Where Shadows Linger (Intertwined Souls Series Book 2)

by Mary D. Brooks

  “Muller was affected by the explosion, although I don’t understand why Rhimes agreed to expose themselves by attempting to get Muller’s daughter,” Greta said.

  Randolph shrugged. “I don’t know either.”

  “So what do you know about these agents, Harrison and Jacobs?”

  “Nothing, really. They work for the unit. They only capture the idiots who put their real names on their immigration papers and just plod along. Both are insignificant.”

  Greta pursed her lips in thought. She did not like to leave things to chance, but on the basis of what she had heard, it was not likely that the two investigators were going to find anything. She turned back and watched the rain for a moment. “Are they Jewish?” she asked.

  “Only one. Harrison is Christian and Jacobs is a Jew.”

  Greta let out a frustrated sigh. “They are everywhere, aren’t they?”

  Randolph snorted. “Just about everywhere you go, there is a Jew.”

  “It’s too bad we didn’t have time to finish the Fuhrer’s Final Solution,” Greta said, disappointed. “I met him a couple of times, you know.”

  “You did?” Randolph seemed impressed. “What was he like?”

  Greta grinned. “Oh, he was such a charismatic man, so full of energy and ideas for Germany. His eyes were full of life,” she said, thinking back to when Josef Mengele had introduced her to the great man. She had found herself tongue-tied for the first time in her life, which had amused their leader a great deal. Hitler had made a joke to relax her and they had discussed the work that was being done at Auschwitz and what Josef was accomplishing. She sighed as she thought about her mentor — a truly brilliant man whose work was never going to be fully appreciated. She could still remember how the Fuhrer had praised the whole team at Auschwitz and how proud she had been to be a part of it.

  “A little hero worship?” Randolph commented with a smile.

  “A huge case of hero worship. I met him in 1939. He was everything a leader should be. I wish you could have met him, Randolph. He was truly a giant among men. The world owes a great deal to him and men like Dr. Josef Mengele. Speaking of whom, have you had any news of him?”

  “Sadly, no, although we believe he may be in Italy.”

  “I hope he was able to escape those rabid American dogs. What about Bruno?”

  “Dr. Weber was arrested and is due to face trial.”

  “Bruno was also a good doctor, but Josef was truly a marvel to watch. I feel privileged to have worked with him.”

  “Would you like to go out tonight?” Randolph asked.

  Greta gave him a lopsided grin. “I’m a married woman.”

  “Oh, well, I thought...”

  “John is a good man — a drunk, but a good man. For now, I play the dutiful wife and leave the talk about divorce until things quiet down. We don’t want to alert anyone that I am still alive. I’m sure there are other young women for you to wine and dine?”

  Randolph nodded. “I’d best be going.”

  “Have a nice evening, and keep me updated,” Greta said as he walked away. She chuckled. Randolph was one of many who admired and wanted her, and if she chose, she could give in to her own desire. But the time was not right for that. She had other business to deal with first.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Friedrich smiled, opened his eyes, and gazed down at the dark head resting on his chest. He sighed contentedly. My fiancée, he thought, and wondered if he was dreaming. If he was, he did not want this dream to end. He had found the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He looked around the room, so different from his own one bedroom apartment. His apartment was very drab and he mostly used it just to sleep in and seldom ate there, since he had no one to go home to.

  Things were going to be very different now that he and Elena were together. Elena’s apartment was airy, and it had pink lace curtains on the windows. Several stuffed toys that usually sat on the bed had been moved to the dresser.

  Friedrich loved the bed. It was an antique, steel-framed bed with the most comfortable mattress he had ever felt. He had seen a bed like it in an antique shop. At the time, he had thought it would be great to own and share with someone he loved, but he had put off the purchase.

  He grinned and stared up at the ceiling. He and Elena had decided not to consummate their love for each other until they got married, but he did enjoy cuddling and lying next to her. She kissed him with so much love that his heart often felt ready to burst.

