I Confess (25 page)

Then I heard Yolanda's cool voice. She was standing beside the boUer, her red hair flaming, her black evening dress shining, and everybody turned to face her when she said, "Why don't you take his place?"

As already mentioned, I was far from sober myself, but I grasped what she had just said. "I?" I whispered, horrified.

"Why not? You know the role by heart. You've been to every rehearsal."

I gave her a sharp look. Was this perhaps her way of needling me? But her expression was guileless and friendly, and right away the others enthusiastically picked up her idea.

"Of course," said Felb^. "That's the solution! You're almost as old as Hermann." (Thanks a lot, I thought.) "And you're about the same height."

I

"And with the beard, nobody's gomg to see your face." (Wilma's contribution.)

"But I'm not an actor!"

"You don't have to be for that part. Surely you know how to sit on the floor and beg."

"No. I can't."

"It'll be all right. Think of our first night!"

"I'm thinking of your first night," I yeUed. "And it won't do!"

Yolanda handed me the cognac bottle. "Have another drink, darling."

I grabbed the bottle and drank. Plenty. "And now," I growled, "I have something to say. I wouldn't be seen dead going out on that stage."

Fifteen minutes later I was on stage. They changed me, made me up, attached that miserable beard to my chin and handed me the cognac bottle twice. At first I protested vehemently and so loudly it could be heard in the auditorium, and the audience became restless. It was Wilma who finally persuaded me to give in.

"Please, Mr. Frank," she said, as the others were ramming me into Hermann's filthy outfit, "don't let us down."

That did it.

Everybody wished me luck as they shoved me out on the tiny stage, and Yolanda stood in the wings, helpless with suppressed laughter. I sat down in my comer and put Hermann's battered hat on the floor in front of me. The sweat was pouring down my neck, down my back, and from my forehead into my eyes. By the time the curtain went up and I could look out into the dark auditorium, where here and there human eyes were eerily visible, I was so drunk, I could barely open my mouth. I huddled in my comer, mumbling incomprehensible words. I closed my eyes and leaned against the backdrop. I think Wilma had spoken to me twice before I finally looked up, startled out of my stupor. She was looking down at me. Her eyes were huge and dark. She was standing with her back to the audience, evidently intent on hypnotizing me.

Her gaze wouldn't let me go. I sensed at once that she was trying to jorce me to speak my lines.

But I had reached the end of my rope. Even Wilma couldn't do a thing about it. Sweet Wilma. Pretty Wilma. Beloved, young Wilma, I thought. You're not going to hypnotize me. I'm drunk and I'm scared stifiE. Besides, I can't even sit up any more. Any minute now and over I go! I'm sorry, sweet, adorable Wilma, but I'm not going to answer whatever you asked. I wouldn't know what to say. I've forgotten my lines.

And I didn't answer. I sat there calmly and said nothing. All around me I could hear strange sounds and at intervals a loud roaring, and the next thing I knew, two of them were dragging me back to the dressing room where they laid me out on a dirty old couch. When I opened my eyes, all of them were standing around me; Wilma was at my side.

"Well," I said, '*you asked for it, kids."

"What are you talking about?" asked Yolanda.

"Did you have to stop the show?"

"So you don't remember a thing," said Yolanda.

"All I can remember is that Wilma tried to hypnotize me and that she couldn't."

They looked at each other, then they began to laugh.

"Very funny," I said. "So now we can go home."

"What did you say?"

"Nqw we can go home—^I hope."

"Are you crazy?" said Yolanda. "This is the intermission."

"The mtermission?" I repeated dully. "So the show goes on?"

"But of course."

"But I ruined the first act."

"You did nothing of the sort," said Wilma, smiling.

"No?"

"You were terrific, Mr. Frank," said Felk. "We never saw anything like it. You had applause in midscene— that's how good you were."

My stomach hurt. "Just a minute," I said **You're trying to tell me I played my part?'*

"And how!"

"Marvelously!"

^'And the audience liked it?"

"I just told you—^midscene applause!"

^'But that's impossible!" Suddenly I felt nauseous. *T never opened my mouth. All I did was sit there. And I could hear the restlessness in the audience."

