by Richard Lord
Stebbel cut him off: “Yes, yes, it’s clear that our killer is getting more diligent in his work”
Doktor Gressler nodded sadly. “Of which, there were other indications. We seem to have found a slight fracture in her nose. Evidently, the strangler hit the young lady with a hard object before or after the actual killing.”
Dörfner shook his head. “Maybe just before. To knock her off-guard, make her less able to defend herself from the choking?”
“Yes, that’s very possible. You’ll have to ask the killer about that, however. The only other witness to that moment is no longer able to speak.” He spread his hand to indicate the cadaver.
“We have many questions to ask this fiend when we get him,” Stebbel said. “That one will be somewhat low on my list,” Dörfner added.
“Oh, one other thing about the attack that I almost forgot. This time, the victim had blood running from her mouth. That came from a broken windpipe sustained during the strangulation. We surmise that he spent longer on this murder, perhaps continuing to strangle her even after she was dead.”
Stebbel turned away at this point. He felt ill. When Dörfner turned to see his partner, he noticed what he thought was a glint in the eye. Was he actually tearing?
Dörfner’s own hands had clenched and unclenched several times during Gressler’s account of the injuries and how they were most likely sustained. He felt an urge to get his own hands around the neck of the strangler and let him know what it felt like to be strangled. After staring at the corpse for a short time more, he turned and joined Stebbel. He patted him on the shoulder, trying to ease his distress.
The two inspectors threw a few more questions at Gressler as they were wrapping up the briefing, then thanked the doctor and made their way out. They remained in stoic silence as they walked down the corridor. Suddenly, just before they reached the paternoster lifts, Stebbel spun around and let forth an outburst.
“Alright, we pay Frau Keuler another unexpected visit. No, better still, we bring her in here, throw her into one of the interrogation rooms and lock the door. We get her to talk. Tell us whatever she knows. We’ll … we’ll put a lit cigar to the palms of her hands, the soles of her feet. We’ll break her fingers, starting with the little one and then working our way to the thumbs if we have to. Whatever it takes – we will get her to tell us everything she knows about her brother. We have to find out where Brunner is, where he’s hiding, and get him before he kills again.”
Dörfner was stunned, but also quite amused. “My dear colleague! And where have you been keeping this raging tiger you have inside you? You’re sounding like the cop I was always afraid I might become someday.”
Stebbel took a long, cavernous breath. He closed his eyes and slumped against the wall. Moments later, he opened his eyes and straightened up.
“Sorry; I didn’t mean any of that. Of course, we can’t torture that woman to get any information. It probably wouldn’t be reliable anyway, whatever we forced out of her. It’s just …” He turned and slapped the wall hard in frustration.
“I know, I know.”
“We have to find him, Dörfner. It’s getting to be too much. We can’t let this monster strike again. He has no right to be sharing the air of this city with any of us. He’s given up his right to enjoy life. We have to get him and stop these murders.”
“What, you think I’m going to argue with you? Offer a rebuttal? I want to get that swine as much as you do. And we will get him, we will.”
Stebbel looked his partner deep in the eyes. He held this look for about ten seconds without saying anything. Then: “Will we?”
In answer, Dörfner turned and looked down the corridor, towards the morgue. At that moment, the corridor looked even drearier than ever before.
* * *
Back in their office, the two sat almost shoulder-to-shoulder at Stebbel’s desk. Stebbel had pulled out the casebook and was starting to write down the highlights of what they had seen, what they had been told, down in the morgue. But a few sentences into the report, Stebbel slapped the pen down and shoved the book away.
“No, we have to get out there now. I can’t bear to see Rautz and Schollenberg this morning. Especially Schollenberg. Let’s get out there and start scouring the sidewalks. I’ll … I’ll go and see if I can get any useful information from the victim’s family.” He rubbed his left temple, where a tension headache was settling in. “I’ll have to go back and ask Gressler what time they came to identify the body.”
“And what should I do?”
“Why not … Why don’t you go to see the Turk. Find out if he knows anything about this Brunner. See if he … if he can provide us with any help in this matter. Maybe he can get some of his people, the really hard ones, to serve as patrols on the streets. Make sure that if Brunner turns up again, he won’t be able to kill anyone.”
“Alright. I’ll see what I can do. I have a few IOUs for favors there, so I’ll tell the Turk I’m expecting some repayment now.”
“Good. But let’s get out now, before Rautz can discuss this latest killing with Schollenberg. Our peerless District Commander usually doesn’t like to entertain any bad news until he’s had his mid-morning coffee and pastry. Let’s be long gone from here when he starts bellowing for action.”
“I couldn’t agree more”
The two then exited the office together in a rush. Dörfner headed immediately for the paternoster while Stebbel went to consult the preliminary report by the pulley police to get the address of the victim’s family.
Chapter 33
The Turk was not on duty at the Ottoman embassy, nor was he at his main shop in the Tichtelgasse. But Vlatko was there. When Dörfner asked the assistant where his boss was, the underling said he had no idea and also had no idea when he might be back. His reply had a spiteful echo, blending insincerity and truculence, so Dörfner decided to ask him one more time.
