Horst Cremer couldn't provide any information about the car either. No one had mentioned a make. She'd got into it withJohnny, that was all. Horsti had begun by drowning his sorrows in drink. Until the middle of June he wavered between despair and the hope that Cora would make it up with him. Johnny was notorious for coming to Buchholz for one reason only: to pick up girls.
Horsti spent every weekend at the Aladdin and kept watch on her parents' house night after night. One Sunday at the end of June he took the plunge. Instead of hanging around on the street corner he rang the doorbell.
"It was answered by an unkempt old scarecrow of a woman," he told Grovian. "I asked for Cora, and she said: `There isn't any Cora in this house, not any more. My daughter has disappeared.' I couldn't believe my ears."
Grovian couldn't either. Disappeared? At the end of June, when her aunt and the neighbour were convinced that Cora had remained at her dying sister's bedside until 16 August?
However, Grit Adigar and Margret Rosch suddenly weren't so sure any more. After what her daughter had said, Grit Adigar started backtracking. She hadn't actually set eyes on Cora between May and August. It was odd, now she came to think of it. Wilhelm seemed to have taken a sudden dislike to her popping in, but she hadn't thought twice about it when he shooed her into the kitchen. She'd believed him when lie gestured at the ceiling with a mournful expression and murmured: "Cora never stirs from her side." Why should Wilhelm have been lying?
Margret asked herself the same question. If Cora had already disappeared on 16 May, as Grovian surmised, why had Wilhelm merely spoken of her getting into bad company when he called his sister the following day?
Wilhelm was past being consulted, so Grovian had tried his luck with Elsbeth Rosch. Margret, who had moved into the house after her brother's death, reluctantly left them to it in the kitchen. Elsbeth informed him that Magdalena was sitting at the Almighty's feet, her beauty blossoming afresh now that every stain and every sinful thought had been eradicated from her earthly body.
It didn't make much sense. He thought at first that Elsbeth had forgotten her elder daughter, but then she told him about the satanic creature who had duped them all. Who had frequented the temples of sin instead of communing with God. Who had left her ailing sister to her fate because she was dazzled by fleshly desires. Exactly when the satanic creature had turned her back on her parental home, Elsbeth didn't know
He could forget her blathering. The other two statements were more productive, though not, unfortunately, from an evidential point of view All that Horst Cremer had to offer was indirect hearsay. He couldn't even recall who had informed him of Cora's breach of faith. As for Melanie Adigar, she hadn't seen whether Cora had left the Aladdin alone or accompanied byJohnny, his fat little friend and the unknown girl.
She seemed glad that Grovian had spoken to her former boyfriend. "How is he?" she asked in a voice fraught with melancholy. "What's he doing these days? Is he married?"
She listened to what he had to say, wondered if Horsti had asked after her and then, in her turn, started to talk about those nights at the Aladdin. How she used sometimes to dance and sometimes to stand on the sidelines. She laughed softly. "Horsti was a nice boy. My conscience often pricked me because I only used him to keep the others at bay. I was waiting for the right one to come along. Mean of me, wasn't it?"
Grovian merely shrugged and let her run on. He cudgelled his brains for a way of skirting the reef named Magdalena and steering for 16 May all the same. Her time at the Aladdin and the brief scene in the car park - that was all he wanted to talk to her about. The last thing he wanted was to drive her back behind her wall as he had the last time they spoke, when he'd watched her shaking her head for a full fifteen minutes before he grasped that she'd switched off.
He had to know the sequel to her meeting with Johnny. There must have been one. Johnny wasJohannes = Hans Bockel, that was the only possibility. Bockel landed the girls, had his fun with them and made sure his friends got their share. And if Cora had been treated like the girl whose sobs Melanie Adigar had heard outside the ladies', it all made sense.
Her infatuation had put her at the mercy of two other men. Even if the fat boy had also had a girl with him that night, there was still Georg Frankenberg. And however studious and serious Frankie may have been, many another young man had lost control of himself before him. It only remained to prove that his arm had not been broken on 16 May, but somewhat later.
