The old man’s face glowed.
“Father, I have to leave. I will come by this evening.”
“What are you working on?”
Torsen told him about the murder of Kellerman, and the old man listened intently, nodding his head, muttering: “Interesting, yes, yes.”
Torsen leaned close. “In fact, I was going to ask you something. Remember the way we used to discuss unsolved crimes?”
The old man nodded, rubbing his gums as if his teeth hurt.
“There was an old case, way back, maybe early sixties, late fifties, we nicknamed it the Wizard case…do you remember? The body was found midway in your jurisdiction and I think Dieter’s—there may be no connection, it was…”
“How is Dieter?”
“He died, Father, ten years ago.”
The old man frowned. Dieter was his brother-in-law, and for a moment he was confused; was his wife dead too?
“Father, can you remember the name of the victim in the Wizard case?”
“Dieter is dead? Are you sure?”
Torsen looked into the perplexed face, and gently patted his hand. “I’ll come and see you later.”
Torsen drew the curtain back, waved to Nurse Freda to indicate he was leaving. His father began singing softly to himself.
Torsen proceeded to walk down the aisle between the beds. He paused, watching Freda finish tending a patient, then he waited until she joined him.
“I wondered if perhaps, one evening we…if you are not on duty, and would like to join me, for a movie…”
Freda smiled. “Your father has been playing Cupid?”
While Torsen flushed, and fiddled with his tie, she laughed a delightful warm giggle and then asked him to wait one moment. She disappeared behind a screen with a bedpan.
Torsen stared at a skeleton-thin patient, plucking frantically at his blanket, his toothless jaw twitching uncontrollably, his eyes wide and staring as if at some unseen horror.
Torsen turned and hurried out, unable to look, too agitated to wait and arrange a date with Freda.
Rieckert was waiting in the hotel lobby. Torsen hurried to his side, apologized for his lateness, and then crossed to the reception desk to ask if they could go to the baron’s suite.
The baron opened the doors himself, and pointedly looked at his wristwatch. Torsen apologized profusely as they entered the large drawing room. Rieckert gaped, staring at the chandelier, the marble fireplace—the room was larger than his entire apartment.
The baron had laid out his wife’s and his own passports and visas on the central table; he then introduced them to Helen Masters, who proffered her own documents. Torsen leafed through each one, and then asked if they were enjoying their stay. The baron murmured that he was, and sat watching Torsen from a deep wing armchair.
Torsen noted that their papers were in order; then, standing, he opened his own notebook. “Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
The baron shrugged, but looked at the clock on the mantel. Helen Masters interrupted to say they were late for an appointment. Torsen smiled, said it would take only a few moments. He looked to the baron, and asked whether the baroness was feeling better.
“She is, will you need to speak with her?”
Torsen coughed, feeling very uneasy, and he drew up a chair to the central table. “If it is not too much trouble. But if it is not convenient for her I can return at a later date!”
The baron strode toward the bedroom, he knocked and waited. Hilda came to the door. “Is the baroness dressed?”
Hilda murmured she would only be one moment, and the door was closed.
Torsen directed his first question to Helen Masters.
“You arrived by car on the evening in question, that is correct?”
“No, I think we came just before lunch.”
The baron sighed. “We lunched in the hotel restaurant, then returned to the suite. Then we left at about three o’clock for Dr. Albert Franks’s clinic. We visited with Dr. Franks, and then returned back here. We dined in the suite, and remained in the hotel all evening.”
Helen nodded her head, as if to confirm part of the baron’s statement. Torsen looked to her, and she hesitated a moment before saying, “I had dinner with Dr. Franks, but I returned here about ten-thirty, maybe a little later.”
Torsen asked if on the way back she saw anyone in the street.
Helen laughed softly. “Well, yes, of course, I saw a number of people, the doorman, the taxi drivers, and…”
She looked to the baron. “Your chauffeur, we have forgotten about him. He returned to Paris and then flew to New York, but he would have left before early evening.”
