A Trace of Smoke (Hannah Vogel)

by Cantrell, Rebecca

  When we reached Ernst’s apartment, the landlady was outside washing the stairs. She tossed a bucket of clean water on the stairs leading to the front door and scrubbed them with a washcloth wrapped around the head of a push broom, as our maids used to. As I mopped my own floors now.

  “Frau Müller,” I said. “Good day.”

  “Hannah,” she said, delighted. She adored Ernst. “Where is that brother of yours? I haven’t seen him in a week or so. He’s got a new friend, I’ll bet.” She smiled mischievously, showing the gap where her front tooth had been. I thought her a spry seventy, but Ernst thought she was a badly preserved fifty.

  “I do not know,” I said. “But I’d like to see if he’s there now, perhaps wait a while for him.”

  “And who’s the little one?” She glanced down at him. “Looks like you. A cousin?”

  “His name is Anton,” I said.

  “Hello, Anton,” she said. “Does Ernst expect you two?”

  “He does not expect Anton,” I said, and strictly speaking that was true.

  “Let me get my keys.” She limped back to her apartment while we followed impatiently. I knew little about her history. Ernst said she’d never been married, had no children, and no close relatives. She was a good landlady and kept the stairwells and front steps immaculate. She collected rent from most tenants on the first of the month at noon, but Rudolf always paid in advance and paid cash. He wanted no one to trace Ernst to him, I suspected.

  “Thank you for letting me in,” I said. “Could you mind Anton for me for a few hours? I’d like to have a private conversation.”

  “In trouble again, your brother?”

  “Always,” I said. “And little pitchers have big ears.”

  “The little one can stay with me,” she said. “I’ll find work for him.”

  Anton dropped to the ground and wrapped both arms around my legs. “No,” he wailed. “Don’t abandon me, Mother! I missed you so last time.”

  Frau Müller looked at me uneasily.

  “It’s only for a few hours.” I peeled his arms off my legs.

  “That’s what you said last time.” He cried real tears. “And you were gone for weeks and weeks.”

  “Weeks and weeks?” Frau Müller asked.

  “He’s making it up.” I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring manner.

  “Please don’t leave,” Anton sobbed.

  I pulled him to his feet. “You will stay here,” I said. “Until I come back.”

  He hung his head.

  “I won’t take him if he’s going to be difficult,” Frau Müller said. “Or if there’s any question when you’re coming back.”

  “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “She always promises that.” Anton sniffled. “But she never comes.”

  “I’ll let you into your brother’s place,” Frau Müller said. “But I won’t take the boy.”

  Frau Müller hobbled up the stairs ahead of us, her keys jangling.

  I gave Anton an angry look, but he smiled smugly back as Frau Müller unlocked the door.

  “I will pay you,” I said. “I need privacy for this meeting.”

  Frau Müller looked at me suspiciously. Anton started to cry again.

  I handed her ten marks and the salami I’d packed for lunch. She took Anton’s hand and dragged him down the stairs.

  “You can rake leaves in the back courtyard,” she said. “Until she comes for you.”

  I waited until she was out of sight before opening the door. Ernst’s apartment had been ransacked, as mine had, and I hurried through the rooms. Someone had punched a hole in the back of his armoire, torn out his clothes, and skewered a red dress covered with sequins to the bed with a kitchen knife, leaving a long tear in the mattress. A warning, as Mitzi had been. But why would they bother to warn him if they knew he was dead?

  They must have visited the apartment after he left it for the last time. Ernst would not go sing at the club, drink, and go home with Wilhelm if his apartment was in this state. He would never leave his clothes lying on the floor to wrinkle.

  I cleaned the worst of the mess in the kitchen to make it look as if Ernst had been back. As if he had cleaned it up. I gathered a collection of lacy underthings off the kitchen floor that made my own look like something our grandmother would have worn. My hands worked swiftly, concentrating on cleaning, trying to push my fear away. Soon it would all be decided.

  I hid Röhm’s ring under ashes in the stove. If he searched me, I did not want to be carrying his treasures. The letters I hid deep in the stuffing of the mattress in the bedroom. I figured that the person who had slit it would not bother to search again. I straightened Ernst’s oriental carpet. It was beautiful, probably half a year’s pay for me.

