The Strangler's Waltz

by Richard Lord

  Chapter 35

  Adolf Hitler had been enraged when he read about the murder of Elisabeth Grettin. In fact, while reading, he had crumpled the bottom corners of the Wiener Morgenpost, even though the paper actually belonged to the hostel’s library. When he realized what he’d done, he looked around and then furtively tried to smooth out the pages with the flat of his hand.

  After reading a few more accounts of the crime, Hitler decided it was time for him to take a more active role. The police did not seem to be doing enough. He was starting to think that they didn’t believe him about having seen the killer. Maybe they just didn’t take him at all seriously. He would have to rectify that.

  That same evening, he showered, slicked down his hair, put on his good jacket and set out for Spittelberg. Being perhaps the only one in Vienna who had seen the killer face-to-face and lived to tell about it, he was now determined to find that man, to confront him, and to help bring him to justice.

  His plan was to wound the criminal, probably by stabbing him in the leg, and then run off and report the catch to the nearest police officer. Before leaving the hostel, he reached into the pocket of his jacket to check that the knife was still there. It was. He rearranged it so that the handle was standing up, ready to grab. He was determined to be a hero tonight, and he knew that a certain amount of preparation always helps when you want to be a hero.

  As soon as he reached Spittelberg, he began searching diligently. He had been there for about 15 minutes, covered many of the streets, peered into several doorways and was starting to feel frustrated when he saw him.

  The man was about twenty meters ahead of Hitler on the Bandgasse. Hitler could only see him from the back, but he was tall and burly and he had the ominous gait of the man he’d seen when the killings began. This, he felt, was indeed the man he was looking for. Now it was his task to stop him before he struck again.

  Hitler increased his stride, quickly closing the distance between himself and his prey. Then, chance stepped in: the man was approached by the lone prostitute on that street, and he seemed interested in what she had to offer. He planted himself in front of the hooker and started to discuss business terms.

  Within seconds, Hitler was upon him. By this point, the woman was leaning against the wall and smiling seductively. The man put his hand out and started rubbing her shoulder. Hitler was sure this was just the preliminary to strangling the girl. Having already slipped the knife out of his pocket, he positioned himself right behind the fiend.

  “Stop! Take your hands off her. You’re finished!”

  The man spun around, obviously irritated at being interrupted just as he and the girl were about to close the deal. As he spun, he brought a large hand forward. Hitler reacted with great speed, swinging the knife at the man.

  As he did, the blade sliced the palm of the hand. Within a second or two, blood started flowing profusely from the wound. The man clutched the lower part of his hand and glared at it with fear and shock. He then turned back to Hitler with rage in his face.

  Even with his features distorted like that, one thing became clear to Hitler: this was not the man he had seen coming out of that alley. In fact, this face was completely different. He actually looked like a foreigner, probably a southern Slav or an Oriental. Hitler had made a rather unfortunate mistake.

  Despite his wound, the man started to move towards Hitler. In response, Hitler lunged the knife at him; not far enough to pierce the man, but enough to frighten him. The man backed off, slowly edging further away from his assailant. He again checked his hand and saw that the lower part of his shirtsleeve was a deep red. Also, he started to feel faint.

  At that moment, the whore, having recovered from the shock of the assault, started screaming. It was time for Hitler to leave. Seeing a passageway not too far away, he moved there as quickly as he could. He then headed for the Burggasse. He kept thinking that he could hear heavy footsteps pursuing him, possibly police or even the wounded man himself. But it was just his fear-fueled imagination. There was no one behind him, and he was fortunate enough to make a clean escape.

  As he approached a tram stop, he pulled out his handkerchief, wiped off the blood, then squeezed the bloody cloth through a sewer grating. He thought of tossing the knife into the sewer as well, then decided not to. He knew he was taking a major risk keeping the weapon, but he was sure he would need it again sometime soon. He slipped it back into this jacket pocket, as deep as it would go, and trotted to the tram stop.

  Within a minute, a tram arrived. He wasn’t even sure where it was going, but he boarded nonetheless. The only important thing now was to get as far away from the scene as he could, as quickly as he could.

  * * *

  Dörfner walked into the office the next day reading a one-page police report.

  “There was another attack last night in the red-light district.”

  “Mein Gott, nein! Two nights in a row? He’s getting more determined now.”

  “No, it wasn’t the Strangler this time. An ordinary knifing. Some guy slashed another guy’s hand. The victim … was rushed to General Hospital where he was treated to fifteen stitches.”

  “And what did he do to earn the slashing?”

  Dörfner was silent as he started reading further in the report. A minute later, he nodded. “OK, here it is: the victim claims he was just out for a pleasant evening stroll, somehow got lost, suddenly noticed he was in the streetwalkers’ district, and tried to get out as quickly as possible.”

  “I don’t doubt a single word,” Stebbel said with swirling dose of sarcasm.

  “Who could?” Dörfner replied. “So while this poor innocent was trying to find his way out, he was attacked by some wild-eyed, knife-wielding madman who set upon him for no reason at all.”

