Sent to the Devil (27 page)

“I apologize for the drama and mystery, signore. I had to speak with you, and I did not want you to come to the house.”

“Is it about Benda? Where is he?”

She sighed. “He was called away late last night. The manager of his estate sent for him. There has been a riot—the peasants are angry about the price of food. He is probably halfway to Bohemia by now.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “No, it is not about Richard.” She stared at the floor of the carriage. “No, it is about me—I cannot live with myself anymore. I must confess to someone.”

“I do not practice as a priest, mademoiselle,” I said gently.

She waved her hand at me. “No, no, you misunderstand me. I do not seek absolution. I come to you in your role as investigator of the murder of my father.” She hesitated.

I leaned forward in my seat. “What is it you wish to tell me, mademoiselle?”

She stared at her hands in her lap and then looked up at me in the faint light. “I am the killer you and Richard seek,” she said.

 

Twenty-seven

My jaw dropped. “
You
killed your father, mademoiselle?”

She nodded. “Yes. I confessed it all to Father Dauer before he died. Valentin—”

“Please start from the beginning.”

“It was Valentin—Baron von Gerl. Richard has been away at his estate many times since Valentin arrived back here in Vienna. My father was writing his memoirs, and was busy with work.” Her voice was a monotone. “I suppose I was lonely. Valentin visited me often for coffee. Once he took me to the Prater for a stroll.”

She ran her fingers along the fur blanket.

“He flirted with me outrageously. Of course, he understood that I was loyal to Richard. But I enjoyed Valentin's attentions, I will admit that. He was an attractive man.” She pushed the fur aside. “But as the days went by and Richard did not return, my resistance began to waver.”

I nodded.

“The afternoon before my father was murdered, Valentin sent me a note.” She stared at the carriage wall behind me. “He wanted to make love to me. He asked if I would receive him in my chamber after my father retired for the evening.”

I remained silent.

“I knew that I should refuse him, but I could no longer help myself. I sent a reply allowing him to come.”

She took a deep breath. “After my father went to bed, I waited until after twelve-thirty, when I knew the steward would be asleep, and then I crept downstairs and unlocked the door. Valentin was waiting in the shadows of the courtyard. I led him to my chamber.”

She twisted the soft fur on her lap.

“Once Valentin and I were alone in my chamber, I lost control of myself. We—”

Her cheeks burned in the dim light.

“I understand,” I said. “Please go on.”

“I must have cried out just when I was about to surrender to him. There was a noise in the hallway—footsteps—my father's footsteps. He must have heard me and was coming to investigate. I pushed Valentin away and told him to climb out the window. He wanted to stay and hide, but I was frantic. He went out the window and climbed down the vines.”

She swallowed hard. “Then the nightmare began.”

“I don't understand,” I prompted her. “You said you killed your father.”

“Yes, yes I did. You see, my father must have seen Valentin in the courtyard. He must have rushed downstairs to confront him.”

“But von Gerl did not kill your father,” I said. “He is one of the murderer's victims himself. No, mademoiselle. You have it wrong. Those pages you gave me yesterday—the killer sent them to your father. He accused him of excess pride—”

“Don't you see?” she cried. “That is how the killer found him. If my father had not gone out to follow Valentin, to protect my honor, he would have remained safely in his bed. He would be alive today.” She buried her face in her hands and wept.

I moved over to the bench next to her and put my arm around her. “No, no. You are not to blame,” I said. “Your father was leaving the house at that hour to keep an appointment with his killer, not because he heard you and von Gerl. He left the house and went to the Am Hof. A witness saw him there just before one. If he had been chasing von Gerl, he would have gone the other way.”

I offered her my handkerchief. She took it and dabbed at her eyes. “Are you certain about this?” she whispered.

“Yes,” I said. “Two witnesses saw the general that night. Both said he was walking with purpose, toward some sort of meeting.”

“But I understood that—”

“Is that why you said you were the killer?” I asked. “That was all?”