  Ernst had no tea, so I hurried down to the grocer’s to buy the strong green tea that he loved, leaving the front door ajar to get back in without disturbing the landlady. I did not want to face another scene with Anton.

  I brewed a pot of tea and sat at a round, marble-topped table that used to stand in the hall of our parents’ house. How Ernst had wrangled it from Ursula I could only imagine.

  I folded and refolded my hands, jumping up every few seconds to polish a clean pot or sweep the immaculate floor again. I was terrified, but I dared not think about it lest the feeling envelop me and leave me unable to do what must be done to ensure my freedom and my life.

  I had to be as ice cold as I’d ever been as Peter Weill to get through this alive. Röhm was a formidable adversary, but he was also only a human being, and I knew a great deal more about what was going on than he did. I could get myself through this. For Anton, I had to.

  25

  Someone rapped on the apartment door. I smoothed my skirt to calm myself and opened the front door to Ernst Röhm.

  He looked every bit the battered war hero. His barrel-shaped body was stocky and strong in his captain’s uniform. His immaculate jacket was properly cinched into place by a wide leather belt. Shiny black hair, parted exactly in the middle, topped his square face. But what I noticed, as everyone must have, was his nose. In one of his many war wounds, shrapnel had cut through the bridge of his nose and a pink scar ran across both cheeks. It was a testament to his toughness that he was still alive. He scrutinized the room behind me with wary blue eyes. My mouth went dry. How could I fool this man?

  Beside him stood the brawny lieutenant I recognized from the El Dorado and Wertheim—Wilhelm’s father. Next to him stood Rudolf von Reiche. So they were connected. I had expected Röhm to arrive alone. I had no plan for discussing the letters in front of others.

  “Good day, Hannah,” said Rudolf. He looked ready to slap me.

  I stepped back from the door. Sweat broke out on my palms. I spoke only to Röhm. “Come in and have tea. I am Hannah Vogel, Ernst’s sister.”

  Röhm clicked his heels together and bowed. “You are the very image of him.” He took my sweaty hand in his fleshy white one and kissed it like the old soldier he was. “Captain Ernst Röhm. I see that you have already met my lawyer, Rudolf von Reiche. Let me present my assistant, Lieutenant Josef Lehmann.”

  “Good day, Fraulein Vogel.” Lieutenant Lehmann bowed his head in my direction. He did not recognize me, but I had seen him twice before; when he marched Wilhelm out of the El Dorado, and when he called off the Nazi mob in front of Wertheim.

  “Is Ernst here?” Rudolf glanced around the hall. “We will not stay long.”

  “We will stay until that which is mine is restored to me,” Röhm said simply. “As you well know.”

  Rudolf clamped his mouth closed. I might have laughed if the situation had not been so frightening.

  “I have made tea.” I led them into the kitchen and set out extra cups with trembling hands. “For I think we have much to discuss.”

  “Where is your brother?” Röhm asked. “I would like to see him. I do not understand why he keeps my own from me, if what Rudolf says is true.”

  I glanced at Rudol
f. “Little of what he says is true.”

  Rudolf snorted. “An interesting comment, from one such as you.”

  Röhm held up his hand, and we both fell silent, as if he were our commanding officer.

  I poured everyone tea. Röhm and his lieutenant sat, and Rudolf sat next to me.

  “This is no game,” Rudolf whispered in my ear, too quietly for Röhm to hear. “There are real consequences for us all.”

  A sharp knock sounded on the front door.

  “Excuse me,” I said and went to answer it. I expected no one else, but I had expected only Röhm, so what did I know of who would be attending this meeting?

  Wilhelm stood outside the doorway, wearing his Nazi uniform. “I came to protect you and Ernst,” he whispered. “From Rudolf.”

  I clutched the door frame. “You want to protect me?”

  He nodded. “Both of you.”

  My first instinct was to tell him to go home, where it was safe. I remembered his bloody dagger found where Ernst had breathed his last.

  “To protect us?” I repeated.

  “Of course.” He looked bewildered. He was an amazing actor.

