Raven Sisters (Franza Oberwieser Book 2)

by Gabi Kreslehner

  “Couldn’t you sleep?” Herz asked when she reached the office.

  She looked at him and saw that he didn’t look any better. “You neither?”

  He nodded. “The time always comes when they start to haunt you,” he said with a sigh. “When that happens, there’s nothing to be done about it. It’s time for the final leg.”

  Franza nodded. “I don’t think Lilli has anything to do with Gertrud’s murder. I don’t want to believe it.”

  “But she was in the house.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “And she would have had a motive.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  They were silent. Then Herz began again. “What really worries me is the fact . . .”

  “. . . that she also turned up at Tonio’s.” Franza completed his sentence. “And what he could have done with her. And what he could have done with Hanna.”

  Herz nodded. “Precisely! And the fact that we’ve still found no trace of him.”

  Franza’s cell phone rang. It was Borger. “The fingerprints on the knife. None of them belong to your young Lilli.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Is that a sigh of relief?” Borger asked.

  She had to smile. “Yes, it is.”

  “And now you’re smiling,” he said with a grin.

  “And now you’re grinning,” she said.

  “You got it. But back to the point, I’ve got something else. We’ve run everything. All the things you sent us. So, there are some interesting patterns.”

  “Lilli is Hanna’s daughter,” Franza interrupted. “And Tonio is Lilli’s brother.”

  “Yes,” Borger said, sounding a little disappointed. “Yes, though I see you know that already.”

  “Don’t be upset, Borger,” Franza said, unable to stop herself from smiling again. “We needed confirmation. So you’ve been a great help to us.”

  “OK.” Borger sighed. “Back to work.”

  “Well, at least it’s something,” Herz said, although he didn’t sound too pleased.

  “Let’s go back to the Brendlers’,” Franza said. “Perhaps there’ll be some news. Perhaps our distinguished attorney will have reappeared. Perhaps . . .”

  “Deep breath, Franza,” Herz said. “Breathe deeply!”

  But it wasn’t so easy. If you only knew, she thought as they went out to the car. If you only knew, my dear Herz!

  Last night there had been hardly anyone there—no wonder, given how late it was. He’d been at the bar, all alone, his back turned to her. Wearing a blue jacket. With a glass of red wine in front of him. All as he had described. It was as if he was giving her the chance to have a good look at him before approaching. But she’d had no need to look. She recognized him immediately. And fled.

  Herz’s cell phone rang. He switched it to speaker.

  “One of you should come,” Arthur said. “We’ve got Bonnie and Clyde.”

  81

  They didn’t actually have Bonnie and Clyde yet, but they had received an interesting call—a very interesting call. It was from the maid at a motel by the autobahn, who had been watching television on and off, her attention wandering. An item caught her eye—the missing-person announcement that appeared on the noon news. When they showed the composite, it looked somehow familiar—a customer she had seen fleetingly, very fleetingly.

  He had seemed a little reserved, and she had also noticed hair lying around the toilet in his room. Not too much, just a small clump that she only noticed when she bent down to give the toilet and the area around it a thorough clean. She did this, she pointed out, because she was a thorough person. Always had been. She’d wondered where the hair had come from because the woman who was also staying in the room had light brown hair and the man had a shaven head.

  There had been something about the picture on the TV screen that nagged at her, but she hadn’t realized its significance immediately. Then she remembered the little clump of hair, dark, slightly curly, like the hair of the man in the picture . . . it had clicked.

  She’d told them all this over the phone, first to some dumb duty officer with no responsibility, who was only doing his job, and then to someone who had at least a bit of responsibility, and finally to someone who had even more. And now two plainclothes officers had arrived at the motel, one introducing himself as Herz, the other saying he was the one she’d spoken to on the phone: Arthur Peterson.

  “Heppner,” she replied, refusing the proffered hand. “Sieglinde Heppner.” She told her story once again, eagerly, in great detail and with some excitement.

