The Defeated Aristocrat (22 page)

‘A set of very clean walking sticks and a different arrangement of the corpse.’

‘Does Uncle Georg know?’ Lilli asked.

‘He’s not a fool.’

‘Why are you covering for me, Herr von Mau, and it was me …’

‘It was not,’ Bertha contradicted Lilli. ‘When Lilli returned from Koggen Strasse Gluck was hammering on her father’s apartment door loud enough to wake the dead. He woke after she left the house and came downstairs looking for her. He heard her open the front door, and hit her the moment she came in. I was inside Herr Richter’s apartment. I heard Lilli scream. I couldn’t stand it any more. I told Ernst to close and bolt the apartment door behind me and came out into the hall. I saw Gluck laying into Lilli, reached for a stick, and brought it down on his head. He fell and I brought it down on him again. I may have hit him a few times but I had to stop him thrashing Lilli. I didn’t mean to kill him but I won’t be shedding any tears for the beast –’

Wolf heard a noise downstairs. ‘I said no confessions,’ he interrupted. ‘You don’t have to explain your actions to me. Any of you. I knew Gluck and what he was capable of. Remember, Fraulein Richter, not a word unless your lawyer is present.’ He took Lilli’s bag from Bertha. ‘Give my sister and Lilli a few minutes’ peace to say goodbye.’

Bertha followed him down the stairs. When they reached the next floor, Wolf whispered, ‘Just one thing. Police have been watching the house. How did you get Gluck’s body into the inn?’

‘We had help, Herr von Mau.’

‘From Ernst’s coal man brother, Fritz Nagel?’

‘How did …’ Realising she’d said too much Bertha fell silent.

‘Brilliant, while the police watched a delivery being made into the cellar they didn’t notice sacks being loaded on to the cart. Remind me never to cross you, Bertha. It is Bertha, isn’t it?’

‘Frau Friedmann to you, Herr von Mau. And it’s not the fault of the coal man. He only did what I asked him.’

‘Dispose of the body?’ Wolf guessed.

‘It was my idea to turn to him for help. If Ernst and I had carried the body through the streets we would have attracted notice. We carried Gluck into the cellar porch, and left him there while Ernst telephoned his brother. The two of them loaded Gluck on to the cart and hid him under the coal sacks. They intended to dump him in the river but Ernst’s brother had promised to make an early coal delivery to the hotel in Koggen Strasse. When they arrived the day receptionist was busy in the breakfast room. Ernst noticed the front door was open, the key to Room Two was on the hook. Ernst had read about the other murders …’

‘And decided to add one more to the tally.’

‘He said he hated mutilating Gluck …’

‘Enough details, Bertha. The subject is now closed. For ever. Anyone asks you any questions, refer them to me.’ Wolf took Lilli’s bag from Bertha, ran down the last flight of steps, and handed it to Georg when they reached the hall.  

Lilli followed them down with Lotte a few minutes later. Ludwiga hugged Lilli after helping her on with her coat. ‘You’ll be home before morning,’ she reassured her.

‘You’ll stay with Lotte to look after Amalia and help Sister Luke with my father if he needs to be turned in the night?’ Lilli pleaded.

‘I’ll take care of Amalia and your father as much as Sister Luke and Bertha will allow me too,’ Ludwiga promised.

‘Your husband …’

‘Martin isn’t helpless,’ Ludwiga glanced at Wolf. ‘Besides, Wolf has brought Martha down from Lichtenhagen. She’ll see everyone behaves themselves in Gebaur Strasse.’

‘I’ll go into the office first thing, Lilli,’ Lotte volunteered, ‘although I’m not sure how much I can do without you.’

‘Use all the fillers you find in the filing cabinet and try to get the paper out,’ Lilli begged.

Desolate, Lotte looked helplessly at Lilli.

Georg opened the front door. An icy draught blasted in but given the tears in the women’s eyes he saw no sense in prolonging their goodbyes.

Georg drew Peter out of earshot of the others in the hall. ‘You’ll stay awake, keep an eye on the letterbox and ensure the safety of everyone in the house.’

‘Yes, sir. You can rely on Klein and me to keep the house and its inmates secure.’ Peter looked around the marbled hall. Given the temperature, he suspected he and Klein were in for a cold night.

‘If another communication should be delivered …’

‘I’ll telephone headquarters right away, sir,’ Peter assured Georg.