She sighed. “I was certain I was to blame. I knew my father's body was found in the Am Hof, but I assumed the killer found him in the street outside the palais and dragged him there.”

“You should have asked Benda for more information,” I said. “He would have been able to reassure you.”

Her eyes widened. “No! No! Richard must not know anything of this!” She clutched my arm. “Promise me you will not repeat to him what I've told you! Please, you must promise me!”

“You have my word,” I said.

*   *   *

I mulled over Christiane's admission as I walked back to my office. Casanova had been right—all five of the killer's victims were involved with her in some way. Alois and Dauer had been her confessors; Hennen her former fiancé and von Gerl a potential lover; and of course, the general was her father. A pang of worry shot through me. I could not think of a reason why someone would kill every male connected with Christiane Albrechts, but I was glad that Benda was off in Bohemia, safe from the killer's dagger.

Back in the office, I completed work on the libretto I had been editing earlier in the day, then took my cloak and satchel and headed for home. Thorwart's fears that the murders would keep the people of Vienna indoors appeared to be justified this evening, for the streets were empty of the usual crowds of people going to suppers and soirees. Or perhaps it was just the weather. The chilly air of mid-April had returned, and showers threatened.

I hurried down the deserted Wollzeile, past the university, my eyes alert for any sign of von Gerl's plumed hat. But I reached the Stuben gate without incident. Fatigue must have caused my eyes to play tricks on me the other night. A guard waved me through the Stuben gate. As I reached the end of the wooden bridge that spanned the
glacis,
I heard steady footsteps behind me. I quickened my pace and walked across the broad pathway and over the river bridge. The footfalls continued behind me. I walked even faster. Within a few moments, I arrived at my street. I turned the corner, concealed myself in the dark archway of the first house, and stretched my neck so that I could see the street corner. Within a minute, my pursuer arrived. He stopped and peered down the street. I drew in a sharp breath as I recognized the young man in the forest-green cloak.

I held my breath as he stood looking down the street. After a minute or two, he turned and went back in the direction of the city. I waited several moments more to make certain he was gone, and then ran down the street to the safety of my lodgings.

 

Twenty-eight

I stayed home and worked in my room on Tuesday morning. I knew that I had put off speaking to Marta for too long, and I was determined to see her before I left for the rehearsal that was scheduled for the afternoon.

I was packing up my satchel and planning what to say to Marta when the door opened and Sophie entered. She carried a pitcher of fresh water; a clean towel was tucked under her arm. She started when she saw me standing at the desk.

“Oh, Signor Da Ponte, I am sorry,” she said. “I thought you had already left for the theater.”

“Come in, Sophie,” I said.

“No, signore, I don't want to disturb you. I'll leave these and come back later.” She took the water and towel over to my basin.

“Please, Sophie, do what you would do if I were not here,” I said.

She nodded. “Thank you, signore. I'll be quick about it.” She opened the window, then carried the basin over to it and threw the dirty water out. She wiped the basin dry with the soiled towel, replaced the basin on the washstand next to the fresh water. Crossing over to my bed, she took the coverlet off, shook it, plumped the mattress and the pillow, then replaced the coverlet.

“There you are, signore,” she said. “I will sweep later this afternoon, while you are out.”

“Thank you, Sophie.” I hesitated. Now that I had made up my mind to approach Marta, I was eager to go across and knock on her door. But since Sophie was here, I ought to ask her about what had occurred the evening von Gerl was killed.

“Sophie, have you heard the news about Baron von Gerl?” I asked.

“You mean about the murder, signore?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Stefan told me the baron had had his throat cut at the Belvedere,” she said. “He told me that it wasn't the first time this had happened—that there's a monster roaming the streets late at night, killing people.”

She looked at me curiously. “Stefan also said he heard that you were working with the police to find the killer, signore.”

“Yes, that is true. So I must ask you a few questions, Sophie.”

“Me, signore? I know nothing about murder. And I haven't seen the baron since the night of the ball.”

