Deadly Communion

‘So it would seem. I found one of the buttons from her coat under the eaves of the Theseus Temple. I imagine that she and the perpetrator had become intimate while sheltering beneath the roof of the monument. Perhaps he became intemperate in his excitement and began to pull at her coat — breaking the thread. Whatever, in due course she must have agreed to find a place where they would be better concealed and they chose a row of bushes close by.’

‘How did she die?’

‘She was stabbed.’ Liebermann inspected the first photograph again and frowned. ‘With this,’ Rheinhardt added. The inspector reached into his pocket for a second time.

‘A hat pin?’

‘Precisely.’

Liebermann took the hatpin from his companion and studied the silver acorn. Then he ran his finger along the length of the needle and tapped the sharp point.

‘We know that it was purchased,’ Rheinhardt continued, ‘from a small shop on the Hoher Markt called Jaufenthaler s. It was one of five supplied by a Pole called Krawczyk. Herr Krawczyk hadn’t been able to persuade many jewellers in Vienna to stock them. In fact, only two outlets other than Jaufenthaler’s bought these silver-acorn hatpins and I understand that, to date, they have yet to make a sale.’ Rheinhardt paused and exhaled a vast cloud of cigar smoke. ‘Herr Jaufenthaler, on the other hand, was able to sell all five of Krawczyk’s hatpins, and, significantly, he recalls that one of these customers was a gentleman.’

‘Did you get a description?’

‘Yes, but not a very good one: dark hair, pale complexion — well mannered. Late twenties. No distinguishing marks.’

Liebermann placed the hatpin on the table and returned his attention to the photographs.

‘Where was she stabbed? I see no bloodstains on her dress — particularly near her heart, where I would have expected there to be some.’

Rheinhardt remained silent.

‘Surely,’ Liebermann continued, ‘Fraulein Zeiler wasn’t stabbed in the back. Inflicting a fatal wound, or rather, an instantly fatal wound, from behind with such an inconsequential weapon would be virtually impossible. One could puncture the lungs, I suppose … but that would be so very inefficient.’

Rheinhardt derived a shameful degree of satisfaction from the sight of his friend floundering. It was an infrequent occurrence and he intended to prolong the pleasure for as long as possible.

‘Professor Mathias was rather impressed by the killer’s ingenuity,’ said the inspector.

Liebermann, now evidently irritated by his own inability to solve the mystery, glared at his friend: ‘Well?’

Rheinhardt took a leisurely sip of brandy.

‘The pin,’ he said — before pausing to delay his disclosure a few seconds more — ‘was pushed through the gap between the uppermost vertebra of the spinal column and the skull, through the hole at the base of the skull — the foramen magnum, I believe it is called — and into the brain.’

Liebermann banged the side of his head with the palm of his hand.

‘Of course, how stupid of me: and how very interesting.’ He said the word ‘interesting’ in such a way as to suggest sudden illumination.

‘Why interesting?’

It was now Liebermann’s turn to be coy.

‘Please continue.’

Rheinhardt knew that there would be little point in pressing his friend for an answer.

‘Fraulein Zeiler was reported missing by her father who subsequently identified the body. She lived with her family — father, mother, and two sisters — in the sixteenth district. The two sisters are infirm; one suffers from a chest disease and the other is crippled. The Zeilers had become increasingly dependent on Adele for support, particularly after Herr Zeiler lost his job. She was able to provide subsistence for herself and her family by selling the gifts she received from gentlemen: gentlemen whose friendship she cultivated specifically for that purpose. Her father was insistent that Adele never accepted money, but most people would probably judge her to be not very different from a prostitute. She also supplemented her income by modelling for an artist called Rainmayr — a most unsavoury fellow whom I visited yesterday. I say unsavoury, largely on account of the work he produces. His oeuvre — if we can distinguish it by such a term — must appeal mostly to the kind of man one sees in Cafe Central, exchanging coins under the table for lewd postcards. He specialises in portraits of young women. Very young women.’ Rheinhardt’s expression darkened. ‘Rainmayr claims to have patrons in exalted circles, a boast which I fear might very well be true. Fraulein Zeiler went to see Rainmayr on Sunday afternoon. She wanted more modelling work, which he says he was unable to provide. I suspect they might have argued. She then left the artist’s studio for a small coffee house called Honniger’s where Rainmayr believes she intended to meet one of her admirers. I went to Honniger’s and one of the waiters recognised Fraulein Zeiler from a photograph. He was able to confirm that she had been there on Sunday night with a male companion. He provided a description broadly consistent with that of Herr Jaufen thaler: dark hair, tallish, thin, pale — but with the notable addition of blue eyes. The waiter supposed him to be some kind of professional.’

Liebermann picked up the hatpin and studied it again. He seemed particularly absorbed by the bend — the small kink — close to the silver acorn. Once again, he ran his finger along its length.

A small shower of sparks erupted among the flames of the fire.

‘It is tempting to assume,’ said Rheinhardt, ‘that Fraulein Zeiler’s dark-haired companion is the perpetrator; however, the evidence is circumstantial. He might have purchased the hatpin as a gift, given it to Fraulein Zeiler, and then they could have parted. We should also remember that a woman like Fraulein Zeiler might easily arouse jealous passions. She was obviously unattached to her gentlemen friends, but who knows what they felt about her? Did she mislead them? And what if one of their number had learned that Fraulein Zeiler had been trifling with his affections? Could such a besotted admirer have stumbled upon Fraulein Zeiler in Honniger’s — flirting outrageously with the dark-haired stranger — and become enraged? Could he have lain in wait, pretending, when the opportunity arose, that a chance meeting had occurred? And finally, could he have then persuaded Fraulein Zeiler to walk with him to the Volksgarten in order to enjoy her sexual favours one last time, before—’

‘No, no, no,’ cried Liebermann, waving his hand in the air impatiently. ‘That is quite wrong! This murder isn’t related to some cheap demi-monde melodrama. It has nothing to do with broken promises, dashed hopes and wounded pride!’

Rheinhardt — somewhat startled — raised an eyebrow.

‘Jealousy,’ Liebermann continued, ‘especially in men, is indeed a common cause of retributive sexual violence; however, the individual who murdered Fraulein Zeiler is, I believe, quite different from the common herd of infatuated, intemperate, and vengeful lovers. His motives are as strange as the air of another planet. Indeed, I would go as far as to say that this man is unique in the annals of psychopathology.’ The young doctor became feverish. ‘Even the Psychopathia Sexualis with its exhaustive bestiary of lust murderers, necrophiliacs, fetishists, and sadomasochists, vampires and coprophiliacs, hermaphrodites and exhibitionists, does not include a comparable case.’

Rheinhardt’s expression became increasingly sceptical as Liebermann’s excitement mounted.

‘Really, Max! This man is very interesting — I grant you that — insofar as he has recognised and exploited the murderous possibilities of the seemingly innocuous hatpin. But beyond this irregularity I see nothing singular or remarkable about his crime. If he is not a jealous lover then he is, at worst, a lust murderer. He availed himself of Fraulein Zeiler’s favours and then he killed her.’

‘I beg to differ.’

‘I would have thought that much was indisputable!’

‘Allow me to make some clinically relevant observations. In cases of lust murder, the pervert kills to ensure compliance. A dead woman cannot reject sexual advances. The same is true — only even more so — of a necrophile. We know from Professor Mathias’s evidence that Fraulein Zeiler gave herself willingly. Her murderer, therefore, did not need to render her insensible. He did not need to take her because what would otherwise need to be taken was already being freely offered!’

Rheinhardt looked confused.

‘I’m not really following your argument … and I still don’t understand your objection to my initial remark.’