  She looked a little embarrassed as she came to an end.

  “I hope I’m not getting anyone into trouble here, but”—she paused, as if examining her own thoughts—“but it seemed strange to me, is all. Odd. Yes, that’s it, odd. They were behaving oddly, those two. As if they were hiding. And he hardly left the room. Only at night, when it was dark.”

  How does she know so much? Herz thought. Is she always working, day and night?

  He sincerely hoped that he’d never find himself in a situation where others watched him surreptitiously and later described him as “odd” and “strange.”

  On the other hand, they had to be pleased that there were people like this Sieglinde Heppner in the world, who watched others observantly even if only to satisfy their own curiosity or out of boredom.

  No! He shook his head. That was unfair.

  Frau Heppner paused, looking irritated. “No? What do you mean?”

  He laughed. “Nothing, Frau Heppner, nothing at all. I’m sorry, I was just thinking. Please continue.”

  “Yes, well,” she said. “That’s it, really. There’s nothing more to tell. Do you want to see the room? I’ve got the key card here.”

  “By all means,” Herz said. “By all means.”

  He gave her a friendly smile. What will we find? he thought as he followed Arthur and the woman. What next?

  “Are the two of them still here, do you know?”

  She shook her head. “No, unfortunately not. They left a while ago. You should have gotten here quicker.”

  Hm, Herz thought, do you think we can fly? We’re only human. “By car?”

  Another shake of her head. “No, they didn’t have one. At least, not in the parking lot here. I”—she hesitated—“I investigated a bit. But I didn’t dare follow them out onto the street.”

  “That’s good, Frau Heppner,” Herz said. “It’s a good thing you didn’t do that. That could’ve been dangerous. And it’s not your job. That’s our job.”

  She nodded, blushed slightly, and stopped outside a door.

  “This is it,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Herz said. “Thank you very much, Frau Heppner.”

  She stood there hesitantly. Herz sighed inwardly. The same old story. Burning curiosity. The reluctance to leave.

  He smiled. “That’ll be all, thanks. If you could just give me the key card?”

  “Oh,” she said. “Right. Yes. The card.”

  She gave it to him. “Yes, well . . .” she nodded, a little embarrassed. “I hope I’ve been helpful to you.”

  “You certainly have. Many thanks once again,” Herz said kindly and offered his hand.

  Once she had gone, the two police officers positioned themselves on either side of the door and slipped the safeties off their guns. Herz cautiously slid the card into the slot. There was a soft click, and the door opened. Herz pushed it wide and called loud and clear, “Police!”

  Nothing moved.

  The detectives entered the room cautiously, checking left and right. Arthur pushed the bathroom door open—the light went on, nothing. Just a gaping emptiness.

  They finally stopped in the middle of the room, secured their guns, and slipped them back into their holsters.

  “Once again they’re ahead of us,” Arthur said angrily.

  “Well,” Herz said, “at least this time we can be on the lookout for them and hopefully catch them. This t
ime they don’t know we’re on their trail. At least I don’t think so. In the meantime, let’s look to see if we can find anything here. There might be something to help us.”

  They began a systematic search. Arthur started in the bathroom. Nothing particularly interesting: toothbrushes that looked as though they had just been bought, a few other toiletry items, scarcely touched. On the bed were a few plastic bags containing clothing, some of which still had the tags attached.

  “It all looks new,” Herz said.

  “No wonder. They needed to buy everything new—they left the apartment in such a rush they didn’t take anything with them.”

  He picked up one of the bags and emptied the contents out onto the bed. The last item that fell out was a set of hair clippers.

  “Oh,” Arthur said, “look at this! Look at this! What have we here? The hair clippers for changing his identity.”

  “That’s right,” Herz said. “Looking at all this, I’d say we’ve definitely hit on something.”

  “But why stay at a motel here? Why didn’t they disappear into the sunset ages ago?”

  They thought about it.

  “Perhaps they’re not ready yet. Perhaps they still have something to do.”