“Oh, I don’t think you remember who I am.” He reached into this jacket and pulled out his ID plate. “I’m Inspector Dörfner, that good friend of your employer.”
As he said that, he thrust the plate towards Vlatko’s face with a hard right jab. This time though, he stopped just short of the underling’s nose. Vlatko flinched to avoid the punch and swallowed some musty air.
“So, you remember now? You might also recall that I’m the fellow who has a distinct distaste for false information.”
The flunky then came up with a new story. He really did not know where the Turk was, but he knew that he had an appointment at eleven. Something that he couldn’t miss. So he would probably be back at the shop by 10:30, 10:45 to get ready for that meeting. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble for the inspector, he could come back then and see if the Turk could fit him in.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Dörfner said as he eased his ID plate back into his jacket pocket and started back towards the door. “He will be able to fit me in. Remember, we are very old and dear friends. You do things for friends. Maybe one day you’ll learn that – and acquire a few friends of your own.” And then he made his exit, closing the door carefully as he left.
Dörfner returned shortly after 10:30 and was told that Bahadir himself had returned a few minutes earlier.
“Excellent. Now, go back there and tell your boss that his dear friend from police headquarters is here to see him. I just want to take a few minutes of his time. He’ll understand.”
“Jawohl, Herr Constable.” Vlatko did a military spin and headed to the back room.
The Turk emerged several moments later, flustered at seeing Dörfner there. “My friend, my friend … You must always alert me beforehand when you come to visit. I don’t have any tea or coffee ready to serve you. Nor do I have any pastries to offer. You embarrass me by coming in unannounced like this. Could we perhaps – ”
“No need really. I appreciate your generosity, but I just came from a second breakfast at the local café. I was actually here about an hour ago, before you arrived, so I treated myself to
a poppy seed dumpling and a small pot of coffee to kill the time.”
“Well, please let me show you my appreciation for your visit the next time you come. Not having anything to offer you, I feel almost like I’m standing naked here. And that’s a feeling I find so embarrassing – except, of course, when I am entertaining charming women.”
The Turk then waved Vlatko off to another part of the shop and escorted Dörfner into the back room.
Dörfner was pretty sure that Bahadir’s embarrassment stemmed not just from the fact that he had no refreshments to offer, but mainly because he had that other visitor coming in soon, and he did not seem eager to have Dörfner meet this visitor. This embarrassment was actually a benefit, as the two got down to business immediately.
The inspector asked if he had heard about the latest murder. The Turk said he hadn’t, and he looked and sounded sincere when he said it. Dörfner then quickly recounted all the details of the crime that he felt it safe to share with the Turk. Bahadir actually seemed upset at hearing just the details Dörfner was able to provide.
“This is very bad, you know; very bad indeed. It just poisons the air we all breathe in this otherwise wonderful city. It affects all of us negatively. I’ll tell you, it’s even bad for business. We have noticed that women are less willing to come to the shop and look at our excellent wares because of this murderer.
“And my friends who do their business in the skin trade, they tell me that their business has fallen off considerably in the last few weeks. Girls aren’t showing up for work, and the clients are reluctant to venture out for their carnal pleasures because there are so many of you police patrolling the streets.”
Dörfner picked up on this and told his friend that one of the problems they faced is that they didn’t have enough police to patrol the streets. Their coverage had gaps, far too many gaps. This murderer seemed to be operating without much fear of getting caught – especially as he had just widened his field of operations beyond Spittelberg.
“And how could I help with this situation? Are you collecting donations so that you can hire more policemen? I would love to help you, but – ”
Dörfner cut him off and announced just how he could help the police – and, of course, all the citizens of Vienna. He was hoping that the Turk could offer the services of his employers, the muscle division, to patrol those streets the police themselves couldn’t cover. Only until they caught this murderer, of course. And they hoped to do that very soon.
The Turk mulled this request for several moments, then asked how many men Dörfner was expecting to get from him. The inspector decided to aim high: at least twenty, he said, and they should be there from nightfall until the first streaks of morning light appeared over the city’s easternmost district.
The Turk was taken aback by the number Dörfner was asking for. He gave a barking laugh, as he always did when mildly embarrassed. He then mulled this over for a half a minute, and admitted that it would be very difficult – but it was something that he was willing to do for a friend.
Dörfner smiled and gave a slight bow of gratitude. “Thank you. I knew you were the man to come to when I found myself in a moment of such duress.”
“Of course, of course. I would be insulted if you thought of anyone other than myself. But one further thing, please: it will be difficult to get all of these fellows together and then out there on the streets of the redlight districts.
“Plus, I must convince them to do so despite the dangers they are putting themselves into. I will certainly do it as a favor to my very dear friend, but then I must ask myself what favors my dear friend is willing to do me in return.”
“Well, Turk, I think your dear friend has done you a number of serious favors recently, and now he’s just asking that you repay some of those favors. In fact, a few of the favors you might not even know about.”
The Turk straightened up in his chair. “Oh? Such as?”
