Still standing at the old woman’s door, he checked his watch. Eleven thirty already. He had arranged to meet with Werthen following the funeral of the unfortunate office boy. Just a slip of a youth. Tragic, really, but not an unexpected outcome for a life lived so carelessly. Gross could not understand the younger generation. All of them, including his own son, were thoughtless and irresponsible in his book. They refused to take seriously the old values of respect and hard work. What invidious societal deformations would take place in this new century Gross did not want to contemplate.
He let out a grunt of disapproval at these thoughts just as the door to Frau Czerny’s flat opened.
‘What are you doing making rude noises outside my door?’ The woman was of a certain age, to be sure, but hardly the meek little sparrow one might think of as elderly; rather she was large and florid of complexion, wearing a white housecoat and brandishing a feather duster like a saber directed at Gross’s head.
‘Frau Czerny?’
‘Who wants to know?’
He extracted a professional card from the leather case he carried and handed it to her. She held the card out at arm’s length, squinting at it.
‘Criminalist. What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I am assisting the police in the investigation of Herr Praetor’s death,’ Gross said, enlarging somewhat on the truth.
‘Then you know what I told them.’ She made to close the door.
‘Dear lady,’ Gross quickly added. ‘From long years of study, I understand that sometimes it is not what one remembers, but rather what one is asked that matters.’
‘No. What matters now is that I have an apartment to clean. Wednesdays are cleaning day.’
‘Admirable that you do your own housecleaning, dear lady.’
This faint compliment made her pause. ‘Not always so, I can assure you. Frau Novatny is my cleaning lady. But she has been sick lately. Comes from working nights, I suppose.’
Gross was about to let this remark go, but instinct made him pursue it, for there was an ironic edge to the comment that intrigued him.
‘A cleaning lady working at night? For offices?’
She shook her head, obviously disgusted at what she took to be his complete lack of understanding.
‘How should I know that? No, not offices. Here, in this apartment house. All very well for her to work nights, but the days she is supposed to come to me she is suddenly sick.’
Gross was no longer intrigued. So much for his instincts. He was about to throw a question at her regarding any persons, known or unknown, who might have been at the apartment house the night of Praetor’s death. Not a visitor but a person. The distinction mattered, for witnesses often overlooked the obvious: a mail delivery, the gas man come to check the meters, someone’s personal help. But suddenly she squinted hard at him.
‘Well, I’ll be. I see what you mean.’
‘Madam?’
‘I mean about it mattering what one is asked. Aren’t you a clever one? Let us hope your wife thinks so at least.’ A lascivious wink from the old woman made him almost blush.
Gross was completely at sea. ‘I cannot see what my wife has to do with anything,’ he protested.
‘Don’t you? Well, it’s Frau Novatny, isn’t it? I heard her the very night of Herr Praetor’s death. Said she was too sick to come to me on the Wednesday and then here she was the next night.’
‘You did not report this to the police, did you?’
She shook her head. ‘I hardly thought of it. Herr Praetor used her services from time to time.’
‘You are sure it was Frau Novatny here that night? You saw her?’
‘No, of course not. But I heard voices from Herr Praetor’s apartment when I passed it that evening.’
She did not mention it, but it was clear Frau Czerny passed the other apartment on a trip to the Clo, or communal toilet. Like most apartments in Vienna, major plumbing was reserved for common areas in the hallway of each floor.
‘And you recognized her voice?’
‘It had to be her,’ Frau Czerny said. ‘After all, Herr Praetor was not the sort of man to have female guests, that I know.’
‘So it was a woman’s voice you heard and you simply assumed it was Frau Novatny?’
‘Yes. I suppose so.’
‘Frau Czerny, I thank you. You have been more helpful than you can imagine. This voice you heard. How close was it in time to when you heard the shot?’
‘How am I to know that?’
‘It is important, dear lady. No one will blame you for not recalling this vital fact before.’
‘Blame? I should hope not. Now I am finished with talking. I have cleaning to do.’
This time she shut the door before Gross had a chance to offer further flattery.
Werthen was at the Ritterhof at twelve thirty as scheduled, eager to share his new information with Gross, but in the event he had to wait another fifteen minutes before his colleague arrived. Time enough, despite his excitement, to dispose of a bowl of Leberknodel soup, one of the specialties of the house, and to figure out the motives of Herr Kulowski — and ultimately Mayor Lueger — in supplying the information regarding Frau Steinwitz. It was clear Kulowski had not made a simple slip of the tongue, but had, in fact, attended the funeral in order to impart this very piece of information. But why?
By the time he had finished the nicely warm bowl of soup, Werthen had come up with several plausible reasons. First, it was obvious that his and Gross’s interest in the Vienna Woods scheme and in the deaths of Steinwitz and Praetor had rattled Lueger. He was eager, as Gross had pointed out yesterday, to deflect suspicion from himself for these murders. That much was patently clear. So, perhaps Lueger simply invented the presence of Frau Steinwitz at the scene of the crime to divert Werthen and Gross in their investigation. Or perhaps she really had been at the Rathaus that day. But why (if indeed Kulowski had actually seen the lady leaving the scene of her husband’s death) had Lueger protected her in the first place? To that, one could answer that Steinwitz’s death was put down to suicide initially and Frau Steinwitz’s presence would then be in no way unusual. However, once he, Werthen, and Gross had begun to investigate, why protect her? Two reasons presented themselves to Werthen. First was simple gratitude. If Lueger believed the woman had killed her husband, would he not be happy to simply have this nettlesome problem — a councilman with a conscience — taken care of for him? Or perhaps Lueger had thought to cash in this favor later with Frau Steinwitz’s powerful father. After all, if Lueger really did have imperial pretensions, then he would need the army in back of him in a standoff with Franz Josef. In this scenario, knowing what he knew about Frau Steinwitz provided Lueger with powerful political capital. Now, however, with a net closing around the killer of Steinwitz and Praetor, Lueger simply cut her loose to keep prying eyes off his business.
One thing supported this last theory. Kulowski’s absolute befuddlement at the mention of the attack yesterday. Werthen did not think the man was acting. So if Kulowski’s tale could be trusted, if Frau Steinwitz had been to see her husband the day of his death, did that make Frau Steinwitz the killer? Perhaps she merely found him dead and left in a panic. But why never mention that fact to the police?
Werthen knew there were many things people did not want to offer up to the police, who were paid to be suspicious. Yet she never mentioned it to him either when she was supposedly attempting to hire him for protection. Did that make her guilty of murdering her own husband?
And then another and much more unnerving thought: If she killed her husband, did she also kill Praetor? But why?
No. He was running much too far ahead of himself. This made no sense. The only ones who stood to gain from Steinwitz’s death would be those involved in the Vienna Woods plan.