apart, and when we were together, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”
“And you remember making love?”
“Jeez, Doc,” Rapp said, fidgeting in his chair. “Come on. Can’t I keep some of this shit to myself?”
Lewis smiled, “Yes, you may. I don’t need to know everything. It’s just good to know that you’re no longer repressing those memories.”
“I did that?”
“Yes. I tried to get you to talk about her on several occasions, but you became so enraged that I had to drop it.”
“Did I threaten you?”
The question caught Lewis so off-guard, he began to laugh nervously.
“What?”
“Your mere presence is a threat to many people.”
“And to you?”
“No.” Lewis shook his head. “I’ve known you a long time and you’ve never threatened me, but you need to understand that you are very good at what you do and you have some anger issues. After your wife was murdered, there was a bit of fear that you had become more volatile.”
Rapp didn’t like that sound of that. “Like I couldn’t control myself?”
“Yes.”
“Did I ever cross that line?”
“Mmmm… no.”
“But I came close.”
“Yes.”
This didn’t sound good. “I think I need a drink.”
“Why?”
Rapp grimaced. “I don’t like hearing this.”
Lewis took this as a good sign. Progress with Rapp was rare and should be celebrated. “I could use a drink as well. Come on… follow me.”
The two men left the study and moved down the hall to the open living room and kitchen. Rapp was surprised to find Kennedy in the kitchen, a series of files spread out on the table in front of her.
Kennedy looked up and asked, “How’s it going?”
Rapp shrugged, not feeling that it was his place to judge his progress or lack thereof.
“It’s going well,” Lewis said.
Kennedy could tell by the tone of Lewis’s voice that he was sincere, which got her wondering. “How is his memory?”
“Good. A lot of things are coming back.” Lewis grabbed a bottle of cabernet and started searching through drawers. He found a corkscrew in the third drawer and opened the bottle. He grabbed two glasses and held one up for Kennedy.
“Please.”
Rapp had filled a tumbler with ice and was standing in front of a bar cart in the living room, his right hand dancing over the tops of the bottles. “Would one of you please remind me what it is that I like to drink?”
A look of distress washed over Kennedy’s face, and she shared a look of concern with Lewis.
“I’m just kidding,” Rapp announced. “Vodka, occasionally scotch or whiskey, gin and tonic in the summer, margaritas when I eat at a Mexican restaurant, a little high-end tequila when I’m south of the border, and I think I got sick on Campari once.” Rapp started pouring some Grey Goose into a glass. “That was years ago, of course. I think it was Stan’s fault.”
“That’s more than I knew.” Lewis shot Kennedy a raised eyebrow.
“I do remember hearing something about you not being able to hold your liquor.”
Rapp came back to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. “I think my problem was that I was dumb enough to think I could go for drink for drink with Stan.” Rapp’s entire body convulsed at the thought. “Not a fun memory.”
“Speaking of memories,” Kennedy said as Lewis handed her a glass of wine. “Thank you. Speaking of memories, how do you feel about Switzerland?”
Rapp took a sip of vodka and said, “Switzerland… nice country. Could you be more specific?”
“Banking… bankers, actually. Do you remember doing any business with Swiss bankers over the years.”
“Of course. Herr Ohlmeyer and then his sons. This isn’t about his granddaughter, Greta, is it?” Rapp had had a relationship with the woman years ago.
“No… not that I know of. Is there something you’d like to tell me about Greta?”
“Not very professional,” Rapp said with a disappointing shake of the head.
“How’s that?”
“Just because I had this little knock in the head, that doesn’t mean you guys get to go on a fishing expedition through my memories.”
“It was worth a try,” Lewis said with a shrug. “I’ve never found him to be this cooperative.”
“I agree,” Kennedy said, as if Rapp wasn’t present. “Is there a chance he’ll stay like this?”
Lewis made a great show of pondering the possibility and then shook his head. “I think he’ll be the same old combative, ill-tempered man he always was.”
“His authority issues?”
“Can’t say for sure, but it stands to reason that those will reemerge as he regresses to his old ways.”
“You two are hilarious. Why don’t we ever spend any time talking about your issues?”
Kennedy and Lewis looked at each other and at the same time said, “Because we don’t have any.”
As they laughed at their own joke, Rapp looked on with a deep frown. “Bankers… we were talking about bankers.”
“Sorry,” Kennedy said as she took a sip of wine. “Bankers.” She set down the wineglass, grabbed a blue folder, spun it toward Rapp, and opened it to reveal a photograph of a man who looked to be in his midfifties. “Does this man look familiar to you?”
Rapp shook his head. “I’ve never seen him.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Could it be a blind spot? Maybe it’ll come to you later?”
“That’s not how it’s worked so far. When you show me photos or tell me something it triggers something that helps me remember. This guy,” Rapp waved his hand over the photo, “there’s nothing. No sense that I’ve ever met him or know anything about him.”
“Interesting.” Kennedy pulled the file back and flipped through a few pages. “What about these photos?” Kennedy laid out a photo of an office building and another one of a house.
“Nothing.”
“He works at a second-tier bank… Sparkasse Schaffhausen, located in District Five, Gewerbeschule Quarter.”
“I know where that is.” Why do I know that place? Rapp asked himself. His mind was filled with visions of a dark street and a gunfight. “I think I killed someone not far from there.”
Kennedy gave him a blank stare for a long moment and then said, “That’s correct. Two people, actually. You killed them not far from there and then fled to the Gewerbeschule Quarter.”
“I remember.” Rapp grabbed the file from Kennedy and held up the photo of the banker. “Tell me about him.”
“A Herr Obrecht. We don’t know much about him. I’ve made a few discreet calls, but our people don’t seem to run in the same circles as he does.”
“Is this the banker who claims I’m stealing money?”
“Yes.”
“And Rick as well.”
“That’s right. Director Miller showed me the affidavit. The banker claims to have met you twice and Rick on five separate occasions. Each time the man says the two of you converted cash into bearer bonds and placed them
