Vienna Blood

42

“I WOULD LIKE TO see Inspector Rheinhardt,” said Amelia Lydgate.

“Is he expecting you?” asked the duty officer.

Amelia handed him the letter. It read: Dear Miss Lydgate, Because of the intemperate weather our technical staff at the Schottenring laboratory have been laid low with various forms of winter infirmity. It was subsequently suggested by our mutual friend Herr Doctor Liebermann that you might be invited-once again-to assist us with our work. I understand that your academic commitments are considerable, and I therefore respect your proper right to refuse us. However, if, dear lady, you are disposed to make us the gift of yet one more hour of your valuable time, the Viennese security office will be most grateful. With kindest regards, Sincerely, Detective Inspector Oskar Rheinhardt

The officer smiled at Amelia and escorted her to the laboratory, where she found Rheinhardt and Liebermann waiting.

The two men bowed as she entered.

“Inspector Rheinhardt, Doctor Liebermann.”

She looked at each man in turn as she said their names: her detached delivery made the greeting sound more like an act of identification.

“Miss Lydgate,” said Rheinhardt, “thank you so much for coming.” “It is my pleasure, Inspector,” said the Englishwoman. Then, obviating any opportunities for small talk, she added, “How can I assist?”

“Indeed!” said Rheinhardt, as if some unreasonable third party had been attempting to stop them. “On Friday evening there was a murder in the fourth district. A gentleman of African origin, in the employ of an archaeologist of some renown-Professor Hayek. Outside the house we found this scarf.” The inspector picked up a paper bag, removed the seal, and showed Miss Lydgate the contents. “It is one of a batch sold at a gentlemen's outfitters situated just behind the Opera House. The shop assistants have been unable to help us with our inquiries. Many scarves have been purchased since the cold spell began and they simply cannot remember anything useful concerning specific customers. Now, it may be that this item of clothing was lost by someone who had nothing at all to do with the murder. However, if it did belong to the villain, then a microscopic analysis might yield some clues to his identity.”

“You have established that it does not belong to the professor.” “We have indeed.” Then, changing the tone of his voice, Rheinhardt added, “The only member of our technical staff to have been spared a debilitating cold seems to be your old acquaintance in the cage over there.” Rheinhardt gestured toward the brown rabbit, whose twitching nose was pressed between the bars. Rheinhardt had expected the Englishwoman to show some small sign of pleasure but she merely glanced at the animal, nodded curtly (as if to suggest that things were in order), and returned her attention to Rheinhardt. The inspector felt somewhat foolish, coughed into his hand, and continued, “We at the security office have benefited from your forensic skills in the past. Would you be prepared to undertake a microscopic examination of our evidence and write a short report?”

Without hesitation the Englishwoman responded, “With pleasure, Inspector.”

She turned to hang her hat on the stand and began to shrug off her coat. Liebermann stepped forward to assist.

“Thank you, Doctor Liebermann.”

Leaning closer, Liebermann said in a somewhat confidential tone, “Are you well, Miss Lydgate?”

“Very well, thank you.”

Their hands touched as her arm came out of the sleeve.

“I beg your pardon,” said Liebermann. But she didn't seem to have noticed and threw him a fleeting, puzzled look. Before he could respond, she was walking toward the very large microscope that occupied one of the benches. She examined the equipment at her disposal and then turned toward Rheinhardt.

“Inspector,” she said, addressing him. “Would you be so kind as to seal the bag?” He did as he was told. “Now shake the bag and beat the sides.”

Rheinhardt gave the bag a vigorous shake, his jowls wobbling with the effort. He then struck the side of the bag several times with his open palm.

“No,” said Amelia. “That is not sufficient. I would like you to continue beating the bag for some time-and with greater violence.”

Rheinhardt raised his eyebrows. “How much violence, exactly?”

“Considerable violence.”

“As you wish,” said Rheinhardt. He drew his big hand back and repeatedly slapped the bag. The noise was loud and precluded conversation. While Rheinhardt was thus occupied, Amelia washed her hands and began to lay out several rows of glass slides. She found a bottle marked gum arabic and spread the contents lightly on each glass oblong.

After a significant amount of time had passed, Rheinhardt's brow began to bead with sweat. He stopped to catch his breath and during the pause Liebermann stepped forward.

“Oskar, I am perfectly happy to relieve you if-”

“That won't be necessary, Doctor Liebermann,” interrupted Miss Lydgate. “I am confident that a good quantity of dust has been dislodged from the fibers.”

Amelia took the bag from Rheinhardt, removed the seal, and carefully lifted the scarf, shaking it a little before she extracted it completely. She then tipped the bag over her slides and gently tapped its base. Nothing appeared to fall out. Discarding the bag, Amelia selected another bottle and a pipette, sniffed the bottle's contents, and placed a small droplet on each slide. When this operation was completed, she opened a box of square cover slips and carefully placed one on each of her specimens.

Amelia lifted the first slide, inserted it into the microscope's stage, and leaned over the eyepiece. She then changed the objective lenses. She worked silently and swiftly, examining each slide at different levels of magnification. Some of the slides she placed to the right, others to the left. When she had finished, she raised her head from the microscope and faced Liebermann and Rheinhardt.

“Very interesting,” she said. A vertical crease had appeared on her forehead.

“Miss Lydgate?” asked Rheinhardt tentatively.

“The scarf held mostly paper fibers,” she said.

“From Inspector Rheinhardt's bag?” asked Liebermann.

“Well, yes, Doctor Liebermann; however, the slides show numerous types of fiber-indicating different methods of production, and different ages.”

“Which suggests?” Liebermann prompted.

Amelia raised a finger to her bottom lip and appeared to be lost in thought.

“Miss Lydgate,” Rheinhardt tried again.

“Oh yes… forgive me.” The Englishwoman roused from her reverie. “There were also traces of cloth, tiny crystals of a substance that I suspect is glue, and minute particles of leather. Some of the latter were very old indeed.”

“I see,” said Rheinhardt. “Most, erm, puzzling.”

He twisted one tip of his mustache.

“Not that puzzling, Inspector!”

“I don't understand,” Rheinhardt said. “Are you saying, Miss Lydgate, that these particular substances are significant?”

“If the scarf belonged to the murderer-then yes.”

“In what way?” said Rheinhardt, feigning nonchalance.

“They reveal his profession.”

“They do?”

“Yes. He is the proprietor of an antiquarian bookshop-or he is a librarian.”