Cemetery of the Nameless

by Rick Blechta

  I smiled too and realized that I’d been doing it pretty well nonstop since I’d walked in the door. To cover it up, I took another sip.

  “Very nice Scotch. And a very nice room. Do you stay here often?”

  “Quite often. It is not always convenient to return home late at night and I sometimes prefer staying in the downtown.”

  I put down my glass. “You said you had something I would find of extreme interest.”

  She leaned back and crossed her legs, a hair-raising sight. “You do not believe in beating around the bushes.”

  “Well, actually, I have to get up early, since I’m hoping to visit my wife tomorrow morning.”

  “How nice for you. Such a tragedy, such a tragedy... My husband told you, of course, that we were present at Schloss Heislinger when the baron... when the unfortunate incident took place.”

  “He mentioned it.”

  “I truly feel sorry for your lovely wife, and I find myself still liking her despite what she did. Oh, I am so sorry! I have not chosen careful words. Heinrich often says I do that.” She reached out again and touched my hand. “You must forgive me.”

  “It’s all right. I’ve heard a lot worse, especially from the police.”

  “And yet you do not believe she did this horrible thing. Would it also be indelicate to ask why? I have heard that the evidence is conclusive.”

  “Tory doesn’t remember anything about the murder.”

  Gertrud looked astonished. “Nothing at all? That is most odd.”

  “Well, I’m not being completely accurate. She’s remembering bits and pieces, but so far, nothing of any real value—although we have hopes. A doctor is working to help her regain her memory.” After taking another swallow of my drink, I said, “Now, about this interesting thing you wanted to tell me...”

  “This is very awkward,” Gertrud began, then stopped, looking down at her hands. “You see, I am to blame for your wife having become entangled with Baron Rudolph.”

  “The thing you notice first when you listen to Victoria Morgan play is the commitment. Every piece sounds as if she expects to die as soon as she finishes. There’s never anything held back.”

  —from a concert review by Terrence Hatty in the Calgary Herald

  Chapter 27

  ROCKY

  I stared agog at Gertrud Schatzader. “How’s that?”

  “I know that my husband and you have spoken of the baron’s music treasure. This Beethoven manuscript was first offered to my husband. Are you aware that Heinrich is an avid collector of musical scores? Something such as this manuscript would obviously be the jewel of any collection. Unfortunately, when the man who found it came to our house last spring, my husband was out of the country on business. A note was left, explaining what the man had and...” Gertrud faltered and again looked down at her hands. “I am afraid that I read the note intended for my husband.”

  “So? I read my wife’s mail all the time.”

  “You do not understand. Reading it does not bother me. It is that I told Baron Rudolph about it. There is nothing I will ever regret doing more than that!”

  “What happened then?”

  Gertrud continued, “I do not like to speak ill of the dead, but the baron had a roving eye, I think you would call it. Your wife had caught his attention.” She looked at me unblinkingly, waiting for a response that didn’t come. “What Baron Rudolph wanted, he was used to getting. When he heard about this music, I am afraid that he contacted the man with the manuscript and bought it for himself. So you see, it was I who gave the baron the means to entice your wife—and look at the tragedy which has followed!”

  I guess living with Tory had sharpened skills that I wished I didn’t need to have sharp, because something in Gertrud’s eyes and voice and her choice of words told me that she and von Heislinger had been something more than friends. Intuition aside, it seemed a good assumption that a person with von Heislinger’s reputation would not have let a beautiful woman like Gertrud get by him without putting the make on her.

  “Please forgive my indelicacy, but I can’t help thinking that there was more between you and von Heislinger than you’re letting on.”

  The response I got was at the same time expected—and unexpected: Gertrud began crying softly. Unfortunately, I’m not one of those men who carries pocket handkerchiefs, so I couldn’t play the gallant and whip one out. She eventually pulled her purse up from next to the couch and found a couple of tissues, which she made thoroughly soggy.

  I waited. Eventually, she spoke. “It is good that this is finally out in the open. That someone who may understand...” She dabbed her eyes and looked at me with a piteous expression. “You do understand what happened to me, do you not?”

  With a grim expression, I nodded. “Did he stalk you, too?”

  “Stalk?”

  “Hunted. That’s what von Heislinger did with women he desired. He hunted Tory, so it would make sense that he hunted you.”

  Gertrud nodded again. “We met at a party. I was young and naïve then. You have to understand that Baron Rudolph, he was handsome and dashing—and quite charming. He made his attraction to me clear. He did not have to say it. One knows these things. I was married to another then, and so—with reluctance, I must tell you honestly—I had to turn him down.

  “Then, several weeks later, my husband met with a tragic accident. The baron came to the funeral and later visited me at my apartment. On his second visit... You have to understand that I was very upset, and he offered me comfort. It started almost without my noticing.

  “We were lovers for over a year before he tired of me. It is not something of which I am proud. I met Heinrich about a year later, and we were married shortly after. He has never asked any questions of me about my past.”

  “So he doesn’t know about von Heislinger and you?”

  “I have never told him. It was the baron himself who introduced me to Heinrich.”

