Don't Forget Me

by B C Schiller

  ‘Has he been away on a business trip?’ asked Levi.

  ‘No, he’s been with his mistress,’ Theresa said and turned away. ‘He always comes back in the mornings,’ she whispered, as though to herself.

  ‘Why is it that you could never love your daughter?’ asked Olivia. ‘Mothers love their children normally.’

  ‘Is this turning into a therapy session?’ Theresa turned the stem of the glass between her fingers. ‘Lisa destroyed my life. I wanted a career, but Richard insisted I stay at home while she was little because you can’t combine childcare with being an actor.’

  ‘But you could have tried,’ Olivia suggested. ‘I’m sure you could have afforded a nanny?’

  ‘Of course, but Richard was against it. He didn’t want strangers living in the house. He fears losing control. You don’t know my husband – everything must go his way; he wants total power. He tried imposing that on Lisa too, but my daughter was stronger than me. She resisted him. She didn’t agree with his ideas of discipline and obedience, so he shuffled her off to the clinic.’ Theresa fell silent and pulled her kaftan tighter around her body. ‘I’ve talked to you for long enough now. Sorry if I bored you with my story.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Olivia countered. All of a sudden, she was seeing Theresa in a different light. The arrogant actor was really a deeply insecure woman who was being terrorised by her husband. ‘Maybe you’d like to talk to someone about this,’ she suggested.

  ‘Good advice, but I’m not in need of a psychiatrist at this precise moment,’ Theresa said coldly. ‘Maybe one day the right time will come and I’ll tell my story,’ she added, ‘but now you’ll have to forgive me. I have more important things to do than chat with you.’ Theresa slipped straight back into the role of arrogant actor.

  ‘Thank you for your time, Frau Manz. We’ll find our own way out.’ Levi gave Theresa a friendly nod and took Olivia’s arm.

  Shortly before the huge entrance door they heard Theresa say behind them, ‘That pendant is an art deco piece, I’m sure of it. Try Gina’s Jewellery Workshop in the Eighth District. Gina’s a very talented jewellery designer – she knows many artists and their respective dealers. I’m sure she’d be able to help you with this.’

  35

  LISA’S DIARY

  I’m to meet the doctor again today.

  ‘Take your clothes off,’ he says, and the game starts all over again. It lasts a long time, until I develop some feelings. His hand grabs me between my legs, and he’s filming my face.

  ‘What are you feeling? Describe the thoughts going through your head.’

  ‘I want this to stop,’ I say and imagine what it’s like to be dead.

  How lovely it must be to lie in a coffin, in deep, deep silence. No hands to touch me, no sounds. Black earth surrounding me. I will sleep and wake up again in an unknown country.

  ‘That’s not good enough.’ His voice sounds regretful. ‘You know I’m only trying to help you. Everything I’m doing is in your best interests. I like you.’

  ‘Then stop.’

  ‘And what do I get if I close your case?’ he asks, a subtle threat in his voice.

  A ray of light in the darkest night. It’s my chance, and I have to take it.

  ‘I won’t tell anyone at home,’ I whisper, and realise immediately that this is the wrong answer. The doctor grins and grabs me by the neck.

  ‘Are you threatening me?’ he asks, and I feel his breath on my face. ‘I’m going to have to punish you for that.’

  He grabs me harder and presses me down on the chair, binding me to the armrests with the leather straps so I can’t move. Then he takes a syringe from the table and slowly walks towards me before jabbing it into my arm. A dangerous tiredness washes over me, then he loosens the straps and everything becomes blurred. Something is happening to me, but I have no idea what it is.

  When it’s over and I’m back in my sweatshirt and joggers, I stay several more minutes in the doctor’s room. He silently writes his notes, then looks at me for a long time.

  ‘Have you been having sexual fantasies again, Lisa?’

  ‘Those weren’t fantasies. They were real,’ I say and feel the tears burning in my eyes. ‘What have you done to me, you bastard?’ I shout at him, louder and louder. I jump up and launch myself across the desk, but the doctor ducks to the side. My fists punch at thin air.

  ‘Still so aggressive,’ he says, shaking his head.

