by Kris Rusch
‘Your daughter was cutting bread,’ Fritz said.
‘Yes, and Frau Winter was telling Marlena she was an idiot. Now, Marlena is not smart, but she married a bit of money, and she didn’t need to listen to that. I told her so, but she never listened to me as well. The moment I could no longer provide for myself was the moment she stopped listening to me.’ Frau Dachs’s tone took a bitterness that sounded ingrained. ‘I wish she had. We would still be living in our own home instead of following that man around. But Marlena wanted to live on Prinzregentenplaz. She likes to pretend she is rich.’
Frau Dachs shook her head. ‘Sometimes I wonder how I ever begot that girl.’
Fritz would never have called Frau Reichert a girl. He was leaning forward, his back aching, his cracked elbow resting against the chair’s wooden arm. The pain was keeping him alert.
‘Suddenly, Frau Winter raised her hand for silence. That man and Geli were fighting again. Frau Winter loved to listen. I think it gave her a kind of power. They had been fighting for days. He thought she had a lover in Vienna. She didn’t. She went for her music teacher. She thought she could be as famous as her uncle by singing in the cabarets. Silly girl. Geli had gone to Vienna a few days before, but she had got as far as Berchtesgaden when that man called her and demanded that she come home.’
‘Hitler’s home in Oberstrassburg?’ Fritz said. ‘She was visiting her mother?’
Frau Dachs nodded. ‘Her mother had no idea what to do with Geli. None of us did. And that man spoiled her.’
‘I thought you said he beat her,’ Fritz said.
Frau Dachs tilted her head. The look she gave Fritz was withering. ‘They are not mutually exclusive, young man.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Fritz said.
‘So, Geli was telling that man that she was going to Vienna, she didn’t care what he said. And he was telling her that she couldn’t go. She was yelling that she hated being trapped in the apartment, she hated Munich, and she hated his friends. He said she had everything and she should be grateful. She said that she did not have her freedom. She was as trapped as Hansi, her canary.’
Frau Dachs’s skin was pale, with two red dots on her cheeks. Although her voice was even, she was not calm. ‘And then Geli said she hated being trapped. That man said that if she left, he would make sure she never had anything again. And she said that was fine because she hated him. Then we heard a slap and the sound of breaking dishes. Marlena started to go out, but Frau Winter held her arm.’
Frau Dachs lower lip was shaking. She swallowed before continuing.
‘Geli started screaming that he had hurt her. He said he would hurt her worse. We heard more breaking glass and then she started screaming about Hansi. That’s when I left the kitchen. I came into the dining hall in time to see him wring the little bird’s neck and throw it at Geli. She picked up a knife. She was screaming that he was crazy and that he had killed the only thing she loved. He took out his riding crop and slapped it against his boot and said in that voice he used with her, “Go to your room”. She stood in front of him for a minute, blood running down her face, then she turned and ran down the hall. She was still carrying the knife. He followed her. I picked up Hansi and put him in his cage. His little eyes were open, and the bones in his tiny neck were shattered.’
‘You didn’t go after Geli?’
Frau Dachs shook her head. ‘They had fought before. I thought it would end with Hansi’s death. After I put him away, I heard them yelling again. I went to the hall to get a broom – Marlena never goes anywhere where there is blood, and Frau Winter was too busy listening. I saw him outside her door. She was waving a knife at him. He had pulled back his coat to show his gun. She said she wasn’t afraid of him. He pushed her inside. I was getting frightened. I didn’t know if I should call for help or not. I finally decided that I had had enough. I went to his gun cabinet and took out a Walther. He left his guns loaded, fool that he is, and I took it. My hands were shaking, but I figured I could hit that man enough to get him away from her. I got to the door in time to see him grab her by the neck and put his own gun against her chest. I thought he was going to threaten her, but instead he shot her.’
The old woman’s hands dropped from the table. She looked down. ‘He shot her.’
Fritz’s heart was pounding. He could barely speak. But he forced himself to ask, ‘Then what, Frau Dachs?’