“On your return to the hotel did you see a tall man, about six feet, wearing a dark raincoat, and a shiny, perhaps leather, trilby hat?”
Helen shook her head. Torsen looked up from his notes. “Did you see anyone fitting that description at or near the hotel entrance on the night in question?”
“No, I did not.”
“Did you see anyone fitting that description in the lobby of the hotel?”
Helen gave Louis a hooded smile. “No, I am sorry. Is this man suspected of the murder?”
Torsen continued writing. “I wish to talk to this man about a possible connection to the murder.”
Helen asked: “Do you have any clues to his identity?”
Torsen closed his notebook. “No, we do not. I think that is all I need to ask.”
“What was the time of the murder?” Helen inquired.
“Close to eleven or eleven-thirty. We know he was carrying a large bag and that his clothes would have been heavily bloodstained.”
Helen asked how the victim was killed, listening intently as Torsen described the severity of the beating.
Helen wanted to know if the victim was with the circus. Torsen gave a small tight smile, wondering why she was so interested, but at the same time answering that the victim was not, as far as he had been able to ascertain, an employee of any circus.
The bedroom doors opened, and Torsen rose to his feet as the baroness, assisted by Hilda, walked into the room. The baron sprang to his feet, crossing to his wife, arms outstretched. “Sit down, come and sit down, the car is ordered.”
Vebekka wore a pale fawn cashmere shawl fringed with sable, a fawn wool skirt, a heavy cream silk blouse, and a large brooch at her neck entwined with gold and diamonds. She also had on her large dark glasses. Her face was beautifully made up, her lips touched with pale gloss. She held her hand out to Torsen.
“I am sorry to inconvenience you, Baroness. I am Detective Chief Inspector Torsen Heinz, and this is Sergeant Rieckert.”
The baroness’s hand felt so frail, he did no more than touch her fingers. She smiled to Rieckert. Hilda helped her to sit, and brought her a glass of water. Torsen noticed how thin the baroness was, how her body trembled, her hands shaking visibly as she sipped the water. He found it disturbing not to be able to see her eyes.
“I need simply to verify your husband’s account of the day you arrived in Berlin.”
She sipped, paused, sipped again and Hilda took the glass.
“What day?”
The baron coughed. “The day we arrived from Paris, darling.”
She nodded, and then looked to Torsen. “What did you ask me?”
“If you could just tell me what you did, during the afternoon, and evening.”
She was hardly audible, speaking in a monotone, as she recalled arriving, having lunch, and then going to see the doctor. She reached for the glass again, and this time Hilda held it as she sipped.
“We dined in the suite, I was very tired after the journey.”
Torsen placed his notebook in his pocket, gave a small nod to Rieckert as an indication they were leaving.
“Why are you here? Has something happened? Is something wrong?”
She half rose, looking to the baron. “Is it Sasha?”
Torsen noticed he spoke to her as if she were a child, leaning over toward her, touching her shoulder as if shielding her from harm: “There was a murder, everyone in the hotel is being questioned.”
“Is this true?” the baroness asked, and looked concerned to her husband. “But why? Why have we to be questioned? I don’t understand, did I do something wrong?”
The baron patted his wife’s hand, gently telling her they were asking all the guests in the hotel the same questions.
“You didn’t happen to see anyone—perhaps while you were looking out of the window down to the street—at about eleven o’clock, a tall man wearing a shiny hat, carrying a suitcase?”
The baroness seemed unable to understand what he was talking about. She stared at her husband. “I didn’t do anything did I? I was in the suite, I never left the suite.”
Torsen shook Helen’s hand and thanked her. He gave a small bow to the baron. His sergeant was already holding open the door. As they waited for the elevator, Rieckert whispered to Torsen, “She’s a sicko. That doctor, Albert Franks, he’s a famous shrink! Deals with crazies, hypnotizes them. That’s what they must be here for. She’s a sicko.”