  He presses a button. Seconds later two nurses enter the room and take me between them. Outside is a man I’ve never seen before.

  ‘This is Lisa,’ the doctor says to the man. ‘Begin the behavioural therapy sessions with her.’

  ‘Will you participate?’ the man asks.

  ‘I’ll check on her progress now and then.’

  ‘Are you a doctor?’ I ask the man.

  ‘I’m still a student. I’m doing my traineeship here,’ he answers. ‘Let’s take you to your room.’

  Slowly we walk along the corridor. There’s soft, calming music coming from the loudspeakers, and together with the hospital smells of antiseptic and cleanliness here, it’s making me sleepy.

  ‘That doctor always make me undress,’ I whisper when we’re back in my room.

  ‘Tell me more about it.’ The student takes a black notebook from his pocket and starts writing. I tell him everything about the doctor and his games. The student patiently writes it all down.

  ‘Do you believe me?’ I say as I sink back on my bed, exhausted.

  ‘Of course I believe you.’ The student pats my arm and looks at me sympathetically. ‘Tomorrow we’ll start working together, so you’ll be able to stand up to the doctor.’

  But the student is lying.

  During the night the doctor comes into my room to ask how I’m feeling.

  ‘What did you tell the student, Lisa?’ he asks, pushing up my nightie. ‘Why aren’t you wearing any knickers?’ He kneads my buttocks. ‘You’ll catch a cold.’

  The student comes every day now and I tell him what happens in the night with the doctor. He writes everything down in his notebook, then starts asking questions about my parents and why I’m always so aggressive.

  ‘Let’s play a game,’ he says one day.

  He takes two cushions and puts them on the two chairs in my room.

  ‘Imagine those two cushions are your parents,’ he says. ‘Now tell them everything you don’t like about them.’

  It takes a while, but then the words come spewing out of my mouth. The cushions are real people – they become Mama and Papa. Towards the end I’m flinging myself at them, thumping them with both fists. Then he takes me in his strong arms and holds me very tight.

  It feels good, to be held like that. I feel safe with the student.

  36

  They found Gina’s Jewellery Workshop in a former printing office, tucked down a quiet side street in the Eighth District. Levi pulled up in the Saab right outside.

  ‘Seems pretty rundown around here for a jeweller’s workshop,’ Levi said. Inside, extravagant pieces of jewellery were mounted on velvet-covered printing rollers and in lettering cases to enhance their appearance.

  ‘What can I do for you?’ The woman’s hair was dyed a shocking shade of red.

  ‘A customer of yours, Theresa Manz, sent us here,’ Levi said, introducing Olivia and himself.

  ‘Oh, the lovely, ever-so-sensitive Theresa.’ Olivia was not entirely sure whether Gina was being ironic. ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘Have you ever come across this piece?’ Olivia pulled the pendant from her bag and placed it on a counter converted from an antique printing press.

  ‘What a beautiful ornament!’ Gina studied the pendant thoughtfully. ‘Yes, those snakes with their flickering tongues somehow seem familiar. Maybe it’s from the Naschmarkt flea market.’

  ‘You’d surely not find such a precious item at a flea market?’ Levi said.

  ‘On the contrary – plenty of dealers there specialise in art
deco antiques,’ Gina said.

  ‘Can you remember which dealer might have been offering it?’ asked Olivia.

  ‘No, but there aren’t that many people who deal with high-end art deco pieces. I can jot down their names for you.’

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ Olivia said and turned to Levi. ‘It’ll be a big step forward when we find out where Lisa got hold of this piece.’

  Gina brought them the list and they said their goodbyes.

  ‘Maybe we should split up,’ Levi said as they walked back to his car. ‘I’ll try to contact Emma Kern, and confront her with that lie. Maybe she’ll tell the truth this time.’

  ‘And in the meantime, I’ll go and visit the antique shops on that list and ask whether anybody remembers seeing the pendant before.’

  ‘Where’s your bike? Didn’t the police take it in after your accident?’

  ‘Simon brought it over to my office. He even repaired the damage,’ Olivia said. When she’d taken the taxi to her father’s flat that evening, she’d called Simon and asked him to bring the bike round to her office. She hadn’t expected him to repair her light and the front tyre as well, and Olivia had not had time to thank him for it.

