Vienna Secrets

64

Herr Poppmeier was lying on a rest bed, his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. His youthful face had assumed an expression of perplexity. Liebermann, who was seated out of his patient’s view, was waiting for the salesman to resume speaking. The session had not been very productive. In fact, none of Herr Poppmeier’s sessions had been very productive. When asked to freely vocalize whatever came into his mind, without censorship or restraint, his chain of associations invariably led back to items included in the Prock and Hornbostel catalogue. In due course, Poppmeier said, “I had another dream last night. Do you want me to tell you about it?”

“Yes, of course,” said Liebermann, eager for something substantial to work on.

“It’s not the first time either. I’ve had it before.”

“A recurring dream…”

“Yes.” Poppmeier crossed his legs. “Do you have a cigarette?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I’d love a cigarette right now.”

Interesting, thought Liebermann.

“Arabelle wants me to give up smoking,” Poppmeier continued. “She doesn’t like the smell of tobacco. I’ve tried, but it’s extremely difficult. I get so irritable, and then feel guilty afterward. I can be quite disagreeable.”

The salesman seemed unaware that he had strayed off the subject. Liebermann made a note: Delay-resistance?

“Herr Poppmeier,” said Liebermann, “you were going to tell me about your recurring dream?”

“Oh yes, so I was.” The salesman bit his lower lip. “It’s like this…” He drummed his fingers on the mattress. “I’m staying in a hotel, a very pleasant hotel with red carpets and gilt mirrors and busy waiters and miniature palm trees, a little like the Kaiser in Steyr, and-this is most peculiar, even embarrassing-I am a priest.” Poppmeier laughed nervously. “I am sitting in the foyer, listening to a string trio, when I am approached by the concierge and asked to give the last rites to a dying child.”

Mention of the last rites made Liebermann sit up.

“Go on…”

“I am escorted to a room that is full of my jewelry samples-rings, pendants, brooches. The rings are from the Prestige range and feature some very attractive stones imported from Bohemia. The pendants are heart-shaped, silver-with two opals set in a decoration of perpendicular silver bars. The brooches-”

“Herr Poppmeier,” Liebermann cut in. “Your dream?”

“Oh yes… There is a child in a bed, being cared for by a pretty nurse. For some reason, which I cannot justify, I refuse to perform the sacrament and leave.”

Poppmeier resumed chewing his lower lip.

“Is that it?”

“Yes. An absurd dream, but always remarkably vivid.”

“When did it first occur?”

“Difficult to say.”

“Do you think you’ve been having it for years? Months?”

“Not years, exactly-but for quite a long time.”

“A year, then?”

“About that, yes.”

Liebermann flicked through his notes and found the entry he was looking for: Frau Poppmeier: Gravida 3/Para II. Intrapartum death-1902 (early?).

Poppmeier’s wife had been pregnant twice before her current pregnancy and the second pregnancy had ended in the tragedy of a stillbirth. The timing was exact.