Deadly Communion

34

THE PHOTOGRAPHS WERE SPREAD across the top of Commissioner Brügel’s desk. He selected three full-length portraits and laid them out in a row: Adele Zeiler, lying on the lawn of the Volksgarten, Bathild Babel, sprawled naked on her bed, and Selma Wirth, the hilt of a dagger sticking out of her chest. Brügel’s gaze lingered on the central image. He sighed, opened a drawer and removed a ladies’ magazine. He held the cover up for Rheinhardt to see. It was a publication concerned almost exclusively with society news and gossip.

‘Have you seen this, Rheinhardt?’

‘No. It is not a circular I subscribe to.’

The commissioner frowned, flicked through the pages and began reading: ‘“The dinner was given by Frau Kathi shortly before her departure for the Riviera. On this occasion, my fellow guests included Prince Liechtenstein; Marquis von Becquehem; the director of the Court Opera, Herr Gustav Mahler; Herr director Palmer; the court theatre actor Max Devrient and his wife. Frau Kathi was wearing the most beautiful pearls and was, as always, the perfect hostess. After dinner, she said that she wished all the women of Vienna could escape to the Riviera with her. Of course, our dear friend was alluding to the frightful spate of murders that have recently been the subject of so much speculation in the vulgar press.”’ Brügel closed the magazine and folded it over. ‘You must have guessed the identity of Frau Kathi.’

Rheinhardt’s mouth was suddenly very dry. He tried to swallow but found it difficult.

‘Katharina Schratt?’ the inspector croaked.

Brügel nodded. It was common knowledge that Schratt — a famous comic actress — was the Emperor’s mistress.

‘You know what this means, Rheinhardt? It’s only a matter of time before I get a telephone call from the Hofburg. His Highness’s aides will want to know what progress is being made. What shall I tell them?’

Rheinhardt motioned to speak, only to discover that when he opened his mouth he had no answer. He took a deep breath and tried again: ‘We have made some progress, sir.’

Brügel patted a bundle of witness statements and reports.

‘Have you, now? Permit me to précis what you have discovered so far. The perpetrator has dark hair, a pale complexion, and has knowledge of human anatomy. He smells of carbolic and once called himself Griesser. He owns an expensive frock coat and might wear a bowler hat.’ The commissioner picked up the bundle and held it out towards Rheinhardt. ‘You call that progress?’

Rheinhardt winced as the commissioner raised his voice.

‘I am all too aware, sir, that the results of the investigation are disappointing.’

Brügel dropped the papers and they landed heavily.

‘One more week, Rheinhardt.’

‘I beg your pardon, sir?’

‘After which I’m afraid responsibility for the case will have to be transferred to someone else. There’s a specialist based in Salzburg, a detective with an academic interest in lust murder. He studied with Professor Krafft-Ebing. If I inform the palace that we’re about to recruit an expert then that might pacify them, halt damaging talk.’

‘With respect, sir—’

The commissioner was not inclined to listen to Rheinhardt’s objection.

‘Once the palace get involved, accusations of incompetence soon follow. I’m sorry, Rheinhardt. You haven’t given me enough. I have the interests of the entire department to consider. One more week.’