  ‘Simon? Who’s Simon?’ asked Levi.

  ‘Simon Berger is a junior doctor at the clinic,’ Olivia said. ‘I went to the cinema with him recently.’

  ‘Ah.’ Levi said, nothing more. Olivia glanced at him quickly, but his face was inscrutable.

  ‘Just let me out here, will you?’ Olivia asked as they drove along Währinger Strasse. ‘I’d like to walk a bit and mull things over.’

  She still didn’t feel quite right as she slowly walked along Bergstrasse towards her office. She’d already cancelled all appointments for the week because she wasn’t sure whether the board of the clinic would raise concerns and suspend her. Once in her office she took a couple of painkillers and looked online for the addresses of the antique shops from Gina’s list, then printed them out and studied the directions.

  Simon had left her bicycle in the shady backyard, and when Olivia pushed it towards the street, she could feel her bruised ribs despite the painkillers. Maybe going by bike isn’t such a great idea, she thought, but gritted her teeth and got on with it.

  Olivia spent the afternoon cycling from one shop to the next without success. She tried contacting Levi several times to express her frustration, but he didn’t answer.

  By the time she was cycling along Praterstrasse, she was exhausted. There were two more shops left on her list, and she couldn’t help wondering whether there was much point in visiting them, given the lack of success she’d had at the others. The shop on Praterstrasse was called ‘Paradise Lost’ and occupied the whole ground floor of one of the old Viennese palaces. When Olivia entered through the high double doors, it was like stepping into a realm of magic and fantasy. The shop was the size of a ballroom with a thirty-foot-high ceiling, its walls covered with antique mirrors which reflected and distorted her image as well as the items on display. Despite its size, the room appeared small as it was crammed full with carriages, suits of armour, tables, sofas, wardrobes and statues.

  ‘Hello, is anybody there?’ Olivia called, but there was no answer.

  A small strip was kept clear down the middle of the room, although Olivia still had to fight her way between old coats and robes towards the back. She came to another, smaller room, separated from the salesroom by tall, richly decorated glazed doors. Beyond, she saw an empty desk with an open cupboard behind it.

  Olivia hesitated for a moment, then pressed the door handle. As she did so, a hand fell on her shoulder and she jumped back, startled.

  ‘That room is private,’ a quiet voice said behind her. She turned around and found herself looking at a well-groomed man in a black suit.

  ‘Oh dear, you gave me quite a shock!’ Olivia said, taking a deep breath.

  ‘I’m Frederick, the owner.’ The man scrutinised Olivia. ‘Have you had a fall?’ he asked, pointing to the bruise on her temple.

  ‘A silly bicycle accident,’ Olivia replied with an embarrassed smile.

  ‘Well, cycling can be dangerous. What can I do for you?’ He flashed a charming smile. He came across as an easy-going man of the world – a touch out of place in the midst of this chaotic emporium.

  ‘Gina from the jewellery workshop gave me your address. I’d like to ask your advice if that’s possible.’

  ‘Oh, Gina. How nice of her. What’s this all about then?’

  ‘Has this ever come your way before?’ Olivia said, showing Frederick the pendant.

  ‘May I?’ Frederick asked politely, taking it from her hand. ‘What a beautiful piece,’ he said as he studied it, then after some deliberation dangled the precious item in Olivia’s face. ‘Yes, I know this design from one of my own objects, but I’ll have to look it up. As you can see, I’m nearly drowning in my treasure trove,’ he said apologetically.

  ‘You’d be doing me a huge favour if you could take a look. I’ll walk around here in the meantime – might even find a present for my father. His birthday’s coming up,’ Olivia said as she tucked the pendant back in her bag. ‘How do you know Gina?’ she asked as they struggled through the coats and dresses back to the front showroom.

  ‘Gina sold some heirlooms for me,’ Frederick said, ‘and by and by we became friends. Now she sends me customers every now and then, so I can keep all this up.’ He pointed to the high ceiling. ‘The maintenance costs here are enormous.’

