Raven Sisters (Franza Oberwieser Book 2) (9 page)

14

Franza walked along the narrow promenade along the bank of the Danube. She did it regularly after work, especially if there was something she’d been unable to think through fully during the day. She didn’t want to take her unfinished thoughts home with her. She wanted her apartment to remain untouched, a peaceful haven free from death and crime. But it rarely worked, and this time was no exception. The new case had already gotten under her skin, into her thoughts and feelings. The face of the murder victim was burned behind her eyes, along with the face of the missing woman.

Two mature women, one of them a little younger than the other, but there came a time in life when any age differences vanished. There was the thirties club, the forties club—she didn’t like to think much beyond that.

What had Gertrud’s father said?
You could say we had two daughters.

It sounded straightforward. It sounded nice. But things were not always as they sounded.

Franza turned toward home. There, she unlocked the door to the building, made her way upstairs, turned the corner to her apartment, and saw her sitting on the doormat. She was leaning against the front door, asleep.

Franza gasped in surprise and approached her cautiously, observing her. Her young face looked peaceful and relaxed as she slept, but it would soon change when she awoke to find tragedy still all too real. Franza touched her cheek.

“Lilli?”

Lilli jumped, banging her head against the door and wincing at the brief pain.

“How did you find me?”

“You’re in the telephone directory, Inspector.”

“No need for formality.”

Lilli nodded.

“Come, now.” Franza reached out a hand and helped Lilli up. “Come in.”

Lilli slipped cautiously into the apartment, like a cat on silent paws.
Like she’s on the lookout for perfume,
Franza thought, smiling to herself. She had two or three bottles in her bathroom cabinet. Would they still be there in the morning?

“Are you hungry?”

Lilli nodded.

“OK, let’s cook.” Franza unpacked her shopping bag. “Apple strudel or apple strudel?”

Franza’s love of baking knew no bounds. When she was in the middle of a case and came home tired, there was nothing like getting busy with complicated pastries and elaborate recipes. The next day the whole station would delight in the fruits of her labors.

As a change from the ubiquitous cookies, apple strudel was on the menu. The sweet-and-sour cooking apples on the grocer’s shelves had caught her eye. The shiny red little devils whispered shamelessly to Franza,
Take us, take us, we’re the pick of today’s crop!

Franza had taken them at their word—after all, apples were healthy and stimulated the brain. Because clear thinking was essential right now, the station would all be eating apple strudel the following day.

“Apple strudel,” Lilli replied, tying on the apron that Franza passed her.

They worked in silent concentration, interrupted only by Franza’s instructions and explanations, as Lilli had never baked apple strudel. She was amazed and delighted as she rolled the pastry out to a thin, translucent skin, spread it with butter and sour cream, sprinkled it with toasted breadcrumbs and cinnamon apple, and finally rolled it up with the help of the strudel cloth.

She maneuvered it into Franza’s twenty-year-old casserole and placed it in the oven. Franza was pleased to see that the dark cloud hanging over Lilli had lifted a little.

As the smell of the strudel gradually spread through the apartment, they sat on the couch in the corner of the living room, drinking water and nibbling nuts.

“Why are you here, Lilli?” Franza asked carefully. “What is it you want to tell me?”

Lilli shrugged and remained silent.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “I don’t know. Nothing, probably. It’s so confusing, so awful. I can’t stand it at home any longer. They’re all crying, they’re all wiped out. So am I, but
. . .
” She gnawed her bottom lip. “My grandmother was in a state about me leaving. She said the family has to stick together at a time like this.” Her voice had become scornful, wounded, angry. “But we’re not a family!”

“No?” Franza asked quietly. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. We never have been, somehow,” Lilli said curtly. “Moritz is my family.”

“What about your father?”

“He’s not my father. I don’t know my father. I know nothing about him. She never told me anything. We were on our own for a long time, my mother
. . .
Gertrud and I. We had an apartment here in town. Sometimes she worked in a library, but mostly not. I think my grandfather supported us financially.”

