Louise's Chance

by Sarah R. Shaber

  ‘Thomas Hanzi,’ I said.

  ‘That’s him,’ the doc said. ‘Bahnsen said the two of them hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in days. Bahnsen didn’t seem too bad off, but Hanzi looked terrible. Big dark circles under his eyes, and he had a tremor in one hand. So I gave them some goofballs.’

  Barbiturates. Bahnsen had told us the truth. He and Thomas had taken goofballs last night and were in no condition to murder anyone. I knew how deeply Phoebe slept after taking a Nembutal. Bahnsen and Hanzi would have slept through the night like dead men.

  I met Williams outside the stockade gate. I didn’t feel unsafe in the camp – there were so many guards and war dogs around – but I was still relieved whenever I crossed through the checkpoint on to the other side of all that barbed wire fencing.

  ‘I found Merle and took him over to Bahnsen’s tent,’ Williams said. ‘We woke up his roommate, who verified Bahnsen’s story. Said Bahnsen and Hanzi had taken pills to sleep, pills they got from the doc at the infirmary. He saw them take them. And he didn’t hear anyone leave the tent last night.’

  ‘The doc at the infirmary gave them goofballs,’ I said. ‘I just talked to him.’

  ‘So it wasn’t them,’ Williams said. ‘I’m out of suspects, except for everyone else in the camp who hated Kapp. We’ll just have to wait until we get the result of the autopsy and hope it reveals more evidence. I’m starving. Want to get some chow?’

  ‘Not now,’ I said. ‘I need to run an errand.’ I had a suspect of my own and I wanted to talk to him before I mentioned him to Williams.

  I knocked on Lt Rawlins’ office door. He called out for me to enter.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘Mrs Pearlie. Come on in. How is the investigation going? I hear Agent Williams stole you from Miss Osborne for the day.’

  ‘He did,’ I said, ‘but I’m afraid we’ve gotten nowhere. All the best suspects have alibis.’ I sat down in a chair in front of Rawlins’ desk and filled him in on what we’d found out about Steiner and Bahnsen. He’d read it all eventually in Williams’ report anyway.

  ‘So who’s left on your list to interview?’ he asked.

  I looked down at my hands before gathering the courage to speak out. ‘You,’ I said.

  I saw Rawlins’ expression change from relaxed to apprehensive in an instant, as if a cloud had passed over his face. He straightened his desk blotter and lined up his pencils and pens along its edge before he spoke.

  ‘I see,’ he said. ‘You think I murdered Kapp?’

  ‘I think you might have,’ I said. ‘And I haven’t spoken to Agent Williams about it. Much of what you told me was in confidence.’

  ‘I confirmed your suspicions that I have a drinking problem. And I told you how much I hated being at this post instead of somewhere where I could kill Germans or Japs to avenge my father and brother. And how I resented spending my time making life comfortable for prisoners of war instead. And how I desperately wanted Kapp out of this camp.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s motive. What about opportunity?’

  ‘That’s what I wanted to ask you,’ I said. ‘Where were you in the middle of last night?’

  ‘In my quarters. Alone. But I didn’t kill Kapp. I was incapable of it. You know my pledge to cut back on my drinking? To say I fell off the wagon last night is an understatement. I got blind stinking drunk at the officers’ club. Chantal and the bartender practically carried me to my quarters after the club closed. I barely remember them tucking me into bed. Is that a good enough alibi?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And I’m glad.’

  ‘Glad I got drunk?’

  ‘Relieved you’re not a murderer.’

  Rawlins lowered his head into his hands. ‘I’m going to try again,’ he said, the sound of his voice muffled. ‘To drink less.’

  I stood up and brushed my skirt down over my legs, feeling the Tiger Club matchbox in my pocket.

  ‘That’s all any of us can do,’ I said. ‘Keep trying.’

  Rawlins walked me the short distance to the door and closed it behind me. I leaned up against the doorknob to let my nerves settle and heard him open a desk drawer. I hoped he was looking for a pencil instead of his pint of bourbon.

