The briefcase in his hand seemed to have doubled in weight. He slowly expelled the breath he'd been holding, swallowed once and said in a studiously calm, deliberate tone: "Good afternoon, Frau Bender. I'm your attorney, Eberhard Brauning."
She looked him up and down, betraying no emotion of any kind.
"My attorney?" she said in a low, expressionless voice.
"The court has appointed me to safeguard your interests. Or, to put it more simply, to conduct your defence. You know what you stand accused of?"
He could have sworn, from the way she was standing there, that she didn't know Nor did she answer his question. "It's rather warm in here," she said, turning back to the barred window "The sky looks cloudy, though. Not the weather for a swim. I should have stayed in the water the first time. I'd have forgotten everything by now - I could be leading a peaceful life with the man down below"
She drew a long, tremulous breath.
"We talked about it this morning, the professor and I. The fact that I wanted to live with the man in the lake. And on Friday I said to him, `You're wrong, my friend, it's Monday already.' But today is Friday, isn't it? I asked the professor this morning, and lie said today is Friday."
She was silent for some seconds. Then she turned her head and eyed him appraisingly over her shoulder. "Or was he lying? If you want to do me a great favour, tell me he was lying. These quacks are a curse. When you think they're telling the truth they're wrong, and when you think they're wrong they're telling the truth. For instance, one of them told me I was a drug-addicted whore who only had sex with perverts."
She gave a little shrug. "He wasn't wrong, unfortunately. Perverts simply pay better, and I had to raise a lot of money in a hurry. It all depended on me - she asked me to do it. She wanted me to pay for her heart with my body."
A rueful smile brought her face to life for an instant, but it vanished as quickly as it had come. "I would have done anything for her," she went on. "I'd have ripped out my own heart and given it to her if I could, and she knew it. She knew a lot about messed-up types like me. She knew I was so messed up, I wouldn't have cared."
Eberhard Brauning could only stare at her and try to make some sense of her effusions. Heart, sister ...
She nodded to herself, lost in thought. "But I couldn't do that for her. I was only sixteen, and I'd never gone to bed with a man before. I wept. I prayed all night long that she'd think of another idea. And do you know what she told me? `You've no need to fuck anyone, you idiot. Normal sex doesn't pay well. SM, that's the only thing that makes real money. You wouldn't have to offer your pussy to scum like that. All you need to do is give the dirty old men a regular walloping. Thrash them with a whip. Kick them in the crotch, stick pins in their peckers - that's what they enjoy' But I couldn't torture old men either. The very idea!"
She put a hand over her mouth. Her deliberate nodding was succeeded by an equally deliberate shaking of the head. "She said I should simply think of Father and the way he'd got off on me. She said she'd only wanted to stop me getting hysterical when I showed her how he'd felt between my legs. That was the only reason why she'd told me it meant nothing. `Feeling between your legs to see if you'd wet the bed? A glance at the sheets would have been enough.' I knew she was a beast when she said that. Still, everyone tries to survive in their own way, don't they? She only wanted to live."
Brauning managed a nod. "So do we all," he said.
She nodded too. "I ought to have done it. A lot of people genuinely enjoy being hurt and humiliated - you're only doing them a favour. I could have got her off my back in a legal way. I had to get rid of her somehow or other. She would never have died of her own accord, but after an operation she could have lived on her own, she wouldn't have needed me as much. Why didn't I do it while there was still time? Why did I only do it when she was dead? Was I trying to kill two birds with one stone? Apologize to my father and, at the same time, be able to say: `Hey, you up there, look at me. I'm doing it, you see? I'm doing it for you."'
She looked at him, and a spark began to glimmer in the depths of those glassy eyes. Not a spark of life, though, only of torment.
"I did it," she said with a long sigh. "But not in the way she'd suggested. I could never have brought myself to stick a pin in someone's penis. I swapped roles and offered my own flesh instead, but even that I couldn't handle. In order to endure the filth I was exposed to, I shot up. Sounds logical, doesn't it? I think it does, thoroughly logical, but the chief doesn't believe me. Do you?"
