At this moment in his ruminations, Gross arrived at the restaurant. Red-faced and somewhat out of breath.
‘We must be off, Werthen. Things draw to a close.’
Werthen barely had time to leave the proper change for his slight repast before Gross was out the doors of the restaurant.
‘Gross, I have startling news,’ he said, finally catching him up.
‘I too, Werthen. But you first, please.’
As they kept up a brisk pace, Werthen explained his meeting with Kulowski and the man’s mention of having seen Frau Steinwitz at the scene of the crime at the Rathaus. He also voiced his concerns about the veracity of such a claim.
‘There is something in favor of the Kulowski story, though,’ Werthen added. ‘Now that I think of it, both times the thug struck followed close upon a visit not only to the Rathaus, but also to Frau Steinwitz. Berthe and I postulated that Frau Steinwitz would have had no time to organize the first attack. But there was something we neglected. What if this thug works for her and was thus already at her apartment the day I was attacked? And then there is the fact of her visit to my law office the day after that initial attack. It was as if she was checking to see if her warning salvo had put me off the investigation.’
‘Bravo, Werthen. Exactly so. I received partial confirmation of these new suspicions this morning from Frau Czerny at Zeltgasse.’
Gross now shared his newly won information, as well.
‘I was late for our meeting as I stopped off at the telephone exchange to place two calls. The Portier at the Zeltgasse was good enough to supply me with the telephone number of the domestics firm that employs Frau Novatny. They confirm that the lady has been seriously ill for the last two weeks and in hospital. Thus, hers could not have been the voice Frau Czerny heard at Herr Praetor’s flat that night.’
He looked rather pleased with himself.
‘You mentioned two calls,’ Werthen reminded him.
‘Yes. I was just getting to that. The second was a trunk call to my laboratory assistants in Czernowitz. The long-distance lines only opened this year via Budapest. I can assure you I do not wish to spend more time in the confinement of a telephone cubicle. After a half-hour of attempts, I was finally put through to my chief assistant, Nagl. Bright young lad.’
A twinkle in the man’s eye made Werthen expectant. ‘And what did you learn?’
‘I put a simple question to the lad, for I know they have not yet had time to analyze the entire ribbon from Henricus Praetor’s typewriting machine. One name only I was seeking.’
‘Frau Steinwitz?’
A nod from the criminologist. ‘Nagl supplied me with the desired outcome. Happily, the ribbon was quite new and Nagl and his team did not have to analyze the entire length of it. They had, in fact, already come upon the name of Frau Steinwitz. They are attempting to put together the message accompanying this name, but one other bit of information has already been culled. A date was clearly typed in close proximity to the name. February fifteenth.’
The date was not lost on Werthen. ‘The night Praetor was shot,’ he said.
They were shown into the parlor, and the maid told them the mistress was still at table.
Werthen took a seat on the settee, but Gross wandered about the room, picking up silver-framed photos off a cherry wood side table, examining a vase of hothouse tulips, and then meandered off to the hall. In search of the facilities? Werthen dared not ask.
After a few more moments, Gross came back into the sitting room, smiling to himself. Werthen had no chance to ask about his discoveries, for at that instant Frau Steinwitz breezed into the room, dressed in a no-frills house dress.
Werthen stood as she entered; Gross was already standing.
‘I thought I told you, Advokat, that I no longer have need of your services.’
‘Yes, Frau Steinwitz. You made that very clear.’
She tilted her head an inch or two to the left as if to say, ‘Well, then?’
‘We have come about a related matter, Frau Steinwitz,’ Gross said. ‘To wit, what brought you to Herr Praetor’s apartment the night of February fifteenth?’
Werthen had to hand it to her. She did not flinch. Not even so much as a blink. It was as if she were expecting this visit. Had Lueger let her know he could no longer protect her?
‘Is that any of your business?’ she asked, still cool and in control.
‘I notice that you have a fine collection of pistols,’ Gross said, suddenly changing the subject.
‘What are you prattling on about?’
‘Among them is a very nice piece. A sample of one of the new Roth-Sauer automatics, in point of fact. And the space next to it looks to have once contained another weapon but is now empty. A matching automatic perhaps?’
Still she did not respond, but no longer did she wear such a haughty countenance.
‘I observe also a bevy of ribbons in those same glass cases,’ Gross said. ‘Forgive the prattling, but I notice they were won by you, Frau Steinwitz. You are no stranger to guns?’
‘I come from a military family,’ she said in a voice much subdued in tone.
‘Tell me, Frau Steinwitz,’ Gross pushed on, ‘why did you kill your husband and Herr Praetor?’
The question shocked Werthen; Frau Steinwitz seemed to crumble once it was put to her.
‘I didn’t want to,’ she said, tears beginning to form. She cupped her hands around her mouth and slumped down on to the settee recently vacated by Werthen.
‘You admit it, then,’ Gross said.
She waved a dismissive hand at the question. ‘They shamed me. Shamed the Gutrum name.’
‘Because they were ready to tell the public about the Vienna Woods plot?’ Werthen said in disbelief.
‘Shame,’ she said. ‘Humiliation. Do you know what it feels like to be betrayed, gentlemen?’
Neither Werthen nor Gross spoke for an instant. Frau Steinwitz pulled a linen handkerchief out of a sleeve of the smock and dried her eyes. She forced herself to sit up straight like a subaltern coming to attention and breathed in deeply to control her emotions.
‘He was going to leave me. Me and the children, for that, that. . creature.’
‘You mean Herr Praetor.’
‘Reinhold said he was in love with him. It was awful. I could not let that happen to us. To the children. To the good name of Gutrum.’
Before Werthen had a chance to digest this shocking revelation, a commanding, gravelly voice sounded from the doorway to the sitting room.
‘Valerie.’
An elderly gentleman stood there with firm dignity, dressed in a wool suit, but carrying himself as if he were in cavalry uniform.
‘What are these men doing here?’
‘Colonel Gutrum?’ Werthen asked. He had not heard an arrival and assumed that the father had already been at the flat, perhaps lunching with his daughter.
‘It is nothing, Father.’
‘You look distressed. Are they bothering you?’
She began crying again.
The colonel looked at them with savage eyes. Old he might be, but the pistol he now drew from his suit coat pocket was quite new and appeared to be in fine working order.
‘I want the pair of you out of here.’
Gross made to speak to the man.
‘Now!’ He cocked the pistol.
‘I assure you, Colonel Gutrum,’ Werthen said as he moved to the door, ‘we have come here only to ascertain the truth of your son-in-law’s death. Your daughter says she killed him. A matter of honor.’
The old man seemed not to listen or not to care. He pursed his lips and his leathery cheeks twitched as he worked his jaw muscles.
‘Both of you must be gone in one minute or I will not answer for my actions.’
Gross and Werthen moved quickly down the hallway, the colonel following them with the pistol at their backs. Out on the landing, the apartment door closed heavily behind them, echoing in the vast, empty hallway.