Following closely behind he heard Doktor Sulzman say, ‘By the looks of that lump there could be internal hemorrhaging.’
They followed the stretcher carrying Herr Meisner as far as they could, finally forced to stop at a door marked ‘No Admittance.’
They stood there dumbly for a few minutes. Doktor Praetor came out to speak to them.
‘No use staying on here,’ he told them. ‘There is a waiting room on the second floor. I will look for you there when there is anything to report.’
‘Will he live?’ Werthen asked.
‘I will not give you false promises. The gentleman is badly injured. But he will have the best care available, I can assure you of that. Did he fall?’
Obviously Berthe had not given him all the information. ‘No. He was attacked.’
Doktor Praetor took a breath. ‘Was it in association with your investigations?’
‘I believe so,’ Werthen said. ‘I think the same assailant may have earlier attacked me in an effort to stop the investigation.’
‘That it should lead to your family. .’ Doktor Praetor was clearly shaken. ‘I do apologize. Perhaps we should stop.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Gross. ‘We will not be cowed by such savage actions.’
‘No,’ Doktor Praetor said. ‘Nor will I.’
They were silent for a moment and then Doktor Weisman, who Werthen had almost forgotten, offered, ‘I was the physician who attended him in the first instance. If I may be of any assistance. .?’
‘A pleasure,’ Praetor said, shaking the man’s hand. ‘I believe you have already been of immense help. Most wise to bring him here post-haste. Head injuries can be notoriously deceptive.’
Doktor Weisman bowed his head at this, not offering a correction or explanation.
Praetor hurried back to assist Sulzman, and Doktor Weisman pleaded other obligations and departed. Gross and Werthen found their way to the second-floor waiting room, already filled with several groups, their faces wearing similar expressions of pinched expectancy.
‘Perhaps in the hall,’ Werthen said, going outside where there was a bench. If Praetor came to find them he would have to pass in this direction, and Werthen could not see spending hours in the company of others so filled with tension and anxiety.
‘We are close, very close,’ Gross said. ‘Our killer grows frantic. This was obviously a most desperate act.’
‘Agreed,’ Werthen said, sitting and leaning forward, elbows on his thighs.
‘Where to from here?’ Gross asked.
‘Not now, Gross.’ For now another thought filled him with fear and anxiety.
‘Sorry. I thought it might take your mind off-’
‘He could just as easily have injured Berthe or Frieda. Killed them.’
He could hardly bear to think of that. His wife, his baby girl. That some demented stranger could force his way into his home. .
‘I can stay here,’ Gross offered. ‘You should be with them.’
But at that very moment Detective Inspector Drechsler approached, two uniformed men along with him.
‘Bad business,’ he said, shaking their hands in turn. ‘I’ve stationed two officers at your flat, Advokat. Not to worry.’
‘Berthe?’
‘She is holding up. Your cook seems to be solid as a rock. She gave us a description.’
‘A large, unkempt man in worker’s clothes,’ Werthen said. ‘Wearing a bowler with a thick growth of coal-black hair underneath. A thickened lump at the bridge of his nose as if it had been broken several times. Spoke in an Ottrakring accent.’
‘She told you then,’ Drechsler said.
Werthen shook his head. He explained to Drechsler about being attacked himself, apparently by the same man.
Drechsler rubbed his chin. ‘You seem to have turned over a rock someone wants left in place. Care to explain?’
Werthen glanced at Gross.
‘Well, Detective,’ Gross began, ‘I think we have fairly well proved a connection between the death of Steinwitz and that of Praetor.’
‘On the widow’s say-so?’ Drechsler shook his head. ‘She came to us and mentioned how she had great nerve stress after her husband’s unfortunate death. That she had even thought for a time that both he and the journalist Praetor were murdered because of some silly newspaper article they were working on.’
‘Hardly silly,’ Werthen interjected. ‘Nothing more than revelations about a scheme by Lueger to sell off an enormous section of the Vienna Woods.’
Drechsler rubbed his chin again at this news, clearly impressed.
‘Be that as it may,’ the inspector continued, ‘she said she was recanting any suspicions she had about her husband’s death. She said she could just not stand the shame of knowing he was a suicide, so she let her imagination run away with her.’
‘Why would Frau Steinwitz bother coming to the police with this story?’ Gross asked. ‘When we spoke to her earlier, she would not go to you even though she feared for her life.’
‘Makes sense then, doesn’t it,’ Drechsler said. ‘She wasn’t really in fear of her life.’
‘I repeat my question,’ Gross said. ‘Why come to you at all with this explanation?’
Drechsler looked somewhat sheepish.
‘Out with it, Inspector,’ Gross thundered.
‘She said she had spoken to a couple of private inquiry agents who had been very pushy about wanting information. She did not want to be bothered by those men again.’ He turned to Werthen. ‘In point of fact, my man told me you went to pay her a visit early this morning.’
Gross turned to him. ‘Is that so, Werthen?’
Werthen explained his visit and also his surprise at the change in Frau Steinwitz’s story. But as events had thereafter overtaken him, he’d had no time to inform Gross of the interview.
‘It was quite cordial, I assure you, Inspector. As was our former visit. I had been her husband’s Advokat before he became a council member.’
‘Any other evidence except what the widow said and then later recanted?’
‘You gave me the first bit of connection yourself, Inspector,’ Gross said, reminding him of the use of the same type of weapon in each case, a 7.65 mm Roth-Sauer automatic.
‘Correct. Not the same weapon, though.’
‘No, of course not.’ Gross peered at Drechsler. ‘Has someone talked to you, Inspector?’
Drechsler did not look at either man when he spoke. ‘Frau Steinwitz spoke with Inspector Meindl directly. He was furious, of course.’
‘He always is,’ Werthen said.
But Drechsler was not to be humored. ‘I feel awful about this, after what you are doing for my wife with her upcoming surgery and all. But after the drama of last Sunday with the Wittgensteins, Meindl told me to warn you two off. Now, with this latest incident-’
‘Warn us off?’ Gross said. ‘Off what? That infernal little toad.’
‘He was quite serious this time,’ Drechsler continued. ‘Lueger’s office also spoke with Meindl earlier today. After that call he made it very clear to me that there’s a posting in Carinthia where I will end up tracing cattle thieves if I don’t convince you two to call it quits with the investigation of Steinwitz.’
‘I quite understand,’ Gross said.
The statement shocked both Werthen and Drechsler.
‘You do?’ Drechsler said.
‘And you may tell Inspector Meindl that as of today we will curtail our investigation of Councilman Steinwitz.’
Drechsler’s face broke into a wide grin. It was the first time Werthen had ever seen the man smile.
‘Thank you, Doktor Gross. And you too, Advokat. I won’t forget this, you can be sure of it. I’ll have every available man looking for the thug that did this to your father-in-law.’
‘Much appreciated, Inspector,’ Werthen said.
Once Drechsler and his two policemen left, Werthen wheeled on Gross.
‘Whatever got into you to make that promise?’
‘The man’s obviously distressed,’ Gross said. ‘Do you wish him to end up in the cow patties of Carinthia?’