Rain Girl

by Gabi Kreslehner

  Karen’s father began to protest. “Hang on a minute, you can’t do that! Just push your way into a house like that!”

  “Yes,” Felix said. “We can. There’s a law for situations like this: exigent circumstances.”

  Karen spoke. “Was it him?” she asked. “Did he kill her?”

  “You should put the children to bed,” Franza said and leaned down to the girls, smiling as best as she could.

  The grandmother nodded, wiped tears from her face, and took the children out of the room.

  “Yes,” Felix said, looking at Karen. “We have reason to believe he did.”

  Karen swallowed. Her lips started to tremble and she sucked them between her teeth. She walked over to a cupboard, pulled out a stack of photos, and threw them on the table. Marie. Photo after photo—only Marie.

  “I found them in our bedroom,” Karen said, her voice firm and steady now. “He’d locked himself in there yesterday and didn’t go to work today. When I got home today he was gone. Only the photos were still here.” She fell silent, turned to the window, and looked into the night outside. Once again, Franza thought, looking out the window, into the distance, into freedom, even at night.

  “He kept it to himself,” Karen said. “Until yesterday I didn’t notice anything, nothing at all. And then you two turned up, and he just snapped. Left the school, took off somewhere, I don’t know where. He doesn’t talk to me anymore. I can’t get through to him anymore.”

  “Did you know? Were you covering for him?”

  She spun around, frightened and angry—a bit of both. “Who do you think I am?”

  Felix shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  All is fair in love and war, Arthur thought, and then wondered at what a stupid expression it was.

  “His love . . .” Karen said quietly and shook her head. “I don’t think it was ever . . .”

  She broke off, her face an expression of unhappy yearning. “No, I never had it. Even though I would have done anything for . . .”

  Franza looked at Arthur. He was standing perfectly still and listening attentively. She found it touching.

  “He’s never been happy,” Karen said, pulling herself together again. “He was always looking for happiness, but it never came. I don’t think he loved me, maybe not even the children. No one. I always had the feeling he was waiting, for someone or something. But it never came, and he was always disappointed. But then, suddenly, there was Marie.”

  She laughed softly, thinking about it. “It was obvious. He devoured her, right from the start. She took his breath away. Yes, that’s how it was, whenever he was around her. He was dying to touch her. I could feel it. His hands would always tremble when she was around. She drove him crazy; I could see it.”

  She fished a cigarette from the pack, lit it, and opened the window. The smoke curled off into the darkness. She coughed softly.

  “Then when she wore that dress on Monday.” She turned around, Franza nodded. “He went up to her, whispered something in her ear. They probably arranged a meeting place, so he could . . . Probably . . . everyone saw it. I don’t know. I felt ashamed. Me!” She shook her head and gave a short laugh. “Isn’t that crazy?”

  “Do you know where he might be now?” Franza asked and sensed that time was running out. “Think. Do you have any idea?”

  Karen shook her head. “No, no idea.”

  Franza sighed inwardly and closed her eyes for a moment.

  “We’ll take a look around the house,” Felix said.

  Karen waved her hand dismissively, taking a deep drag on the cigarette. “Yes, sure, make yourselves at home.”

  They split up. Felix took the basement and the garage, Arthur the ground floor, and Franza the bathroom and bedrooms upstairs.

  She went straight to the bathroom cabinets to look for aftershave. She opened the bottle, closed her eyes, and inhaled the smell. She added coffee and cigarettes and it all fit together. But where was Ben?

  Karen came into the bathroom. “I liked her,” she said. “You probably won’t believe me, but I liked her. You just had to like her. She just had something . . . about her. It was like nothing had been decided yet.”

  Franza looked up in surprise. She’d heard that before. Port. I have to ask him, Franza thought, yes, I have to. But not today, tomorrow.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said.

  Karen nodded, staring into the mirror. “But it happened anyway.” She turned around. “He’s got a motorboat,” she said. “It’s tied up somewhere on the Danube. The key’s missing.”

