59

“Does the name Jeheil Sachs mean anything to you?” asked Rheinhardt.

Anna Katzer was wearing a crisp white blouse and a pink skirt. She straightened her back, frowned, and said, “Yes, unfortunately it does.”

Rheinhardt flicked his notebook open.

“How did you become acquainted?”

Anna’s frown became more pronounced.

“I wouldn’t call Herr Sachs an acquaintance, Inspector.”

“Why not? Didn’t you pay him a visit last week?”

Anna was evidently surprised. “Who told you that? He hasn’t made a complaint, has he?”

“No,” said Rheinhardt calmly. “No, he hasn’t.”

Anna scowled.

“Well, Fraulein Katzer?” Rheinhardt asked. “Why did you go to see Herr Sachs?”

“Inspector, do you know the new warmestube in Spittelberg?”

“Yes.”

“On Wednesday, a Galician woman named Kadia Pinski fainted there. A doctor was called, and he discovered that she had been badly injured. She was a prostitute, and the man she named as her attacker was also her procurer-Jeheil Sachs.” Anna paused and secured one of her hairpins. “Apparently Fraulein Pinski had wanted to end her association with Herr Sachs, and he had responded by violating her person in the cruelest way imaginable. You see, Inspector…” She touched her neck and looked away. “Fraulein Pinski’s injuries were internal, and had been inflicted with the handle of a brush.” Rheinhardt winced. “Had she not received medical attention, she most probably would have died.”

“Where is she now?”

“Recovering in the hospital. We were able to make arrangements for her care.”

“We?”

“Myself and my dear friend Olga Mandl. As you can imagine, Inspector, we were horrified-and we resolved to pay Herr Sachs a visit in order to issue him with a warning, before he assaulted some other poor wretch.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“We did, but Fraulein Pinski was too frightened to make a statement. Besides, as I am sure you are aware, Inspector, the police are disinclined to assist women of her nationality and profession.”

Anna looked directly at Rheinhardt. She was tacitly challenging him to deny her allegation. He couldn’t: What she had said was perfectly true. Rheinhardt sighed, the exhalation carrying his next question. “What did you say to Herr Sachs?”

“I can’t remember exactly,” Anna replied. “We told him that we knew what he had done, that we had a doctor’s report, that we would be taking things further…”

“And how did he react?”

“At first he wasn’t very much bothered. He was clearly confident that the police wouldn’t be interested. He admitted introducing Fraulein Pinski to some soldiers, so that she could have, as he called it, ‘a good time,’ but denied everything else. He became angry only when we refused to leave.”

“What did he do?”

“He shouted and pushed me out of the way.”

Rheinhardt tilted his head quizzically.

“I was holding his door open,” Anna explained. “He had to get me out of the way to close it.”

Rheinhardt made some notes.

“It was a foolish thing that you did, you and your friend-going into Spittelberg to rile a man like Sachs. You could have been hurt as a consequence. What did you hope to achieve?”

“We thought we might scare him,” said Anna.

Rheinhardt had to make a conscious effort not to laugh out loud.

“Inspector,” Anna asked, “why are you here, asking me these questions? Is Herr Sachs involved in one of your cases?”

“Yes,” said Rheinhardt. “You could say that.” He squeezed one of the horns of his mustache between his thumb and forefinger, twisting it to sharpen the point. “Apart from the police-and the doctors who are taking care of Fraulein Pinski-have you spoken to anyone else about Sachs?”

“My parents and…”

Rheinhardt detected a certain hesitancy.

“Yes?”

“Another friend.”

Her voice had softened.

“What is your friend’s name?”

“Gabriel. Gabriel Kusevitsky.”

Rheinhardt looked up. “And where might I find this gentleman?”

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