  I was out of good suspects now too. And the last thing I wanted to do was join Agent Williams for lunch. Instead of going to the mess I hiked over to the mobile canteen the USO had set up next to the camp chapel. There women from the towns surrounding Fort Meade gave out food and drink to soldiers who couldn’t make it to the mess for some reason. I got the last sandwich, cheese and pickle, and an apple just before they rolled down the awning for the day.

  Back at my lodging I found Miss Osborne on her bed surrounded by piles of paper.

  ‘Louise,’ she said, ‘good to see you. I hope you’re done assisting Agent Williams. I need you to look at these lists of the rest of the prisoners of war. We’ll be starting to interview again this afternoon. Can you be there? Eat your lunch first, by all means.’

  Famished, I ate half my sandwich before answering her.

  ‘I think Agent Williams and I are done. We got nowhere,’ I said. Between bites I filled her in on what we had learned earlier today, beginning with our conclusion that Kapp had been murdered, but I didn’t tell her about my conversation with Lt Rawlins. I’d double check his alibi with Lucien Chantal as soon as I could find a private minute with him, but I was sure it would check out. Rawlins wouldn’t lie about something that could so easily be confirmed.

  Miss Osborne didn’t seem surprised that Kapp had been murdered. ‘He was too arrogant to kill himself,’ she said, ‘and had so many enemies. Do you think the FBI will ever find his murderer?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. I watched Miss Osborne light a cigar-ette, which reminded me of the Tiger Club matchbox in my pocket. The link between Major Kapp and the red-light district of Reichenberg, it could substantiate Kapp’s motive for killing the two men on the Abel Stoddard, which in turn would explain why he staged Marek’s stoning and might help us discover who killed Kapp himself, I suspected in retaliation for the murders Kapp had committed. This was a conversation that would never even begin unless I showed that box to Agent Williams. Which I now knew I would never do.

  I knew who had murdered Major Kapp, but I didn’t want him to be arrested. Instead I planned to recruit him for our mission. The man couldn’t infiltrate northern Italy and distribute black propaganda behind German lines if he was in a federal prison.

  And no, I didn’t discuss my intentions with Miss Osborne or anyone else. I assumed she would have no choice but to refuse to give me permission to conceal what I knew about Kapp’s murderer, even if he would make an excellent agent. But I’d worked with Miss Osborne long enough now to be confident she would make the same decision I did if she were in my place.

  FOURTEEN

  Six weeks later

  It was cold in the interview tent. I wore my coat and gloves, which made handling all the paperwork I’d brought with me difficult. Lt Bahnsen huddled in the wool coat he’d been issued by the Quartermaster’s Office when he first arrived at Fort Meade. It was too small for him and he could only fasten half the buttons. Bahnsen’s scar wasn’t visible at all. It had faded quite a bit on its own, and OSS makeup artists had taught him how to conceal the thin white line that remained.

  After Major Kapp’s killing we’d recruited five POWs to infiltrate the German lines in Italy to spread ‘black’ propaganda. Bahnsen was our star. He’d scored consistently well on our psychological tests and performed brilliantly throughout the training process. He’d made it clear that he’d do anything we asked of him, except kill a fellow German other than in self-defense.

  ‘Good morning,’ I said to him.

  ‘And to you,’ he answered, blowing on his hands for warmth.

  ‘I’ve got your paperwork here for you to sign.’

  ‘OK,’ he said.

  ‘You’ll continue to be a prisoner of war even when you are working as an OSS o
perative. You’ll be lodged in the ship’s brig on the way to London and in the submarine that takes you to Malta. Once you arrive there you’ll be quartered in an Allied prisoner-of-war camp. When your mission is over, after the submarine picks you up off the coast of northern Italy, you’ll be returned to the camp in Malta, or to a new camp in southern Italy.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘You won’t be released until after the war is over, with all the other German prisoners of war. We will take all possible steps to protect you, just as we do with our other operatives. You’ll be given the opportunity to come to the United States if you don’t wish to go home to Germany.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Here’s your paperwork. If you’ll sign it you’ll be good to go. I understand you’ll be on a train to Baltimore tomorrow.’

  ‘Maybe I can get a coat that fits before I leave,’ he said.

