I Confess (36 page)

"Why?"

"For a sex offense. Just think of it! My son. He tried to rape a girl. Dreadful, isn't it?"

I said nothing.

"They hushed it up," he said. "They hushed it up out of deference to me because they knew me. We emoUed Herbert in a different school. For six months everything was all right. But now . . ."

"But now?"

"The same thing. A relapse. Worse than the first time. This time the police were drawn into it because the mother of the girl reported it. That's why I'm here. His case is coming up in juvenile court. Can you imagine that, Herr Frank? A conviction—at the age of ten?" He covered his face with his hands.

I thought for a moment, then I said, "Listen Herr Hohenberg, I think I can give you some good advice. I have a problem child too. And there is a perfectly wonderful educator here in Vienna, a certain Dr. Freund. He has a clinic for parents and children in trouble, every Thursday from four to eight. Why don't you take Herbert to see him?"

"You think it might help?"

"If he can't help you, nobody can," I said. "As far as Fm concerned, the man is a saint. Try it. He has done wonders for my boy. I'll be glad to make an appointment for you."

"Would you do that?"

"Gladly."

We exchanged addresses and telephone numbers, and I promised to call him. The door next to where we were waiting opened and a police officer came out. "Herr Walter Frank?"

I rose.

"Coming," I said coolly. Then T did something strange. I still don't understand what got into me, but I turned to Hohenberg and said, "Come to see me sometime. I'm sure we have a lot to talk about."

"I'll be happy to, if you'd like it." He seemed embarrassed.

"Some evening. How about Saturday?"

"Saturday would be fine, Herr Frank." Now he was smiling.

"Saturday at 8:30, after supper," I said, feeling suddenly quite gay and never giving a thought to the fact that I mightn't be able to keep the appointment.

"Saturday at 8:30," he repeated.

"Fine. I'm looking forward to it. Bring your wife."

"I'm sorry, but I won't be able to do that. She just left for the country."

"All right tfien," I said. "So you'll come alone," and with that I turned and walked past the police officer into the office. In the doorway I stopped dead. The room was small. A desk stood in front of a window. A second police officer sat behind it and in front of it sat Wilma.

She looked at me solemnly, then moved her head in an almost imperceptible greeting. "Hello, Wilma," I said and held out my hand. She took it and pressed it gently.

"Sit down, Herr Frank," said the officer behind the desk. The other man sat down in front of a typewriter and looked at me curiously. Well, I thought, this is it. I would have Uked to know how much Wilma had already told about and against me. She was just another woman after all, I thought.

"Should I leave?" she asked the man behind the desk.

"No. Please stay."

She shrugged.

So there was to be a confrontation. Very good. Would Dr. Freund look after Martin? And my money was still at home. If only Fd put it away. Too stupid of me. They'd probably keep me here. They could certainly take me into custody right away. I hadn't thought that they already knew so much. And that Wilma would be here .. .

"You know why we summoned you, Herr Frank?" asked the officer. He was lean and tall and his face was grey from overwork.

"Yes."

"Good. That simplifies matters. Do you want to speak or shall we interrogate you?"

I had never felt so weak in my life as at this moment. My intention to fight (with my back to the wall) was forgotten. I was ready to confess everything.

"Fll speak." (And why hot? It would have to end someday, somehow. Yolanda was dead. Mordstein was

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dead. Margaret, my wife—God knows where she was. Why shouldn't I speak? Before they could pass sentence on me, I'd be dead too. .. .)

"Very well," said the overworked officer behind the desk and nodded to his colleague seated at the typewriter, who inserted a piece of paper. "Then please speak, Herr Frank."

"Yes."

He raised his hand. **But please only about things that concern Herr Lauterbach."

11

It took me a few seconds to grasp that they knew nothing at all about me, that they only wanted to interrogate me about wretched Jacob Lauterbach, who was sitting in jml because of some foreign exchange illegaUties. It took a moment or two for me to get control of myself before I could say anything at all. Wilma watched me earnestly during these few seconds, as I wrangled with myself. She sat there without saying a word. She would have let me go ahead and ruin myself, without doing anything to help me. Well . .. yes.