  “What’s the goofy grin for?” Elena asked, gazing up at him.

  “Good morning.” Friedrich kissed the top of her head. Elena cuddled closer. “I was thinking this was a dream and I would wake up any minute.”

  “Do you want to wake up?” Elena asked.

  “No. I want to keep dreaming like this for the rest of my life,” Friedrich replied.

  “That’s so romantic.” Elena sighed.

  “Does it make up for the proposal?”

  “No.” Elena gave him a mock glare and then chuckled. “We’ll work on your romantic streak.”

  Friedrich’s smile broadened.

  “So, fiancé, what are we doing today?” Elena asked.

  “I have an appointment at 9:30 this morning to see Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan.”

  “For the wedding? Isn’t that a bit soon?”

  “I wish it were for the wedding. Rabbi Mordecai met my father in Auschwitz, and I’ve been putting off talking to him.”

  “Why?”

  Friedrich sighed. He was not sure if the reason would make any sense to Elena, or to anyone else for that matter. He wanted to believe his family would be back from the concentration camps, and he continued to hold out hope that, if no one told him that they were indeed dead, then maybe if he wished hard enough they would not be. It was nonsense and illogical and he told himself so, but having someone who was actually there tell him that they were dead would make it real.

  He shook his head. “I believed that if I didn’t hear it from someone who saw them at the concentration camp, somehow it wasn’t real. I would find that it was possible for them to have survived.”

  Elena closed her eyes and tightened her hold on him, saying nothing. Friedrich understood her silence—there was not anything she could say, really. He was grateful for the opportunity to continue uninterrupted.

  “We interviewed the rabbi just after he came to Sydney, and one thing led to another, and we talked about my family. I didn’t want to hear what he had to say, and told him that I would discuss it another day.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Six months,” Friedrich replied. “He called me at the office yesterday and said that we really needed to talk.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  Friedrich smiled. “I would love for you to come with me, but I don’t want it to cause you pain.”

  “It won’t cause me any pain. I want to be there for you.” Elena stroked his stubbled cheek as he leaned down and kissed her gently.

  “I’d better get up and have a bath,” he mumbled, although he continued to hold her.

  “I’ve washed the clothes you left behind last week. Do you have a tie?”

  “It’s in my briefcase.”

  “Well, Mr. Jacobs, do you want to get up?”

  “Hmm, well, Miss Mannheim, I like it here, but I do have to get up.” Friedrich reluctantly pulled the covers off.

  ***

  “Elena, do you have any safety razors?” Friedrich called from the bathroom.

  “Top shelf,” Elena replied and smirked at the idea that entered her head. She wanted to go in and show him, but she decided against it. She sipped her tea, and then set the cup on the table and went to where she had Friedrich’s clothes neatly stacked. After finding what she was looking for, she knocked on the bathroom door to warn him before opening it just enough to put a towel and his clean boxer shorts on the chair next to the door. She closed the door and grinned.

  Elena took out
the ironing board to iron his trousers from the previous day. Once that was done, she hung them on the hanger and went in search of his briefcase to look for the tie, which was probably also wrinkled. The briefcase lay on the floor next to the sofa. She bent down and picked up the case, but lost hold of it. It hit the floor and popped open, spilling files and the tie out onto the rug. She was picking things up when she spotted a picture that had slipped from one of the files.

  Elena dropped down to her knees and starred at the photograph—it was the woman she had seen at Zoe and Eva’s apartment, the one who had been wearing a swastika pin. She turned it over, but there was nothing on the back to indicate why the photograph would be in Friedrich’s possession. She was somewhat intrigued why this woman’s photograph was in Friedrich’s bag. There was only one reason that it would be there. A sickening feeling settled at the pit of her stomach as she sat back and held the picture in her trembling hand.

  “Elena, what happened?”

  Elena looked around at Friedrich. “I dropped the briefcase,” she said quietly as she turned back to stare at the photograph. “I ironed your trousers,” she said.