‘I clutched the gun. I thought he was going to kill all of us. But he held her for a moment, then he turned to me. He said, “Frau Dachs, I think I hurt my Geli.” I don’t think he even saw the gun in my hands. I set the gun down and I went to her. She was dead. By that time, Frau Winter had come in. She looked at that man, then at me, and told us not to move. She went for Herr Hoffman. When she came back, they had already decided they would make it look as if Geli did it herself. Frau Winter made that man change clothes – she took his and burned them – then she and Hoffman made him leave with the chauffeur –’
‘Did the chauffeur ever see the body?’
Frau Dachs shook her head. ‘Hoffman left it in Frau Winter’s hands. I told her I wouldn’t lie for him. She told me I would have to. If I didn’t, something would happen to me. Marlena was the one who suggested that I say nothing. Pretend I was too distraught.’
She smiled a little.
‘I was distraught. Poor child. I close my eyes and I see her bloody face.’
She touched her own face. ‘You think it can never go that far, that a woman would die. We all survive it. It is part of the game. But sometimes, sometimes there is one even crazier than we all expect.’
‘So Hitler left,’ Fritz said, unwilling to listen to the old woman philosophise.
‘With Herr Hoffman and the chauffeur, Herr Schreck.’
‘What time was that?’ Fritz asked.
Frau Dachs shook her head. ‘Two-thirty, maybe three. Later than they had planned.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘Frau Winter called that Hess man, and when he arrived he called Herr Schwarz and Herr Amann. They took Geli, got her to Vienna like she always wanted, made it out to be suicide. No one was to say anything until the next morning. They had that much of a story, but no one knew why she died. They had forgotten that part until the constable showed up.’
Fritz sat up slowly, cautious of his bruises. The timing all made sense to him now. ‘So no one called Hitler. He came back the next morning as planned with an alibi, since Geli had shot herself in the middle of the night.’
Frau Dachs nodded. ‘He took his gun. Frau Winter put my gun into the poor girl’s hand and held it there. Geli was afraid of guns. Perhaps that was the hardest thing, to see them treating her like nothing.’
Fritz took a deep breath. ‘Frau Dachs, you saw me, you saw Henrich. You even stayed in the apartment after Hitler came back. You could have spoken to us while we were there. But you did not. Why not? Why did you wait until we came to you?’
She glanced down, her fingers clenched in a fist.
Fritz saw the fear, understood it. ‘We won’t arrest you, Frau Dachs, for staying silent. You’ve come forward now. We’ll protect you. I just want to know why you waited.’
She took a deep breath, as if saying this next were harder than telling the story. ‘Because I did not see a point.’
‘There is a point now?’
Frau Dachs nodded. ‘I overheard Frau Winter on the phone this morning. She is to make certain that man’s clothing is in order. He has a meeting with Hindenburg. She hopes by then he will be over this tragedy.’
‘With Hindenburg.’ Fritz frowned. He couldn’t concentrate as well as he liked. ‘What would the President want with him?’
‘Some of Hitler’s friends want Hindenburg to endorse Hitler for Chancellor.’
‘He’s not even a German citizen.’ Fritz said.
‘He is working with a man in Braunschweig to make him a councillor for that state.’ Frau Dachs clasped her hands in her lap, as if she were trying to control
them.
‘Even if that works,’ Fritz said, ‘no one will ever elect him.’
She pinned him with that intense look. ‘No one ever thought the NSDAP would become so powerful in Germany. The second largest party in the Reichstag. If their support grows they will become the largest. Hindenburg will not be able to ignore them then.’
‘I am afraid I don’t see the connection,’ Fritz said. ‘Hitler has always been very active politically.’
‘I didn’t think of it much until Geli died,’ Frau Dachs said. ‘Then he was so devastated by his actions that I thought he might give it all up. Gregor Strasser is a better man.’ She shook her head. ‘But I was wrong. That man comes out of these things only stronger. They say he acted the same way after he got those people killed in the putsch. Grief, and guilt and then, suddenly, smarter, stronger. I know what it is like to live with a man like that. I began to think. He loved Geli, in his own way. He loved her. He used the same words to describe her as he uses about Bavaria. I stayed in my room for almost a week, and this morning, when I heard Frau Winter plan his meeting with Hindenburg, I knew.’