I talked about Lauterbach. I explained that I had gone to see him to discuss a business matter with him.

"What business?"

Export. Textiles. I was in textiles. (The officer looked at my false papers.)

"And did that deal—whatever it was—go through?"

Unfortunately not. Lauterbach was arrested the day before it was consummated.

That was all.

I felt it was awfully little and did what I could to help Lauterbach. I said he had made an excellent impression

on me; I couldn't imagine him involved in any illegal transactions.

The officer stopped me. That was all, he said. Then he thanked me for coming, gave me back my papers and shook hands with me. A few minutes later I was out in the passage again. Wilma was also dismissed. The second officer, who had conducted us to the door, called out, "Herr Robert Hohenberg." My new friend rose. As he passed me I said, "Until Saturday." He nodded. Then the door closed behind him.

I walked beside Wilma to the stairs and down them. We stepped out into the street together. It was snowing hard, large flakes. "Walter," said Wilma in a choked voice.

"Yes?"

Her little face was trembling. "I'm leaving Vienna.**

"So?"

Where was the sweetness of her presence? The magic of her look? Where? It was snowing. Hushed flake after flake. Her face was strange to me, I barely recognized her. How long ago it all was. ...

"Our group has had an offer from Germany. An engagement in the Rhineland. We're giving Felix's play."

"1'm.glad for you, Wilma."

"Walter!" It sounded like a cry for help. She was leaning against the wall of a house, a scarf wound around her head,-her cheeks red, her hair windblown.

"Yes, Wilma?"

"I said I'd go, Walter. I didn't have the courage to say no."

Pedestrians passed us, cars tooted, streetcars clanked by. We stood still in the midst of chaos. "Oh Walter, Walter, have you any idea what I've been through during these last days? I wanted to call you, I wanted to go to you, in the middle of the night. There were moments when nothing seemed to matter. Nothing."

I was silent.

"But I was afraid. The old, dreadful fear. I couldn't go

to you. I didn't dare. And now . . ." Her voice petered out.

"And now?" I thought of Dr. Freund. What would he have said? What would he do in my place?

"And now I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do, Walter. Please, please, tell me."

Automobiles and streetcars, noise and pedestrians. The midday paper. Boys shouting the latest news into the snowstorm. A whole family wiped out by a gas leak. An avalanche catastrophe in Tyrol. Chiang Kai-Shek demanded arms for an invasion of Red China. The Courier! The World Press! The Evening News!

"I love you, Walter. I love you so much."

I breathed deep, and it hurt in my chest. I looked at her standing before me, fragile and in need of protection* "Go to Germany, Wilma," I said.

"Are things really so bad with you?"

"Yes," I said. "They are. I love you, Wilma, and because I love you, I say—go to Germany. Stay with Felix."

The Evening News! The Courier! The World Press! The latest news from all over the world.

"Wilma?"

"Yes?"

"I am going to die. Soon, Wilma," I said softly and took her hand. It was hot and dry.

"I know, Walter. It doesn't make any difference."

"But it's no use, Wihna."

"It isn't?"

"It isn't."

"I knew it," she said. Her voice had gone dead. Then she took an envelope out of her handbag. "I hoped I'd see you today, and I brought something for you."

"What?"

"The money you loaned us. We can pay it back now."

"Oh God—no!"

She shook her head and pressed the envelope into my hand. "Please. Take it."

I put the envelope in my pocket.

*Walter, if I go to Germany, I'll be away six months."

"Then we won't see each other again."

She looked at me wide-eyed, unblinking. "And still you want me to go?"

"Yes, Wilma."

Suddenly she flung her arms around me and kissed me wildly, desperately. I knew it was our last kiss. ''Leb wohl," I said as she let me go.

"Leb wohl Walter."

She gave me her hand once more, then she walked away. I watched her go. She didn't look around, and soon she had disappeared in a whirlwind of snow.

