaps because its architecture reflected the past in a city whose skyline was jagged with modernity. The bomb damage to the Konzerthaus and the graceful eighteenth-century French cathedral had been repaired, and the German Cathedral, burned to the ground in 1945, had been painstakingly reconstructed to the last detail. It was a short walk and Dinah felt the need for open space and a view of the sky.

  At the corner of Niederwallstrasse and Jerusalemstrasse, her eye was drawn, as it always was, to the quotation by Albert Einstein stenciled in large red letters on the windowless wall of an apartment building. Thor had translated the German for her, which went something like, “When concerning oneself with matters of truth and justice, there’s no difference between small and big problems.” She didn’t like to quibble with a man of Einstein’s intellect, but in her humble opinion, concerning oneself with the truth about murder dwarfed the small shit. She said, “We’re going to have to discuss Alwin Pohl. Why did he come to my apartment to see you and why did he use the name Hess?”

  Swan could usually deflect an unwelcome question by veering off on a whimsical tangent, but for once she stayed quiet. Dinah left the subject of Polly Wolly Doodle until they reached the square. She guided Swan to a bench midway between the two cathedrals. “Let’s sit, Mom. The bench isn’t wet.”

  Swan sat and pointed to a statue of Friedrich von Schiller. “Who’s that?”

  “A German poet and philosopher. Schiller.”

  “And what did he make of this cruel ol’ world?”

  “He believed that mankind was doomed to suffer.”

  “Doomed.” Her smile was uncharacteristically sardonic. “Like Higgledy-Piggledy. Picked and plucked and put in a pie.”

  “You said that you were suffering, Mom. Do you want to tell me about it? The truth’s going to come out sooner or later and I would appreciate being the first in line to hear it.”

  “If a woman can’t trust her own daughter with the truth…” She broke off and steepled her fingers under her chin. It was a familiar sign. This was not going to be easy for her.

  Dinah was seized by that old seasick feeling, not knowing which way the waves would break. Margaret had nailed her dead to rights. She was afraid that Swan would say something she couldn’t forgive. If you loved someone, you should be able to forgive anything. But “should” was a highly aspirational word. Doubts could be staved off, rationalized, managed. Knowing would require so much more—judgment, perhaps action. Hallmark sentiments aside, love had its boundaries. While the logical part of her brain struggled to chart them, her subconscious took over. “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, too, baby. I wish there weren’t this wall between us.” But even that admission was too much for her. Her eyes darted as suddenly as a dragonfly. “I’m so hungry I could eat a buttered rock. Could we go somewhere and have ourselves a bite of lunch?”

  “You can’t wriggle out of this situation with a smile and a digression. I need to hear the truth now. Love has its limits.”

  “I hope you’re wrong about love, Dinah. I’d hate to see you end up like poor Margaret. But I’ll tell you about Mr. Alwin Pohl if we could please go inside someplace where it’s warm.”

  Dinah saw that she was shivering. They were only a few steps from the Café Aigner where she and Thor often ate. “Okay, come on.” She helped her to her feet and they crossed the square, arm in arm. She tried not to think of it as a perp walk.

  The headwaiter, or Oberkellner, remembered Dinah from previous visits and seated them right away.

  “Do y’all have bourbon over here in Germany?” asked Swan.

  “Jim Beam, Wild Turkey, Four Roses, Maker’s Mark…” The waiter seemed prepared to go on.

  “That’s fantastic. My husband Bill just loves Eagle Rare. Do y’all have that?”

  “I will ask the bartender.”

  “No.” Dinah scrunched her eyes. “One of the ones you named will do.”

  Swan hesitated for a split second, then smiled up at the waiter. “I’ll have a double bourbon Presbyterian with Maker’s Mark.”

  “I’ll have a glass of the house red wine,” said Dinah. She waited until he was out of earshot. “I’ve never known you to drink anything but chardonnay. It must be bad if you need to buck up your courage with the hard stuff.”

  She did the steepling thing.

  Dinah steeled herself. “Let’s have it.”

  “What’s that thing Cleon used to say? Overtaken by events. Somebody was always being
overtaken by events. Well, I was overtaken by Polly’s murder.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “I did not. I wished he was dead, or gone off somewhere so I’d never hear from him again. He was a slimy toad and if somebody had killed him while I was in another country, I’d be singin’ hosannas.”

  “Why? What did he do to you?”

  She glanced around as if to make sure Lohendorf wasn’t skulking about with a portable mike. “Pretty much everything I told you is the truth, only backwards and with the name changed.”

  “Backwards how? Did you intend to blackmail Pohl instead of Hess?”

  “Truth to tell, Alwin was blackmailing me.”

  Dinah’s thoughts cornered hard. “What in the name of all that’s holy could Alwin Pohl have to hold over your head?”

  “Did you know they’ve got a law back in the States that says, even if you had no idea in the world that the person you were with meant to kill somebody, you’re just as guilty as he is?”

  “Sure. I used to work for lawyers. If somebody dies during the commission of a felony, even if it’s accidental, all of the participants can be charged.”

  “That’s what Alwin had on me. It’s as unfair as a tumor, but there you are.”

  A different waiter brought their drinks. This one was young and blond with a gold hoop in his left ear.

  “Thank you kindly.” Swan smiled up at him. “If you don’t mind my saying, you look just like the attractive young lieutenant in that movie about the plot to assassinate Hitler. What was it called?”

  “Valkyrie. It was a good film. Germans are always the bad guys in American films, but there were some good ones in Valkyrie. Matthias Schweighöfer played the lieutenant. You are not the first to say that I resemble him. He lives here in Berlin.”

  “Well, isn’t that a coincidence.”

  “I see him sometimes at the clubs. He is a good guy. Not at all arrogant.”

  Dinah glowered at Matthias’ doppelgänger. He seemed to get the message and beat it back to the kitchen.