As Rieckert went to collect their patrol car, Torsen waited on the whitewashed steps. He saw the line of taxis waiting for hire, and recognized the driver from the previous night. He crossed over to his Mercedes.
The driver jumped out, started to open the rear door.
“No, no, I just wanted to ask you to spread the word around for me, ask if anyone saw a tall man, wearing a shiny trilby hat, dark raincoat, boots, carrying a bag, on the night the dwarf was murdered.”
The driver stopped him with an outstretched hand. “I know the night, we’ve all been talking about it. But I never saw anyone fitting that description, sir!”
Torsen persisted. “You ever pick up Ruda Kellerman? The lion tamer? Her husband is Luis Grimaldi?”
The driver nodded his head vigorously. “Yeah, picked her up from this hotel, yesterday, took her back to the West, to the circus/’
Rieckert drew up in the patrol car, giving an unnecessary blast of the horn. Torsen and Rieckert drove off as the driver went from cab to cab asking if any of them had seen or given a ride to a tall man in a big trilby, with high boots—the killer! As he went from driver to driver his description became more melodramatic…scarred face, huge hands covered in blood. One cab driver did recall driving Ruda Kellerman from the hotel, but then remembered it was after the murder, so he didn’t mention it, nor the fact that he had seen her standing on the opposite side of the road, looking up at the hotel windows. He didn’t think it was important.
♦ ♦ ♦
Ruda was feeling a lot happier, the act had run smoothly, the animals seemed to be getting used to the new plinths. She saw to the feeds, checked that the cages were clean and the straw changed, and then, still in her working clothes, went to Tina’s trailer. She rapped on the door and waited.
A big blonde with a gap between her front teeth inched open the trailer door.
“Is Tina in?”
“She doesn’t want to see anyone, she’s been very sick!”
Ruda stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Tell her it’s me, will you?”
After a moment the girl returned, said Tina’s room was at the end of the trailer. The girl went out as Ruda went inside.
The trailer was small and cramped. Girls’ costumes and underwear littered the small dining area. Ruda stepped over the discarded clothes and pushed open the small bedroom door. Tina was huddled in a bunk bed, her face puffy from crying. She wore a flowered cotton nightdress.
Ruda hitched up her pants. “You seen him?”
“No…I can’t face him. What did he say?”
Ruda shrugged. “Nothing much. Actually, he sort of suggested I come by, check on you. If you want, I can fix you something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry, Oh God!” She buried her head in her hands and sobbed. “It was disgusting, I mean, I dunno why I let you.”
Ruda began to tap her boot. “Look, I didn’t come here to talk about last night. I just want to tell you something. He will never leave me, Tina, and I will never divorce him. He’s old, sweetheart, he’s an old man, he’s washed up, and without me he’s fucked.”
Tina stood up, her hands clenched at her sides. “I don’t want to hear any more—just get out, leave me alone.”
Ruda leaned forward and pressed Tina’s stomach. “How far gone are you?”
Tina backed away, her hands moving protectively over her belly. “Three and a half months.”
“You’re lucky… they don’t like terminating after four months.”
Tina gasped. “What did you say?”
Ruda smirked. “You heard me, now stop playing games and listen—”
“I don’t want to listen to you—you are evil, you are sick. Get out—get out!!”
Ruda cocked her head to one side, kicked the bedroom door closed. “I am here to help you, you stupid little bitch. I can help you, I can give you names, good people you can trust, they’ll take care of it.”
“I want my baby! I want my baby.”
Ruda shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, that’s up to you…but I am going to make you an offer. Now listen to me. I am going to give you fifteen thousand dollars—dollars, Tina! You can leave Berlin, go back to wherever you came from, you can have the baby, abort it—whatever you want, but…”
“I don’t want your money.”