Was it longing that Franza could hear in her voice? Or a mixture of sadness and impatience? Impatience about what? A longing for what?

“Why didn’t she work regularly? Especially when you were older, at school.”

Lilli shrugged. “It’s probably my fault. She got pregnant when she was just starting her studies. She never finished.”

“Why not? Arrangements could have been made, surely?” Franza was amazed. “With your family?”

“Yes. They could. But they weren’t.”

Franza waited.

“She was supposed to become a lawyer.” Lilli quickly corrected herself: “Or, she wanted to be a lawyer.” She shrugged. “What do I know? You know about that, don’t you? My grandfather and his law practice. A long-standing family tradition.” She raised her hands theatrically. “She was a great disappointment to the old man. And as for me
. . .
”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to disappoint him, too.”

Franza nodded. “He’ll get over it.”

“Yes, he probably will. In any case, he’s got one last chance.” Lilli grinned. “Moritz.”

“And after that?” Franza tried to bring the conversation back to Gertrud.

“What do you mean?”

“What happened with you and Gertrud?”

Lilli thought briefly. “Then Christian appeared at some stage.” She hesitated, thinking some more. “It was a good thing that he came. He liked her. Very much. She liked him, too. It
. . .
it did her good. She
. . .
needed it.”

“How old were you then?”

“Twelve. Around twelve.”

Wow,
Franza thought,
still a child and so perceptive?

“They got married, and my grandfather gave us the house.”

“That was generous!”

Lilli laughed bitterly. “Generous? No, I don’t think so. He merely brought her a little bit more under his control.”

“Oh,” Franza said in surprise. “That sounds harsh. How did you come to that conclusion?”

Lilli shrugged. “Dunno. That’s how it is. Always has been. He pulls the strings and they all dance.”

Lilli paused to think before qualifying her words. “It’s not so bad, though. At least someone cares. He’s just a bit
. . .
domineering.”

“Was there anything worrying him?”

“Isn’t there always?” Lilli sighed as she thought that she still hadn’t told him she wouldn’t be continuing her studies. She wouldn’t be his successor.

“I mean, anything in particular. Anything
. . .
out of the ordinary.”

Lilli bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean? What do you want? Are you pumping me for information about my family?”

“I’m sorry.” Franza raised her hands in appeasement. “Calm down. I’m not pumping you for information, honestly. But I’ve got a feeling you want to talk. Why else would you have come?”

Lilli shrank into herself. “I don’t know why I came. It was probably a mistake. I should probably be with my family right now. But
. . .
”

She broke off and wiped a hand over her face. Tears. “Do you think it was one of us? Do you think we killed her?” She asked it quietly, barely audible, a tiny, horrified whisper.

“No,” Franza said comfortingly. “No, I honestly don’t believe that.” She stroked Lilli’s hair. “But it must have been someone, and everything you tell me will help us find out who. That’s why it’s a good thing for you to talk to me.”

Lilli jumped up in anger. “What kind of a woman are you? Always digging for dirt! You insist on bringing it all out into the daylight, spoiling everything! Don’t you ever think about the damage you’re doing?”

“Of course I do,” Franza said. “Of course I always think about that. Always. Every time. But I have to do it. It’s a question of truth. Shouldn’t the truth be brought to light? Often you find that things can’t get any worse. And once something’s out in the open, bare and hurting, it has a chance to heal.”

They heard a beep. The strudel was ready.

Good,
Franza thought as she stood and went over to the oven,
we need a break.
She pulled the casserole out, set it down on a wooden board, and went back to Lilli.

“Don’t you want to know what happened to your mother?”

“Ohhh,” Lilli snarled. “I hate you! Yes! Yes, I want to know what happened to my mother. I want to know, but perhaps it would be better
. . .
” She sank back on the couch and covered her face with her hands, whispering the last part of the sentence, “.
 . .
perhaps it would be better not to know.”

“Why?”

“Because
. . .
” She shook her head.

OK,
Franza thought,
take your time, girl. I can wait.

“Tell me about her. What was she like?”

“Gertrud?”

“Is that what you called her?”

