Entwined (45 page)

Helen stared at him, her arms folded. "Why didn't you tell me? You've known all along she was Rebecca Goldberg! I just don't understand why you have lied to me!"

Louis looked for his glasses. Finding them, he slipped them out of their case. "Haven't we been through this?"

"No. Why did you never tell me Vebekka was an heiress?"

His eyes flashed angrily over the half glasses, but he spoke with detachment. "Perhaps, my dear, I did not think it was any of your business."

Helen was stunned. "Not my business? I see. Why am I here. Louis?"

He opened the paper. "Because at your suggestion, we brought Vebekka to Dr. Franks."

"And you didn't think it was important that I know her real identity? Louis. Ulrich Goldberg told me about the money, he said your lawyers settled the estate."

"They did, and very well. They have cared for my finances since I was a child."

The room service arrived and the seltzer water and sandwiches were placed on the table, but Louis continued to look through the paper, not acknowledging either the waiter or Helen as she poured his drink and put it by his elbow. She sat opposite him, and reached for the newspaper.

"it Vebekka is Institutionalized, will you have access to her fortune?"

Louis still did not raise his bead, "it's immaterial, there isn't much left. I presume the costs of keeping her in any kind of nursing establishment will eat into what little remains."

He continued turning the pages, muttering that he couldn't find anything that could possibly be of significance. His reluctance to look up and speak to her directly infuriated Helen. Suddenly, she reached over and snatched the paper from his bands. Louis tried to retrieve it, and in so doing knocked over the glass—it spilled over him and he sprang to his feet, snapping: "That was a bloody stupid childish thing to do!"

"Was it?…
Was it?
"

He stared at her coldly. "Yes, it was." He removed his glasses, picked up a napkin, and began to wipe oil Ins dressing gown.

Helen patted the table dry with a napkin. "I am trying to understand you. You knew all along Vebekka was the daughter of David and Rosa Goldberg, but you never told me, you simply stood by .is I kept making inquiries like an idiot. You wasted my time! Now I find out your wife inherited millions—another small fact you deliberately withheld."

Louis burst out in fury, "Leave me alone, just leave me alone!!" Helen watched in exasperation as he retreated into his bedroom.

She collected herself and started to gather the newspapers. The front page of the
Times
had fallen on the floor. Helen bent down and picked it up. It was wet and she dabbed at it with her napkin. Her eye fell on a small article at the bottom right-hand corner.
ANGEL OF DEATH FOUND.
Helen glanced over the single paragraph: Josef Mengele, the most wanted Nazi war criminal, had been found dead on a beach in Brazil…

Frenzied, Helen was looking through the other papers, scanning each page, when Louis returned, shamefaced.

"Helen, I'm sorry…You are right, perhaps we should talk."

She turned to him. "I think I've found it. Remember you told Franks how terrified she was of a dark angel? You said you heard her sobbing that night, just after the newspaper incident. Look at the bottom of the front page."

Louis took the stained paper in his hands. "What am I looking for?"

Helen leaned over his shoulder and pointed. "Angel of Death…Josef Mengele, it's mentioned in two papers, small paragraphs, but they seem to be a possible link to her screaming; to her nightmare of the dark angel!"

Louis read the articles while Helen paced up and down. "If she was adopted in Berlin, perhaps this is the connection. Louis, I am sure she was adopted…"

"I did not know she was adopted, believe me, I didn't know. Where is all this leading us? If you think there is a connection, what should I do?"

"Just be honest with me, trust me. You must trust me, because if you don't, then there is no point in my being here."

He took her hand in his and gave her a small bow. "I apologize. I am grateful to you. I don't really know how I would have coped without you."

His hesitancy was touching, he seemed so vulnerable. "I know what you're thinking, Helen. But my mother gives me a small allowance; everything is tied up in trust funds for my children. When Vebekka came into her money, it was a relief, it meant I could care for her and continue to live as I always had. My decision to have her institutionalized is in no way connected to her fortune—it's gone. In fact, I will be dependent on my sons for the upkeep of the chateau, the apartments."