  “But what?”

  “Hanna? Is she a hostage? And Lilli too, now?”

  Arthur shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. No idea. I’m lost now.”

  “Courage, my boy,” Herz said, sitting down on the bed and slowly gazing around the room once again. “It’ll come. Believe me. It always does.”

  He suddenly jumped up, went to the desk, bent down, and fished something out from under it. He looked at it and held it up with satisfaction. A book of matches.

  “It seems that one of them smokes,” he said cheerfully. “That’s great for us. Especially as there’s something on it.” He held up the matchbook and read out the name and address of a bar.

  He smiled. “It’s always nice when our birds sing. Let’s get over there now.”

  He threw the book of matches over to Arthur, who frowned. “But it might not mean anything,” he said sullenly.

  “It might not,” Herz said. “But it might! Might! And will! I can smell it. Or feel it in my bones. Whichever you prefer. Trust an old dog. Onward and upward. Come on!”

  And he stormed out, hot on the new trail.

  82

  Back into the world?

  Now?

  Back from the peace and quiet?

  Perhaps . . . yes, perhaps it’s time to face things. I have to see Dorothee again, to talk to her. Not everything can have gone wrong.

  I switched my cell phone on briefly a few hours ago, and the world has slipped a little closer. A lot of calls. A lot of texts. I’m not going to answer any of them. We’ve reached the end.

  I don’t know, he wrote. I don’t understand why anymore. I only know I have to die.

  Have to die . . . What a strange expression. Isn’t that coming to us all?

  The birds are flying south. I’m not going with them.

  He asks me to forgive him. For everything. Forgive me, Hanna. For everything.

  83

  He ascended the stairs at his usual leisurely pace and asked for directions. They sent him to Oberwieser and Herz, but they were not there. He eventually ended up in Hansen’s office.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” the visitor said, mischievously. “You can’t do anything for me. But maybe I can do something for you. Does the name Hanna Umlauf mean anything to you?”

  He immediately had Hansen’s attention.

  He said she’d been at his cemetery. He was the priest of St. Peter’s parish, and she had turned up there looking for a particular grave. He’d helped her to find it.

  “So she’s alive,” Hansen said, filled with relief. “Are you sure?”

  The priest frowned and stroked his beard.

  “Yes,” he said. “Yes. She was very much alive. A very likeable lady and very much alive. We had a good talk, but sadly not for too long. She seemed to be in a bit of a hurry.”

  The priest also had a good talk with Hansen. This one was also not for long. Hansen was also suddenly in a hurry.

  84

  “She’s alive,” Hansen said on the telephone. “Hanna Umlauf’s alive.”

  He announced it twice, once to Franza and once to Felix. Both times he felt his colleagues’ huge relief. He intended to announce it a third time, but that didn’t happen because the call wasn’t answered—the cell phone was off.

  Hansen tried a few more times before finally giving up. He stared into space for a moment. And suddenly had an idea, as if pulled from the air. He began to investigate, without quite knowing why. And he made some surprising discoveries.

  85

  “Hanna’s alive,” Franza said after getting off the phone with Hansen. “We still don’t know where she is, but at least we know with some certainty that she’s alive.”

  “Thank God,” whispered Dorothee, closing her eyes for a moment. “At least that’s something.”

  “Maybe . . .” Franza said on a sudden impulse, “. . . maybe Lilli is with her.”

  Dorothee’s eyes shot open, and she stared at Franza with a long, dark gaze.

  Just under an hour ago, Franza had arrived and found Dorothee alone.

  “Do you know where your husband is?” she had asked her.

  Dorothee had merely shrugged helplessly.

  “Why?” she asked now, with a choke in her voice. “Why would Lilli be with Hanna? And how would she have found her?”

  “Perhaps it was just a question of logic,” Franza said. “Yes, that’s probably it—it’s so logical that Lilli grasped it.”