12

The Saturday evening with Hohenberg was most harmonious and pleasant. I sent Martin off to bed, prepared a few sandwiches, put out whiskey and soda, and I got the impression that Hohenberg felt perfectly at home with me right away. I was glad about that because I found him very sympathetic in his quiet, modest way. He drank little but was grateful to smoke the American cigarettes I still had. Then we sat in front of the fire, watched the flames and talked. It was a curious experience for me after all the long, hectic weeks, to have a visitor again, to converse with someone, to feel no pressure, no fear. I enjoyed every minute of that evening. I forgot that I was an embezzler and a murderer and that I was doomed to die; I felt like a solid citizen and experienced something akin to tranquiUty. We spoke for the most part about our sons.

"Did you see Dr. Freund?"

He beamed. "A wonderful man."

"Isn't he?'*

"How he spoke to Herbert, the way he looked at him ... I didn't think a man Hke that still existed in our day and age. What I'd really like to do is go to his school myself and confess my mistakes and failures to him."

"It is a temptation," I said and emptied my glass. "What is he planning for your son?"

"He'll go to the clinic on Thursdays. Dr. Freund says it will take a long time, perhaps years."

"Can't he take him into his school?"

"Unfortunately not. The board of education won't give permission. He has to attend a school in his district."

"But in the case of my son ..."

"Your case was different, Herr Frank. There wasn't a school willing to take your son. In his case the board had to agree."

He puffed on his cigar and stared into the fire. "And how is your wife?" he asked after a pause. I had told him that she was in Germany.

"Thank you. Very well."

"Is she coming back soon?" He was stiU looking into the fire.

"I hope so. I have a lot of things to discuss with her."

"You have?" Now he was looking at me.

I nodded. "Martin's future. I'm terribly worried about him. Now he has parents; we're still here to look after him. But what will happen if we die?"

I had spoken without thinking. Now I noticed his astonishment. "But by then Martin will be grown up."

"Of course," I said hastily. "Just the same—none of us knows when his time has come. It could be tomorrow. An accident, a serious illness, and Martin is alone. And what then?"

"Dr. Freund will look after him."

"Yes," I said. "He might do that."

"I'm sure he will." Hohenberg sat up straight and spoke louder. "He told me so himself. We talked about it."

"About my death?"

"Good heavens, no. We spoke in general terms. He already has several children in his school who have lost both parents. They live there. A few rooms have been put aside for the purpose. He is a father with many children, our Dr. Freund."

"Is that really true?" I felt strangely excited.

"Yes, Herr Frank."

"He would look after a child whose parents are dead?"

"He said he would take every child whose parents have died—if he had the means. You know all about it, I'm sure. Somewhere outside the city stands a half finished building. The children could live there. The only thing lacking is the money. Not even very much money. I think with a million the house could be finished."

"With a million?"

"Yes, Herr Frank." His friendly eyes rested on me. "But who has a million?"

"That's true," I said thoughtfully. "Who has a million?"

13

It took me ten days to sell my jewelry. The transaction took all my time. I didn't sell it in jewelry stores, naturally. That would have been too risky. I had to contact the Vienna underworld, and this was the most difficult part of the operation. The men I got in touch with didn't trust me, and I didn't trust them. We met in dirty little cafes along the Danube canal, in the offices of shyster lawyers and in the doorways of dubious houses. I dealt

with quite a few interested persons. I had divided the gems into three lots which I sold independently of each other. I was generally taken for a thief, and not a very smart one. Once I got conned. The man who had promised to buy the emerald ring disappeared with it in a passageway, and I never saw him again. That was the risk I had to take in the final moments of all these transactions because the fences always demanded the piece before they handed over the money.

In the end it was done, and I felt very proud of myself. Altogether I had taken in 550,000 schillings, a little over half a million. I also still had in my possession 80,000 schillings of the 100,000 received from Jacob Lauterbach, as well as the 55,000 German marks (40,000 from the Munich checking oflBce, 85,000 from Augsburg, out of which 125,000 marks I had bought 70,000 marks worth of jewelry.) I was pleased to see that no money had been wasted.

It turned out to be much easier to exchange the 55,000 marks than it had been to sell the jewelry. It took me only two days. I changed part of it illegally, the rest at various banks at the official rate, which was of course lower, and in permissable amounts. On the twelfth day I had in my possession, in cash, 935,000 schillings. I laid 233,500 schillings aside, with the remaining 700,000 schillings I went to work.