  Franza looked up as if electrified. “Where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Think!” She grabbed Karen’s arms, squeezing them tightly.

  “I really don’t know. He never took me along. He said the river was his territory; I had no business there. I was OK with that. I don’t like the Danube anyway.”

  It suddenly clicked in Franza’s mind. She let go of Karen’s arms and ran out of the bathroom and down the stairs. Things were coming together.

  Felix came up from the basement, where he’d found Marie’s bag in a wooden box full of old newspapers. But it didn’t matter anymore.

  “We’re leaving,” Franza said. “I know where he is. We need Frau Gleichenbach.”

  63

  He couldn’t wait to see the fire. It would be a huge blaze—on the water, everywhere. A fireball shooting into the night sky. And he’d be right in the middle of it.

  64

  The moon was their ally. It was a bright disk in the slightly overcast sky. It illuminated the Danube and the roads along the shore. They had called for backup: water police, technicians, colleagues who knew the area well, and Robert. They’d also called Judith Gleichenbach. She’d told them to meet her at an inn on the outskirts of her village. It was near the beach that Franza was convinced was at the center of everything they were closing in on.

  Judith was already there when they arrived, along with the local officials. Shortly after came the water police by boat, then the technicians carrying enormous searchlights that would bathe the Danube in dazzling light.

  Judith Gleichenbach was pale but composed. While the new arrivals were briefed and received their instructions, she stood a little apart, just beyond the light from the inn. The building was situated directly on the river along the road leading through the woods to various swimming spots. The woman who managed the inn with her husband told Franza that the roads weren’t used much anymore.

  The Danube was usually a very cold river and therefore not particularly inviting, the beaches were stony and not well maintained, and bushes and fallen trees from storms often blocked the way and weren’t removed until the fall. The manager could confirm, however, that every now and then boats were tied up at an old dock—rowboats, canoes, and the like. She’d never seen a motorboat there, but then again she hadn’t been down that way for a while, three years at least. Why should she? She had her own tidy and well-maintained access to the river.

  Had she seen anyone drive past in a Jeep Cherokee that afternoon?

  The manager thought about it. She wasn’t very good at telling cars, she said, that was her husband’s domain. But it was definitely possible that an SUV had driven past that afternoon.

  She called to her husband, who’d been waiting quietly behind the curtain at the entrance to the dining room.

  “Yes,” he said after Franza asked him the same question. He stroked his bald head thoughtfully. “Reuter drove past in his Jeep.”

  Franza felt a tingling running through her body. So she’d been right. “Reuter. You know him?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Sure. We went to school together. He’s from around here, after all. Why?”

  “Tell us,” Franza said with an urgency that didn’t allow for contradiction or delay. The man raised his eyebrows with surprise, scratched his chin, and thought for a moment. “There isn’t much to tell. We weren’t friends, just classmates. We lost touch after scho
ol. He just disappeared. But a few years ago he turned up again with a little motorboat and asked if he could tie it up at the dock down there.”

  The landlord pointed downstream. “We got talking, of course. He told me he was teaching at a high school in town, and that he’d studied in America and then stayed there for a few years after he finished. I was impressed. I mean, I’ve hardly ever been away from here except for one or two vacations in Greece—what’s that compared to ten years in New York?”

  Franza nodded while keeping one eye on Felix, who was discussing and coordinating the operation with colleagues.

  “Well,” the man was saying. “On the other hand, there was nothing keeping him here. His parents were dead, no relatives, why stay here?”

  Yes, Franza thought, why stay here?

  “Why do you want to know all this?” the man asked. “What’s all the fuss about? Has Reuter done something wrong?”

  “No,” Franza said, raising her hands reassuringly. An overexcited inn manager was the last thing she needed now. “Don’t worry, just a routine matter.”