It hadn't taken much imagination to work out how the injury was sustained, just a few sleepless nights in which Grovian had pictured a young man coming home, beside himself with fear, and telling his father about a dead girl, possibly two. His father calms him down and asks a few questions. He learns that no one saw his son with the girls, and that it happened a long way from home. "Don't worry, my boy, we'll sort it out. You won't feel a thing, I'll give you a local anaesthetic beforehand."
Grovian and his thoughts were far away in Frankfurt, in the Aladdin and various other places, but not really with her. However, he didn't appear to have missed anything of importance. She was still talking about Horsti, who had really ceased to matter.
She sighed. "I hope he's happily married, I really do. He deserves it. He always tried to do the right thing by me. He gave me a cassette for my birthday, one he'd recorded himself. By Queen. We already had it, but his recording was much better, no background hiss at all. `We Are the Champions' and `Bohemian Rhapsody'. Magdalena was so mad about them, she listened to nothing else for a week. She adored Freddie Mercury's voice, and now he's dead too, long dead. My God, why are they all dead?"
She clapped a hand over her mouth, abruptly wide-eyed with horror. "I didn't kill him too, did I? I couldn't have, he was ill - very ill. I think I read that somewhere."
Grovian had missed the connection; he thought she was still talking about Horst Cremer. Seeing her horrified expression, he hastened to reassure her. "No, don't worry, Frau Bender, he's in the best of health. His wife is expecting a baby soon, and he's so looking forward to it. He couldn't be better, honestly. He's opened a small service station."
"You're lying," she said. She bit her lip and shook her head. As she did so, a picture took shape in her mind.
She forgot about the chief. All her attention was focused on the little alarm clock on the bedside table. She could see it clearly. The hands were registering a few minutes past eleven.
Magdalena hadn't heard her coming up the stairs because she had the Walkman plugged into both ears and the volume turned up as high as it would go. She sat up with a look of mingled surprise and satisfaction. "You're very punctual. Nothing doing at the disco?"
She went over to the bed, brushed a long strand of hair out of Magdalena's eyes and kissed her on the cheek. "No, it was a dead loss. I didn't feel like hanging around any longer. I'd sooner be here with you."
Freddie Mercury's distorted voice was issuing from the tiny earpieces in Magdalena's hand. "Bohemian Rhapsody". "Is this the real life?" No, that wasn't it, that was a lie. "I've been tarting for you for years; we'll soon have enough money." No, we won't, because stealing takes too long. "I've given my boyfriend the push - he kept bugging me with his stupid questions - but I've already got another. His name is Horst, a really cool type." Crap! A little runt everyone laughs at. "I'd sooner be here with you." The hell I would!
I'd like to have stayed. Johnny was there. I've never told you about him, and I'm not going to now Johnny belongs to me alone. He's young and strong and so handsome, you've never seen anyone like him outside a movie magazine. He looks like the archangel in Mother's Bible. And I touched him, his shoulders, his face. I had my arms around his waist and his hands on the back of my neck.
Her hand was still resting on Magdalena's head. She stroked her sister's smooth cheek, traced the outlines of her lips. "Do you need to go before I get into bed?"
Magdalena shook her head. She got up off the edge of the bed.
"Then I'll go and get the rest of the bubbly."
The bottle was nearly full. They'd only had a sip or two at eight. Magdalena had said she didn't like it, and she herself had been careful because Magdalena had badgered her into driving to the Aladdin. She was grateful now for Magdalena's persistence.
Magdalena, who was sitting up against her pillows when she returned with the bottle and two glasses, greeted her with an appraising smile. "You're in an odd mood. Anything wrong?"
"No. Why should it be?" I'm eating my heart out, that's what's wrong. I'd been wanting him to speak to me for so long -just that, nothing more - and tonight he actually touched me. We danced together, and I wanted him to go outside with me, to make love to me. He was excited, I could feel it while we were dancing. It almost broke me up when I had to go. Next week he won't even recognize me. I should have stayed with him. Some opportunities only come once, and I only got lucky this time because he was on his own and feeling bored, I realize that. And now I've squandered my only chance. But I promised I wouldn't stay too long.