  I watched Bahnsen scan the paperwork, then he signed his name and handed the sheaf of papers back to me.

  ‘Where is everyone else?’ Bahnsen asked me.

  ‘Miss Osborne is in a meeting with Lucien Chantal and Agent Williams. Merle went out with an MP and Jens Geller to buy cowboy boots.’

  Bahnsen grinned. ‘Cowboy boots, that’s all Geller’s talked about. This must be the first time ever that an operative has been bribed with cowboy boots.’

  ‘He had other reasons too,’ I said. ‘But the boots cinched the deal.’ I tapped the paperwork Bahnsen had just signed. ‘You made an interesting request too,’ I said. ‘Immunity from prosecution for any felonies committed since your arrival in the United States and while you work for OSS.’

  ‘Lucien Chantal told me that’s a standard request,’ he said.

  ‘Maybe so, but none of our other recruits asked for it. What felonies are you thinking of?’

  Bahnsen shrugged. ‘Who knows what I might have to do?’ he said.

  ‘Unless you’ve already done it.’

  Bahnsen stared at me, surprised. ‘By God,’ he said, ‘you know! How did you figure it out?’

  ‘How do I know that you murdered Major Kapp? Most of the prisoners were terrified of him. They didn’t care that Kapp had engineered Marek’s death, they just didn’t want to be next. And besides, there were three other Waffen SS members in the camp. They would have protected him. Even Steiner. Much as he hated Kapp, he was SS too, and whatever happened to Kapp might happen to him.’

  Bahnsen crossed his arms and tucked his hands under his armpits for warmth.

  ‘I suppose you’d like to know the whole story,’ he said.

  ‘I would. I assume you found out about Kapp and his history with the two men from Reichenberg on the ship after it left Casablanca, but I don’t know the details.’

  ‘We were all in the same hold, Hold 2, Kapp, Aach, Muntz, Marek and me. It was clear to all of us that Aach and Muntz recognized Kapp from somewhere. Kapp pretended he didn’t know them, but he didn’t fool any of us. For some reason they confided in Marek, telling him that they knew Kapp when he was stationed in Reichenberg, where they spent many evenings at the same clubs. Aach and Muntz didn’t know Kapp was a German soldier until they ran into him on the street dressed in full Waffen SS regalia. So Kapp had them drafted. Within twenty-four hours they were out of the city and in boot camp. Separate boot camps. And the two of them had the sense to be grateful they were just in the Wehrmacht instead of dead in a back alley. Once on board ship the two men weren’t in Europe or in the Wehrmacht anymore, they were bound for the United States, and they weren’t afraid of Kapp. They should have been. Kapp murdered them.’

  Bahnsen paused to drain the last of his coffee.

  ‘Marek told me much later, here in the States,’ he continued, ‘that there was a cluster of smokestacks and vents on the deck of the Abel Stoddard which created a space hidden from view of the rest of the deck. Kapp lured Aach and Muntz there, one at a time, and simply threw them overboard. Marek, who was looking for a little privacy among the stacks to relieve himself over the side of the ship, saw Kapp commit the second murder. Marek had the good sense to back off, and never to be with Kapp alone again. To buy his silence, Kapp gave Marek everything of value he owned.’

  ‘What happened to change that?’

  ‘Marek had a guilty conscience. Once in the States he believed he should tell the authorities about Kapp, but he was too frightened. He confessed to me after one of the prayer services I held. I couldn’t absolve him, but he seemed relieved after speaking to me. One of the SS riflemen saw the confession through the mess tent window and told Kapp. He guessed that Marek might have been talking to me about the murders and forced most of the prisoners to stone him over the fence so a sentry would shoot him.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell Lt Rawlins yourself?’

  ‘I’m not a priest, but I try to act like one when I can. Marek’s confession was confidential. I promised him I wouldn’t speak of it.’ Bahnsen grasped his body with his arms. ‘It’s bloody cold in here. Can’t we do something about it?’

  ‘I’ll see if I can get some coffee for us; I’m cold too.’ I went to the tent door and flagged down an army private. ‘Can you bring us two coffees, please?’ I asked him.