  “Routine matter?” He gave her a contemptuous look. “Come off it. I’ve watched enough crime shows on TV to know that this isn’t just routine.”

  “Whatever,” she said, her voice again taking on a tone that allowed no contradiction or delay. “You and your wife need to stay put. I’ll be relying on your compliance.”

  The man’s eyes opened wide. “I’ll be damned! He must have really done something wrong, old Johannes! Who would have thought?” When Franza had gone, he said to his wife, “She’s a tough customer, even tougher than you!” She took a swipe at him, and he laughed.

  Felix and Franza took Arthur and Judith Gleichenbach with them and drove through the wood to a small parking area. The Jeep was there. They were the first of the police to arrive.

  “Down there,” Judith said after they’d gotten out of the car, pointing down a narrow road that wound through the trees for a little bit, and then took a turn and disappeared into the darkness. “That’s where the accident happened. That’s where she was.”

  Franza nodded. “Please, come along,” she said. “You can tell us later. Where do we go now?”

  They put on headlamps and moved forward silently, down a slope, through dense undergrowth and over slippery rocks. Franza was grateful she always kept walking shoes in the car for occasions like this. Finally they saw the Danube shimmering gray through the bushes, and they reached a gravelly beach, which stretched for about twenty yards on either side of them. On their right, close to a large boulder sticking out of the water, was the dock. There were several small wooden boats attached to it.

  “Lights out,” Felix whispered and everyone complied.

  “OK,” Franza whispered to Judith. “Thank you very much. Now go back to the car with Arthur and wait for us there.”

  But Judith shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’m staying.”

  Franza sighed. She realized her authority was worthless in this situation. She nodded. “But keep back.”

  The motorboat was in the middle of the river. It lay dark and quiet in the water. There were no signs that anyone was aboard. They switched on the floodlights and Felix’s voice rang through a megaphone. At that moment the full moon disappeared behind a cloud.

  65

  So here they are, he thought and had to smile. Just in time for the show. And what a fuss they’d made.

  He didn’t stir, just lay there, looking at the sky, at the moon disappearing behind a cloud. Too bad, he thought, no stars to wish me farewell, just a little bit of moon.

  So she betrayed me after all, he thought, my Judith, finally. He smiled about this, too. Oh well, what can you expect? They were all stupid bitches—the whole bunch. Stupid bitches every single one of them. Now it would be over once and for all. To hell with all of them!

  He was looking forward to the fire. It would be a huge blaze on the water and everywhere. A fireball shooting into the night. And him . . .

  . . . right in the middle . . . in the eye of the storm, in the heart of the volcano.

  He could feel the dark energy that had pulsed through him and consumed him as far back as he could remember. Soon it would all be over. It would burst, scatter, and finally land at the gates of hell.

  He stood up and turned the key in the ignition. Smiling. Free. Finally.

  66

  They were taken completely by surprise when the fireball shot into the air. The noise was deafening. The police boat was still far enough away to turn around immediately, and Felix’s voice broke midsentence.

  A dark figure suddenly had appeared on the boat, and Felix thought he’d raised his hand briefly, like a greeting or a farewell, whichever way one chose to look at it. That’s when Felix began his second attempt to get Reuter to surrender. But in the same moment, the boat exploded—from its center, from the body of the person who’d just been standing there.

  The fire, hissing and spitting, burned out fast, and within a few minutes it was all over. The Danube was black and calm again.

  “Shit!” Felix said from the bottom of his heart, saying out loud what they were all thinking. “Goddamn shit!”

  They felt like they had failed because they were too late. They didn’t catch him—not in the way murderers should be caught. Instead, they’d fish parts of his body from the river and that was it. He slipped through their fingers and played them to the last. He was always one step ahead, dictating the course of this bitter game right to the end. There would be no interrogation, no questions and no answers.

  “It’s over,” Franza said slowly and put an arm around Judith’s shoulders.

  “Yes,” Judith said. “Over. Really?”