Ruda dug into her pockets. “It’s the best offer you’ll have, sweetheart—fifteen thousand dollars, in cash, but the deal is you leave before twelve. If you hang around, the money goes down every hour, so you got until twelve o’clock noon, Tina, think about it. I’ll be in my trailer, okay?”
Ruda half opened the bedroom door, then hesitated, swinging the door backward and forward slightly.
“You know, I am doing you a big favor. I was married to an old man once, as old as Luis, decrepit, senile, pawing at me. You turn the offer down Tina, and I guarantee your life will be a misery. He’s a failure, he’s washed up, and you wouldn’t last a season with any act he tried to get together. He’s scared, Tina, he’ll never go into the ring again—everything he’s promised, all the lies, are just an old man’s dreams.”
Tina sat hugging her knees, rocking backward and forward. Big tears trickled down her cheeks. She cringed as Ruda stepped toward her, looked up, almost expecting to be slapped. Instead, Ruda gently brushed the girl’s wet cheeks with her thumbs. “Take a good look around this hovel. Now, imagine a cradle, a little baby bawling and clutching at you, needing you, and your body all bloated, your face blotchy. You want to bring it up here? Get rid of it, walk away. It won’t hurt.”
Tina turned her face away. “I want my baby.”
Ruda swallowed. Tina surprised her. “Then go home, Tina. Take the fifteen thousand and get out!” Ruda was almost out of the door.
“Make it twenty.” Tina tried hard to meet Ruda’s eyes, but they frightened her. She bowed her head, but quickly looked up again when she heard the big deep laugh.
“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart. And you know something—I like you. It’s a deal.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Ruda whistled as she threaded her way between the trailers. When she reached her own, she eased off her big boots, stacking them outside. She looked up; the rain clouds were lifting. She let herself in silently, and eased open drawers as she collected the money, counting it. She slipped it into an envelope. She heard Luis stirring.
“Hi, how you feeling?”
He needed a shave, his eyes were red-rimmed. She gave a quick look at the bottle—it was a quarter full—and she crossed to him, pulling up the blanket.
“Sleep it
off, then I’ll fix you something to eat, eh? Rehearsal went well, they are calming down, getting used to the plinths. You were right, you said they’d work out okay.”
“That’s good,” he mumbled. “Do you want a chimp? Lazars got a chimp.”
She cocked her head to one side, handed him the bottle. “Here, is this what you want?”
He moaned, said he didn’t want a drink, but he took the bottle anyway. She walked out and left him, ran a shower for herself, and began to undress.
The bottle fell from his hand, he stared at the ceiling, one arm across his face. In his drink-befuddled mind, he kept on seeing the fear on Tina’s face, her wretched submissiveness. But worse, he couldn’t forget the way Ruda had looked at him, because she had looked at him in exactly the same way as when she had ridden on Mamon’s back—daring him, mocking him. He tried to sit up, but the room began to spin, he couldn’t get on his feet, couldn’t stand. He sank back, then reached for the bottle. He held it by the neck, unable to focus.
He yelled: “Rudaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Ruda!”
Ruda held the bottle out for him. He eased himself up, and stared at her. “Thank you.”
Ruda was soaping herself when she heard the light tap on the door. She smiled, peeked around the shower curtain, it was almost twelve! She wrapped herself in a towel, was about to call out when she heard the main trailer door opening.
Tina walked into the trailer. It was dark, the blind drawn, she stood in the doorway, unable to adjust to the darkness.
“Want a drink?”
He was stretched out on the bench seat, his fly undone, his shirt hanging out. Tina edged further into the room as he held out the bottle. “Have a drink?”
Tina took a step back, whispered his name, and then in a half sob repeated it. She had somehow not expected him to be there.
“Chimp, got a three-month-old chimp, called Boris…Boris!” He laughed, and continued to drink; he didn’t even seem to realize she was in the room.
She jumped when she felt a light touch on her shoulder, and Ruda drew her close.
Entwined Page 23