“No, not really.”

“Why are you calling her that now?”

Lilli shrugged, glanced up briefly, a dark flash in her eyes. “Dunno. I just am.”

Franza nodded. “What was she like?”

“Lonely,” said Lilli, the word shot out as if from a pistol. She nodded vehemently. “Yes, lonely.” She smiled sadly, swallowed. “I always felt bad that she was
. . .
she was so alone. I always felt guilty when I went away. Even when I was a child, when I went to school, because I knew she was alone. Even more alone. And she would always freeze up.”

Lilli remembered when she came home from school and saw her mother in front of the TV, huddled beneath a blanket. There was always that quick glance out of the window, looking to see whether anyone else was there, that Lilli had not been followed.

Lilli had once asked, “Mama, what are you frightened of?”

Gertrud smiled. “I’m not frightened. What would I be afraid of? I’ve got you!” She drew the child to her, hugged her, and whispered, “No one, you hear, no one will ever take you away!”

She intoned it like an oath, like a magic spell, and Lilli stroked her mother’s back, saying, “No, of course not. Why would they? You’re my mother.” But she always sensed the coolness, the iron ring Gertrud had formed around herself.

Then Christian had come along. Things improved, but were never wonderful. Until Moritz was born—then things got much better. Even if only for short periods, for moments.

But she didn’t tell Franza any of this.

“Let’s eat,” Franza said.

They ate, drank coffee. The strudel melted in their mouths. It was late, past ten, and darkness had long since fallen.

Eventually, Lilli said, “She was always on guard.”

Franza was surprised. “On guard? Against what?”

She shook her head, shrugged, paused for thought. “I don’t know. I wondered about it often enough. But I’m right, she was on guard. Always. As if she were afraid. For me. For herself. I don’t know
. . .
Somehow she was never relaxed, never at ease, never happy and cheerful and relaxed. Like people just are sometimes. Like you
have
to be, or else
. . .
”

Silence.

“Yes,” Lilli whispered eventually, aware of the dismay in her own voice. “That’s the way it was. She wasn’t happy. She was a woman who was never happy. Somehow
. . .
she wasn’t free enough. Yes. Of course. She wasn’t free enough for happiness. Trapped.”

And Lilli knew then what it was. She’d known since earlier that evening, since that morning. She knew what had kept her mother trapped her whole life long, why she had not been free to experience happiness, for herself, for life—why she always had to be on her guard.

Lilli closed her eyes, thinking. Should she? Ought she? Tell Franza? Tell the police officer? So that she could use it? So that, eventually, the whole town would know?

Lilli’s thoughts moved back and forth until, finally
. . .
she decided.

No, she would say nothing to Franza. She would tell her nothing—she had already said enough, too much. She shouldn’t ruin the memory of Gertrud’s life now, when it was all meaningless and much too late. No, that was something Gertrud did not deserve.

“Trapped by what? What do you mean? What are you trying to tell me?”

Franza’s voice was gentle and enticing. She was offering a salve for her to sink into, to bear her up. Lilli considered it once again for a second, for a fraction of a second. It would do her good to tell Franza everything, it would be like a release. Franza would know what to do
. . .
but on the other hand
. . .

Lilli cleared her throat, shook her head. “I don’t know.”

She wanted to go, wanted to stop talking, but she sat as if glued to this couch next to this woman who
. . .

What a pity,
Franza thought.
Lilli knows something, and she was on the point of . . . Such a pity!
She gave a negligible shake of her head and stroked Lilli’s arm.

“You were young when you left home.”

“Yes.” Lilli nodded. “Straight after school. She kept me on a leash, but at the same time she looked at me like I was a stranger. She would hug me and I’d ask myself who she was.”

Well,
Franza thought,
that’s not particularly unusual. I’m familiar with that.
She thought of Ben growing up and how she had sometimes wondered, full of concern, who this person beside her was, this person whose thoughts and intentions she did not know.

“I just went,” Lilli said with a shrug. “I couldn’t stand it anymore, the restrictions, the ties. And then
. . .
”