  Franza remained silent.

  “Let’s go,” Felix said brusquely. “To hell with it, we’re taking off. Robert, you’re in charge. Report back to us tomorrow. I’ll call the forensic team for you. Fish out what you can and get it onto Borger’s table so we can verify it’s Reuter. Otherwise we’ll have to put out an APB tomorrow, but I don’t think . . .”

  He broke off, picked up a handful of stones from the beach, and hurled them into the Danube with a shout of rage.

  They walked back to the car, Felix leading the way, followed by Arthur, and then Judith and Franza. They left the harsh circles of light from the spotlights and walked up the hill into the darkness.

  “Hey!” Felix shouted suddenly, “Stop!” He halted abruptly and shined his flashlight into the dense bushes.

  Two darkly dressed figures darted quickly and nimbly through the undergrowth, jumping over roots and rocks like dancing fauns with streaming hair.

  “Leave them,” Franza said. “We can talk to them tomorrow.”

  “But wasn’t that . . .” Felix began.

  “Yes,” Franza said. “Cosima and Jenny.”

  It started to rain.

  “Looks like a steady rain is coming,” Arthur said, shuddering. “They’ll have fun down there! Does anyone know the time?”

  They shrugged. “Sometime after midnight.”

  Then they took the car back to the inn, where the other car was parked and where they’d split up. Arthur and Felix would go straight back to town, but Franza wanted to drive Judith Gleichenbach home.

  Arthur’s cell phone rang, and he looked at the screen in amazement. “Karolina!” he said, surprised, forgetting for a moment he wasn’t alone. “I wonder what she wants?”

  “Well, pick it up then you’ll find out!” Felix said, slowly getting over his anger. “What do you think she wants? She’s lonely without you.”

  Embarrassed and a little confused, Arthur looked into the rearview mirror. His eyes met Felix’s broad grin. Had his unhappy love story really been so obvious to everyone?

  “Come on!” Felix encouraged him. “You don’t make a woman like Karolina wait, you know.”

  Arthur picked up and listened for a while. Then his heart began to pound, because Karolina . . . Karolina wanted to make him happy.


  She missed his unreliability. It turned out she could imagine leading the life of a shitty policeman’s girlfriend after all. Temporarily at least. Life wouldn’t be dull, anyway. Would he come over? She’d ordered sushi.

  His stomach lurched, he hated sushi like the plague, but what wouldn’t a man do for love. “I’ll come right over,” he said.

  The men drove back to town, and Felix drove while Arthur sat next to him and secretly rejoiced in his luck and cursed Felix for not punching the gas a little harder.

  Then Felix had the gall to start a conversation although Arthur was reveling in Karolina-sushi dreams and really had NO time for him right now.

  “May I give you some advice? As a fatherly friend, so to speak?”

  Arthur sighed and gave a wry smile. That’s all I need, he thought. He hadn’t missed the ironic undertone in Felix’s voice. Shit, sometimes he really gets on my nerves! What’s he going to say this time?

  “Of course!” he said. “Anytime.”

  “Yes, well,” Felix said, pausing theatrically. “Between us men. Don’t put up with so much. Really, don’t let yourself be tossed out like that! That’s just going too far. You’re a policeman, after all, not some pushover. Our collective reputation is at stake here!”

  Arthur stared at Felix, stunned. “Also,” Felix continued unperturbed, “all this is going to affect your mental health at some stage. Unless”—he faltered, knitted his brow, and shot a brief glance at Arthur—“are you two into S and M?”

  Arthur was speechless. If he was sure of anything, it was that he had not talked about that incident. “How,” he stammered, “how the hell do you know about that?”

  Felix’s smile was mild now. “Are we sleuths? Gumshoes? Yes or yes? There you go!”

  Arthur swallowed. Yes, he thought, sure, yes or yes. “And Oberwieser?” he stammered. “Does she know about it . . . ?”