Villa von Düchtel
1906
“Appalling, appalling, appalling, appalling.” Cécile and I had stayed with Birgit for nearly two hours and now, back in my room, I flung myself onto the bed. “The girl has no sense of decorum, no sense of decency. It’s shocking that anyone could be so callous.”
“Surely appalling is the mildest criticism one could lob at her,” Colin said, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “One hardly knows where to start when there’s such meet food to feed it.”
“I wanted to go straight to Kaspar and ask if he told Sigrid he was leaving her for Birgit. I cannot imagine he did.”
“Of course he didn’t. His wife is dead and his mistress distraught, so he told Birgit what she wanted to hear. The truth is irrelevant because the only other witness to it will remain forever silent.”
“Dreadful man. Reprobate.” The words were too weak. I turned my mind to Shakespeare and searched for the worst insult I could remember. “Beetle-headed flap-ear’d knave.”
“A boil, a plague sore.”
“Lump of foul deformity.”
“No, I shan’t stand for that,” Colin said. “Richard the Third was twice the man as Allerspach.”
I pushed myself up on my elbows. “It does change the shape of things, knowing he’s been embroiled in a long-running affair.”
“It certainly gives him a strong motive for wanting his wife dead. The fact that he didn’t stand to gain financially from her demise would’ve otherwise suggested he’s innocent.”
“He and Birgit could have orchestrated every incident before the murder to make it look like Kaspar was the one in danger,” I said.
“And he could’ve easily shot Sigrid in the sleigh.”
“Kaspar’s awful, but would he really murder his wife to pave the way for a lifetime with Birgit?”
“Men have had stupider desires,” Colin said, “but I do find it hard to believe. He’s a man who likes the trappings of luxury. Think of his Cuban cigars and fine watches. It’s unusual for a man to leave his wife, no matter how much he dislikes her. Letting Birgit believe he planned to do so was cruel.”
“We have no evidence Kaspar actually disliked Sigrid,” I said. “We do, however, have ample examples of Birgit’s narcissism. Further, she’s unmarried. Jeremy always tells me he prefers married ladies because they’ve already got husbands and don’t want to disturb their status quo. There’s much to criticize about the nature of marriage in our society, but it has evolved in a way that provides discreet opportunities for those who wedded for reasons other than love.”
“When matches are based on titles and fortunes, such a system cannot be avoided. You’re quite right about unmarried ladies. They’re best avoided.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are they, now?”
“Unless one plans to marry them, of course. The, er, inevitable results of a long, intimate affair can be hidden within the confines of a marriage. An unmarried lady does not have the same opportunity.”
“Kaspar isn’t the smartest man I’ve ever met,” I said. “Perhaps that inevitable result never occurred to him.”
“Not even he could be that ignorant. He strikes me as someone happy to play with fire and happy to get his hands burned. He craves excitement. Hence, arranging for his wife and mistress to attend the same party at his mother-in-law’s house. He could easily have told Sigrid to go without him and had a happy spell with Birgit back in Munich. The fact he didn’t choose that course of action suggests he’s in this for a game of titillating pleasure, nothing else.”
“What happened after I left the dining room?”
“Very little,” he said. “Allerspach exhibited a strangely measured outrage. Brinkmann looked ill. The baroness demanded we all go on as if nothing had happened, so Max and Liesel started what they must have hoped would be a lively discussion of Alpine wildflowers.”
“I don’t understand Ursula,” I said. “If someone murdered one of our children, I wouldn’t be so calm.”
“She’s likely still in shock.”
“What if she’s protecting someone?”
“Who?” he asked.
“Consider our suspicion of Gerda and Hans. What if Ursula knows Kaspar has behaved inappropriately? What if his actions went further than Gerda let on? What if it’s not the first time such a thing has happened?”
“The baroness might have sympathy for the girl, but I cannot believe that would extend to protecting the person who killed her daughter.”
“No, I can’t either,” I said. “I also don’t see anything in Gerda’s character that suggests she’s a murderer. I hate all these unanswered questions.”