Brauning had an urge to hammer on the door and ask to be let out. To be spared the sight of those eyes, in which the spark was now glowing more brightly. To be released from this room - even, if possible, from this assignment. Cardiac and renal failure! That, he supposed, had been an error - not the only error in this case, and he had let himself in for it.
Instead of hammering on the door, he started to whistle a tune in his head. A cheerful tune. It had steadied his nerves even as a boy, this soundless whistling.
The beds in the ward were neatly made up. You could only tell they'd been used from the pillowcases, which were stained and creased like Cora Bender's clothing.
She had been silent for at least a minute. He didn't notice this until she followed the direction of his gaze and grinned. "Looks as if I've got company here, doesn't it?" she said sarcastically. "Don't be deceived by those beds, they're just a ploy. The only people I've seen here so far are the nursing staff, the professor and the chief. I imagine they're testing me to see if I'm still in my right mind, or if I'll start talking to non-existent people."
The change caught him wholly unprepared. Her voice and even her expression were suddenly those of someone amusing herself at other people's expense. They'd played a trick on her and failed to discern that she'd seen through it long ago, so she was fully entitled to laugh at their stupidity.
"On the other hand," she said with a shrug, "maybe it's because I sleep too much. I only have to lie down and I doze off in two seconds flat. You could fire a gun in my ear, and I wouldn't wake up - they always have to shake me in the mornings. The professor thinks it's a bad sign, my sleeping so much and enjoying it into the bargain. He must have read that sleep is death's little brother."
She laughed derisively. "But that's nonsense, the little brother idea never occurred to me. I shared a bedroom with the big brother for years. What's more, I welcomed it when Father moved next door and the big brother moved in with me. People are so stupid sometimes, it ought to be prohibited."
Brauning had already breathed a sigh of relief and was looking for a way of introducing the speech he'd prepared when she suddenly blinked. Her next words were uttered in a voice as bemused and apathetic as it had been at first.
"I'm sorry, you probably don't know what I'm talking about. I don't know myself, sometimes. My head isn't always as clear as it might be. They keep pumping me full of some shit or other. The professor claims it's just something to counter my depressive symptoms, but they're a bunch of liars in here, believe me."
She squared her shoulders. "But I'll make it," she said, sounding thoroughly wide awake. "I always have. I used to say, if someone gives you a kick in the backside, it's an incentive to move on. Or don't you agree?"
Her tone became harsh and mocking. "Now don't look so scared. I'm not mad; I only act that way. It's practical, being mad in here. I didn't take long to discover that. You can talk utter crap. If they ask unpleasant questions, you can fob them off with any old rubbish. They like that. They need it to justify their existence - that's what they're paid for, after all. But the two of us are talking sensibly together. You mustn't tell anyone I'm still capable of it. As my attorney you're pledged to secrecy, I presume. Except that I don't need you. I'm sorry you've had a wasted journey."
Eberhard Brauning felt like someone exposed to an alternation of hot and cold baths. He didn't know what to make of her outpourings or how to respond to them. "The court has entrusted me with your defence," he repeated lamely.
>
She shrugged, and an arrogant smile appeared on her bruised and battered face. "What makes the court think I want to be defended? Tell them I chucked you out. Or say you changed your mind after speaking with me."
"That's impossible, Frau Bender," he said. "You need an attorney, and
"Nonsense," she broke in coolly. "I don't need anyone. I get on best when I'm all alone, not that I ever am. Do you know `The Sorcerer's Apprentice'?"
He nodded, looking baffled, and she went on: "I didn't summon the spirits. It was the chief That bastard summoned them from hell, one after the other. Now he's ramming Magdalena down my throat. I knew that would happen if I brought her into it, that's why I kept quiet about her. But then lie talked to Grit, and now I don't know how to get rid of her. I can't get rid of the others, either. Johnny, Billy-Goat, Tiger - I've no idea where I got them from, and I don't know where to put them or how to stop them trampling around on my mind."