I hate you sometimes! And now I hate you even more than I did to begin with. It isn't a child's hatred any more: it's the hatred of a woman who's been cheated out of her life. If it weren't for you I'd be free. I wouldn't have had to hang around in the Aladdin with that nerd Horsti for the past two years. Everyone laughs at me. I'm a figure of fun. Cora doesn't stand there praying in the playground any more, she hangs around in the Aladdin with her nerdy boyfriend. She doesn't have time for a real man; she's too busy with a sister who's eating her life away.
But tonight I showed them all - all the ones that matter. Melanie and her gang were there. You've never met Melanie. We chatted together for a little. Melanie asked where Horsti was. "Where did you leave that Tarzan of yours?"
`At home pumping iron," I told her. Just as I was about to finish my drink and drive home, they came in. Johnny and his friend.
Perhaps I ought to tell you about him. Everything, every detail, just so you see I'm not letting you destroy me and that I can still have normal feelings. Want to hear? They came in, sat down at a table, looked around and said something to each other. I could guess what: no action tonight - we'd better go somewhere else.
But then the fat boy saw a girl. He sees one every time, but he never gets lucky. I don't know how many times I've seen him sent off with a flea in his ear. I thought it would be the same this time. He got up from the table and went over to her. Surprise, surprise! She actually went onto the dance floor with him.
Johnny was sitting at the table on his own. He was bored, I could tell. You're out of luck tonight, I thought. Then he looked over at me and smiled. I don't know if I smiled back. At that moment I felt as if my face had gone to sleep and my heart had turned to water.
Then he got up and came over to me. Do you know what he said? "Left your steady at home to give another poor guy a chance?"
I couldn't believe it: he asked if I'd like to dance. Would I! While we were dancing he told me the only reason he'd never dared to speak to me was that Horsti was always with me. He held me so tight, I couldn't help thinking of the candle. It isn't as thick as what I could feel.
I felt Johnny's lips on my forehead and waited for him to kiss me, but he only asked if I'd care to go somewhere else with him and his friend. With him alone I'd have gone like a shot - you'd have had to wait a bit longer for me. But with his friend? They're a double act, those two, someone told me once, and I could guess what she meant. I don't think the girl the fat boy was dancing with wanted to go with them either, not when she'd only just met him. I reckoned she was dancing with him only as a way of getting to know Johnny.
So I said: "I'd like to, but it's no good, I can't stay out too long. My sister's alone in the house."
He looked surprised. "How old is she?"
"Eighteen," I said. "Today is her birthday."
He laughed. "Why is she at home, then? Why didn't she come too?"
"She wasn't feeling too good."
He was all for my staying and coming with them - with him alone, if necessary. He glanced across at the fat boy. "Tiger's busy. I'm sure he won't mind us leaving him alone for a while."
I thought it was funny, him calling his friend Tiger. He looked more like a pink piglet.
"Can't you call your parents?"Johnny said. "Can't you tell them about the party and ask them to babysit for once?"
"Our parents are dead," I told him.
They are too. We never had any parents, just ourselves, and since I'm the older and stronger of us I have to look after you. So I left, although it nearly killed me. It was like ripping out my heart. Johnny was going to tell me his real name if I stayed. He begged and pleaded: just another half-hour, just one more dance. He went out to the car park with me, and before I got into the car he kissed me at last. It was different from kissing Horsti. He'd been drinking whisky and Coke. Maybe that was it. Sweet as honey, it was. I could have stood with him like that for hours, and it only lasted a second or two.
He let go of me and said: "Sing your sister a lullaby and then come back, won't you? I'll be waiting for you." He stood there and waved me goodbye as I drove off. And I thought I might really go back when you'd gone to sleep. Sing your sister a lullaby ...
