Before Helen could answer, Dr. Franks walked in. He bowed his head a little and gave Vebekka his arm.
Torsen waited for the director to come to the phone. He cleared his throat in preparation for his speech, but the rasping voice impatiently asked him what the hell he wanted; this was his holiday, the first he had taken since he had been married... whatever it was had better warrant the interruption of his lunch.
Torsen began his labored explanation of the investigation into the murder of Tommy Kellerman, including the evidence he had gathered and his suspicions. At last he finished, turning to the last page of his copious notebook.
"And that's it?... Sounds as if it's all supposition to me. The woman has an alibi, she has no motive. She's an American citizen. You need more, you need an eyewitness, the one you've got says he saw a man not a woman, you're going on a fucking imprint of a boot! That's your main evidence, isn't it? Have you got the boots? Do you know if they're hers?"
Torsen stuttered out that he required a search warrant to get the boots.
"So you haven't got the boots? As far as I can tell you've got fuck all — and you've seen too many American movies."
Torsen asked the director what his next move should be. He was instructed brusquely to wait. The director told him that the woman was not going anywhere, she was performing at the circus, so until he had more concrete evidence, he should wait.
The director slammed the telephone down. Torsen was about to replace his extension when he heard the click from the switchboard, and knew the operator had been listening. He tore out of his office and stormed into her booth.
"You were listening to a private call! Don't ever do that!!"
She made a great show of removing the wires and plugs.
"I have a call for you, I was simply trying to put it through. This exchange is old, sir, and we need an extension buzzer... would you like me to place the call through to you now, sir? It's the manager of the Grand Hotel."
Torsen snapped at her. "Tell him I am busy, and to call back." He burst into his office, kicked the door shut, and swiped at his desk. His accumulated lists scattered, his notebook fell into the wastebasket, and his report sheets, neatly typed up for the director to inspect on his return, received the dregs of his morning coffee. "Shit!.. Shit!"
He sat in his chair, refusing to clean up the mess he had just created. He knew Ruda Kellerman was guilty of murder, knew it, and he should have taken the bloody boots... He opened his desk drawer, fished around for the free tickets. At least he had got something out of all the hours he had put in. Attached to the tickets was an advertising leaflet, a colored picture of Ruda Kellerman with the lions grouped behind her.
Torsen stared hard at her face, and then grabbed his coat. It was a shot, a long shot, but if he could break Ruda Kellerman's alibi for the night of the murder, then he knew he had enough to charge her, with or without the director's approval. His one hope was that the bus driver who had described the woman passenger the night Kellerman died might recognize her from the leaflet.
The baron slipped into the viewing room, and Helen turned and smiled, patting the seat next to her. Through the glass they could see Vebekka lying on the sofa, eyes closed, a blanket covering her body.
"Rebecca, I want you to tell me about your mother, the way she used to say lie down, lie down and talk to me, so you could feel calm. Do you remember that?"
Franks waited. It had taken much longer this time to put her under, but now she was deeply hypnotized. He leaned forward a fraction. "Tell me about your mother, Rebecca, how she used to encourage you to—"
She interrupted him. Her voice sounded strangely tired.
"Yes, it was in the study, in Papa's study, the big couch, he used to sleep on it, when he was working late."
Franks waited again, then coaxed her to continue. "What did she used to say to you?"
"Close your eyes, listen to my voice..."
"Do you know why she asked you to lie down?"
"Yes, because of my nightmares."
"Did she get you up from your bed to talk to you?"
"No, we called them my nightmares, but I would not be asleep, they happened during the day."
"Can you tell me about one, about what happened?"
"Oh, Papa was playing his records, and... it started, I was very bad, I broke Mama's china, all her precious china, every single piece. It was the music."
"What kind of music would make you break your Mama's china?"
"I remembered it."
"What music was it? Do you know the name?"
"Wagner. He never played it again."
"Why do you think Wagner upset you so much?"
She whispered conspiratorially, "Uncle played it all the time!"
Franks looked to the glass, gave a shrug of his shoulders, and then remembered. "Your Uncle Ulrich?"
"No, no... Uncle, Uncle! My papa, papa!"
She tugged at the blanket, very distressed. Franks waited, and then gently told her to listen to her mama's voice, to stay calm. She sighed deeply. Franks leaned forward and checked her pulse. "Can you hear me, Rebecca?"
"Yes." She sounded very distant, very quiet.
"What did your mama mean when she said put her in the cupboard, and throw away the key?"
"Me."
Franks asked if Rebecca was in the cupboard. She grew agitated again. "No, it was my other me."
"You mean the one who broke your mama's china?"
"Yes, put her in the cupboard, lock away the key, forget her, forget the bad Rebecca, she was a bad girl, she did bad things."
"Is Rebecca locked up, is Rebecca in the trunk with chains on?"
She started to struggle. Again he told her to listen to her mama's voice, to stay calm. Again she calmed down, and he checked her pulse. She was going deeper and deeper.
"What is it in the trunk that frightens you so much?"
Her face crumpled like a child's as she started to cry; kindly he repeated his question again. She tossed and turned, and mumbled something that he didn't understand. He asked again, and this time the pitch of her voice was higher.
"My sister's in there."
"Why is that so bad?"
"Because I ate her."
"You hate your sister?"
"No, no, I ate her."
She twisted her body, squirming, and then she began to sob, and her words tumbled out... She had eaten her sister, they told her she had eaten her, that was why she was fat, she had eaten her alive.
Franks told her again to listen to the calming voice of her mama, and slowly she rested, her head leaning forward.
"But you know that is impossible, people don't eat each other."
Her voice was strong, it took him by surprise.
"Hah! You don't know, you don't know... they stack the babies up, big piles of babies, and they put them in the ovens to eat them. Hah! See, you don't know...!"
"Did you see that, Rebecca?"
"Yes."
"And this person, this person inside you, did she see that?"
"Yes, we see it, we see it."
Franks looked to the two-way mirror, and gave a small shake of his head. "Does this person..."
"Sister, she is my sister."
"Ah, yes, she is your sister?"
"Yes!.. Yes!"
"And she is inside you because you think you have eaten her?"
u Yes. Yes
"Does she have a name?"
"Yes... Yes!"
"Will you tell me her name?"
Vebekka's face contorted with pain. "Ruda..."
Franks looked toward the one-way glass. Both Helen and the baron stared back at him though Franks couldn't see them. Helen jumped up and left the room. She called Maja, asking her to give a message to Franks. Maja asked her to write it down, and then she put her fingers to her lips and entered the study area.