  “Of course. Happens all the time.” He sighed. “So … another jealousy drama. Some fool saw that fool with a girl he considered his own and tried to make his point with a knife.”

  “You know, I really miss those days of jealousy stabbings. They were so understandable, easy to solve.”

  Stebbel then thought a moment. “Wait a minute – didn’t the Turk promise to put a lot of men on the streets in that district? Why didn’t they step in to stop the knife-wielder, or at least apprehend him right after his assault?”

  “He said it would take a few days. They should be on the streets tonight.”

  “Well, I’m sure the press is going to have a great old time fitting this tale into the Strangler saga.”

  Dörfner then looked at his partner sympathetically. “Are you alright?”

  Stebbel stopped his sorting of papers. “If I were alright, that would be a matter of some concern. But at least I’m better than what I was yesterday.”

  “Well, that is really good to hear.”

  “Still … I’m sure we’re going to hear about this stabbing when we go upstairs to see Schollenberg.”

  “Oh yes; our beloved District Commander is going to see this as another one of our failures in this case.”

  “The question is: how many failures will it take before the people upstairs decide it’s been one failure too many?”

  Chapter 36

  On the third day after the murder of Frau Grettin, the two main inspectors were called upstairs. But it was not to District Commander Schollenberg’s office: this time, their presence was requested at the office of the Polizei Präsident – the police commissioner.

  Shortly before the 2:30 appointment, Schollenberg, Rautz, Stebbel and Dörfner arrived at the top floor of headquarters and headed down the corridor to the corner office where the Commissioner held court.

  A secretary appeared and told Schollenberg and Rautz that they could go in. A polite smile informed the two junior inspectors that they should take seats on the bench next to the office door and wait.

  The wait seemed to last twice as long as it actually was. But ten minutes after the two seniors had gone in, Rautz peeked out and asked Stebbel and Dörfner if they would like
to join them inside.

  When the two loupes entered, Rautz and Schollenberg had just moved their chairs to the outside. Rautz then pulled up two chairs in the middle for his men. This was more for intimidation than courtesy: with the new arrangement, the junior inspectors were flanked by their seniors and sat facing the Commissioner directly.

  But the Commissioner was not actually facing them. As they took their seats, he was still reading from four different sheets of paper spread across his desk. Stebbel and Dörfner sat down nervously. Dörfner turned to Rautz and Schollenberg for some clue as to what was to come, but both remained poker-faced. Stebbel also threw Rautz a look, but the senior inspector merely shrugged.

  Stebbel had a strong inkling of what was about to come down: he quite expected that the Commissioner was going to take them off the case because they had failed to catch the culprit and now the popular press and the smart café chatter had turned the whole thing into a macabre game.

  Stebbel was actually split about being removed from the case. One part of him was actually relieved. No case in his six-year career as an inspector had taken such an emotional toll on him, and he sometimes felt it could only end by breaking him.

  On the other hand, it was a slap in the face to be told he and Dörfner were being shunted aside because they had failed. Stebbel had no idea which of these emotions – relief or bitterness – would come out on top when the axe fell in a few minutes. And then the moment arrived: Commissioner Gutschirm finished his reading and drew a sour sigh.

  The Commissioner then offered a smile that looked as fake as that of a Carnival effigy. He clapped his hands together and said, “Well, we have a real mess here, don’t we?”

  The two junior inspectors agreed immediately. The Commissioner pointed across the room to a table covered with a stack of newspapers. The two inspectors knew these were the latest editions, with rivers of purple prose flowing through them.

  “The press is taking us over the coals on this. Well, what could we expect – most of them are controlled by Jews, pan-Germans and socialists.” Stebbel thought this was an unusual yoking together of disparate forces, though he joined Dörfner in deferential nodding.

  “Here on the top floor, we usually refer to the press as syphilitic rag-dealers. We have no respect for these mongrels. None at all. But … the general population reads this garbage and believes what they read there, so we have to take them far more seriously than they deserve.” He then drew another sour look, as if he had just bit into something unpleasant.

  “Anyway, as I was just telling the District Commander and your senior inspector, I had a phone call from the mayor this morning.” He nodded in confirmation. “The mayor himself. And late this morning, I had a meeting with the mayor’s top assistant and a senior assistant to the Minister of the Interior. Yes, this case has reached the highest levels. Everyone in Vienna is enraged about these crimes.”

  “The mayor’s office has suggested that we issue an immediate prohibition of street solicitation, and the Interior Ministry agrees; they’re ready to implement all the necessary statutes. We pull the whores off the streets, and this monster won’t have any victims to prey on. What do you two gentlemen think of that plan?”

  Stebbel, who knew this “question” was actually the polite Viennese way of telling them this was an order, decided that he would have to risk the wrath of all three seniors in the room and say why this plan wouldn’t work.

  “With all due respect, Herr Commissioner … this last victim was not a prostitute. She was just a university student who apparently got lost somehow. Neither was the very first victim a prostitute. She was … returning from the theatre when she was attacked.