  A red handkerchief peeked out of Wilhelm’s pocket. I drew it out and handed it to him. Let him hold it and think of what he’d done. Let him see the consequences today.

  “Come in.” I bit back my anger. “Let me get you a cup of tea.”

  He followed me into the kitchen, his shoulders thrown back as if he feared nothing. I smiled bitterly at the foolishness of the young. He had the most to fear from this meeting.

  “Wilhelm?” Rudolf’s shocked expression was wonderful to see.

  “Son,” said Lieutenant Lehmann. “This does not concern you. Go home.”

  Röhm eyed Wilhelm appraisingly, like Mother used to examine meat at the market for flaws. Finally, he smiled. “Sit, little one.”

  Wilhelm sat. I sat next to him.

  Röhm turned his scarred face to me. “Now, Fraulein Vogel. Let me speak to your brother. He will restore that which is mine to me.”

  I cleared my throat. “What guarantee do I have of my safety once it is returned?” Did he want the ring or the letters?

  “Has anyone threatened you?” Röhm’s gaze wandered around the table before settling on Rudolf.

  “I feel threatened.” I clenched my hands under the table. I had never felt more threatened in my life. These men could easily kill me today.

  “Why?” Röhm sipped his tea delicately, his eyes never leaving Rudolf.

  Muscles in Rudolf’s jaw stood out like cords, but he did not say a word. He had not expected me to come to this meeting.

  “Yesterday my apartment was destroyed. And my cat killed.” I too, looked at Rudolf.

  “Mademoiselle Zee?” Röhm asked in a cold voice. “Ernst loves that cat.”

  “Not anymore,” I said, thinking of how Ernst had always complained of Rudolf’s jealousy. He once said that Rudolf was jealous of everyone and everything he liked.

  Röhm looked at Rudolf, who was shades paler than when he’d arrived. “Explain yourself.”

  Rudolf smiled unctuously. “I’m not sure what—”

  “It will be worse for you if you don’t tell me now,” Röhm said. “Don’t be a fool and force me do something unpleasant.”

  He cocked his head expectantly and looked at Rudolf, his eyes cold.

  “I h-hired it done,” Rudolf stammered. He leaned back in his chair, looking at Röhm with terror. “To encourage Hannah and Ernst to find what you are looking for, Captain Röhm. I knew nothing of the cat until this very minute. I swear.”

  Röhm turned from Rudolf to me. Rudolf slumped in his chair, no expression on his face. Röhm would not let his deed go unpunished. I shivered.

  “Bring your brother out of hiding,” Röhm ordered. “I personally guarantee his safety, and yours, until this matter is resolved.”

  When I opened my mouth, no sound came out. I had prepared several speeches for this moment, but my mind was blank. Röhm’s power was much more palpable and terrifying than I’d expected. I had never experienced anything like him.

  Röhm nodded toward his lieutenant. “Lieutenant Lehmann will go with you to fetch your brother.”

  Lieutenant Lehmann leaped to his feet. His muscles shifted under his shirt. “Yes, sir.”

  I remained sitting. I did not trust my legs to support me. This was my cue. I took a deep breath. “He cannot fetch Ernst, as someone at this table well knows.”

  “Continue,” Röhm said.

  With icy cold hands, I fished Ernst’s death photo out of my satchel and handed it to him.

  Röhm dropped it on the table, his face ashen. The scar that ran across his face pulsed an ugly dark pink. A breeze from the open window blew the photograph across the table.

  Rudolf snatched the photograph out of the air. Wilhelm looked over his shoulder and cried out.

  “Someone murdered him.” My voice gained strength. “Eight days ago.”

  “Who?” Röhm said in a controlled voice. “I will avenge him.”

  Rudolf stared at the photograph. Wilhelm buried his face in his hands and sobbed. Lieutenant Lehmann stood behind Röhm and made no move to comfort his son. A soldier like my own father, he did not abandon his post to comfort his crying children.

  “Who?” Wilhelm sobbed. “Why?”

  I looked at Wilhelm cynically. What would Röhm do if I revealed him? Kill him. Then another young life would be wasted.

  “I do not know.” I could not bring myself to do it. Ernst would not want it. But what was I to do instead?

