by Tanja Pleva
The street deteriorated into a small gauntlet. Observed from all angles and corners by onlookers, whether old or young, Lea felt increasingly uncomfortable. She turned around to estimate how far her car was away and realized that she would not get out of there quickly enough, in spite of her sneakers, unless she was allowed to. Maybe the idea of visiting Aleida's sister had not been that wise at all.
The boys helped pulling the suitcase across a thin board that was set over a deep mud-hole, and they guided her to the left up a steep path through rubble.
Finally, they pointed at an old shack and left Lea alone in front of it.
There was no door for knocking, just an old curtain hung at the entrance.
'Hello', she said quietly and hoped that someone would hear her.
The curtain was pushed aside and a little girl showed up smeared with dirt.
'Is Daniela here?' she asked kindly.
The girl nodded and ran back inside. Lea followed her.
Daniela Betancourt was standing at the stove and cooking. She did not turn around and kept her eyes on the contents of the pot. 'What do you want?' she asked coldly.
'I hope … I hope you liked the burial. I …'
'That's the humblest of honors for a long-term slave, isn't it? A decent, dignified burial.' Daniela turned to her. Her eyes were full of blazing hate.
'I brought Aleida's belongings. It went so quickly, I mean, the illness and … I think she would have wanted you to have her belongings.'
Lea set the small suitcase down in the middle of the room, which was a sitting room, kitchen and bedroom for four people all at once.
'What do ya really want, lady?'
She had been clearly read and was sure that Daniela knew what she wanted.
'Well, your sister spoke of a Secret with regard to my brother. Unfortunately, she was already too weak to tell me what it was about, and therefore, …'
'Get lost', said Daniela gruffly. Now she stood close to Lea, hands at her hips, as if she had a disgusting giant worm before her.
'All right, I'm going to leave.'
Lea turned to the entrance where the little girl held the curtain aside. 'If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me. I mean, I had no idea that you … Nevertheless, you are a nurse, aren't you?'
'So what? Ya should know whatta nurse is earning. Ya're workin for a clinic, ya do. Ya, the rich guys, ya're nuttin but cutthroats and man-haters, ya're. One like me, she gotta money ya can hardly live from. And what's Aleida, Jesus, she hadn't even got that much, 'cause she gotta food and a bed in yar house. Ya piss me off, lady.'
Lea could not object to that. The woman was correct, after all.
'But there's really a little secret that I can tell ya, lady. Did ya know that my sister got her cherry popped by yar daddy and that she was fucked by yar brothers?'
Lea kept her breath. Daniela might have made that up. Yes, she had heard such stories of other families, but of her own?
'Get lost, lady.'
Lea left the house and went back to her car, head lowered. She felt as if a bucket full of shit had been poured over her head.
21.
Hamburg Sam ran early in the morning along the banks of the Outer Alster Lake. After his long break, his lungs were aching and his legs felt like they would fail to continue, but he forced himself to run on. He needed the satisfying hormones that were released while running. Besides, he often solved problems in his mind that way.
Forty minutes later, he felt like an old steaming kettle and his ears hurt from the cold. His legs were like rubber and he had not proceeded even a single step closer to a solution to the case. Though he had had no truly inventive idea, he was left with an uneasy feeling of plunging into a new phase of his life. Why it was like that he could not tell. But it felt good, in spite of the forecast that he might face death soon. But then as well, he might not. Anyway, he was not for such prophecy.
A hot shower pattering on his back relaxed the little tensions. He decided to start the day quietly and to take his breakfast inside the room. That had hardly crossed his mind when there was a knock on the door.
Juri entered with some fresh salmon bagels, ham rolls and a coffee for Sam. Sam admitted him in, glad that his younger colleague would also help him feel better.
'I did already call you, but I thought that you were still in bed.'
Sam looked at his mobile: two missed calls. One was indeed Juri's, the other one he did not know, but apparently the caller had left a message. It was not from this morning but from half past eleven the night before, when he had already been sleeping.