  Friedrich took the offered garment and went back into the bathroom. He came back out wearing an undershirt and trousers and walked over to where Elena was kneeling on the floor. He put his hand on her shoulder and went down on his knees to help her collect the files.

  “I know that woman,” Elena said, her voice barely perceptible to her own ears. The photograph in her hand shook a little as she shivered.

  He stopped putting the files back in order and turned to her. “You know this woman?” he asked, indicating the photograph she still held.

  Elena nodded.

  “From the camp?”

  “No, she was here last week.”

  Friedrich sat down on the rug, almost falling backwards in his haste. “She was here? In this apartment?”

  “No, she was a dinner guest at Zoe’s — remember the woman who got me so upset that night?”

  Friedrich swore vehemently, startling Elena out of her reverie.

  “What’s the matter, who is this woman?”

  “What do you know about her?” Friedrich asked, sounding urgent.

  “Well, Zoe told me that Greta was Eva’s first lover and—”

  Friedrich groaned. “Elena, please don’t tell anyone about this photograph.”

  “What is going on?”

  “I need to call David,” Friedrich said. He got up and went to the telephone.

  Elena grimaced and picked up one of the files. Leaning against the sofa, she began to read the papers inside. She let out another gasp, her free hand flying to cover her mouth, as the details in front of her painted Greta as a monster. She could hear Friedrich talking to David, then looked up as Friedrich knelt beside her once again. He took the file from her hands and put it in the briefcase.

  “Did that really happen?” she asked, her mind not wanting to accept what she had read. A part of her did not want Greta to be associated with her friends — with Eva. If Eva knows about her, that means she really was one of them, Elena thought. No, she probably doesn’t know. Does she? It was difficult to reconcile the image of sweet and kind Eva overlooking the atrocities associated with Greta.

  Friedrich nodded. “Yes. It happened in other camps as well, but Auschwitz was where this woman was.”

  “I don’t think Eva knows.” I’m sure she doesn’t know

  “We have to find out, Elena.”

  “But Zoe would never stay with a woman who had collaborated with the enemy. I don’t believe it for a minute.”

  “David is coming over and we’re going to question her,” Friedrich replied, running his hands through his damp hair.

  “Friedrich! I know Zoe and she wouldn’t be with Eva if that’s who she really is. I don’t think Eva knows about this woman.” Elena was upset that Friedrich or David would think that Eva condoned Greta’s activities, even though she had initially harbored brief doubts herself. “You make it sound like an interrogation.”

  “Sweetheart, David and I are just going to ask Eva a few questions. That’s all.” Friedrich tried to calm her down. Elena was becoming rather angry. He continued, “I hope they are still in.”

  “They go to church on Sunday morning,” Elena muttered. “You really can’t believe Eva would know the truth about Greta, do you?”

  “I don’t know what to believe. I hope she knows where this woman is staying here in Sydney,” Friedrich replied and let out a heartfelt sigh. “I guess I need to reschedule with the rabbi.”

  ***

  Father Haralambos joined Eva and Zoe on the walk home from church. Zoe kept a step ahead of Eva and occasionally looked back. She pursed her lips and then shook her head, deciding that she had had enough of not being able to hold hands with Eva in church or outside. She took Eva’s hand and squeezed it.

  Eva looked down at the joined hands and gave Zoe a grin. “I was wondering how long it would take.” She winked.

  Zoe’s response was to stick out her tongue.

  “Be careful with that thing.” Eva quickly tried to tug Zoe’s outstretched tongue with her free hand, and her fingers got caught between Zoe’s teeth when Zoe bit down very carefully. Their eyes met and they laughed. They continued amiably on their way home. Zoe saw Friedrich and David first and wondered what they were doing standing outside their door.

  She glanced a questioning look at Eva, who shrugged, her own puzzlement made visible by the tilt of her head and the quirk of her eyebrow.

