‘Inspector Reinhardt — security office. May I come in?’
‘Of course. My regulars won’t be here for hours yet.’ Again, the laugh. It didn’t seem to be a nervous laugh but merely a welling-up of good humour.
Loiberger unlocked the door and pushed it open.
‘Please sit down, inspector. I’ll get you something to drink.’
‘That won’t be necessary.’
‘No, I insist. You look as though you’ve been waiting. You must be cold.’
For once, Rheinhardt didn’t object. The day — which had started so early — was beginning to catch up with him. Loiberger disappeared through a doorway behind a counter piled high with pyramids of Turkish delight and punschkrapfen. Rheinhardt sat at a window table and looked around the dark interior. It was a shabby little coffee house. Yet it had a certain bohemian charm. The walls were hung with Venetian carnival masks and photographs of famous actors. A bust of Goethe stood on a pedestal outside the toilets.
Loiberger returned with a tray on which he balanced a bottle of schnapps and two shot glasses. He took the seat opposite Rheinhardt and poured the drinks.
‘Thank you,’ said Rheinhardt. ‘You are most kind.’
‘Prost!’ said Loiberger, raising the glass before throwing his head back and emptying the contents down his throat.
‘Prost!’ returned Rheinhardt.
It was good schnapps.
‘So, inspector,’ said Loiberger, refilling the glasses. ‘How can I help?’
‘Do you know who Cacilie Roster is?’
‘Yes, of course. She’s one of my regulars.’
‘When was the last time you saw her?’
‘Last night. She stayed late — as usual. And left just after midnight.’
‘Was she with anyone?’
Loiberger laughed: ‘Was she with someone? She’s always with someone. She caused a stir last week by arriving with two giants. I’m not joking, inspector, two giants.’
‘I believe you,’ said Rheinhardt. ‘But last night, Herr Loiberger. If you could try to remember who she was with last night?’
‘A gentleman …’
‘What did he look like?’
‘A handsome fellow: high cheekbones and very bright eyes.’
‘Blue?’
‘I think so. Yes. I assumed he was a performer.’
‘Do you remember the colour of his hair?’
‘Black.’
‘Did you serve him?’
‘Yes.’
Rheinhardt paused.
‘Herr Loiberger, I am sure that my next question will strike you as rather peculiar. But I would be most grateful if you would give it your most serious consideration. What did this man smell like?’
Herr Loiberger gave the question a moment’s thought, and then burst out laughing. ‘Really, inspector …’
41
Frau Harrer arrived at Rainmayr’s studio with her two daughters, Franzel and Gusti. She was about to follow them inside when Rainmayr stopped her with a raised finger.
‘I’d rather you didn’t. There’s no need.’ Before Frau Harrer could object, he produced some coins and pressed them into her moist palm. ‘You can expect more, in due course.’
She took the money and called after the girls: ‘Franzel, Gusti. Do whatever Herr Rainmayr says. Understand?’
Rainmayr had first seen Frau Harrer and her daughters in a queue, waiting to be given a free bowl of soup by workers from a women’s charity, and had offered to buy them a more substantial meal in a nearby coffee house. Frau Harrer had not required much persuading and while she and her daughters were bolting down their food Rainmayr had made his proposal. He was never in any doubt that Frau Harrer would accept.
‘Come back this afternoon,’ said Rainmayr, closing the door.
The two girls stood awkwardly in the middle of the studio. The eldest, Franzel, was probably about fifteen. She had long straight hair and sharp angular features. Gusti, who Rainmayr judged to be a year younger, was obviously related, although her face was less severe.
‘Now,’ said Rainmayr, clapping his hands together. ‘Go behind that screen and take off your clothes.’
‘All of them?’ asked Franzel.
‘Yes.’
‘But it’s cold.’
‘Don’t worry about that, I’ll light the stove in a minute. Besides, you won’t be entirely naked. I have some new clothes I want you to wear. Pretty clothes.’
He had learned from experience that a businesslike manner was more likely to produce compliance.
The two girls went behind the screen and Rainmayr rummaged in a bag for some garments and accessories. It was a condition laid down by his patron that the commission he was about to begin work on should feature ‘partially clothed models of youthful appearance’.
Franzel stepped out first, her arms positioned to cover her breasts and genitals. She glanced at Rainmayr nervously, before hissing at her sister: ‘Come on — you have to.’ Gusti appeared a few moments later. Her head was bowed and she was looking at her feet.
‘Over here, you two. Don’t be shy.’
They crossed the floor, leaving a trail of footprints in the charcoal dust. Rainmayr’s eye was immediately drawn to their jutting hip bones and skeletal prominences. Their skin was perfect for his purposes: white and transparent enough to offer tantalising glimpses of internal structures. For Rainmayr, nudity was not simply about the removal of clothing. His aesthetic sensibility demanded a form of nudity that advanced one step further, satisfying a need for deeper and deeper levels of exposure. Not every model could be naked in the way that Rainmayr wanted. The opaque exterior of a well-fed woman held no interest for him.
Rainmayr opened the bag wide and showed the girls what was inside.
‘See. Pretty things.’ He then shook it for good measure.
He picked out a choker and placed it around Franzel’s neck. Then he found a stocking.
‘Stand on one leg.’
Rainmayr knelt down, slipped the stocking on Franzel’s foot and pulled it up to her thigh.
‘Now, the other one.’
The girl reached out to steady herself with the hand that she had been previously using to cover her genitals. Rainmayr glanced up and was pleased with what he saw.
42
The dying human weakens the partition that separates this world from Her world. In Eastern religions it is said that the soul enters the body when the newborn infant takes its first breath. I believe this to be correct. The first breath creates an opening through which the eternal essence pours, filling the empty vessel of the flesh. A correspondent event occurs with the very last breath. The final exhalation creates the temporary corridor through which the soul must make its exit from the world, the very same corridor through which She enters to effect our liberation. Death is very much like a state of possession. In the moment of death, we are possessed by death.
You grasp, I hope, the significance of this?
Let me be plain.
It occurred to me that expiry during copulation would make communion with Her possible: as the Virgin in Majesty is transformed from Mother to Empress, so the Queen of Darkness is transformed from reaper to lover. She becomes attainable.
I searched for a fitting host but without success. I tried the obvious places — the brothels, the Prater — but none of the women I encountered seemed right. Let us say that they struck a wrong note. In the end, it turned out that my nocturnal jaunts were entirely unnecessary. You see, I didn’t find Adele Zeiler. Adele Zeiler found me.
I was sitting in the Volksgarten, admiring the Theseus Temple, when she emerged from a crowd, caught my eye, and sat next to me.
— Good afternoon.
— Good afternoon.
Pause.
An exchange of smiles.
— It’s very pleasant here, isn’t it?
Thus, with these simple words, she sealed her fate. She was flirtatious, engaging, yet at the same time oddly self-contained. Did you ever see her face? It was interesting. That said, it was perfectly clear what kind of woman Fraulein Zeiler was. We arranged to meet again and when we did I gave her the gift that she had been chasing. A hatpin. One of two hatpins, in fact, that I already possessed, having purchased them at Jaufenthaler’s — a grubby little jewellery shop on the Hoher Markt — in readiness.