Sam bit into the bagel and listened to the mailbox. At first he could not identify the voice, but then his heart began to pound.
Dr. Steiner had spoken the night before on his mailbox to tell that he had discovered something that might be useful to the case and that Sam should call him back soon.
Sam pressed the ring-back key and let it ring a few times. As nobody answered, he tried again. Maybe it was too early for the doctor. He looked for the time. Half past eight a civilized time of the day. At last a woman answered. He said his name and asked for permission to talk to Dr. Steiner.
'He is not available. Who are you?' The voice sounded unkind and Sam suspected that Steiner might have had confessed his relationship.
'I'm from the police. I …'
The reply from the other end of the line was like a slap on his ears. Sam dropped the bagel and it left an ugly colored stain on the floor.
Juri stopped chewing and looked at his partner with big eyes. Rarely he had seen Sam so much deprived of words.
At last Sam lowered his hand.
'What's wrong?' Juri picked up the bagel and scraped the mayonnaise from the carpet.
'Dr. Steiner committed suicide this morning. That's flabbergasting!'
Juri stared at Sam like he would at a pink elephant.
'Damn! I should have known. This guy was devastated.'
Sam kept swearing while he slipped into his jacket and pulled a black woolen cap over his head.
'Hey, it's not your fault, Sam. Not everybody is as tough as you and will get over his girlfriend's death as nicely.'
Sam spun around, eyes narrowed, but he was unable to reply. He only stood there and gazed at Juri.
'Sorry, I didn't want you …'
Sam took a deep breath. His partner had for all this time avoided saying anything about Lina's death, now it had escaped involuntarily and his eyes betrayed his shame.
'Come on, let's go.'
Sam's anger was gone as quickly as it had come. Juri thought highly of him, and inside he almost had to laugh. He had not been tough but gutless. That was about it.
Of course, after Lina's death, everything had seemed meaningless, but this was a perfectly normal impression. Fortunately, he could occasionally analyze himself from a somewhat more distant point of view, and that might have saved him from subscribing to alcoholism or suicide.
Yet there was a minor issue which had held him back, and that he kept for himself. Vanity. How many people he had seen lying naked on the dissection boards of Pathology! He definitively did not want be one of these.
Juri was a cautious driver, therefore Sam did not mind letting him drive. For he was a miserable front seat passenger and could become quite a nuisance for others who did not live up to his standards.
If all went well though, the drive to Düsseldorf would take them three hours.
What had Dr. Steiner discovered that might have been useful to the case? Was it something about his mistress, Katarin? Or had he run into something else? A medical file maybe?
Calling Peter Bauer in Munich might at least tell whether Katarin Gromova was really such an unknown quantity.
Juri had not said anything since his slip of the tongue in the hotel, and he focused on the road.
A thunderstorm approached. The first raindrops covered the windshield and were swept away by the windshield wipers. The car kept constant speed on the autobah
n and Sam began to relax.
He looked at Juri askance for a while and then put forth the question, which had occupied him already for some time.
'Tell me, where did you grow up, actually? Wasn't your mother Russian and your father German?'
'Here's one with a good memory! My parents were never married, though, that's why I got my mother's name, Pompeckij. I grew up in Siberia with my grandparents after my mother had beaten us almost to death … my sister and me.'
'Sorry about that.'
'She was into alcohol. Whenever she drank, she got insane. I still remember how she was drunk and ran outside in winter, half-naked. She almost lost both hands and feet. Well, one foot and the nose so far. Lost them in the snow.'
'I didn't know that that could happen so quickly.'
'That often happens to drunkards. In Russia, people drink a lot to get warm inside. Moreover, vodka is cheaper than water.'
'You said your sister was still living in Siberia?'
'I wanted to take her with me, but she preferred to stay there.' Juri pulled a photo from his wallet and passed it to Sam.
