Raven Sisters (Franza Oberwieser Book 2)

by Gabi Kreslehner

  She got out her cell phone. No text.

  “You’ll have to answer for this, both of you,” Herz said, also rising. “You do realize that?”

  They nodded, remained seated, radiating exhaustion. The detectives left.

  They drove back to the station slowly, no bad news on their cell phones, nothing new.

  “Let’s go by my house,” Herz said. “You haven’t seen the twins for ages.”

  “Yes, let’s do that,” said Franza. “A quick cuddle.”

  The twins, Justus and Johanna, trotted up right away. The little boy was half an hour older than his sister; the little girl quicker to find Daddy’s arms than her brother. He soon followed, and the three of them swayed back and forth. Angelika and Franza stood in the doorway laughing, and Angelika asked quietly, “Has something happened? For you to come out of your way to visit?”

  Franza nodded. “I’m sure he’ll tell you about it tonight.”

  And they were off again, on their way to the police station, a meeting with Arthur and Hansen to round off the morning. What would the rest of the day bring?

  66

  They sat in silence for a long time. His hand in hers, cold and clammy.

  “Aren’t you feeling well?” she asked eventually. “Your stomach again?”

  “No,” he said. “I’m not feeling well. My stomach again. I can feel it. Can’t eat anything.”

  “I can tell,” she said. “You’ve lost weight.”

  He nodded. Silence fell again.

  She thought of the many years they’d spent together, all the years during which things had been relatively good, during which they had not thought about it, not about Hanna and her daughter, and not about the fact that they had turned Hanna’s daughter into Gertrud’s daughter. But sooner or later the truth would come out.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  Dorothee shrugged. “I have to keep going. The children are still here.”

  “Do you ever cry?” he asked.

  “Yes. Sometimes. At night. When I’m alone.”

  He looked at her. Her face was unreadable.

  “I’m so sorry about everything,” he whispered.

  She nodded. “It doesn’t change anything.”

  “I know.”

  He stood, her hand still in his. She looked up at him, slowly disentangling her fingers.

  “Are you coming back?” he asked.

  She heard the despair in his voice, the loneliness. I’m lonely myself, she thought. I wonder, if two lonely souls come together, can they comfort one another?

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t tell you.”

  He nodded and leaned over her, her scent drifting up to him like a greeting from better times. He kissed her on the cheek, burying his nose in her hair for a brief moment. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’ve always loved you. Every minute.”

  She swallowed, feeling like she was about to cry.

  “I know,” she said, so quietly that her voice could hardly be heard. “I know. But it doesn’t change anything.”

  He nodded and remained motionless. One more second, he thought, let me be with you for one more second. And she let him. Then he straightened up and attempted a smile. She noticed how gray his face was.

  “Where are you going?” she asked. “What will you do?”

  He shook his head vaguely and shrugged.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Back to the office. Into town. Anywhere. It’s all . . .”

  He stood there for a second more, thinking. She looked at him.

  No, she thought. I can’t even help myself, how could I begin to help him?

  He left.

  She finally began to cry, and then called out, “We have to think of Lilli!”

  But he had already gone.

  67

  Kristin had gone to the shopping center and bought food, a pair of sunglasses, and hair clippers. She’d also reserved a room in a motel near the autobahn. It was simple. There was no hotel clerk, just an anonymous machine you fed with money and it spat out a room key card.

  Tonio had wondered for a few seconds how she’d known such a place existed, and how she knew such a place existed here.

  As if she knew what was going through his mind, she’d said with a wink, “A popular meeting place for lovers who want to remain anonymous. Men deceiving their wives. Women deceiving their husbands.”

  She’d smiled.

  “Oh,” he said. “So a modern woman needs to know about a place like this?”

  She shrugged and grinned. “As you can see, knowledge like this can be really useful.”

  “I think I need to keep an eye on you,” he’d murmured, drawing her to him, and then grabbing her behind and gently biting her shoulder, causing her to cry out with laughter.

  “Bonnie,” he murmured.

  “Clyde,” she murmured back.

  “Why are you doing all this for me?”

  “Dunno,” she’d said. “Perhaps because you belong to me now.”

  That had been yesterday. Today she cut his hair off. Today they would hone their plans.

  68

  Third row on the left, fifth grave—easy to see. It’s still there, the cemetery on a hill beyond the noise, the busy streets. I went into the church to find the priest. When I mentioned Tonio’s name, he immediately remembered the tragedy. It had attracted a lot of attention at the time.

  “It was a beautiful September day when we buried him, young Tonio Köhler, beneath a clear blue sky,” he said. “Did you know his father?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  The priest nodded. He said his father had been a broken man from then on.

  “And his mother? Did you know her?”

  No, even less. “I never met her,” I said.

  “An Italian,” the priest said. She came for the burial, he said. An incredibly beautiful woman. The journalists’ cameras had flashed away like mad. The regional papers were full of her and no wonder—she could easily have been a movie star, a Gina Lollobrigida.

  His enthusiasm was a bit over the top, and I stopped listening.

  “Yes,” the priest sighed. “That’s how it was.”

