The Memorist

Chapter 72

Thursday, May 1^st-9:00 a.m.

Nine hours after leaving the same spot the night before, Lucian Glass met Alex Kalfus in front of the Sacher Hotel at 1010 Philharmonikerstrasse.

“According to our backup team, which has been trailing Meer Logan, she never returned during the night,” Kalfus told him when he got into the car at nine-fifteen.

“Can you find out from the hotel housekeeper if her room was used overnight? It is possible that your men missed her.”

Kalfus bristled. “Not likely.” But he made the call. “They are sending someone to the room,” he reported back.

While he watched the hotel entrance, Lucian sipped his second cup of coffee of the morning with the devotion of an addict, hoping the elixir would do more than the first had to shake him awake.

“The fräulein’s bed was not slept in and the towels and service in the bathroom showed no signs of being used. Not even a washcloth,” Kalfus reported.

“I think we should call the hospital and find out if Jeremy Logan had a visit from his daughter yet this morning-and let’s see what we can find out about Sebastian Otto’s whereabouts while we’re at it.”

The voice on the other end of Kalfus’s phone crackled back to life. “Ja?” He listened, nodding, and then turned back to Lucian. “So, Jeremy only had one visitor last night and that was Malachai. The hospital’s record coincides with ours. He arrived at five o’clock and stayed until visiting hours were over at eight.”

Lucian checked his notes anyway. Malachai had left the hospital at 8:05 and taken a taxi to the Memorist Society where he stayed for three hours and fifteen minutes and then left at 11:22 with Fremont Brecht. The two of them got into Fremont’s chauffeured car, which dropped Malachai off at the Sacher Hotel at 11:52.

“Phone calls?”

“Jeremy Logan received one call last night and another this morning.”

“What time?”

“10:15 last night.”

“From where?”

“The call went to the general switchboard and wasn’t traced. The one this morning came in at 8:15 but Jeremy was sleeping so the call wasn’t put through-but it was traced and originated from a phone booth in the Spittleberg area.”

“Isn’t that near Jeremy’s house?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe she stayed there last night. Or in a hotel in that section. Could you get a patrol car to canvas the hotels in the area?”

Kalfus was about to make the call when he pointed to the front of the hotel. “There he is.”

Both men watched as Malachai stood outside, perusing the street. Kalfus turned the key in the ignition preparing to pull out. Lucian knew they had to follow Malachai and not wait for Meer but he was angry with his quarry for choosing now to leave. Except he didn’t leave. Not yet.

“There’s something about the look in his eyes, as if he’s always planning two steps ahead,” Lucian said.

“I can’t decide if it makes him look intelligent or guilty.”

“Both, and he’s much more guilty and much more intelligent than you’d guess. The man hasn’t taken one misstep in nine months.”

“Well, certainly not one misstep while he’s been here. Visits with friends, a meeting at an archaeology society, out to dinner…all seemingly innocent.” Kalfus shifted into Reverse but Lucian stopped him.

“No, sit tight, he’s just going into the café next door.”

Seconds later, Malachai could be seen through the restaurant window and as he studied the menu, Lucian studied him.

“Whatever happened in those woods in Baden,” Kalfus said, “is it possible that Malachai was responsible, even though he wasn’t present? Do you think any of these robberies or attacks have been Malachai’s doing?”

“It’s possible.”

“Probable?”

“I’m not sure. Meer Logan is one of the few people Malachai’s shown any genuine affection for.”

“Do you think that his feelings would prevent him from going after what he wants?”

“No, but I don’t believe he would have to hurt her to get what he wanted. If she had it, she’d give it to him.” Lucian paused. “No one wants Malachai to be guilty more than I do but he was instrumental in bringing Meer here-he wanted her to look at the gaming box and hopefully glean important clues from it-so why would he arrange to have the box stolen before she really got a good chance to study it? Nothing is straightforward with him, but Meer is the only link to where the flute might be and what the memory song is. Would he put her in jeopardy if she’s his best chance?”

“Who would?”

“Someone who doesn’t believe in reincarnation and just wants the objects for their monetary value.” Lucian finished what was left of the bitter coffee as a waiter in the traditional black suit and white apron served Malachai his breakfast. “Or someone who wants us to think that.”

“I’m not sure I follow.” Kalfus frowned, confused.

“I’m not either.” Lucian gave a halfhearted laugh. “How much do we know about Sebastian Otto?”

“Absolutely nothing to make us suspicious. He’s a musician with the Philharmonic here. Plays the oboe. Thirty-eight years old. Never has had any dealings with the police. Divorced, one child, age nine, who has been suffering a mental disorder for the last six months.”

“A son?”

Kalfus nodded.

So that was where Lucian had heard the name before. He was annoyed that he hadn’t remembered sooner. About three months ago Malachai had received a phone call from Sebastian Otto, calling at Jeremy Logan’s suggestion, to ask if the reincarnationist could come to Vienna and see his son. Lucian had remembered the call because of how frustrated Malachai had sounded when he explained he couldn’t make the trip.

“Sebastian believes that his son is suffering from some sort of past life crisis,” he told Kalfus. “There’s more than one connection here.”

Watching Malachai read through that morning’s newspaper, Lucian wondered what else he’d forgotten that might be important now.