Don't Forget Me

by B C Schiller

  ‘Can you send it back as soon as possible, mate?’ Levi asked and put the mobile back into his pocket. ‘We’ll have to wait a moment.’

  The return email came through a short while later.

  ‘It’s the photo,’ she said, opening the attachment. The image was still quite blurred, but it was clearer now that it was a woman whose face was visible in profile.

  ‘It could be Lisa,’ Levi said as he zoomed in.

  ‘Which means that Lisa faked her own death,’ Olivia said excitedly.

  ‘Wait.’ Levi leaned forward and squinted at it. ‘There’s something about this photo but I can’t quite put my finger on it.’ He leaned back and closed his eyes.

  Olivia looked at him curiously. What had he seen? What was unusual about the photo? The enlargement showed a heavily pixelated face, but one could detect blonde hair and Lisa’s delicate features. It was possible that it was her.

  Then all of a sudden Levi opened his eyes wide and rapped on the desk. ‘I’ve just worked out what’s been bothering me. Bring the laptop,’ he said to Olivia. ‘We need to leave this minute.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ Olivia looked at Levi in surprise.

  ‘You’ll see.’

  46

  Dark clouds were blotting out the sun and it looked like rain, when Levi stopped his Saab in front of the extravagant gate and mumbled something into the intercom. The gate slid open, and he raced up the long and winding drive.

  ‘You think Lisa is hiding at her parents’ house?’ Olivia looked at Levi, doubt in her eyes.

  ‘Wait and see,’ he said, stopping the car and getting out. Olivia followed with her laptop. A mountain bike leaned against a nearby wall, a helmet dangling from the handlebars. Next to it sat a black four-wheel drive that Olivia seemed to recognise. As before, Theresa Manz was waiting for them on the front steps. The wind was blowing her blonde hair into her face, and from a distance she looked like a young girl.

  ‘Did you miss me?’ she asked Levi ironically.

  ‘I just want to show you something,’ Levi said, ignoring her question.

  ‘Oh, how exciting,’ Theresa said, turning her back on him. They went into the large drawing room, and Olivia put her laptop on the table.

  ‘I’m going to show you a photo, and you need to tell me whether or not you recognise the person in it,’ Levi said, opening up the laptop.

  ‘And if I refuse to do that?’ Theresa looked provocatively from Levi to Olivia. ‘What does our psychiatrist have to say about this? Isn’t it a bit . . . manipulative? Am I being forced to identify someone?’

  ‘Don’t exaggerate,’ Olivia said. ‘It’s a simple request.’

  ‘OK, show me the photo.’

  Levi turned the laptop so she could see the screen while Olivia watched Theresa’s expression closely. She barely glanced at the photo before turning the laptop back to Levi. Her face hardened, and it seemed as if a barrier had gone up behind her eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know this woman. Who’s it supposed to be?’

  ‘You.’

  ‘Me? You must be completely off your head.’ Theresa leaned back on the sofa and looked at Olivia as if for help. ‘Say something – do I really have to put up with this?’

  ‘Are you the woman in the photo?’ Again Olivia studied Theresa’s face and body language, noticing how Theresa swallowed and touched her hair.

  ‘That’s not me.’

  ‘Yes, it most clearly is you!’ Levi said. ‘See the little fleck right there?’ He pointed to a black dot on the woman’s face.

  ‘What, that? It’s a fly. A dirty lens. It could be anything,’ Theresa said, but Olivia noticed that her voice had started to tremble. Suddenly the woman seemed like a cornered animal.

  ‘It’s a mole. And you have exactly the same mole with three points on your own cheek,’ Levi said calmly. ‘How did you know about the derelict house and Lisa’s rucksack?’

  ‘What does it matter? There’s no evidence.’ Theresa pulled her legs up and sat huddled on the broad sofa. ‘I watched them,’ she whispered. ‘He’d hidden her in that cellar. And then he kissed her. It was disgusting – we’d been in love for two years. We’d made plans for a life together. And then suddenly he wanted to leave me.’

  ‘Who wanted to leave you?’ Olivia asked gently, trying not to irritate Theresa.

  ‘Simon, the junior doctor. He was a student at the time. I met him on one of my visits to the clinic. We had an affair for two years. It was heaven on earth for me – at last someone loved me. But Simon was just as mad about Lisa as Nils was. The little slut destroyed my entire life.’

  A door opened, and Simon entered.

  ‘What are you talking about? It was a mistake, Theresa – a terrible mistake. I only wanted to help your daughter. I felt sorry for her, that was all,’ Simon said. His face pale, he stared at Theresa in disgust, barely able to control himself. ‘I never had an affair with Lisa. Was it you? Did you kill Lisa? Your own daughter? You’re evil – and to think I once loved you!’