"And your life, Louis? What about your life?"

"I still have my allowance, and I can sell the polo stable. It will break my heart, but if it comes to that, then so be it…I think it is time we went to bed, if you will excuse me…"

He slipped his arm around her shoulder. "Good night, Helen." He gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

She walked toward her bedroom, not even turning as she said: "Good night, Louis."

She was certain that one could be very easily drawn into a life of luxury, of Rolls-Royces, of fabulous restaurants, flowers and expensive gifts. Louis was a very handsome man, his light, almost careless kiss made her all the more aware of how much she was attracted to him, and how easy it would be to take their relationship one step further. Helen knew he had mistresses, but she also knew that such a life was not for her. Suddenly she faced her own loneliness. She had always justified being alone, thinking to herself it was her choice; she even considered herself a very private person.

"You are so private, Helen, that no one even knows you exist!"

She said the words out loud, to her own reflection in the bathroom mirror. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and returned to her bedroom—everything was neat and tidy, the bed cover was turned down in anticipation. She lay for a long while staring up at the ceiling. It was time she returned to Paris. She had given enough of her time, and with very little thanks. But then she remembered Vebekka. It had been at her instigation that Vebekka had come to Berlin. Helen was too deeply involved to extricate herself. But from now on she would distance herself from Louis.

Helen left the hotel very early the next morning. She did not wake Louis, but left a note saying she would meet him at Dr. Franks's and to be sure he took the newspapers to the clinic.

Helen looked along the taxi stand and saw the chatty driver who had taken them to Charlottenburg. He was dozing in his Mercedes. She tapped the window, and got in beside him.

"Same address?"

"Yes, the same! Frau Klapps, I want to get there before she leaves for work."

"No problem, there's no traffic at this hour."

♦ ♦ ♦

Inspector Heinz was at his desk by seven-thirty and began to plow through the vast amount of paperwork. He worked on until eight-thirty, then opened the morning paper. There was a large article on the front page with a picture,
MAMA MAGDA DEAD
. He read the piece, turned to the next page, and then flicked back. Now there was a coincidence: He had seen Ruda Kellerman entering Mama's club on the same night Mama Magda had died. He scribbled a note on his ever-ready pad and continued to read, checking on the time because he wanted to be at the records bureau when it opened at nine.

Rieckert came in with a black eye and a Band-Aid on his cheek. Torsen looked at him, and asked what kind of trouble he had run into. Reickert sat down. "Acting on your orders, sir, we tried to disband the hookers working off from the trailers. We warned them and told them to move their trailers. Out of nowhere, four big bastards jumped out, armed with iron bars, and they bloody beat us up. Kruger is in the hospital. ,,

"Did you make any arrests?"

"You must be joking. We hardly made it into the local station's courtyard. We radioed them to open the gates for us. The bastards chased us, were on our tail for miles, their car was a hell of a lot faster than ours: a big four-door Mercedes! When we got there they banged and hammered on the gates. Have you heard about the damage they did?"

"This is madness, are you telling me the pimps chased…chased the patrol car?"

"Yeah!…overtook us twice, it was a near miss, one got me through the window—I had to have a stitch, cut my head open!"

"Could you recognize them?"

Rieckert sat bolt upright. "I'm not going back there, they'd bloody kill me. They're huge, muscle guys!"

Torsen's attention returned to his desk. He looked down at the paper. "There will be war out there. Mama Magda's died, last night. Most of those trailers are hers, so God knows what's going to happen!"

Rieckert leafed through the newspaper. "She must have been worth millions, I'm surprised nobody bumped her off before."

"It was a heart attack, she was over eighty…and the size of an elephant."

Reickert made himself more comfortable on the seat. "They open tonight, will you be using your ticket?"

"Excuse me?"

"The circus, they gave us free tickets, remember? They open the big show tonight."

"I'd forgotten…yes, yes, I think I will use my two."