He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, while I stood in front of him. He reached out, put his arms around my waist, and pulled me onto his lap. “We can’t find answers tonight, so let’s abandon useful occupation. Byron tells us to eat, drink, and love; the rest’s not worth a fillip. We’ve already dined and I don’t fancy a drink, so we may as well give ourselves over to amorous pursuits with wild abandon. I shouldn’t want to dismiss his advice entirely.”
Wild abandon does not generally lead to one being at one’s brightest and best the next morning, but on this occasion, the opposite was true. I fairly leapt out of bed, flung open the curtains, and saw that it was still snowing, harder than ever. I tugged at the window sash until it moved, lifted it, and stuck my head outside, closing my eyes and drawing in a deep breath.
“There’s nothing like the smell of snow.”
Colin flung a pillow over his head and moaned. “Less enthusiasm, my darling girl, I beg you. And do, please, close the window.”
I rang the bell and asked to have our breakfast sent up. There was much to be done, but nothing that couldn’t wait a little longer. None of us would be going anywhere in the storm. Before a quarter of an hour had passed, I was sitting at the little table in our room, buttering a piece of toast.
Colin sipped his tea, still in bed, propped up by a mound of pillows. “I’ve been thinking about the message Allerspach received at dinner last night. It’s either a valid warning or a diversion. Anyone could’ve authored it. The baroness’s typewriter is in her study and the room is never locked.”
“If Kaspar and Birgit are guilty of murder, they’d want us to continue to think he was the intended target of the shot.”
“If Hans and Gerda are guilty, would they do the same?” he asked.
I crinkled my brow. “No, I don’t think they would. If they’re responsible, Sigrid’s death was an accident. Why would they want to draw attention to the fact? Better to stay quiet and hope for an opportunity to right the wrong.”
He considered my words. “I agree they’d want to stay quiet, but neither of them is a hardened criminal. After realizing they’d killed an innocent woman, they might well have decided to get out of the revenge business.”
Someone knocked. As I was modestly attired and Colin was wearing nothing but pajama trousers, I cracked the door open just enough to see who was there.
“Cécile!”
“Let me in, Kallista,” she said, her voice a whisper.
I did as she requested, and as soon as Colin realized what was happening, he pushed his tray to the other side of the bed and pulled on a dressing gown.
“Do forgive me,” Cécile said. “I would not ordinarily have disturbed you at such a diabolical hour but I felt I had no choice.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Birgit, having no concern for what she might interrupt in the middle of the night, came to my room an hour after we left her. She confided in me that she is with child.”
“Allerspach’s?” Colin asked.
“Bien sûr.”
“That certainly changes things,” I said. “She’s in an untenable situation and likely desperate. She would’ve been pressing Kaspar to leave his wife.”
“It gives her a profound motive for killing her rival,” Colin said. “Does Allerspach know?”
“She claims not to have told him,” Cécile said.
“It may be she has told Kaspar and denied doing so to protect him,” I said. “They’d both have strong motives and could’ve planned the attacks on him together. Then, he carried out the murder.”
“Far simpler than her doing it,” Colin said.
Cécile shook her head. “Non, I cannot believe it. If that were the case, why would she tell me? Once her condition is known, her motive is as well, a motive far stronger than that derived simply from her having an affair. If she’s cunning enough to be part of such an elaborate plan, she would never admit to me that she’s with child.”
“I’m inclined to agree.” Colin picked up the teacup from his discarded tray and came to the table to refill it. “Would you like some? We can ring for another cup.”
“Non, monsieur, I had coffee already and that shall fortify me until it’s acceptable to switch to champagne.”
“We need to ascertain whether Kaspar knows about the baby,” I said. “He’s not the cleverest of men, so surely it won’t be too difficult.”
“I’ll speak to him as soon as I’ve dressed,” Colin said.
But by the time he was ready, it was too late. After tending to our ablutions, when Colin and I headed downstairs, we found Kaspar lying at the bottom of the steps on the hard marble floor of the villa’s entrance hall.