  I nodded. “A very delicate thing to handle. So you told von Heislinger about the manuscript—”

  “It was such a foolish thing to do!”

  I nodded. “Be that as it may. Did the baron tell you what became of the person who found the manuscript in the first place?”

  “I am sorry. I do not even remember his name. Baron Rudolph only told me that he had concluded the deal and that the seller had been well looked after.”

  “If you do recall the name, please let me know. I’m curious as to where the manuscript came from. It would help to establish the work’s authenticity—assuming we ever get it back.”

  “Yes,” she agreed sadly. “Everyone has assumed that, ah, your wife had it with her. You said earlier that others have approached you about the manuscript?”

  “Yeah, Montenegro and Terradella.”

  “They are both clowns! Stupid, greedy little men who are after their own ends.”

  “They’re offering a lot of money,” I lied to see what her response would be.

  She smiled. “Ah... You have seen what I wished to say but could not find the proper words. It is because of me that this music is lost. My husband is very, very angry with me still. If you have this music or know where it is, I beg of you to tell me. I will better anything you have been offered!” Her eyes bored into mine. “I will give anything for that music.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have no idea where the manuscript is. One thing puzzles me about you and von Heislinger, though.”

  “What is that?”

  “You alone don’t seem to fit the profile of his women. Almost all the others have been musicians.”

  She smiled charmingly. “Oh, but you are wrong. I was an aspiring singer in my younger days.”

  “What made you stop?”

  “Lack of musical talent. I am a realist, you see, Rocky.” This last part of the conversation took place as we got up and walked to the door. I retrieved my jacket from the chair on which Gertrud had placed it earlier.

  She put her hand on my arm. “Thank you so
much for coming over and hearing my... confessions and being so understanding. You will keep my confidences to yourself, I know.” She leaned forward and kissed each of my cheeks. “I wish with fondness that we could have met under more happy circumstances. Guten Abend, Rocky. Call me if you hear anything of that manuscript. You will find my offer is still open,” Gertrud said softly as she shut the door behind me.

  Having called for a cab to take me back to my hotel, I could only wonder what all that had really been about. Had Gertrud only wanted the manuscript—or something else?

  TORY

  Next morning, I felt as if I’d played a concert of all ten Beethoven sonatas back-to-back. The previous day had been sheer hell and the night not much better.

  When Seidelmann had said someone else would be taking over his position vis-à-vis the court-ordered examination, I hadn’t expected them to send over Attila the Hun.

  From the start, Herr Doktor Gruber, a dried-up old goat with a congenital frown glued on his face, had made it clear whose side he was on. I’m afraid I wasn’t very cooperative, which is probably why his examination stretched out for a full eleven hours, until I was literally falling asleep in my seat.

  He covered most of the same ground Seidelmann had already been over, but from Gruber it felt like prying. He wanted to know about my childhood; how I got on with my parents; how I got on with Rocky; how often we had engaged in the sexual act (his words, not mine) and what sorts of things we got up to. About the only thing he didn’t ask was how many bowel movements I had per day. His trickier questions were repeated with slightly different wording each time, obviously trying to catch me saying something different.

  After that came the really weird stuff like suggesting a bizarre scenario then asking what I would do in that situation. It seemed like every time I answered, his scowl would deepen, and he’d scribble rapidly in his notebook.

  Eventually, he had me escorted, literally stumbling with weariness, back to my room. The bastard didn’t even say goodnight. Just turned on his heel and walked away.

  ***

  I was dressed but still lying on the bed stewing, when someone knocked softly on the door.

  “Come in,” I said.

  The lock snicked back, and in walked Seidelmann. I got a glimpse of Frick—or was it Frack?—locking the door again. All very civilized, all very phony. We had both fallen into the silly game of pretending the locks and bars and guards weren’t really there.

  “Guten Morgen. How do you feel, my dear?” Seidelmann asked as he opened the curtains.

  Sunlight streamed in, but I didn’t look at it for the same reason I tried not to look out the window, knowing that the tantalizing views past the bars would only drive me mad more quickly.

  “Terrible. Why didn’t you warn me about that bastard?”

  “Gruber?” he asked innocently. “I did not think it was up to me to tell you anything. He can be quite charming when he wishes to be.”

  “He has all the charm of a stepped-on cobra. Is he going to bother me again today?”

  “I am afraid so, since they want to proceed with your trial as quickly as possible.”

  I got up and walked over to the sink and looked long and hard into the mirror. The eyes that looked out at me had black smudges the depth of the Grand Canyon underneath them. “I look as bad as I feel,” I said glumly.

  “I have brought you some different clothes to wear today,” Seidelmann said, holding out a plastic bag. Inside were a pair of jeans, sneakers and a sweater. “Your husband said you would like these, and I am hoping that they will make you feel more...normal. I will be back in a few moments with your breakfast. You can use the time to get dressed, ja?”

  The clothes were the right lengths, but far baggier than anything I formerly would have worn. All the better to hide inside. Still, Seidelmann had been right. The jeans and sweater were big improvements over the hospital-issue jumper outfit.