She drove her fist into her palm and drew a deep breath. Then she smiled again. Pathetically this time, not arrogantly. "I'm in good company here, believe me. It wasn't my ambition to wind up in a loony bin, but beggars can't be choosers. It's not much different from prison; in fact, it may even be preferable. At least I don't get into arguments with other women. I swallow my pills like a good girl, finish most of my meals and tell the professor what he wants to hear. But let's leave it at that. I don't want anyone turning up and bugging me with questions so he can defend me in court. I've no wish to be defended. I can defend myself."
Eberhard Brauning was feeling just as Rudolf Grovian had felt during his first few hours with her. He failed to see the knife-edge on which her mental state reposed. Although he felt like losing his temper, he strove to remain calm and businesslike.
"No, Frau Bender, you can't. In this country, accused persons can't defend themselves in a jury trial. Not even I could, if I stood accused of a capital crime. The verdict would have no legal validity and could be challenged at any time if the accused person had no defence counsel."
He waited for a moment to see if she would answer. When she remained silent he went over to the table and deposited his briefcase on it. He didn't open it at once, just pulled up a chair. "That's the fact of the matter. Whether or not we like it is irrelevant. When I was appointed your counsel I couldn't refuse. Now I could. I could tell the judge that Fran Bender refuses to cooperate and I cannot represent her under the circumstances. The judge would appreciate that. He would release me from my undertaking and appoint another attorney. You could naturally reject him as well, and a third, and a fourth. I don't know how long the judge would stand for this little game before his patience ran out. But you've only two alternatives: me or someone else. Perhaps you understand that now"
He didn't know why he'd explained this to her. It would have been far simpler to apply to the judge, except that he couldn't for the moment see anything that would have prompted him to regret his words. He felt she was leading him a dance and could have sworn she was playing the same tricks on him as she'd played on the police officer who had questioned her.
Johnny, Billy-Goat, Tiger! Not again, not with him! She was good at her role. She was almost brilliant, but he'd lived with Helene for as long as he could remember, and if there was one thing he'd learned from her, it was this: those who could laugh at the idiots who blithely swallowed their stories knew exactly what they were doing.
It was fascinating to watch her face and see the derision that twisted those lips and breathed life into those glassy eyes. No doubt about it: she was having fun at his expense. He felt sure Helene would have confirmed his impression had she been there. Cora Bender thought she could lead everyone by the nose.
"So we're both in the same boat, aren't we?" she said, coming over to the table and sitting down. "Where do we go from here? I'm really sorry you've been landed with me, but if that's the way things are I'd sooner hang onto you. I mean, they might send me some old fogey. At least you're easy on the eye. I don't want this case to overtax you, so I'll make things as simple as I can. I'm guilty, that's beyond dispute. I don't deny it. I've made a full confession, but I don't intend to make any further statements. Will that do?"
Brauning sat down at last. He opened his briefcase, took out the sheaf of papers and put it down in front of him. "It'll suffice for a conviction," he said. He laid his hand on the file. "This doesn't look good for you."
"I'm used to that," she said, grinning again. "Nothing has ever looked good for me. Put that away, I know what's in it. `Deliberately inflicted wounds. . .'And that's not all. Heaven alone knows what else the chief is digging up, and when the professor's through with me he's bound to write a nice report for the district attorney. Perhaps he'll do you a favour and mention a few mitigating factors."
She heaved a big sigh. "We'll see," she went on. "When you've got everything together, work out your strategy. Then pay me another visit, and we'll talk it over quietly. I may be a bit wiser by then. At the moment we're only wasting our time."
She cast a yearning glance at the window, and her voice took on a melancholy note. For a while, it seemed to Brauning that she was merely trying to demonstrate her mental faculties.
"The thing is," she said, "I have to be rather careful what I say. Have you ever felt you had to cling to your sanity with both hands? It's quite a job, believe me. There are times when I have to look at those bars again and again to convince myself that I'm not back home. Everything seems so real, as if I'm right in the middle of it all. I help her up to bed and hold her while she cleans her teeth or see her sitting in the kitchen. Why must I go through it all again? I'd left it far behind me and shut the door tight. The chief kicked it open. He shouldn't have threatened me. That's what started it."