‘Knew?’ Fritz asked.
She nodded. ‘I knew. If a man treats the woman he loves that way, imagine. Imagine what he will do if he ever gets control of the country.’
THIRTY-SEVEN
‘S he could see it at least,’ the girl says. ‘She knew what kind of monster he was.’
‘But I didn’t,’ Fritz says. ‘I still thought he was like the rest of us.’
‘What will he do, Frau Dachs?’ Fritz asked.
She stared at him as if he were insane. ‘He will be satisfied with nothing less than complete power. He will treat the country as he treated her. He says he loved her, and he killed her. He will kill us all.’ She raised her chin. ‘You must stop him. You must stop him now.’
Fritz stops. He cannot continue. He is breathing hard. Frau Dachs’s words are as painful today as they were then. The girl is watching him, that frown furrowing her forehead. He can’t even make an excuse.
‘But you didn’t stop him,’ she says. ‘You didn’t arrest him.’
‘No,’ he says. ‘I did not.’
She stands. ‘You could have saved millions of lives. You!’ She doesn’t seem to remember the tape player running. ‘Don’t you think of that?’
‘Every day,’ he says. His calm tone stops her. She sits, anguish on her face.
‘Did you even try?’ she asks.
He nods, gropes for the cigarette box, nearly knocking it off the table. He catches it with the other hand, and replaces it. She crouches, takes a cigarette out for him, and hold it out to him. His hands are shaking; he doesn’t want to take it. She turns it so that the filter faces him. He puts it in his mouth. She takes his lighter and lights the tip for him. They are so close he can smell the flowery shampoo she uses on her hair.
‘Are you all right?’ she asks, with more compassion than he deserves.
‘Yes,’ he says, holding the cigarette tightly between his lips. ‘Really.’
The cigarette adds to his light-headedness. She pats his knee, her hand warm, then returns to her chair, once again the prim and proper scholar.
Waiting. Waiting to hear his failure.
‘I told you,’ he says. ‘I told you that sometimes solving the case is not enough. I told you that.’
‘You did,’ she says.
‘We tried.’ His voice is soft. ‘Henrich came back with the Chief in two separate cars. Henrich took Frau Dachs to a safe place – I never knew where – and the Chief and I talked. He had to find a way around Franz Gürtner. Geli was a suicide. You can’t charge a man with murder on a case that’s already solved.’
‘He failed.’
‘Of course. Hitler owned Gürtner. He owned so many.’ Fritz set the cigarette on the ashtray. ‘But the Chief did take most of the evidence, although he left the paintings with me.’
‘Who sent those?’
‘We didn’t learn until much later. Gregor Strasser, working independently of his brother. They both apparently wanted to take advantage of the situation. Gregor figured that if the police had the paintings, we would investigate Hitler even more.’
‘It worked. You investigated.’ She is watching his hand as he taps his fingers on the chair. It is as if she is intent on his every movement, as if she is afraid something will happen to him unless she stares.
‘Yes,’ he says, hating the scrutiny. The room is too hot. A trickle of sweat runs down the back of his neck. His shirt reeks of cigarette smoke and his own body odour. He should have cleaned up before she arrived.
‘So it ended where it began, with the Minister of Justice?’ She asks the question with such an intensity, he knows she has asked it before. He wonders how long he was quiet. He cannot remember what he was thinking about.
He shakes his head. ‘The Chief tried everything he could think of. In a matter of days, he went to the Burgermeister, and the District Committee. None of them wanted to touch the case. Finally, he went to the Minister of the Interior.’
She frowns again. ‘The Criminal Police Law of 1922? I thought Bavaria didn’t follow it.’
‘We followed it, up to a point. We shared information just as we were supposed to, but the state branches remained separate. No state listened to the head of another state. The Minister of the Interior for all of Germany did not want to overturn a ruling by the Bavarian Minister of Justice.’
‘Was he corrupt too?’ she asks.