'That was the applause," said Yolanda.

''But I don't know what you're talking about. If s .. • it's impossible. Quite impossible. All of it."

"But it's true," said Felix, "Wilma hypnotized you."

"Yes," I said slowly. "I guess she did." Then suddenly I jumped up and made for the door. "For God's sake, what's the matter with you?" cried Yolanda.

"Nothing," I said hoarsely. "Don't worry. Ill be right back. I just feel terribly sick."

13

In the days that followed, I collected newspaper clippings. The reviews were excellent, the play was a success for Studio 52. Even I was mentioned, indirectly. The words of praise were for the wonderfully comical and unique character actor, Joseph Hermann, whom the critics would soon like to see on a bigger stage in a bigger role! That's the way it was! The critics had noticed nothing. The program read: "A beggar—Joseph Hermann," so Joseph Hermann had been the beggar. A blessing that I had no ambition to be an actor or the whole thing might have ended in tragedy. This way it was amusing, but not en-

tirely so. Because with every paper I bought I was beset I with the fear that it could contain a bad review for Joseph Hermann! That would also have to be credited to me, yet he would have to accept it, just as he had to accept the praise. I didn't resent the praise that was being heaped on his head, but the thought that he might be panned was unbearable. The poor devil—^in his position a bad review would be Uke a stab in the back. I sat there feverishly reading the reviews and every time I read about "Her- \ mann, the marvelous actor, imtil now unrecognized . . ." or "the heartrending portrayal of a great performer,'' or "it is a disgrace that in a city like Vienna such an actor should have gone unrecognized for so many years . . . ," I ' breathed a sigh of relief and felt that the two of us, Her- j mann and I, had again got away with it.

On Thursday Jacob Lauterbach's ten days were up. I | called him on Wednesday and asked if our agreement j stood. He said yes. On Thursday, around three o'clock, I ; drove to the Prinz-Eugenstrasse, feeling confused and perplexed. If Lauterbach had exchanged my second installment of marks into schillings, then I had no reason for prolonging our stay in Vienna as far as Yolanda was concerned. Before too long I would have to leave the city or create a different way out. I was afraid of this different way. I had demonstrated once that I wasn't equal to it.

As I walked into the patrician house in which Lauterbach had his office, for a moment the crazy thought entered my mind that the easiest thing would be if Lauterbach couldn't pay me. The fact that the front door of his office stood open didn't bother me at first. I was slightly baffled though when I found no office boy present, but when I walked into Wilma's office and found that empty too, I could feel myself grow cold.

"Hello!" I called out. But it remained absolutely still in the room except for a knocking sound in the central heating. I walked on and opened the door to Lauterbach's office. Two men in business suits were sitting at his desk, playing double solitahre. "Good afternoon," I said.

The two men looked up. One was gaunt, his color was poor, the other was fat and rosy. "Good afternoon," said the rosy one. "What can we do for you?"

"I want to speak to Mr. Lauterbach."

The rosy one put down" his cards, got up and asked, "What about?"

"My business with him is private."

"Is that so." He grinned as he walked up to me and started to look me up and down. His gaunt friend also got up, came over to me and said, "May I see your ID card?"

"Certainly not!" I said angrily.

"Is that so," the rosy one repeated, but he had stopped grinning.

"Who are you anyway?" I asked.

"Crime squad," said the gaunt one and showed me his identification.

"Make it short," said the rosy one.

I showed them my ID card. The rosy one took a pad out of his pocket and copied the information from my card. This was anything but pleasant for me, but there was nothing I could do about it.

"Where is Mr. Lauterbach?"

^We have just arrested him," said the rosy one, taking a look at his partner's cards while his back was turned.

"Why?"

"Are you a relative?"

"No."

"A friend?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I had some business I wanted to discuss with him."

"What kind of business?"

"Export."

"Is that so," the rosy one said for a third time.

"You're going to have to do business with somebody else," said the gaunt one.

"That's very good of you, gentlemen. May I go now?"

"Certainly."

"Thank you.''