  ‘Cream and sugar,’ Bahnsen called out.

  ‘Blond and sweet,’ I said to the private.

  Back in my chair I waited for the rest of Bahnsen’s story.

  ‘You didn’t join in on Marek’s murder?’ I said.

  ‘Of course not, and several of the other prisoners refused too. Geller and Hanzi were two of them. But it didn’t matter. Kapp had all the men he needed.’

  The private came in with our coffee, and for a few minutes we were warm.

  Once the soldier left I asked Bahnsen to finish his story. He seemed glad, almost relieved, to do so.

  ‘I decided Kapp had to die,’ he said, ‘not because of the men he’d already killed – there was nothing I could do to help them – but because of a prisoner who was in danger.’

  ‘Thomas Hanzi.’

  ‘Yes. I was very aware that Steiner hated Hanzi because he was a gypsy and possibly a homosexual. And that Kapp was interested in Hanzi. He’d already murdered two men because they knew of his sexual interests. How long would he let Hanzi live? What I didn’t expect was that Thomas Hanzi was eager to help me kill the major.’

  I’d listened to Lt Bahnsen’s narrative with little surprise. But when he said that Hanzi was his accomplice I was startled.

  ‘But Hanzi was so, I don’t know … not meek exactly …’ I said. ‘Stoic.’

  ‘Thomas had spent his entire life being careful and watchful, and subservient if that was called for, but he was willing to use violence to stay alive if it was necessary. We hatched the plot together. It was easy. He enticed Kapp to the shower room. We bound and gagged him, hoping the FBI would buy into his suicide and not bother with the marks of the restraints. I constructed a hangman’s noose from a clothesline. I slipped the noose over Kapp’s head and threw the free end over a pipe. Hanzi and I hauled him up and he strangled to death. We unbound him and tossed a chair in a corner to make it look like he’d stood on it, then kicked it away.’

  ‘I figured that’s what happened.’

  ‘How did you see through our alibi?’

  ‘The goofballs. My landlady takes Nembutal occasionally to sleep. If she does she’s still drowsy in the mornings, and if she’s had a sherry too it’s difficult to wake her until late. But when Williams and I questioned you in your tent you were all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, writing in your notebook. It was your tent-mate who was still asleep. So I figured you and Hanzi added the goofballs to your tent-mates’ beer and pretended to take the pills yourselves. I’m thinking you threw back a couple of M&Ms, am I right?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t hard to convince those two that Hanzi and I were out of commission for the night. And when we slipped out of the tent neither of them could hear us, drugged as they were. I guess my next question is why didn’t you turn
us in?’

  ‘What would be the point? You’re more valuable to us as an operative.’

  ‘Does anyone else know?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to say a word of this to anyone, ever. I’m good at keeping secrets,’ I said.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘One favor, though,’ I said. ‘It’s a personal question I need answered.’

  ‘If I can,’ he said.

  ‘You were in the Luftwaffe. Did you know a pilot named Rein Hermann? Can you tell me if he was serving in North Africa, or if he was captured?’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘Can’t say.’

  ‘OK, yes, I know of a Colonel Rein Hermann. Last I heard he was assigned to the Eastern Front. His English is very good. He flew for Lufthansa, didn’t he, before the war? I heard he had an American wife.’ Bahnsen started. ‘My God, you’re not his wife, are you?’

  ‘No!’ I said, ‘I swear I’m not. But thank you for answering my question. Please don’t mention this to anyone.’ If Rein was ever captured, he’d spend his time in a Russian prison camp, not an American one. I didn’t know how I was going to reassure Ada without revealing how I got the information, but I’d think of something.

  ‘I won’t. It’s the least I can do under the circumstances.’

  ‘So, I guess after the war you’ll be ordained?’ I said.

  Bahnsen snorted. ‘I don’t think I can become a priest after having murdered a man in cold blood.’

  ‘I don’t know why not,’ I said. ‘I recall from Sunday school that before he was proclaimed king, David killed Goliath and a bunch of Philistine warriors in battle, and I don’t recall that God held it against him. Maybe you should have a talk with Him before you decide.’