'And what is she doing there?'
'She's working as a simultaneous interpreter. Travels a lot.'
Juri's sister was a beauty. She had a narrow face, the same big blue eyes as her brother and blond curly hair. She smiled perkily into the camera.
'She's really very pretty.'
'Yeah, that she is indeed. Yet she's still single …' There was an emphasis on single.
Sam's mobile rang. It was Peter Bauer from Munich. Sam turned on the speaker, so that Juri might listen as well.
'Katarin Gromova once worked for an agency as an escort. She probably went with her customers on short trips, too. There was a problem with some celebrity, but that's all that there is to tell so far. She had been married for two years, never paid taxes, but neither did she burden the state with social welfare. More I cannot tell you.'
Sam thanked him and hung up.
Did Dr. Steiner find out that his beloved Katarin had been a prostitute and did he commit suicide because of that? Nonsense. He chased this thought away.
The GPS system guided them after a drive of 3.5 hours straight into a residential area of Gerresheim, near Düsseldorf, called 'Auf der Hardt'.
Well-maintained houses of the pre-WWI bourgeoisie were lined up there and one of them belonged to the Steiners: a two-storied villa, painted in salmon-pink, with a small garden that was surrounded by an old white fence of wood and a spacious garage drive on which a few cars were parked. Each window on the lower floor displayed a lamp and some flowers.
The first members of the family had probably arrived to offer assistance to the widow. Sam did not feel comfortable with disturbing the mourning relatives, but neither could he wait for a week to get whatever it was that Harry Steiner had found.
The house was more crowded than expected. Apparently Ms. Steiner had quite early in the morning managed to inform all the relatives, friends and closer neighbors of her husband's death.
Her mother was outraged about the visit of the two cops and disappeared grumbling in the kitchen.
On a couch in the sitting room sat the widow, surrounded by other women, and pressed a handkerchief to her mouth. When she recognized Sam and Juri as not belonging to her circle, she stood up, pushed both of them out into the hall and closed the connecting door behind them.
'You are from the police, aren't you? What else do you want from me?' Again this icy voice.
'I called you this morning. As I said already on the phone, Dr. Steiner had called me the other night and wanted to tell me something important …'
'How am I supposed to know what that might have been about?' The woman looked at him disparagingly. 'And why did he call you at all?'
There was a moment of silence.
'It's about one Katarin Gromova, Ms. Steiner', Juri interfered, noticing that Sam hesitated to disclose facts.
The woman's face froze for a second, then she looked around whether anybody might be listening, and finally she led them to the second floor and into a room from which a large covered swimming pool and a couple of lounge chairs were visible.
'I don't wish the name of that slut to be made known. That was an affair, which would no doubt have ended soon. I don't want to hear any fuss being made about it, got that?'
'So you knew about the affair?' asked Sam in amazement.
She specified that her husband had his flights to conferences always booked either by his secretary or by her, only this time he had done so himself, which of course had looked more than suspicious. It had not taken her long to find two tickets.
'That old fool', she needlessly added, and Sam had again the sad and desperate man in his mind.
'Did he leave a suicide note?'
'No, he hung himself in the library below without any explanation', she said tartly.
Sam and Juri looked at each other for a second. It was not surprising that the man had not been able to cope with the flight from Heaven to Hell. Katarin Gromova had made Harry Steiner liven up, adding wings to his heart, giving him the feeling of being important. Probably good sex added to it, which he may have never had with his wife.
Sam did not appreciate this woman. Her whole attitude was arrogant, supervising and deprived of emotion.
'Ms. Gromova was murdered in Paris', Sam laconically remarked.
At last he was able to see emotion in her face. Then, suddenly, Ms. Steiner said, 'But you don't think that Harry killed her and then himself … Jesus!', she exclaimed. 'What will the neighbors say now?'