She shook her head in surprise and corrected herself. "No, it started down by the lake, but there I only tasted the raspberryade and saw the little cross. And now I taste his blood and see the three big crosses. It doesn't matter where I look, I see them everywhere. And the one in the middle bears an innocent man."
He felt reluctant to interrupt her monologue, but it really wasn't appropriate for her to put on such a show for his benefit. High time she understood that. "Who threatened you and what with?" he asked.
She continued to stare at the window, looking as detached as she had to begin with. "The chief," she muttered. Then, somewhat louder: "Rudolf Grovian, that's his name. A persistent swine, believe you me. He told me he'd found the girl with the broken ribs."
Her eyes returned to Brauning's face, glassy once more. "Terrible, isn't it?" She nodded slowly to herself. "But there's nothing to be done. He's only doing his job. I know I've no right to complain, and I've no wish to. But now he's collected so much information, surely he could give it a rest. He won't, though. He won't stop till he's done for me. I'm going crazy in here."
Her voice sent shivers down his spine. The last words were just a hoarse whisper. She smote her chest with a clenched fist, clamping her eyes shut as though in pain. Then she regained her composure.
"I could wring his neck, but I like him in a way. Love your enemies, the Saviour always said. The chief was my first enemy. I felt so strong to begin with. That man was lying there, bleeding to death, and I felt great. I felt like Goliath - I was Goliath. I was so tall, I could see the knife on the high table and pick it up. And then along came this little David, and said he had to have a talk with my father. I lost my nerve and lied. And the funny thing was, the more I told him, the more I could see. The splashy picture and the green mosaics in the floor and the girl on the stairs. And now I can see the three crosses. I know I killed an innocent man, and I'm frightened. I'm terribly frightened of his father's anger."
Brauning couldn't bring himself to do as he'd intended and bring her back to the point. He wished his mother were there. He would have liked her advice on what to do.
Cora Bender's lips tightened. She covered her face with both hands for seconds on end. "Sometimes," she whispered, "when I think I'm asleep a
t night, he appears at my bedside. I don't see him, I just feel him. He bends over me and says: `My son wasn't to blame for this disaster. He did his best.' Every time he says that I want to shout: `That's a lie!' But I can't. I can't open my mouth because I'm asleep."
After an eternity she lowered her hands. Her face was just as he'd imagined a madwoman's face as a child.
"Don't worry," she murmured wearily. "I know how all this sounds, but I also know who I can say it to and who not. I never breathe a word to the professor about the Saviour and Mary Magdalene. At first I wanted nothing to do with her, but then she washed his feet and everything changed. Do you know the Bible well?"
The look that accompanied the question was appraising and matter-of-fact, like that of an expert trying to explain something to a layman. He gave another involuntary shrug `A bit," he said.
"If you've any questions about it," she went on, "just ask me. I know every word. I even know the bits that were never written. She was only trying to ingratiate herself with me when she washed his feet. She wanted to destroy him, and she did. I did it, I don't know why. I honestly don't know That tune can't have been the only reason."
Her fingertips started drumming rhythmically on the tabletop. "It was his tune, and I had it in my head. How did it get there? I must have known him after all, don't you think? So why can't I remember him? Do you think lie could really have been one of my clients? I can't remember them either. All that happened after she died is gone. I've buried it so deep, I can't get at it any more. I've turned over the whole of my brain and found nothing. Perhaps it's behind here."
She tapped the hair covering her forehead. "I won't find anything, even if I dig away till I die. That's the spot where he hit me first, I remember that now. And again on the side of the head. Then everything went black. I suppose they thought I was dead. They dumped me beside the road. Do you think I should tell it to the professor the way I told it to the chief? That might be an advantage, then there wouldn't be any inconsistency. It's best to be consistent or they catch you out right away"
The Sinner Page 27
