Fatal Lies

12

Liebermann had left the hospital early in order to visit his older sister, Leah. He also expected to see Hannah-their younger sister. Only rarely did the three siblings meet in this way and such meetings were always planned well in advance, and under a shroud of secrecy. This was necessary in order to stop their parents, Mendel and Rebecca, from taking control of arrangements and turning what would otherwise be a relaxed, informal gathering into a major family event.

Hannah was seated on a sofa, reading a book to Daniel, Leah's son. The little boy was dressed in red lederhosen, a white shirt, long socks, and soft leather shoes. He was also wearing an Alpine hat-which served no real purpose other than to amuse the adults. Occasionally Daniel would laugh, which, in Hannah's company, was a perilous activity. The sound of happy gurgling invariably prompted the youthful aunt to tickle his stomach until his face went red and he was begging for mercy.

Ordinarily, Leah would intervene. But on this occasion, she allowed the melee to continue in order to have an intimate word with her brother. She poured him some tea, leaned closer, and said:

“Have you seen Father?”

“Yes, last week. We went for coffee at the Imperial.”

“And how was he?”

“Still very angry. Even so, we managed a civil-if rather uncomfortable-conversation.”

Relations between Liebermann and his father had become particularly strained since Liebermann had broken his engagement with Clara Weiss-the daughter of one of Mendel's oldest and closest friends.

“Did he mention…?”

“Clara? No.”

Leah offered Max a slice of guglhwpf, which he declined.

“I hear that she's met someone. A cavalry lieutenant.”

“Good. I hope they are happy together.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you met anyone special yet?”

Liebermann paused long enough for his sister to raise her eyebrows.

“Who?”

Liebermann smiled and shook his head. “No one… not really.”

Leah drew her head back and looked at him askance. It made her appear just like their mother.

Daniel's shrieking became louder. His head was thrown back, only the whites of his eyes were showing, and his cheeks were turning puce.

“That's enough,” Leah called. “Really!”

Hannah withdrew her hand and looked up guiltily. “We're only playing.”

“You're supposed to be reading!”

Liebermann stood up and walked across the room. He sat down next to Hannah and took Daniel, bouncing him a few times on his knee.

“He's getting so heavy!”

“I know,” said Leah, sighing wearily.

“What have you got there?” Liebermann asked Hannah.

“Daniel's klecksography book,” Hannah replied.

“Klecksography?”

Hannah opened the book and held it in front of Daniel. The child leaned forward, stretching his hand out toward a striking image-a large symmetrical pattern: as if ink had been spilled on a page, and then the page had been folded along a central vertical crease. It was accompanied by a fanciful verse about a troll, which Hannah read out in a theatrical contralto. The later pages were filled with similar images-symmetrical inkblots, all vaguely resembling the spread wings of a butterfly.

“Are the patterns supposed to represent the characters in the verses?” Liebermann asked.

“Yes,” said Hannah. “You look at the shapes… and try to see things. Trolls, fairies… it's like… like a game.”

“How very interesting,” said Liebermann. “What's it called?”

“Klecksography.”

“Leah?” Liebermann's expression became oddly serious. “Where did you get this book from?”

“Oh, I don't know, Max,” Leah replied. “But you can get klecksography books anywhere-they're very popular. Why?”

“It's an interesting concept, that's all.”

Leah looked at Daniel and shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder whether your uncle has spent too much time with mad people.”