The gaunt one gave me back my ID card. As I walked to the door I told him, "Shuflle your cards. Your colleague has seen the Jack of Hearts and the Queen of Clubs. They're on top." Then I was outside.

As I walked down the stairs, I considered what I should do now that Lauterbach had been arrested. Would he talk? Hardly. And if he did, the little package in Munich was not in my name, and he had endorsed the first four checks himself. Still—Mr. Lauterbach, with the beautiful antique furniture could no longer exchange the second twenty thousand marks.

I walked out into the street. A cold wind was blowing and it was raining Ughtly. It took me less than a minute to decide what I would do next. I walked to the quiet little side street and into the tea shop. Wilma was sitting there, three pieces of strawberry cake in front of her.

"HeUo," I said.

She nodded miserably. *T hoped you'd come by, Mr. Frank."

I sat down. The proprietress, who looked like a madam, appeared, greeted me happily. "A cognac?"

"Triple," I said, and she disappeared. The cat stalked through the room.

"You're not eating," I said.

•T can't."

She didn't look well. She was pale and there were rings under her eyes. "They only let me go an hour ago."

"Who?"

*The police.**

•^What was wrong? Have they arrested your boss?"

"Yes."

"Whyr

"Oh, it's dreadful!" She shook her head and bit her lip,

"Well now, tell me all about it."

"They say he was a real crook, Mr. Frank." She swallowed hard and dug around with her fork in one of the pieces of cake. "They've taken him into custody. It all

J

happened so fast! And he was such a distinguished person. Can you understand it?"

"No."

The madam came with the cognac. "Your health," she said.

"Thanks." I drank the whole thing down in one go. "Another one, please."

"Right away," she said softly and hurried oflE.

"So what did they want you to tell them?"

"Everything I knew."

"And what did you tell them?"

"Only good things. I felt sorry for him. He looked so old when they took him away. And so sad."

"Was I mentioned at all?"

"No, Mr. Frank." She looked up. "Why?"

"Well, if s possible."

She shook her head. "No. You weren't mentioned. But even if you had been," she paused to put a piece of cake in her mouth,

"Yes?"

"I wouldn't have said a word."

"About what?" I asked gently.

"About the exchange of marks. You can take my word for it, Mr. Frank—they'd have got nothing out of me. Even if you had other business with Mr. Lauterbach."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

'That's sweet of you, Wilma." I laid my hand over hers. She didn't draw it away. "Eat your cake," I told her.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because ..." she bit her lip and shook her head. "Because ..."

"Because what?"

"Because I'm so unhappy," she whispered and her eyes filled with tears.

"Why are you unhappy?"

"Because of you."

"Because of me?"

She nodded.

"But why?"

"You were supposed to get money from him today."

"That's right."

"Mr. Frank, I hid the checks when the police came."

"Where did you hide them?"

"Here," she said, pointing to her bosom.

"Wihna!" I was speechless.

She nodded, her eyes sparkling. "And when they let me leave the room for a moment, I tore them up and flushed them down the toilet. You have nothing to worry about Nobody will find out."

I couldn't see her clearly because my eyes, too, were filled with tears, but I did try to impress upon my mind the picture of her sitting there in this ridiculous Uttle tea shop, my hand still lying on hers. At that moment she was beautiful, and I knew that before the night was over I would be her lover.

"Thank you," I said softly.

"What are you going to do now?"

"What do you mean?"

"You won't get the money."

"No."

"So?"

"I'll get it somewhere else."

"Where?"

"I don't know yet, Wilma." I was looking at her steadily. She didn't look away, but returned my gaze just as steadily with all the sincerity of a young girl who is looking forward happily to her first act of love. The door to the tea shop opened and an old woman came in. She was carrying a basket of red roses and came straight up to us. "A rose for your fianc6e?" she asked.

"Hand them over," I said.

"One?"

"All of them!"

"No!" cried Wihna,

••Yes,'' I said. 'How much?"

The woman named her price and I paid.

"No, no, no!" Wihna pounded the table with her Kttle fists. "Don't do it! I don't want them! Please!"

"So let me have them," I told the old woman and scooped up every flower she had. She left; the madam appeared, took one look at us, beamed and went away again.