“You know, just last week, there was a small package sent to this shop. From somewhere in Anatolia. In that package were a number of the dolls that you sell in this shop. But it was funny – when several of those dolls were cut accidentally with a knife, you know what was inside?”
“I can’t imagine. Doll stuffing?”
Dörfner smiled amiably and shook his head. “A rich cascade of heroin. Can you imagine? Very pure product, too, I’ve been told. Now one of my colleagues in the drug division, who also happens to be another good friend of mine, told me about this embarrassing shipment. It seems he was just about to come over here, arrest some people and then close the shop. Maybe close it in a very messy way, too.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, but I convinced this colleague that it must certainly have been a mistake putting the address of this shop on the package. It must have been intended for some other address.”
“Of course. I would not wish to see anything like this in my shop.”
“I told the colleague that myself. It took some convincing, but I was able to keep him from coming into this shop with a squad of ungentlemanly policemen who would have spent a good few hours going through this whole shop just to make sure there was nothing else like those dolls and their contents here. And then leaving with a number of people in handcuffs.
“So you see, my friend – I do favors for you even when you’re not aware of them. And especially when you very much need such favors.”
“Which is why we are such good friends, isn’t it, Inspector? And that is why I will certainly help you out this time. But then, I hope you will remember this whenever you have the chance to do me a favor again.”
“I will indeed. You need not worry about that.” And the meeting wrapped up rapidly from there. Dörfner explained what would be needed for the patrols and said he would send over written details in the late afternoon. Then he thanked his friend for the cooperation and made a quick exit. After all, Bahadir the businessman did have another visitor coming in very soon.
Chapter 34
When Dörfner returned to headquarters, he was excited to tell his news about the temporary street patrols he’d apparently secured. But even as he stood at the office doorway, he could feel the morose mood within.
Stebbel was sitting at his desk, pen in hand, casebook opened. But he wasn’t writing anything; he was just staring out blankly. Dörfner’s own mood dropped at seeing this.
“What is it, Steb?”
“I was just over there at the home of the victim. Frau Grettin. I saw her family, was asking them questions. Her mother, her father, a younger sister.”
“I see.”
Stebbel shook his head. “It was terrible. She was the pride of the family. An honors student, the first one in the family to go to university. They had so many hopes for her. It seemed like there was so much future for her.
“You know how people say they could actually feel the pain in a room? Today, I could feel the pain in that room. It was surrounding me, pushing in at me from different sides. I couldn’t take it after awhile. I could barely breathe. I finished up quickly, didn’t even ask all the questions I should have, and just got out of there.”
“I can imagine what it was like.”
“No, you can’t. Sorry, but you can’t.” He looked up. “And I felt like I was partially guilty for that pain. As if I had let those people down. If I could have done a better job at catching the killer – or at least scaring him away for a few weeks – Frau Grettin would still be alive today.”
Dörfner pulled his own chair closer to Stebbel and looked straight at him, though Stebbel continued looking the other way.
“You can’t feel that way, Steb. It’s not your fault. Also not mine. It’s just that we don’t have the resources, don’t have the time … don’t have the luck.”
He tried looking Stebbel in the eye, then realized why Stebbel was looking away: he seemed to have tears in his eyes. Also, he didn’t seem to be listening anymore.
Dörfner thought to himself that maybe this was the wrong profe
ssion for Stebbel. It seemed to be getting to him too much. Maybe when this was all over, he might mention it. But certainly not now.
Instead, Dörfner suggested they go for a drink. A brandy or something. It would be Dörfner’s treat. When Stebbel finally turned and looked at him, Dörfner repeated the offer. Stebbel capped his pen, put away the casebook, and they went off for a well-needed break.
By the afternoon editions, most of the city’s leading newspapers had managed to scavenge more details of the murder as well as the particulars of the victim. Front-page articles highlighted the most grisly details, and follow-up pieces inside just pumped up the gore factor. And, of course, the would-be poets and novelists who were stuck in poorly paid journalism posts were taking advantage of the continuing story and the poignant tale of the latest victim to churn out stories that relied more on exaggeration and outright invention than allegiance to the facts.
The morning editions the next day were even more livid. One paper, Die Volkstribüne, actually started running a contest: a prize of 50 kroners to the reader who could guess the exact date on which Vienna’s strangler passed the official kill count of Jack the Ripper. When Dörfner was shown that bit of inspiration, he felt the urge to travel over to the paper’s offices and punch out the chief editor and publisher.
But it had been a quiet night. Street police and journalists both noted that there seemed to be fewer people out on the streets of the First District that evening. It was almost like a holiday. Or rather, a day of mourning. One senior journalist said it reminded him a little of the dark evenings that followed the assassination of the beloved Empress Sisi.
Stebbel and Dörfner kept wondering when they would be called in again to face District Commander Schollenberg. And they wondered what they could say when they were called in.
The worst thing that happened in those first two days came when they sent a few pulley cops to Währing to bring in Frau Keuler for more intense questioning. When the police arrived, they were told that the lady had left the day before. She said she was going for a short vacation and asked one of her neighbors to collect her mail and newspaper while she was away. But she made no mention of when she might be back.