  ‘Why don’t you rent a smaller place?’ asked Olivia.

  ‘I promised my parents to keep on at the palace – it’s been in the family since 1693 and it’s worth fighting for.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Olivia said. ‘Are your parents still alive?’

  ‘My father died a long time ago, and my mother went downhill after that. There wasn’t a week when I didn’t have to take her to the psychiatric clinic. She gave up the battle last year.’

  ‘I’m so sorry to hear that. That’s very sad.’ Then, acting on a hunch, Olivia asked, ‘Have you ever heard the name Lisa Manz?’

  ‘Lisa? Oh yes, that poor girl who was murdered five years ago,’ Frederick said. ‘I did see the police at the clinic at the time but there wasn’t a lot of information. Everything seemed to have been swept under the carpet.’

  ‘But you never met Lisa personally?’

  ‘No. Why are you asking me all these questions – did the pendant belong to Lisa?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Olivia said evasively.

  Frederick disappeared to the back of the showroom, while Olivia wandered off through the small spaces between the piles of leather-bound books and ancient board games.

  Just then one of the items on display caught her attention. She’d not noticed it before among all the jumble. It was a huge mirror, decorated with faded trompe l’oeil paintwork, leaning against a wall. Slowly she walked towards it. The silvery surface of the glass was stained with black flecks, but the decoration of the frame was familiar. It showed two snakes, their heads meeting at the top of the mirror, their slithering tongues touching. The eyes were of a luminous, malicious red.

  Olivia touched the frame and pulled the pendant from her bag. It was exactly the same motif. The mirror and the pendant had been designed by the same artist. A shadow appeared in the stained mirror, and spinning around, she found Frederick advancing on her, fixing her with his stare.

  37

  Levi was standing in line in the kosher butcher’s shop near the Karmelitermarkt. He’d decided to observe the Jewish tradition and celebrate Sabbath again with Rebecca, even though they were not very religious. Maybe sitting over a relaxed meal on a Friday evening he’d be able to talk to her about what was driving him to continue investigations into the Lisa Manz case. Their marriage was on the rocks, but he still loved his wife and hoped he could help her to understand.

  ‘I’d like a good piece of meat for Friday, please,’ Levi told the butcher, an orthodox Jew with long sidelocks and a
kippa on his head.

  ‘Do you have any particular preference?’

  ‘A nice slab of beef, please,’ Levi said, watching as the butcher noted it down in his large order book.

  Pleased with his plan, he lingered for a moment outside the shop until recalling his mission to meet the nurse, Emma Kern. She’d obviously lied during the police inquiry five years ago and Levi needed to know why. He grabbed his mobile.

  ‘I’d like to talk to ward sister Emma Kern,’ he said when the receptionist of the clinic answered.

  After a moment, a soft female voice said, ‘Yes, Nurse Emma here.’

  ‘Frau Kern, my name is Levi Kant, from the police. I’d like to ask you a few questions?’

  ‘What about?’ she asked warily.

  ‘It’s concerning a case from five years ago.’

  ‘Ah, you’re probably referring to the Lisa Manz case,’ Emma said immediately. ‘I told the police everything I knew at the time. There’s nothing else to say. If you’ll excuse me now, I’m on duty.’

  ‘No, Frau Kern, that’s where you’re wrong – there’s a lot to explain. For example, I came across your name in the patient’s file and the entry refers to the night when Lisa disappeared from the clinic.’ Levi heard Emma breathing hard before she answered.

  ‘I can’t tell you anything else.’

  Levi wanted to ask more, but Emma cut the call.

  OK, thought Levi. In which case I’ll go to the clinic and talk to you personally.

  But before that he needed to drop in at another certain place in the Second District. As he walked past the flower shop on Karmelitermarkt, Moses, the shopkeeper, waved at him.

  ‘Levi, I’ve not seen you at all this week.’

  ‘I had a lot on. And I had to correct the essays of my final year students. The semester is over now.’

  ‘You look tense, my friend – like when you were still with the police.’

  ‘I’m helping a friend with a difficult situation.’ Levi didn’t want to go into detail and changed the subject. ‘You have the usual flowers?’ he asked.