Georg tapped Lilli’s shoulder, extricated her from Lotte’s arms and escorted her out.

Konigsberg, Saturday January 11th 1919

Lilli huddled into her muffler and fur coat as she sat in the back of the police carriage alongside Georg.

‘Remember …’ Georg began.

‘It’s all right, Uncle Georg,’ she broke in. ‘Wolf Mau warned me not to say a word unless my lawyer was present.’

‘Did he?’

Lilli looked at him. ‘You both know what happened. Please don’t pretend.’

‘What I do know is a killer murdered three not two police officers in the last eight days. Remember that at all times.’

They sped past the elegant six-storey apartment blocks that lined Vorderrossgarten. The driver slowed before turning the horses right into Kirchen Strasse where the buildings were older, more ornate, with castellated embellishments that cut black silhouettes in the skyline. They turned right again in Wilhelm Strasse and a sharp left into the courtyard that fronted Police Headquarters.

The complex was massive and forbidding, enclosed on five sides by six-storey buildings and accessed by three sets of high gates. At that time of night only the central gates were open. They were manned and the duty officers checked the interior and roof of their carriage as well as Georg’s papers before waving them through.

Lilli wondered if the architect had deliberately designed the building to look grim in the hope that it would strike fear into every citizen, innocent or guilty.

‘I’ll stay with you.’ Georg reached inside her muff and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

‘Not at the risk of losing your job, Uncle Georg. You have to obey the kriminalrat.’

‘Answer his questions as honestly as you can. Rudi Momberg will ensure you’re treated fairly. If the kriminalrat shouts or tries to intimidate you, leave the protesting to Rudi.’

The driver stopped. Georg helped her out and they entered the building. Given the brick tiled walls, floors, high ceilings and barred windows Lilli found the interior of Police Headquarters as forbidding as the exterior.

An officer met them, keys rattling on his belt as he walked. ‘The kriminalrat’s waiting for you and your prisoner in interrogation room 2, Kriminaldirektor. Herr Momberg is with him.’

‘I’ll escort Fraulein Richter.’ Georg gave Lilli an encouraging look before walking her down a corridor, up a flight of stairs and into a room furnished with a plain wooden table and four chairs.

Rudi Momberg was sitting at the table, a notebook and pencil in front of him. Dorfman was flanked by two junior officers, one whom Hafen recognised as Luther Kappel. All three were standing behind Momberg’s chair.

‘Frau Gluck, at last,’ Dorfman said when she walked in. ‘Hafen, you may leave.’

‘I promised Fraulein Richter …’

‘Frau Gluck,’ Dorfman corrected.

‘Frau Gluck I would stay with her,’ Georg protested.

‘You are her godfather?’

Georg couldn’t deny it. ‘Yes.’

‘You have a choice, kriminaldirektor. Either leave this room or risk suspension and dismissal.’

‘I’ll be fine, Uncle Georg. Thank you for bringing me this far.’

Georg had never been prouder or more afraid for Lilli.

Dorfman stared at Georg. Reluctantly the kriminaldirektor went to the door.

‘Kappel, the charge?’ Dorfman prompted.

Kappel cleared his throat, held up a sheet of paper and began reading. ‘Lilli Gluck, you are charged with the murders of Anton von Braunsch, Nils Dresdner, and Dedleff Gluck …’

Georg turned back from the door to see Lilli waver and grip the back of a chair.

‘Frau Gluck, allow me to help you.’ Rudi pulled out the chair next to his and assisted Lilli on to it. ‘Given the late hour, Kriminalrat, please allow my client time to become accustomed to the surroundings. And bring some tea – for both of us.’ When he was sure Dorfman wasn’t watching, Rudi winked at Georg.

Richters’s House, Munz Platz, Konigsberg, early hours of Sunday morning January 12th 1919

Peter was sitting on the floor of the outer hall of the Richters’s with his back to the wall and his legs extended in front of him. He’d wrapped himself in three of the rugs Bertha had given him, Klein, and Wolf, but he was still shivering. So much so, he was loath to move his hand out of the nest of blankets to turn the pages of the book he’d borrowed from the parlour. A German translation of Dumas’s
The Three Musketeers
.

He stared at the page he’d read and realised he hadn’t absorbed a word. Then he realised the book was loose in his hands and he suspected he’d been sleeping. He glanced at Klein. He was slumped sideways, his eyes closed. So much for the vigilance the kriminaldirektor had asked for. He couldn’t see any sign of Wolf or the blanket he’d borrowed.

