Mortal Mischief

Commissioner Brugel paused and let his eyes roll upwards. Rheinhardt followed the movement, raising his head until the massive portrait of the Emperor completely filled his vision.

'Surely not,' said Rheinhardt.

'I'm afraid so,' said the Commissioner. 'And my source is very reliable.'

Rheinhardt took a deep breath, and hissed it out slowly between his teeth.

Brugel nodded and tidied some of the papers on his desk.

Now, at last, Rheinhardt understood why his superior was so agitated.

'I must be blunt, Rheinhardt,' said the Commissioner. 'Given the circumstances, it is essential that this case be solved as soon as possible. To that end, I think we need some new blood, someone to take a fresh look at all this.' He swept his hand over the papers. Brugel observed the flicker of disappointment that crossed the Inspector's face. 'Look,' he continued, his tone warming slightly. 'I'm not going to take you off the case, Rheinhardt, but I think you could do with some help.'

'Help, sir?'

'Yes. I've invited Detective Inspector von Bulow to examine the evidence.'

'Very good, sir,' said Rheinhardt. He had managed to preserve a facade of calm, professional resignation, but the mere mention of von Bulow's name had already induced a feeling like that of nausea.

'As you know, he's studying with Professor Gross at the moment in Czernowitz, but he has kindly agreed to return to Vienna for about a month. You've worked with von Bulow before, haven't you, Rheinhardt?'

'Yes, sir,' Rheinhardt replied. 'A very talented policeman.'

'My sentiment exactly,' said Brugel. 'I'm glad you appreciate my thinking.'

60

A WOMAN WEARING a large feathered hat was complaining about the quality of her Esterhazytorte, and threatening to change her allegiance from The Imperial to the Hotel Sacher or The Bristol. She had attracted the attention of the head waiter and a flock of concerned inferiors who were mobbing her table like crows. Their avian appearance was emphasised by frequent bowing, which made them look as though they were pecking the air. Nearby, a large party, clearly from the Court Opera, was generating an extraordinary amount of noise, laughing loudly and toasting the ceiling with raised champagne flutes. Meanwhile, the pianist was pounding out Chopin's Grande Valse Brilliante at almost twice the usual speed, showing remarkable dexterity by executing faultlessly the repeated notes of the melody. Liebermann was very impressed.

'Things still aren't right yet with the Bohemian factories,' Mendel grumbled on. 'There's still a lot of bad feeling – these Czech and German nationalists! They've made it impossible to run a business there. I don't think things will pick up for another few years at least. Profits and investments have virtually collapsed. I don't suppose you know the Bauers . . . Well, the problems they've had. When Badeni resigned he left a complete mess. Are you listening, Max?'

'Yes – you were saying that after Badeni resigned . . .'

Mendel looked at him suspiciously.

'And as for our kind.' Mendel raised his hands and shook his head. 'What a situation!'

Our kind?

Liebermann felt distinctly uncomfortable with his father's over-inclusive vocabulary.

'We were never welcomed by the Germans in the north-west, and yet the Czechs treat us as allies of the Germans. How can you win?'

Mendel paused and stirred his Pharisaer.

'An old friend from the lodge – Rubenstein – he died last month: weak heart.' Mendel patted his own chest. 'Lost most of his assets there – what with the riots and the political uncertainty. He didn't have any children, which was probably just as well. His wife has a small income from investments, but not a lot. Which reminds me, I must visit her with your mother . . . it must be difficult, all alone in that big house – all those memories.'

A party by the door got up to leave, just as another arrived. Waiters swooped to clear the empty table and the humming, bustling confusion became louder and more intense.

'Where is it?'

'The house?'

'Yes.'

'Alsergrund.'

'And what's she like, Frau Rubenstein?'

Mendel was surprised by his son's sudden interest.

'You want to know what Mimi Rubenstein is like?'

'Yes – is she a pleasant woman?'

'Pleasant enough, but shy – and bookish. I always found her a little difficult to talk to . . . I'm not a great reader, as you know. Why on Earth are you so interested in Mimi Rubenstein?'

'Does she have a female companion?'

'I don't know.'

'Would she like one?'

Mendel tasted his Esterhazytorte and gave an approving nod. 'Tastes all right to me.' Then, with his mouth still full, he asked: 'Why? Do you have someone in mind?'

'Yes,' Liebermann replied. 'An English governess who's looking for a new position – she'd be very suitable, I think. I wonder whether Frau Rubenstein would like to meet her?'

'I could always ask. Where did you meet her, this governess?'

Liebermann took a deep breath and began a lengthy but carefully doctored explanation.

61

RHEINHARDT WAS SITTING in an armchair and had not heard his wife's quiet approach. Looking up, he smiled and touched her hand. She did not respond and withdrew a little.

'Are the girls asleep?'

'Yes.'

'I was impatient with Mitzi earlier – I'm sorry.'

'It was nothing,' said Else, moving away and pulling a chair from beneath the parlour table. 'She was being difficult.'

Rheinhardt sighed and closed the police journal that he had been attempting, somewhat unsuccessfully, to read.

'What's the matter?' Else asked. 'I know that something's on your mind – you've been on the same page all evening.'

'You're an uncommonly observant woman, Else,' said Rheinhardt. 'Sometimes I think you'd make a much better Detective Inspector than me.'

He leaned back in his chair.

'Well?' said Else. 'What is it?'

Rheinhardt did not want to burden his wife with his troubles; however, he recognised that if he chose to be evasive she would become inexhaustibly inquisitive.

'I was summoned to the Commissioner's office today. He doesn't think we've made sufficient progress with the Lowenstein case.'

'Herr Brugel is never satisfied.'

'Indeed. However, this time he does have a point – and he's invited a colleague to assist with the investigation, a man called von Bulow.' He paused before adding, 'And if there's one man I detest above all others, it's von Bulow.'

Else sat down.

'He is insufferably arrogant,' continued Rheinhardt. 'Something to do with his background, I believe. He considers himself a cut above the rest of us, superior by virtue of his birth. His family were ennobled because an