  After a brief greeting, Eva opened the door and they all went inside.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  “So boys what brings you out on a Sunday?” Eva asked, folding her arms over her chest and waiting for an answer. To anyone else but Zoe it would appear Eva was relaxed but that was far from the truth.

  David began, “Friedrich and I are here on business—”

  “Yes I know. You’re both in your suits and looking very serious,” Eva replied warily.

  Zoe turned to Eva, took her by the hand and led her to the sofa, where they sat down side by side. Zoe’s hand went to Eva’s knee and gave it a little squeeze.

  “What’s this about? Has Muller escaped or something?” Zoe asked.

  “No. He’s safely in prison.” David pulled out Greta’s photograph and held it for a moment before he offered the photograph to Eva. “Do you know this person?”

  Eva took the photograph from David. “Yes, that’s Greta Strauss.” She handed the photograph to Zoe, who looked at it, then glanced up in shock at Friedrich, and then looked back at Eva. Eva had a composed look on her face, but Zoe knew there was emotional turmoil going on beneath that placid expression.

  “That’s not a uniform I’ve seen before.” Zoe said before turning to look at Eva.

  “A nurse,” Eva replied.

  Without hesitating, Zoe leaned over. “Evy?” she whispered. Eva closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. She squeezed Zoe’s hand and turned to David, her spine stiffening.

  “How do you know Miss Strauss?” David asked, sitting down on the chair facing the sofa.

  Eva exhaled loudly. “I knew her in Germany, before the war.”

  “What was your relationship with her?”

  Zoe scowled. “What business is it of yours?”

  “Zoe,” Eva quietly reproved her, her tone carrying a warning.

  Zoe shook her head. “No, Eva. I’ve had enough of this stupidity. When are they going to learn that you are not a Nazi and never have been? Does every Nazi have to be traced back to you?” She lost her temper completely. Her voice had risen almost to a shout that caused Ourania to flee into the bedroom.

  Eva sighed. “Zoe’s right. I don’t have connections with every Nazi in the world, and it’s insulting for you to presume that I do simply because I’m German.”

  “Look, Eva...” It was apparent that David was attempting to return to the interrogation and not be distracted by the emotions that wer
e running high. “I’m not trying—”

  “Of course you are! You are trying to link Eva to whatever this is,” Zoe angrily interjected.

  “No, I’m not. I’m trying to find out her relationship to the Strauss woman.” David sounded patient.

  “She was my lover,” Eva said. “I lost contact with her back in 1938.”

  David glanced at Zoe, who was shooting daggers at him. “On what date did you lose contact with Strauss?” he asked Eva.

  “Last time I saw Greta was on November 9, 1938,” Eva answered.

  “That is the exact date?” David asked.

  Eva did not look up. “Yes. It was the start of Kristallnacht.”

  “What the hell does that have to do with everything?” Zoe asked, trying to protect Eva. She knew David was not aware that he was pouring salt into a very raw and open wound, but she blamed him for Eva’s distress nonetheless.

  “I’m not sure why you are so reluctant to tell me more details. Why did you lose contact?” David asked. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If you have nothing to hide, and I believe you don’t, why not tell us?”

  Eva gazed at him for a moment. When she spoke, every word was precisely enunciated. “That was the night my mother was murdered and the night my stepfather, Muller, beat me — almost to death. You know the rest of the story. I believe we covered this when you came to arrest my step-father. Does that answer your question?”

  David sat back and ran his hand through his blond hair, clearly frustrated. “Kristallnacht,” he said. “I’m...sorry...I...”

  Zoe snorted in disgust. “You might as well stick a knife in her and twist it, you son of a bitch!” She sneered at the investigator, then took Eva’s hand and held it tightly enough to make her own bones begin to ache from the pressure.

  “All right, can we all calm down a moment, please?” Friedrich spoke for the first time since they had entered the apartment. “Eva, Greta Strauss is wanted for war crimes under the War Crimes Act. We want to find out everything we can, so we can do our jobs.”