  He paused as though thinking back, as though dwelling on his memories, and then gave himself a mental shake.

  “What about you?” he asked, studying me. “How did you know him, if I may be so inquisitive?”

  He said that someone else had visited the grave a few weeks ago, probably pure coincidence. It was a young man who’d asked similar questions before standing a long time by the grave—it must have been more than an hour.

  “Oh,” I said. And told him I was a passing acquaintance traveling through the area and everything had come back to me. I’d thought . . .

  I broke off, not knowing how to continue.

  “And you thought he’d like that,” the priest said, pressing my hand. “And I’m sure he would. Go over to the grave, commune with him. Take all the time you need.”

  And so I stood by the grave. Alone with you, Tonio. After such a long time.

  It’s well tended. Your name is on the gravestone along with the dates of your birth and death. Nothing else.

  I should have flown home with you then. I could have come face-to-face with your mother, looked her in the eye, supported her, your father, too. But it wasn’t possible.

  “You didn’t deserve it, Tonio,” I said quietly. “Didn’t deserve such a death, not like that.”

  I bent down and brushed my fingers over the cool white heads of the Michaelmas daisies.

  They won’t survive the first frost. The gardener will come and tidy up the grave, decorating it with twigs and wild forest greenery, ready for the winter. You would have found that funny, Tonio, wouldn’t you?

  “Here they come in their green uniforms,” you would have said, braying with laughter, “with their weapons at the ready, and when the hopping hares hop around among the twigs and branches of the forests, they shoot them down and have them
selves the finest Christmas feast!”

  I had to grin as I imagined it. It was as though I heard your voice. It came down from somewhere up high, not up from the depths.

  Where are you now, my sly fox? Where are you, my Tonio, my love? Standing by your grave I felt a sob, a burning in my breast and throat. Lilli came into my thoughts, my need to tell you about her.

  “There are two,” I whispered. “Just think, you have two children, Tonio. A son and a daughter. And the son was already born back then, and you never said anything.”

  I waited, I don’t know for what. For an answer? No, probably not. Perhaps for a hopping hare, but none came.

  I thought about your daughter, Tonio. About our daughter.

  And she’s . . . so wonderful! Even though I still know so little about her. Although I’ve hardly ever seen her. And you know what’s so dreadful? That I never missed her. Never, Tonio. Not for all those years. I never felt that . . .

  Only now, Tonio, only now, since I’ve looked into her eyes, only now do I know that it was never right, that I was fooling myself. Because . . . I did miss her. Always. It’s been such a dreadful emptiness inside me. All those years, a terrible longing.

  I went back and knocked on the priest’s door.

  “Come in,” he called. “It’s not locked.”

  I went in. The priest was sitting over his files and books. His parish must be big, and he needed to run it properly.

  “Come in!” He stood. “Come right in! Can I do anything else for you?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’d like to know who keeps the grave tidy. It’s very well cared for.”

  The priest nodded. “Yes, it is indeed. Do you like it?”

  He indicated the glass of wine on his desk. “Can I get you a drop too?”

  I shook my head. “No, thank you. Very kind. But I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

  “Of course. I understand. It’s the same for me, always in a hurry. Yes, yes.”

  “The grave.” I smiled. “You were going to tell me—”

  “Oh!” the priest said, and laughed. “Yes, of course. The grave. Yes. It’s maintained by our gardeners, paid for by a middle-aged lady, if I may call her that. She comes here regularly, brings fresh flowers, candles. I just can’t remember her name. Wait a moment.”

  I said Gertrud’s name.

  “Yes,” the priest said with a nod. “That’s it. That’s the name.”

  He didn’t yet know that she was dead. I told him. It affected him deeply. He said he had gotten home from vacation yesterday and there was still a lot of news he hadn’t caught up with. I left.

  69

  They had lunch in the cafeteria, and afterward the schnitzel lay in Franza’s stomach like a lump of glue. It was not the first time that she’d been unhappy with the cafeteria food, but hunger was hunger, and it was simply too expensive to keep going to the Italian place around the corner.

  In the conference room, Arthur had made coffee, Franza’s cookies were out on the table, and there was the usual array of water jug, glasses, and cups. They were ready for the meeting.

  There wasn’t much news apart from what Franza and Felix had to report. This, at least, held everyone’s full attention.

  Hansen told them that the photos on the previous evening’s news broadcasts had once again led to numerous phone calls and his people were in the process of checking them all out, but after the failures of the last few days, he wasn’t hoping for much. Of course, they would still be following up the tiniest of leads, but it seemed as though both people had vanished into thin air. But they shouldn’t give up hope. After all, wonders never ceased, and he was sure they were all aware that hope was always the last thing to be abandoned. Hansen rolled his eyes and sighed deeply.

  Then it was Arthur’s turn. He reported that all the fingerprints had now been analyzed, but unfortunately this wasn’t much help. Most of them belonged to family members. However, there were also many others that were as yet unidentified. This wasn’t particularly surprising in a family house where there were a lot of people coming and going—friends, neighbors, relatives. On the knife, the murder weapon, they had found Gertrud Rabinsky’s prints and those of two other people. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been possible to identify these, although one was probably the perpetrator’s. A small incidental detail was that Christian Rabinsky’s prints had not been found, which once again ruled him out as the murderer.