Just a momentary slip, and that was that. Rudolf Grovian had scarcely uttered the name Magdalena when she switched off. He watched her go over to the bed and sit down sideways on, facing the pillow She stroked the crumpled pillowslip with one hand, her change of expression clearly conveying that she wasn't with him any more.
He hoped for some remark, even a few muttered words, that would enable him to tell what was going through her mind at that moment, but she didn't do him that favour. As for reading the look on her face ... It was eloquent of disgust and repugnance. She gulped again and again, almost as if she were fighting back an urge to vomit.
Minutes went by. He didn't dare break the silence - heaven alone knew where in her memories he would have caught her. Then, all at once, she surfaced again. She drew a hand across her forehead. "I drove home," she said, loud and clear.
He breathed a sigh of relief. "Of course you did, Frau Bender," he said hastily.
"I didn't abandon Magdalena."
Not a word about Magdalena! After what had happened at their last interview, he was only too glad to leave the subject of her sister to Professor Burthe. "Of course not, Frau Bender. But we aren't talking about Magdalena, only about Horsti. He asked after you several times when you stopped going to the Aladdin."
She merely stared at him with a puzzled, hesitant expression. Uncertain if she was still capable of following him, he went on slowly: "That was in June, so you must still have been living at home. Or had you left already?"
Of course she had, he would have staked his life on it. She had vanished in May, not in August, and for some undiscoverable reason her father had said ... Or the others had thought it was better to locate her at Magdalena's bedside until they knew for certain what had happened to her.
By now he could play the lying game as well as her, her aunt and Grit Adigar, but she didn't notice. "Horst spoke to your father on one occasion. Your father told him you wanted nothing more to do with him. And that was in June."
He didn't know how he'd expected her to react. Somehow, anyway, and she did: she bowed her head and murmured: "No, I drove home."
Something in her tone puzzled him. He trod even more cautiously.
"Of course you did. But you were with Johnny one time?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember when that was?"
"Yes, I remember now It was on Magdalena's birthday. But I drove home."
No, you didn't, he thought. "Of course, Frau Bender," he said. "I don't doubt that for a moment. Do you remember the night?"
"Yes, perfectly, it's just come back to me. I drove home shortly before eleven."
He was getting nowhere like this. He tried another tack. "Why did you go home?"
"Because I'd promised Magdalena. Besides, I was afraid Tiger would come too. The girl cer
tainly wouldn't have, she'd only just met him."
The girl! He could have whooped with delight. All right, carry on, tell me, take it slowly and carefully. "Who was she, Fran Bender?"
"I don't know."
Okay, nor did anyone else. No wonder there hadn't been a missing persons report in Buchholz at the time in question. Heaven alone knew where the poor creature had come from. Back to the crucial point:
"Was Frankie there too?"
She looked at her hands, spread her fingers, rubbed her nails. Her manner reminded him involuntarily of a difficult child. "Don't you remember, Frau Bender?"
"Yes, I remember. He wasn't there. I never saw him."
He drew a deep breath and decided on a frontal attack. "Yes, Frau Bender, you did see him. Once, in the cellar, that night. But it was after eleven, I know that for a fact. If you drove home at eleven you must have driven back again. I can well understand your doing so. I would have returned to the Aladdin in your place. You were very taken with Johnny and wanted to be with him. That was quite natural. Any normal girl would have done the same, Frau Bender. And you were a normal girl, weren't you? You weren't crazy. DitchingJohnny and going home - that would have been crazy."
He'd almost said "going home to sit with your invalid sister", but he stopped himself just in time. With a trace of relief, he went on: "That night you got into a car with Johnny, the fat boy and another girl; I've got witnesses. Frankie must already have been in the cellar when you got there with the others."
"I don't know" She plucked at her fingernails, sounding close to tears. "I only know I drove home at eleven. And then it was October. I don't know how it happened."
Her fingers entwined themselves, rubbing, twisting and kneading themselves together as if her hands were her only means of support. A hint of panic came into her voice. Her eyes implored belief and understanding.
The Sinner Page 29