He stretched his arms and rose awkwardly to his feet. His legs were numb. Ernst had invited him, Klein, and Wolf to use the bathroom in his flat. Needing the toilet, he climbed the stairs, wondering if Wolf was already up there.

Wolf watched Peter rise and walk up the stairs through the keyhole of the door that connected the Richters’s hall with the passage that led into the newspaper offices. After Klein and Peter had fallen asleep he’d used the keys he’d borrowed from Ernst to open the cellar door as well as the connecting door to the offices. The keyholes of both gave a reasonable view of the hall, but only the keyhole in the door to the offices had an unobstructed view of the wire basket beneath the letter box.

He turned back to look at it. It remained resolutely empty.

He leaned against the door and rubbed his eyes. He heard a door opening followed by footsteps, and returned to the keyhole. It was blocked by something black. He couldn’t see a glimmer of light emanating from the hall. Did someone suspect him of hiding behind the door? Had they blanked off the keyhole? Were they lying in wait for him to emerge?

Whatever blocked his view moved. He saw a figure and heard a click as the door to the Richters’s apartment closed.

He looked again at the wire basket that hung beneath the letter box. There was something in the basket? But the bell hadn’t rung. Then he saw Peter’s blankets abandoned in a pile on the floor and Klein sleeping. If it had rung, Klein would have woken.

He climbed to his feet. Fighting cramp in both legs he opened the connecting door, removed the paper and read it.

Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.
For the wages of sin is death.

Brewer’s yard Hoker Strasse. The sixth is third.

He shook Klein awake. ‘Telephone the kriminaldirektor. Now!’

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Police Headquarters, Konigsberg, Early hours of Sunday morning January 12th 1919

‘This,’ Dorfman held up a file in front of Rudi and Lilli, ‘contains all the evidence we need to convict you, Lilli Gluck, of the brutal murders and mutilation of three police officers. It would save time and trouble if you would confess, Frau Gluck.’

Lilli raised her eyes and stared unflinchingly at the kriminalrat. ‘I’ve murdered no one.’

‘Then how do you explain the appearance of these notes in your private residence?’ Dorfman produced the original notes and laid them in front of her.

‘Someone posted them through my letterbox.’

Dorfman opened another file and extracted a sheet of paper. ‘This is the doctor’s report on your husband’s body. Dedleff Gluck was struck on the back of the head by a heavy object. What heavy object did you use?’

‘I never struck my husband on the back of his head.’

‘But you have struck your husband?’

Lilli tried to recollect all the fights she’d had with Dedleff since his return.

‘I repeat. Mrs Gluck, have you ever struck your husband?’

‘In self-defence.’

‘On the head?’

‘Not that I recall.’

‘“Not that you recall”.’ He was caustic. ‘But you did hit him?’

‘In self-defence when he beat me.’

‘Where exactly did you hit him?’

‘Anywhere I could reach.’

‘His arms?’

‘Probably.’

‘His chest?’

‘Possibly?’

‘His head?’

She thought for a moment. ‘I have no memory of hitting Dedleff on the head.’

‘Why the hesitation? Was it your habit to hit your husband so often that you can’t remember where you hit him.’

‘No.’

‘How do you explain his head injury?’

‘I can’t, other than Dedleff was habitually drunk and frequently fell.’ She continued to meet Dorfman’s eye.

‘You accused your husband of beating you?’

‘Not accused, stated a fact, Kriminalrat Dorfman. Dedleff beat me. I have the bruises on my face and body to prove it.’

‘Did you complain to anyone he beat you?’

‘To Dedleff when he’d sobered enough to listen and remember what I said.’

‘How do you explain that officers who worked with your husband were aware of rumours that he hit you?’ Dorfman demanded.

‘Anyone who saw me would have been known I’d been beaten.’

‘Beaten, but not necessarily by your husband.’

‘No one other than Dedleff was ever violent towards me.’

Dorfman made a show of looking at his notebook. ‘You and your husband led separate lives, Frau Gluck?’

‘We lived in the same apartment in my father’s house.’

‘Slept in the same bed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Even when your husband worked nights?’

‘Dedleff only worked two nights before … before his body was found.’ She struggled to regain her equanimity. ‘He worked day shifts after his return from the army last November. At the end of every shift, he went to a bar, and usually didn’t come home until after midnight, by which time he was drunk. Then he beat me.’