  “Where? When?” Wilhelm’s voice was thick with tears.

  “Very early the morning of May thirtieth,” I said.

  “Why would someone do this?” Rudolf asked, his eyes blank. “Ernst was not a threat to anyone.” He turned to Röhm. “Did your men do this?”

  “My men did no such thing.” Röhm rose from the table and stood next to Rudolf. He placed his hands lightly on Rudolf’s shoulders. Rudolf flinched. “Did yours, perhaps? The same ones who killed the cat?”

  Rudolf shook his head rapidly. “Never. I love . . . loved Ernst. We had our—”

  “Where did he die?” Wilhelm’s hysterical voice cut above theirs. Did he want to be exposed?

  “Near a bottle factory on the Spree.” I closed my eyes, thinking of the hard cobblestones where we’d found the lead soldier and dagger. I saw Ernst’s blood seep across the stones while a shadowy figure looked down on him in silence.

  “But there’s one only blocks from my house,” Wilhelm cried. “Someone must have killed him right—”

  “Someone,” I said, opening my eyes. “Must have.” Why did I protect him? He was a liar and a murderer. But a liar and a murderer whom Ernst had loved.

  Wilhelm dropped his face to the table and sobbed. His shoulders jerked up and down.

  His father slapped Wilhelm on the side of the head, and the retort echoed around the room. I jumped. My father had often hit Ernst and me like that.

  “Soldiers do not cry like children,” Lieutenant Lehmann said through teeth clenched with rage.

  Wilhelm continued sobbing as if his father had not touched him. I put my hand on Wilhelm’s back, and Lieutenant Lehmann glared at us both. How could he feel such revulsion for his own son? Wilhelm’s weakness disgusted him, just as it disgusted him that his son loved men. My own father would have reacted no differently.

  A thought chilled my mind to calm. What if Lieutenant Lehmann was there that night when Wilhelm brought Ernst home? What if he heard them, perhaps even saw them? He had access to the dagger. And he had beaten Ernst up once before, when he and Wilhelm were schoolboys.

  I pictured him following Ernst after he climbed down the fire escape. Perhaps he walked with him, talked to him about Wilhelm, all the while moving him to a deserted alley. Somewhere they would not be seen. Then he stabbed him and watched him die. He stripped the clothes from my brother’s dead body and dumped him in the Spree, thi
nking that he would be carried away and never found. And he might never have been discovered if I had not walked down the hall and seen his picture.

  Wilhelm sobbed.

  “You,” I croaked, my throat painfully constricted. I pointed at Lieutenant Lehmann. “You.”

  Röhm’s head whipped to face him. “Why is she pointing at you, Lieutenant?”

  Lieutenant Lehmann took a step backward, glancing from Röhm to Wilhelm.

  “Josef,” Röhm roared. “You will answer me.”

  Lieutenant Lehmann stuttered, “I-I don’t know.”

  “You were there that night,” I said. “My brother’s last night.”

  Röhm’s voice grew deadly quiet. “Josef.”

  Lieutenant Lehmann froze, staring at Röhm.

  “This boy.” Röhm cleared his throat. “This boy had the secret to my future, to the future of the Sturm Abteilung in his hands. Did you know that?”

  A flicker of confusion crossed Lieutenant Lehmann’s face. “I had to protect my son.”

  “By leaving his dagger for anyone to find?” I pulled the dagger out of my satchel and slammed it on the table. Wilhelm stared at it, shocked into silence.

  Röhm cleared his throat. “This is about something bigger than your son. That boy you killed was key to protecting me from the current allegations. And now he cannot. You have done a disservice to the Reich,” Röhm said. “To me. A disservice from which I may never recover. The enemies of the Third Reich gather against me even now, as you well know.”

  He looked into Lieutenant Lehmann’s eyes and continued speaking, “Do you understand that?”

  Lieutenant Lehmann looked aghast. He regretted the damage he had caused Röhm, but not taking my brother’s life.

  Rage rose in me. I leaped toward him. Without turning his head, Röhm caught my wrist and twisted it behind my back. Pain seared through me. I fell to my knees.

  “You know what you must do,” Röhm spoke only to Lieutenant Lehmann.