  ‘Do you still love me?’ Theresa asked.

  ‘How can I love someone who’s capable of something so dreadful?’ Simon said coldly.

  ‘What are you doing here, Simon?’ Olivia asked. ‘Are you part of this?’

  ‘No, I came to talk to Theresa about Lisa’s father. His sadistic behaviour caused Lisa’s distress in the first place, but Theresa allegedly doesn’t know anything about it. She doesn’t even know that Lisa kept a diary.’

  ‘It was you who sent me the pages from the diary, wasn’t it?’ Olivia said.

  ‘Yes, I wanted you to keep on searching for the truth,’ Simon said.

  ‘Do you admit to having killed your own daughter out of jealousy?’ Levi asked Theresa. ‘How could you be so cruel?’

  ‘Pah, it’s exactly the opposite – I have too many feelings. I only wanted to be loved. When nobody loves you, you start hating. Medea also killed her children out of revenge.’

  ‘We’re not in the theatre. This is real life.’

  ‘Real life! In my reality I loved my daughter. “We look like sisters”, I often said, when we were standing in front of a mirror together. But she didn’t want a sister, she wanted a mother, and yet I never had motherly feelings for her.’

  ‘Did you also kill Jonathan Stade?’ Olivia said, interrupting Theresa’s self-pitying monologue.

  ‘Yes. Is that the name of that awful man? I forgot his name immediately. He was a stalker and watched Lisa in her cellar. And then he saw me too when I went there to confront her.’

  She jumped up from the sofa suddenly and went over towards a large mirror hanging over the sideboard.

  ‘Why are you taking Simon away from me? You’ve already destroyed my career. Your father spends his whole time thinking up ways to control you and completely ignores me. And then you have the nerve to take away my lover. I can’t let that happen.’

  Theresa talked to her mirror image as if it was really Lisa in the reflection. Then she turned around again. Olivia got the impression that Theresa was enjoying her performance as if she were on stage and they were the audience.

  ‘I told Lisa she was evil, but she just cried. She wanted me to feel sorry for her. She clung to me and whined Mama, Mama. So I pushed her away. She fell and hit her head on one of the stone steps. It was a nasty fall and she died on the spot. It was an accident – you must believe me. Jonathan saw and tried to blackmail me. I gave him money, but during his sessions with you he must have discovered his conscience.’ She scowled at Olivia. ‘He’d have told you everything. I had to prevent that and pushed him out of the window. It’s all Lisa’s fault. She destroyed our family.’

  With Theresa still reciting her monologue, for all the world as if she were in a theatre, Levi got up and called the police.

  ‘You’ve kept your ghastly secret for a long time,’ he said, ‘but the police are on their way. It’s time for the truth to come out now. The press will also be arriving shortly.’

&nb
sp; ‘The press?’ Theresa raised her chin. ‘And television cameras as well?’ she asked. ‘My God, I need to do my make-up. How do I look?’ She glanced around.

  ‘Like a murderess,’ Levi snapped.

  ‘Shut up!’ Theresa clapped her hands over her ears. ‘I’ll make it to the front pages. I’ll be famous – finally famous! This is my last great performance.’

  47

  The cemetery in Döbling was like an oasis of peace on the outskirts of the hectic city of Vienna. A number of celebrities such as the actor Josef Kainz, and the father of the state of Israel, Theodor Herzl, had found their final resting place here. But it was also the last refuge of her mother, Flora, and since Leopold was no longer able to look after her grave, Olivia had taken on the task.

  On a hot summer’s day Olivia walked along the main avenue, shaded by old trees. She stopped in front of her mother’s simple grave and noticed some fresh flowers in a vase. It was a bunch of wildflowers like the ones her daughter Juli had loved so much. Who could have brought them? Olivia sat down on the bench opposite the grave, lost in thought.

  It was very quiet here, and Olivia relaxed. From where she sat, she had a good view of the main gates and the side entrance. A man and a little girl, maybe ten or eleven years old, were walking slowly towards the exit. Olivia couldn’t help watching them, painfully reminded of her own family. The man had long fair hair, while the girl’s darker hair was in two plaits. Shortly before the gate, the girl suddenly turned around and waved to Olivia.

  ‘Juli!’ Olivia shouted, jumping up. The man heard her and was startled, grabbing the girl by the hand and walking on hurriedly.

  ‘Michael! Juli!’ Olivia ran after them, her voice breaking with excitement. Panting, she arrived at the gate and scanned both sides of the road but there was no one in sight. A car turned out of the car park and raced past her. For a fraction of a second Olivia saw the girl’s face looking at her through the back window. She had Olivia’s dark hair and light grey eyes.