  “Plus, the latest attack was outside the Spittelberg district. If we really wanted to deprive the killer of available victims, we’d probably have to impose a strict after-dark curfew on all females, and all the way across the city.”

  The Commissioner started mulling this over. The look on his face suggested that he thought that might not be a bad idea really.

  But then, Dörfner jumped in. His partner’s act of minor insubordination had emboldened him to add his piece. “Actually, my colleague has an excellent point there, Herr Commissioner. If we just sweep the streets of the prostitutes, that would mean that the killer will start going after the more respectable women of the city. And you can imagine how the press will react to that.”

  This seemed to hit the Commissioner at his core. He looked away and drew another long sigh.

  “Alright. I might be able to postpone the order for a few days. No more. If you can’t guarantee the safety of our fairer sex by then, the streetwalkers will have to go. And we may even have to consider that blanket curfew you just suggested.”

  Stebbel made a slight face. He was suggesting the absurdity of that solution, not suggesting that it be implemented. But he wasn’t ready to argue with the Commissioner any further.

  “So what progress have you made on this case anyway? I’m going to have to give the mayor’s office and the Interior Ministry something, or we’re all going to catch flaming hell.”

  Stebbel took a deep breath before speaking. “We do have a prime suspect.”

  This caught the Commissioner by surprise. “You do? Who is it?”

  “We think it’s the killer. We have a witness who thinks that he saw the killer right after the first murder. We even have the name of the suspect, and we checked his background; there’s a good possibility this is our man.”

  “Then why haven’t you arrested him, for God’s sake? Just go to his home with as many armed officers as you can manage and bring the bastard in.”

  “We don’t know where he’s staying at present, Herr Commissioner.” The Commissioner’s eyebrows ascended sharply at this. The gesture demanded an immediate explanation.

  “He left his last registered address over a year ago. He has not officially registered any residence since then.”

  “What??” And then the Commissioner slapped his palm hard on the desk for punctuation.

  His reaction was strange; it was as if he was saying it’s bad enough this brute goes around strangling defenseless females, but the fact that he hasn’t bothered to register his current address with the authorities is just a bit too much.

  “But we do have a number of good leads,” Stebbel added mendaciously. “And we think we’re moving in on him. We hope to end this terror … soon.”

  Dörfner then added his own bit. “Plus, we have stepped up our patrols in the Spittelberg area as well as the theatre district. We have the two major red-light sections covered much more thoroughly now.”

  “You do?” Dörfner nodded convincingly. “Well, that’s good.”

  Both Dörfner and Stebbel were glad that Gutschirm did not ask for any details. They would not have been comfortable telling him – or Rautz and Schollenberg – the regular patrols had been augmented with a contingent of toughs provided by one of the city’s major pimps, smugglers and drug dealers. But all three seniors left it like that.

  At this point, the Commissioner seemed to have become exhausted with the whole subject. He looked like he wanted to wrap up the meeting quickly, which is just what he did.

  “Anyway, I’ve heard good reports on the work you two have done so far.” He pointed at Rautz and Schollenberg, indicating they were the sources of these good reports. “Just continue doing good work – only better, much better. We need to deliver a head to city hall and the Ministry as soon as we can. And we don’t want any more murders in the meantime.” He then sat up fully straight.

  “Our Spittelberg Strangler can’t be allowed to match the record of Jack the Ripper, gentlemen.” He fixed all four men with a warning stare as he said that. All four nodded in agreement, even though they knew he had already matched the Ripper’s tally.

  After they left the Commissioner’s office, District Commander Schollenberg said he had to visit another office down the corridor. He would meet up with the other three some time in the next t
wo days to discuss what was said in that meeting with the Commissioner and where to go from there. Stebbel, Dörfner and Rautz all thanked him for his continuing support and headed to the paternoster.

  There were no words, only looks, exchanged until they got there. As it was dangerous for three people who were not quite nimble to climb into a single carriage, the two juniors deferred to Rautz. “I’ll see you below,” Rautz said as he stepped on.

  Stebbel and Dörfner let the next carriage go by, then hopped into the next one. Rautz was waiting for them when they arrived on the fourth floor.

  “So … not as bad as it could have been, right?”

  Stebbel even managed a smile. “I actually thought my partner and I were going to be removed from the case. I kept thinking that almost until the end of the meeting, when the Commissioner slipped in that little bit of praise.”

  Rautz had a surprised look when he heard this. “Remove you? Who else could we assign this case to?”

  Both of the junior inspectors beamed at this endorsement. But then Rautz added a sprinkle of sour to the compliment. “Who else would want to take the damn thing at this point?” And then he turned in the other direction and headed down to his office, leaving his split compliment stinging the air.

  Once they had returned to their own office, Stebbel and Dörfner breathed in a more relaxed manner. But that lasted only for a minute or two, as Stebbel pulled out the casebook. Then he turned to his partner.

  “OK, we find out where Frau Keuler has gone on her vacation. Somebody must know. And then we get the police there to haul her back here.”

  “So how do we proceed from there? Should we each take turns breaking alternate fingers, or do you want to interrogate while I do the breaking?”