Juri was aware of lightning approaching. He anticipated what would happen now, but before he could say anything, Sam had already blurted out, 'No wonder that your husband hung himself. You are behaving simply disgustingly, if I may say that.'
Ms. Steiner's eyes turned into circles. She tried to regain her breath. 'How dare you …'
'I think that your husband was just lacking courage to tell you the same.'
She stared at him with open mouth. Her face turned red and Juri feared the worst, but then she turned around and left into one of the four rooms slamming the door.
Sam and Juri went slowly downstairs. Just before they reached the front door Ms. Steiner appeared up on the stairs like a spirit of doom, stretching her hands out at them. 'Wait.'
The harsh features had disappeared from her face and bearing. Now she looked like a heartbroken woman who admitted to herself for the first time that she something meaningful had gone from her life. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with that crumpled handkerchief and haltingly began to explain that her marriage had not been easy during the last years because he had withdrawn, excluding her from his job. The marriage had remained without children, which was why she had devoted herself to the house, so that at least she would not feel entirely useless. She had redecorated it, trying to create something different, but her husband had paid no attention at all. He had only, without complaints, paid for his wife's expensive hobby.
'I did not even mind his mistress. But the feeling of being alone was not a nice one, and knowing that there was a younger woman made things even worse. Now I'm sixty, past my prime, as the pleasant saying goes. I had hoped to grow old with Harry, and now he simply left like that, and I cannot even fight anymore.' Weeping, she sat down on the stairs.
Sam suddenly felt sympathy for the woman. She and Harry Steiner were the prime example for why he had always shunned marriages. 'I'm sorry …', he began softly.
'No, it's me who is sorry. You must have a dreadful impression of me … Tell me, how can I help you?'
'Well, your husband must have discovered something yesterday that might relate to our murder case.'
She pointed at the study.
'He was the whole day at home and had locked himself in there. Just have a look. In case you need anything … I will be next door.'
She went back to join the other guests in her sitting room so that Juri and Sam might look ar
ound in the study.
It was somber and cluttered with old furniture. Dark curtains hung at the window and it was untidy. Probably it was the only room that had not been touched by Ms. Steiner's creative hand and the only place in the house where Harry Steiner could dwell alone with his musings.
Juri looked at Sam with a mixture of respect and admiration.
'Stop watching me like that, Shorty.' A cryptic smile dribbled round his lips. 'I didn't have any other choice. She might have kicked us out of her door without further ado.'
'You're a nice liontamer, Sam.'
Sam smiled silently and examined the documents, invoices and papers on the desk. His attention was particularly focused on small slips of paper on which Dr. Steiner had made quick notes. But he failed to notice anything remarkable beyond one of them that had the digits 1953 written on it a few times, then underlined and circled.
'Does 1953 tell you anything?'
Juri looked up from a day planner that he was browsing. He slowly shook his head. 'Maybe that's the year Harry Steiner was born in?'
'I had already thought of that, too. But no, that was `59. The note was lying on top, yesterday something must have occurred to him that relates to that.'
Juri had finished examining the drawers and devoted himself to a large bookshelf. The lower level had books on ophthalmology, sorted by numbers, the upper levels featured old books that were piled chaotically. No one had dusted here for a long time, he noted. First he examined the level which was easily accessible from the desk, until he pulled out a worn, leather-bound booklet. On the first page was an image: an angel and a faun. Below, written by hand, it read: Brazil 1953. But the following pages were either empty or torn out.
When Sam showed the book to Ms. Steiner, she was surprised that it had been on the shelf, because she had never seen it before. Nor did the year 1953 mean anything to her.
Yet she spoke of things that would turn out to be crucial for the case.
1955
São Paulo When the new owner, Maira da Silva, passed the main entrance of the converted monastery, the tiny hairs on her arm rose like aerials. She had come from Brasília to São Paulo only a month ago and had immediately fallen in love with this quarter. To her great luck, the spacious property had been for sale and fit perfectly into her plans.