  “But she doesn’t know her at all.” Dorothee was still trying to defend herself.

  “Hanna is . . .”

  “Hanna is Lilli’s mother.” Dorothee completed Franza’s cautious statement for her. “Yes, she is. But there’s no way Lilli can know.”

  Franza felt a small, sad smile rising inside her. Dorothee was doing what many people do: she was shutting herself off from knowledge that was already there, that had already crept into her heart and her mind. She had closed off, afraid of facing its power, afraid of facing what it represented, what it would change.

  “Yes, she can,” Franza said quietly. “She can, and you know that, Frau Brendler. All Lilli needs to do is put two and two together.”

  “If she’s done anything to herself . . .” Dorothee said tonelessly.

  Franza shook her head vehemently. “No, I don’t believe she has! I’m sure she hasn’t.”

  “If my husband . . .” Dorothee continued.

  Franza shook her head again. “There wouldn’t be any reason for it. We’ll figure everything out. And until we do, you shouldn’t think such thoughts.”

  But she knew people always thought such thoughts. People turned them over and over in their minds, and they grew into huge monsters that ate them up. Then they were trapped in their thoughts, in fear.

  Franza knew it from her own experience. Yet she still tried to calm them when they were worried, tried to take away their fears, to relieve the agony of realization, of knowledge.

  “So,” she said, “let’s start at the beginning. Have you called all Lilli’s friends and acquaintances?”

  Dorothee nodded. “Yes, we have. Christian and I. All of them. No one knows anything. She isn’t with any of them.”

  “And you believe that?”

  They heard the front door. Dorothee turned around, jumped up. Hans Brendler entered.

  “Hans! Where have you been? I’ve been worried. I thought . . . Lilli . . .”

  “What?” he asked blankly. “Lilli? What’s going on with Lilli?”

  “She’s gone,” Dorothee yelled. “Our Lilli has gone!”

  “Our Lilli,” he murmured. “Our Lilli will never forgive us . . .”

  His expression was so empty that Franza was suddenly no longer certain that he wou
ldn’t do anything to himself. He turned away, turned to his wife.

  “And you thought I . . . ?”

  She was silent, didn’t look at him.

  They’re losing it, Franza thought. Now they’re both lost to one another.

  “Where have you been?” Dorothee asked.

  He shrugged. “No idea. Somewhere or other. It’s not important. I wanted to be alone. Get my head around it all somehow.”

  “I needed you,” she said.

  He didn’t reply.

  86

  They parked the car around the corner. They wanted to remain inconspicuous, not rush in guns ablaze—no blue lights or sirens, a nice quiet approach. At least at first.

  Arthur grinned. This was pure adrenalin, warming his veins and causing his blood to simmer. It was almost like sex with Karolina, so much fun. It was a kick, all right—showing up, talking, acting, if necessary. And he really hoped it would be necessary to act. To put dangerous murderers behind bars, a certain amount of commotion was certainly allowed, even expected. IDs out first. State the case. Explain themselves clearly, calmly. Then: Pow! Cut to the chase. Handcuffs clicking around Bonnie and Clyde’s wrists after their weapons have been taken away. Later, he’d welcome the flurry of flashes from the regional press cameras—or even better, those of the national press—and finally a pat on the back from the chief of police and some words of praise for our capable young Arthur Peterson, the rising star in the police force, the nemesis of all criminal elements. Finally, the high point: Karolina would be waiting in the wings, her not-inconsiderable breast swelling with pride, and his mother, shedding a tear or two of joy.

  Yes. That was how it should be. Arthur grinned to himself, but outwardly a little, too.

  “Hey!” Herz said. “Boy! Daydreaming of fame and fortune again?” He smiled affectionately. “Keep calm, OK? We don’t know what’s waiting for us. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps zilch, nada, niente.”

  Shit, Arthur thought. Caught in the act. He blushed and lowered his head so that Herz wouldn’t notice. But Herz noticed everything, as Arthur well knew.