  There was no mistake. She wasn’t wrong – the girl in the car was her daughter. It was Juli.

  ‘Juli!’ she called out again and ran after the car, but the driver increased his speed, and soon it was only a dark spot in the distance. Eventually it disappeared.

  Olivia crouched down by the side of the road and buried her face in her hands. Her heart was bursting but she couldn’t cry. There was only a huge vacuum inside. A vacuum that grew larger until there was no more room for feeling or sensation.

  After a while she got up and went back to the cemetery where she’d parked her bicycle. She couldn’t undo the padlock because her hands were shaking so violently. She had to lean against a wall and take several deep breaths, try to think clearly and approach the incident rationally. Why would they be in this cemetery today of all days? But then she remembered that it would have been Flora’s birthday. Had she really seen her daughter and her husband?

  Olivia lifted her head and closed her eyes. The warmth of the sun on her skin calmed her and she knew what she had to do. Taking her mobile from her bag, she started to pace up and down. What would he think of her? Would he consider her mad if she rang and told him what had just happened? Whatever, she thought, and dialled his number. The phone rang for a while, and Olivia was about to give up when she heard his voice. Before he could say much more, she told him everything.

  48

  Levi Kant walked across the windswept concrete of the Praterstern. He was holding a bunch of flowers like so often before, but this time he’d place them at the foot of the crumbling concrete wall not in memory of the shooting, but in memory of Lisa Manz. Lisa’s murderess had been caught, and now he could finally let it go and concentrate on his relationship. Rebecca had suffered because of his obsession but things would change. He’d be there for his wife and encourage her to trust her talent as a pianist. Maybe someday with his help she’d have the confidence to perform again.

  Placing the flowers on the ground, he straightened, folded his arms across his chest and stared down at them; the flowers provided the only colour in this concrete desert. He stood there for a while, thinking over the events of the past few weeks. He’d not seen Olivia since their visit to the Manz house and he wondered how her father was. Sometime at the end of the summer, he’d meet up with her to talk over everything that had happened. No trial date had been set yet for Theresa Manz because her barristers were pleading mental incapacity. Now it was in the hands of experts, and Theresa had been placed in a secure ward. One thing she had achieved – she’d been front-page news in all the papers and magazines as the ‘Mother from Hell’.

  Theresa had also confessed to the attempted murder of Olivia Hofmann with her car. In the case of Jonathan Stade she had mixed a cocktail of drugs and forced him to drink it. Jonathan’s senses had been numbed and it had been easy to push him from the window. All of this Theresa reported to the prosecution service as if describing a new theatrical role, although she never said a word about how she’d managed to bring Lisa’s body to the quarry in Sankt Margarethen. Her former lover Simon Berger became a suspect, of course, but he had an alibi. Levi didn’t care – the murder of Lisa Manz had been solved, and that was all that mattered to him.

  ‘I hope you fare better in another world, Lisa,’ he said quietly, thinking of the sad girl who’d led such a tragic and horrible life.

  At that moment his mobile rang, chasing away his maudlin thoughts.

  ‘Hello, Olivia,’ he said in surprise. He’d not expected to hear from her.

  ‘You need to come. Right this second. I saw Michael and Juli!’ she said. She was out of breath. She hadn’t even said hello first.

  ‘Easy, easy. What are you saying? Please tell me, but one thing at a time.’ Levi crossed the windswept square to sit on a bench, listening carefully to what Olivia told him. ‘Maybe they just looked similar. You could be mistaken,’ he said, trying to calm her.

  ‘Juli waved at me. I’m not mistaken. Will you help me – please?’

  Levi hesitated, but only for a moment. He knew Olivia well by now and that she’d never give up searching for her husband and daughter.

  ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘At the cemetery.’ Olivia told him the address.

  ‘Wait there. I’ll come over.’

  Levi put his mobile away and headed off for his white Saab, which was parked on the other side of the square. Before he reached it, he turned around one last time. The wind had swept the flowers a little further away, but they remained a solitary dot of colour in the grey square. That was a good sign. Folding back the roof of the car, he climbed in. He had intended to go home and cook dinner. For a few seconds his fingers drummed on the steering wheel, undecided.

  Then he started the car and drove off.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  After more than twenty years in marketing and advertising, Barbara and Christian Schiller now live and work in Vienna and Mallorca.

  They publish their gripping crime novels under the name B.C. Schiller. The team has written some of the most successful crime novels in the German language, enthralling more than 1.5 million readers.

  ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR

  Annette Charpentier, PhD, has worked as a translator for over thirty years and has translated over 250 works of fiction and non-fiction, both from German into English and from English into German.

  Born in Germany, she moved to Wales thirty-five years ago.