Fritz shakes his head. ‘Just very smart.’
‘So what did the Chief do?’
‘It is not what he did. It is what I did.’
THIRTY-EIGHT
His bruises were fading, but driving had been difficult with his injured ribs and elbow. Fortunately, Fritz knew the roads to Berlin. They brought with them memories – memories he hoped would stay buried.
He did not know why he pursued this. The case was closed. Everyone wanted the case to remain closed, except the Chief. He returned the evidence to Fritz and asked him – begged him – to use his fame and his military credentials to get a meeting with Field Marshall Paul von Hindenburg.
‘I thought Hindenburg collaborated with Hitler.’
Fritz shakes his head. ‘It is not as simple as that. Hindenburg was afraid of the Communists. He saw Hitler’s people as a buffer, a way to keep the Communists from gaining control of the government. It was logical, given our proximity to Russia, given the fear raised by their revolution. He did not like Hitler, but Hitler was proving himself. And Hindenburg was facing re-election, without a majority. He needed help.’
‘You sound sympathetic.’
Fritz sighs. ‘Because I understand does not mean I sympathise. I simply know how he thought.’
It had been nearly a decade since Fritz had come to Berlin, and then he had been in search of Gisela. This time he stayed away from the cabarets and the hookers, not wanting to see the time-ravaged faces of people he once knew.
Geli had been dead almost a month. The NSDAP stopped harassing Fritz once they thought he was going to leave Hitler alone. Frau Dachs was in her hiding place, and Fritz had his papers in safe storage. The Chief’s work had come to nothing. For the first, and only, time in his career, Fritz used his fame to open doors.
And not a moment too soon.
Hitler was due in Berlin the following day. General Kurt von Schleicher, one of Hindenburg’s closest advisors, had set up a meeting between Hitler and the President.
Fritz would see Hindenburg first.
Photographers greeted Fritz outside Hindenburg’s office. As the bulbs snapped, Fritz suddenly understood why the meeting had been granted. Hindenburg needed the support of a hero, even a press-anointed hero like Fritz. The photographers called Fritz’s name, their flashbulbs blinding him and the receptionist so badly that at first he did not see Hindenburg approach.
Hindenburg looked older in person, his face filled with lines and swollen with too much good food and drink. He
was shorter than Fritz and stockier, a man for whom middle age was a distant memory. He still moved with power, though, as if years of discipline could not disappear despite the body’s deterioration.
Then Hindenburg grabbed Fritz’s hand and shook it. He said a few words drowned in the din, and was about to wave good-bye when Fritz grabbed his hand tightly.
Hindenburg’s jaw jutted out, given some strength to his elderly beefy face.
‘Please, sir,’ Fritz said loudly enough for the reporters to hear. ‘I would like a moment of your time – in private.’
Hindenburg could not say no to a man whom he had just pretended to be close friends with. He opened the double mahogany doors to his office and let Fritz inside. The doors closed on the photographers, still snapping pictures.
The office was not the one that Hindenburg used for state photographs or official business. It looked like one in which he actually got work done. Photographs from the war years hung on his walls, along with a framed portrait of the Kaiser on his desk. Even though he was president of Germany, Hindenburg was a monarchist at heart.
Hindenburg did not go behind his desk. He stood near the door, forcing Fritz to do the same.
‘Forgive me, sir, for taking your time,’ Fritz said, ‘but I believe this to be very important. I understand you’re meeting with Adolf Hitler tomorrow.’
Hindenburg shrugged. ‘It is at the request of one of my friends.’
‘Sir, I have personal knowledge that Hitler plans to run for election in January, either for your job as President or, more likely, as Chancellor. I mean to stop that.’
Hindenburg smiled and clapped Fritz on the shoulder. ‘This is the new Germany. Anyone can run, even a Bohemian corporal.’
‘Sir, this Bohemian corporal murdered his own niece.’
Hindenburg’s grip on Fritz’s shoulder loosened. ‘Then you should arrest him.’
‘I cannot, sir. The Bavarian Minister of Justice ruled the death a suicide, and no one is willing to overrule him.’