Death And The Maiden by Frank Tallis

Author:Frank Tallis
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781409021704
Publisher: Random House UK
Published: 2011-01-06T06:00:00+00:00

29

RHEINHARDT STOOD IN FRÄULEIN ROSENKRANTZ’S parlour, humming the introductory melody of Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E minor. He found it particularly conducive to thought.

An upright Bösendorfer piano stood between two windows. There were several sofas and numerous chairs, enough seating to accommodate an audience of at least twenty guests. A large canvas showed an eighteenth-century ship with blood-red sails, listing precariously in the steep funnel of a whirlpool. High above the masts and rigging, in the roiling storm clouds, he detected the features of a satanic face. As far as Rheinhardt could judge, it was not an accomplished work of art. The paint had been applied too thickly.

Lifting the picture off its hook, Rheinhardt scrutinised the wall, but saw nothing irregular. He then turned the picture over. A title had been scrawled across the stiff backing paper: ‘The Dutchman rounds the Cape of Good Hope.’ The artist’s name was almost illegible but might have been ‘Schreiber’ or ‘Schreiner’.

There was a loud knock, a single, decisive strike.

Rheinhardt balanced the painting on a chair and went to admit his assistant.

‘Ah, Haussmann. Thank you for coming.’ The young man stepped into the hallway, wiping his feet on the floor mat and offering his superior a pinched smile. ‘We’re going to conduct a search.’

‘But the villa has already been searched, sir.’

‘We are going to look for places of concealment.’

‘Secret compartments?’

‘Yes.’

Haussmann produced a visiting card and handed it to Rheinhardt. The inspector held it up and read: Orsola Salak, psychic. ‘An imaginative suggestion, Haussmann, but I think we can manage without this woman’s services.’

‘No, that’s not what I meant, sir,’ Haussmann responded. ‘A gentleman was looking for you earlier today. Herr Schneider?’

‘Fräulein Rosenkrantz’s dresser.’

‘Yes, sir. He said that when you interviewed him he had been unable to give you Salak’s address.’

‘Orsola! Of course. Rosenkrantz’s psychic.’

‘Herr Schneider found her card in Fraulein Rosenkrantz’s dressing room.’

Rheinhardt looked at the address.

‘Ybbs Strasse 23. That’s close to the Prater, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, sir. Near the Nordbahnhof.’

‘Thank you, Haussmann.’ Rheinhardt dropped the card into his jacket pocket and led his assistant into the parlour. When he saw the painting of the Dutchman’s vessel again he wondered whether the artist’s signature, which looked like ‘Schreiber’ or ‘Schreiner’, was, in fact, ‘Schneider’.

‘Obvious places first,’ continued Rheinhardt. ‘Beneath paintings and under rugs, then drawers and chests. Books should also be studied very closely. A hollow is often made in the pages of larger volumes. If our initial efforts are unsuccessful, we’ll take up some floorboards. Come.’ Rheinhardt clapped his hands together. ‘Let us begin.’

They set about their task with determined energy. After completing their search of all the rooms on the ground floor they ascended the stairs and entered Fräulein Rosenkrantz’s bedroom. The rummaging continued with renewed vigour, but without result.

‘Help me with this, Haussmann,’ said Rheinhardt.

He was stripping the four-poster bed. Once the counterpane and eiderdown were removed, the two men lifted the heavy mattress. There was nothing underneath. Rheinhardt then began tapping the bedposts, which proved to be disappointingly solid. When they

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