Reickert left for the kitchen and Torsen called the nursing home and asked to speak to Nurse Freda.

"I have tickets for the circus…tonight, I'm sorry it's short notice, but I was wondering…if you aren't on duty, if you would care to…"

Freda giggled that she would love it. She acted so pleased that Torsen blushed with embarrassment. They arranged to meet at seven.

Torsen issued his orders for the day, and said if he was needed he could be found at the records bureau. He left, taking one of the few patrol cars in good condition.

Tommy Kellerman was buried by a rabbi from the Oranienburger Tor area. His body was taken to a run-down quarter where Eastern Jews lived. No one attended his burial. The plain black coffin was taken from the morgue before sundown, as Ruda Kellerman had requested. The costs were forwarded to the station, and Torsen planned to pass them on to Ruda Kellerman, care of the circus.

♦ ♦ ♦

Vebekka had slept soundly, and had even eaten some breakfast. She found herself in a small, white-walled room, with an old iron bed frame painted white. The chest of drawers was also white, but a bowl of flowers provided some color. At the center of the door there was a keyhole, but no handle on the inside. A white tiled bathroom was off the room, but it had no door and no mirror. There was no telephone.

Dr. Franks drew up the only chair in the room.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine. Do I have to stay in this room?"

"Only for a little while, then we'll go into my study. You remember you were there yesterday?"

She nodded. Franks told her that her husband had called and he would be in after breakfast. If she felt like it she could have a bath and get dressed. If she needed help, all she had to do was ring the bell by her bed, and Maja would be with her in no time.

She put her head back and said: "They should never have brought me here, it's very closed in, I feel it…"

Franks cocked his head, and held her hand. "Feel what?"

"I don't know, a presence. I've felt it before, but not this close."

Franks threaded his fingers through her long perfect slim hands. "Maybe we will find out what this presence is, make it vanish."

She gave him a sad smile. "They've sent me away this time, haven't they? Ah well…I suppose it had to come."

"You are not away, Vebekka, you are here, in my clinic, until we sort things out. You do want me to help you, don't you?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "I don't think anyone can help, I hoped He came closer to her. "I want more than hope, my dear. I want what you want, I want you to get well, I want you to help yourself, and for you to help me help you…okay?"

He returned to his office and picked up his notes, carefully transcribed from the day before. He had underlined two passages:

These were Vebekka's own words, describing what her mother had done and had told her to do. Franks was sure that the key Vebekka's mother had told her to throw away was at the root of her problems. He was so engrossed in thought that he hadn't noticed right away that his phone was blinking. The baron had arrived, bringing the newspapers. He told the receptionist to show the baron in, a little irritated he was so early.

♦ ♦ ♦

Frau Klapps opened the front door while eating a piece of toast. She was about to slam the door in Helen's face, but Helen put her foot across the threshold.

"I know this is an intrusion, but I have to speak to you. Please, I won't take more than a few moments."

Lena turned and walked into the hall, pulling the door open. She led Helen into the living room.

"I have to leave for the bus in fifteen minutes!"

"I understand. I'd be happy to give you a lift to the bureau in my taxi."

Lena walked out of the room and returned carrying a cup of coffee, but did not offer Helen one. She stood with her back to the large bookcase.

"I told you everything I know. I don't see how I can assist you any further."

"You have worked at the records bureau for many years? Is that correct?"

Lena nodded. She picked at a stain on her skirt with her fingernail, the same gray pleated shirt she had worn on Helen's previous visit. She sat in the typist chair, looked to Helen as if to say, "You may continue."

"I have checked the hospitals for any record of your sister. You mentioned that she worked at one of the large hospitals just after the war, when she came back to Berlin. They all referred me to the records bureau. You head the bureau, don't you?"

Lena continued sipping her coffee. When Helen asked her just how long she had worked in the bureau, she swiveled slightly in the seat.

"You have no right to pry into my affairs, Miss whatever-your-name-is. I have told you all I know. Now please I would like you to leave."