  Breakfast that morning consisted of a rolled crêpe filled with apricot jam, a fat slice of smoked ham, orange juice and coffee. There was even some schlag (whipped cream to anyone not Viennese) to put on the pancake. I ate a few bits of ham and picked at the pancake.

  Seidelmann clucked and shook his head when he returned. “You must start eating, my dear.”

  “To be honest, I don’t really care. Why the fancy breakfast anyway?”

  “Your husband is here to visit, accompanied by your lawyer, Herr Doktor Schultz.”

  “What exactly is he a doctor of?”

  “All lawyers in my country are referred to as Doktor, since they hold the degree of Doctor of Law. Schultz is one of our best. You are in good hands.”

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “I will tell you if you will eat a little more,” Seidelmann answered with a grin.

  Picking up the pancake, I stuffed the entire thing in my mouth, chewed a few times and swallowed. Seidelmann kept a perfectly blank expression. “Okay, I’ve eaten. Tell me.”

  “I will have to tell your lawyer what I think today. They are bringing immense pressure to bear on bringing your case to trial, and he needs to know on what leg he stands if he is to defend.”

  “And what will you say?”

  “I will say that I believe that you honestly cannot remember how Rudolph von Heislinger came to be dead in your bed, that the answer is buried in your deep subconscious, and that with time, we may be able to release the memory. I also feel you are mentally competent to understand the trial proceedings, but that you are suffering from a severe psychological trauma which is manifested primarily by your inability to play and the deep depression from which you are suffering. This may have a lot of bearing on how you will, ah, hold up during your trial.”

  “You’re saying it could drive me around the bend?”

  He had no idea what that meant, so I had to explain.

  “I am very worried about you, yes,” he finally said. “Tell me, how were your dreams last night?”

  I shuddered involuntarily, but answered truthfully for once. “Horrible. I keep having the same one over and over.”

  “Where the baron taunts you because you cannot play?”

  I nodded, considering how much to tell him. The man was offering what could be a life preserver, or just as easily, a block of cement, and the waters were way over my head. “You’d better sit down. This may take me a while.”

  ***

  Ever the gentleman, Rocky had risen when I walked into Seidelmann’s office later that morning. Schultz wasn’t to be seen.

  I stopped a few steps away. “Hi, Rock. Long time, no see.”

  He stared at me for a long time before answering. “How are you holding up? You look...”

  “Like crap? Yeah, I know. I feel like that, too.”

  “Dr. Seidelmann?” Rocky said, turning to him.

  I stood up on tiptoes and gave Rocky a peck on the cheek. “Relax, Rocky, I’m not going to expire before your eyes. This is pretty rough, that’s all.”

  We all sat down. Something new had been added that day. Seidelmann’s door to the hospital corridor stayed open, with Frack leaning his chair against the far wall. Obviously, someone didn’t want us passing notes or something. The place was beginning to feel more and more like prison.

  “So what have you been up to?” I asked.

  “Dr. Seidelmann tells me you know that they’re trying to move up the trial date. I was hoping that Schultz would be here to explain, but he’s in court, trying to at least keep them to the schedule they originally set out —if not delay things. We have all been working on different angles to your defense. What I mean to say is that we want to do the best for you, but that...”

  “Oh hell, Rocky, spit it out! What you want to tell me can’t be worse than what I’ve been imagining myself.”

  “Okay. Since we haven’t been able to come up with any leads on the video Thekla tried to sell me, we have to look at other contingencies.”

  “Such as you’re going to con
vince everyone I’m crazy and can’t be held responsible for my actions?”

  “No! I, ah, we feel that you might have been, ah, provoked into what... happened.” Rocky spelled out all the things he had learned about the bastard baron.

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better? I was collected? Gee, that’s comforting!”

  Rocky said rather angrily, “Well, dammit! I thought maybe knowing this would help you figure out what’s wrong with you.”

  “And I don’t remember because I’m trying to hide from my actions. Is that it? I detect your fine hand in here, Seidelmann.”

  The man moved uncomfortably in his chair. “I did put forth that theory, ja.”

  “That’s the best you two can come up with?” Rocky looked crushed, and I instantly felt awful. He was trying to do his best for me, I knew that for certain. It was just... that morning everything looked blacker than I can ever remember.

  “Dr. Seidelmann was also telling me that he has hopes of finding out more of what happened to you by using hypnosis.”

  “We talked about that earlier back in my room. I’ve been having some really bad dreams.”

  “Look, Tory,” he said, “we have to come up with something or you’re going to prison. It’s that simple and I’m sorry to be that blunt. You’ve got to start helping us figure out what happened.”

  I actually grinned. Rocky said later that it looked more like a death’s head than the woman he fell in love with. Turning to Seidelmann I asked, “Okay. When do we begin?”

  ROCKY

  That morning, when Tory walked into Dr. Seidelmann’s office, I found to my horror that he had not over-exaggerated her deterioration when we’d spoken the day before.

  Trying to keep a lid on the anxiety I was feeling, I carefully explained what we proposed to do. Tory’s responses were listless until the end, when she perked up, but I couldn’t tell if it was done to humour me or because she wanted to take an active part in her own defense. Tory’s mom would have said her mood was “fey”.