She stared at me, her eyes defiant.

“Come, Sophie,” I said. “You know I saw you sneak out of the house last Friday night.”

Her cheeks reddened.

“Where were you going?” I asked.

She stared at the floor. “I don't want to say, signore.”

“I saw you get into von Gerl's carriage, Sophie. I saw Teuber drive you away.” I did not tell her that I had also watched as Stefan followed her.

“Then you already know what there is to be known, signore.”

“I'd like to hear it from you. Where did Teuber take you? To von Gerl's palace?”

She blew air from her cheeks. “You must promise not to tell Mother,” she said.

I nodded.

“After I met Valentin—the baron—at the ball at the Redoutensaal, he began to send me gifts. The first day it was a posy of flowers. The next day, a pair of gloves; the next, a jeweled pin for my hair. Please, signore, do not tell my mother. She knows nothing about this. If she knew that I had accepted the baron's gifts, she would be furious with me.”

“I won't tell her,” I said.

“Each day I received a note from him, telling me how soft my hands were, how much he wanted to hold one of them again, how beautiful I was.” Her eyes grew dreamy.

“You don't have to give me the details,” I said. “I've written many such notes myself.”

She smiled. “On Friday morning, he sent another note, inviting me to come to the palace for supper that evening. He mentioned that he wished to discuss our future. He told me to expect his carriage at eight o'clock.”

“Did Teuber take you directly to the palace?” I asked.

“Yes. Oh, signore, what a grand place it was! I've never been in any of the fancy houses in the city.”

“Tell me what happened next,” I said.

“When I arrived, Valentin was not there. The manservant told me that he had been called out on some business, and would return as soon as possible. He said his master had told him to serve me dinner and give me anything I wanted.”

“And then?”

“He showed me to a beautiful chamber and told me I could freshen my rouge. Then he led me to the dining room.” Her eyes widened at the memory. “It was so elegant, signore. I've never been in such a large room. I sat at the table by myself, and the manservant brought me dinner. There must have been ten courses. And there was music! Three musicians were there, on a little stage, playing just for me. It was wonderful. I felt as though I were a countess.”

“Was anyone else in the house?”

“I have no idea. I didn't hear anyone. The musicians were playing the whole time.”

“When did you finish eating?” I asked.

She pressed her hand to her lips. “Oh, about ten, I would say. Yes, I remember I heard the clock in the dining room chime. The servant, Teuber, you said his name was, cleared all the dishes and dismissed the musicians. He then brought me the most beautiful dessert—a small silver tray with three tiny cakes on it. He told me Valentin had ordered it especially for me.” Her eyes gleamed. “One was a meringue, I think it is called. It had been baked in the shape of a swan and filled with cream. Then there was a chocolate ball. That one was especially delicious. It had a crust on it, and when I broke into it, melted chocolate oozed out of it. The third one—”

“What happened when you finished these cakes?” I asked.

“When Teuber came for the plate, he apologized, telling me he had just had a message from Valentin. He was still in his meeting and could not see me that evening after all. Teuber brought me my cloak and then took me home in the carriage. I slipped back into the house. My mother never knew I had been gone.”

Her pretty face paled. “Oh! You don't suppose Valentin was being murdered while I was eating my dessert, do you?”

“I don't believe so, Sophie. The killer attacks his victims much later in the night.”

She let out a breath. “Good. I would hate to think that Valentin was lying dead while I was enjoying his delicious gift. I wouldn't be able to think of it with such pleasure if that were so. Will what I just told you help you find the killer, signore?”

“I don't know, Sophie. But I am glad you told me.”

She started toward the door, and then turned back to me. “I hope you don't have a bad opinion of me, signore, because I am not mourning for Valentin. I was angry with him that night, because I had agreed to come to him and he went off. But I've given my situation a lot of thought over the last few days, and I now see that I love Stefan.” She smiled. “Now I just have to convince him of it.”