  Franza sighed. “Yes, but we already knew it wasn’t him.”

  The others nodded, staring a little cluelessly into their coffee cups. Finally, Herz summarized it all once again. The situation to date was that the main suspect was Tonio Whatever-his-name-was, and he was clearly being helped by a young woman, who unfortunately remained nameless.

  Hanna Umlauf’s role in the case was still unclear. She could be a victim, abducted and held captive—maybe even killed—by the aforementioned couple. However, she could also quite easily be the perpetrator—she had the best possible motive.

  But another one with an excellent motive, they now knew, was Lilli.

  It was still complicated. They were running around in circles and getting no further.

  Please let my cell phone ring, Franza thought. Lilli, call me!

  And then there it was! Her cell phone!

  It didn’t ring, merely beeped, but all the same. Franza opened the text message immediately—and sighed. Not Lilli. Port. He had arrived safely in Vienna and sent his love. Lovely, but not what she needed right at that moment.

  The afternoon went by in a flurry of routine and trivia. They chewed everything over again, from the first visit to the crime scene all the way through the clues they had found and the information they had gathered. They sounded everything out again and again. Had they overlooked anything? Was anything unclear?

  The district attorney looked in, asking for an update. Herz gave him what he wanted and then walked over to Franza’s desk.

  “Have you seen him? Is he sick? He looks so pale.”

  Franza shook her head. “I didn’t notice.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Herz said. “Perhaps he’s not getting enough sleep, either.”

  He went over to the coffee machine, got himself a cup, and came back to Franza’s desk with a broad grin on his face. Oh my God, Franza thought with a frown. Oh my God, what’s he going to say?

  “Like you,” he said, bursting out laughing.

  She was confused.

  “Like me? What do you mean?”

  “Well,” he snorted, “perhaps he’s up all night in chat rooms too!”

  Franza raised her eyebrows and tapped her temple, but couldn’t help laughing. It’s my own fault, she thought. Why do I have to tell him everything? I’m such a stupid woman!

  She glanced again at her cell phone. Nothing.

  Why am I so on edge? Franza thought. She knew as soon as she thought it that it was Lilli who was haunting her. I have to get out of here. Give myself space to think—no office, no computer, no colleagues around me. No Herr Brückl on my back.

  Hairdresser or pedicure? she thought. Where should I drift off to? Quality time for my head or my feet?

  She decided on the feet. Her hair was fine, and anyway, a haircut would cost a lot more. She called and got an appointment right away.

  “I’m off . . .”

  “It’s OK.” Herz gave her a nod. “Perhaps something we’ve missed will occur to you.”

  “You’ve got my number,” she said, waving her cell phone at him.

  “Of course. Off you go! Get inspired!”

  I have to talk to Lilli, Franza thought as she waited for her appointment with the pedicurist. She closed her eyes and let the images flow. They were all muddled to begin with, but gradually settled into a clear structure.

  “Annika,” the pedicurist said, “can you get Frau Oberwieser into the footbath?”

  The images in her head faded to another: the small, delicate Annika taking hold of the not-so-small-and-delicate Frau Oberwieser, and
calling on all her strength to lift her up and maneuver her to the footbath. Immersing Frau Oberwieser totally in the little basin intended only for feet, causing everything to tip over—the water, the basin, big Frau Oberwieser, and little Annika.

  “Thank you, Annika,” Franza said, unable to suppress a laugh. Annika, who had just filled the footbath with hot water and was now inviting Franza to place her feet in it, nodded, probably mentally shaking her head at her client’s weird sense of humor.

  “Thank you, Annika,” Franza said again, sighing luxuriously and imagining all the calluses in the world softening and falling away without the need for protracted scrubbing.

  At last Lilli came back to mind, Lilli and the knowledge she was probably dragging around with her. She picked up her cell phone and dialed the number, but Lilli did not pick up. Lilli was not answering.

  Lowering the cell phone, Franza thought that either she had completely botched it or something had happened.

  Suddenly, it rang! Franza jumped in shock and picked up.

  “Dorothee Brendler here. We can’t get hold of Lilli! She’s disappeared! Do you know where she is?”

  Franza jumped up immediately, with Dorothee still on the line, and shouted into the telephone: “I’m coming! Where are you? Wait for me!”

  She was out of the footbath, into her socks and shoes, past Annika’s astonished eyes, and past the nodding of her favorite pedicurist, who had seen such behavior often and displayed a suitably unperturbed reaction. Franza had called out a quick “I’ll call you!” in her general direction and was away, heading for Lilli’s apartment, her heart thumping out an alarm. She called Frau Brendler again on the way.

  “Don’t worry unnecessarily,” she said. “There’ll be a perfectly good explanation.”

  It was as if she were trying to reassure herself.

  There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and then, “Do you really believe that?”

  Franza closed her eyes briefly.

  “No,” she said quietly. “In this case I don’t really believe it. We’re almost there. Are you in the apartment yet?”