“I did not kill him, Dummkopf.”
Detective Inspector Carmody rose from his chair. He pulled a tissue from the box on his desk and handed it to the sobbing woman sitting opposite him. She took the tissue and threw it angrily to the floor. She opened her purse and put a scarlet handkerchief to her eyes.
“For real tears, a real Taschentuch.”
Hildegarde Kohner had been contacted at eight that morning by Detective Inspector Carmody. She was deep into braiding the dough for the luncheon rolls when Miss Penreddy, manager of the Bit O’Bavaria Tearoom, called her to the phone. On hearing that Louis was dead, she began crying hysterically until Inspector Carmody told her Louis had been murdered. She stopped crying at once and said he deserved to be killed and that Gerechtigkeit had been served. Carmody arranged for a young officer to accompany Hildegarde on the train from Brighton to London. Before leaving, however, Hildegarde put her rolls in the oven, and assured Miss Penreddy that Frau Muller, Hildegarde’s landlady, would supervise the Pinkelwurst mit Kartoffeln planned for lunch.
Hildegarde walked with Young Officer Doyle to the railway station, and sat silently beside him on the trip to London while she vigorously sewed a black armband onto the sleeve of her suit jacket She refused to ride in the police car that was waiting for them at Victoria Station. “I am not a Verbrecher, she said. “I will not ride in that. I will take the bus.” Young Officer Doyle convinced her that the police car was there as a courtesy and not because she was considered a criminal.
Hildegarde was a small woman, under five feet, and still proud of her figure because it offered a public display of her private discipline. Her very orange hair, as intricately braided as her luncheon rolls, was piled high atop her head. She used herbal pastes on her skin and drank herbal teas but never used cosmetics, depilatories, or deodorants. Her body pleased her, not because it pleased others, but because it pleased her that she was healthy and clean and did not look as though she were fifty-eight
“Certainly, Mrs. Kohner, I did not mean to imply that you are a suspect in the death of your husband.” Hildegarde blew her nose. She used a tissue. “I realize, Mrs. Kohner, how difficult all this is for you. And I hope you realize that I’m merely doing my job.”
“You are doing your job, because you like your job. You, like all Polizei, enjoy death and crying and making people feel afraid.”
“Mrs. Kohner…”
“How did he die?”
Inspector Carmody cleared his throat and picked up a piece of paper from his desk. It gave him a place to put his eyes. “The coroner’s report shows that the deceased was struck on the back of the head and knocked unconscious. Then his body was put into an oven and incinerated.”
“You mean,” she began loudly, and then began laughing uncontrollably, “that someone baked him? Oh, no. That is not possible. Oh, God forgive me.” She stopped laughing. “That is not funny.”
“The body was found at seven-thirty this morning when a Mr. Sacristedes …”
“Frank?”
“You know him?”
“Of course I know him. He was Louis’ rechte Hand. Poor Frank.”
“He’s under sedation at Sister Mercy Hospital.”
“Frank knew from the smell?”
“He knew something was wrong from the smell. Of course, we’ve closed the Savoy kitchen until further notice.”
“Oh, my God,” she said, for the first time in genuine horror, “you’ve closed the Savoy kitchen?”
“At the insistence of the Health Service. It appears there are rather strict regulations …”
“So what will they do? Did they close the Grill as well as the embankment side?”
“1 don’t know for certain.”
“So what will they do? They could use the stoves for cooking, at least?” she asked belligerently.
“Mrs. Kohner, we are searching the kitchen for clues as to who might have done such a thing to your husband.”
“But it’s perfectly clear who killed him.”
“Who?”
“Someone who hated him. A thief would kill him with a gun or a knife. No, Inspector, this murder is a special one.”
“I agree, Mrs. Kohner. But who had a motive?”
She looked at Inspector Carmody. “First, I would check Albert Grives, 45 Kensington Gardens; he was Louis’ assistant at the Savoy and I never liked him. I told Louis that Albert would one day kill him to get his job. Then, Seresh Jamba. He lives in Golders Green. Louis fired him to give the job to Albert Seresh could never get work again and became an alcoholic. He made friends with a bartender and they opened a restaurant called Hurry Curry but it burned down the night it opened. And Jackson, Campbell, Hatney … all the fruiterers at Covent Garden. They would have killed him without a second thought You must check a waiter named Harry Snape, who works in Brighton at the Farthing and Pence. He was the maître at Le Poulet Rouge when Louis was there. Harry was caught stealing truffles and vowed he would kill Louis. I don’t know where Adamawitz is working, Lester Adamawitz. He lives in Surrey, with his sister who is crazy. Lester borrowed some money from Louis to have his gall bladder removed, he said. But he only wanted to buy a cart for the Rugby games on Sunday, where he could sell sandwiches he made on Saturday night using the food from the restaurant Louis and I had a fight late one Saturday night, so Louis went back to the restaurant to roll some dough and found Lester stealing the supplies. Then you should find Rita Macedonia, who was a hostess at the casino in Brighton. She wanted Louis to sleep with her. But my Louis would never. This Rita Macedonia had already been in prison, I heard, for cutting the fingers off her lover. Rollo Ungt was the manager of Le Poisson d’Or in Kent, and Louis went to work there after leaving Brighton. Louis tried, but it was impossible. Ungt wanted only to serve fish that was frozen. Louis told him unless he put a tank in the kitchen to keep fresh fish, he would quit. Ungt promised that he would. Then he went to Woolworth’s and bought a goldfish in a bowl and gave it to Louis. Louis served the goldfish to Mrs. Ungt for lunch. She had a heart attack and died in the dining room. Then there was Casimir Fenouiel. He was a writer of cookbooks who stole one of Louis’ recipes. He published it as his own. Everyone knew it was Louis’ dish, and whenever Casimir went to a restaurant, the chefs refused to cook for him. For almost a year, this Casimir thief would have to put on a disguise every time he went into a restaurant. Then, there is …”
“Mrs. Kohner, calm yourself, surely there are not more people who would have wanted to kill your husband?”
“Of course there were. Probably hundreds. He was a very popular man.”
“But what I mean is, who do you think was actually capable of killing him?”
“Everyone was capable of killing him. It seems to me that the question, Herr Inspector, is who stood to gain the most from his death.”
“And who do you think would gain the most from his death?”
“How should I know that? I am the Witwe not the Detektiv.” Detective Inspector Carmody watched a small sneer part her lips.
“I was wondering, Mrs. Kohner, if we might not discuss further your late husband’s … uh”—he stammered for a moment trying to find the right word—“your husband’s relationship with Miss O’Brien. I mean to ask, what were your feelings about this relationship?”
“You mean to ask questions that will make you feel superior.”
“Were you aware that your husband was having an … a relationship with Miss O’Brien?”
“Perhaps you are not secure as a man. Perhaps that is the reason you torture old women.”
“Mrs. Kohner!”
“What do you think, Wunderkind? What do you think I felt about my husband sleeping with Tasha? He comes home one day with her, like you bring home a lost dog. I had no children. She was ten, eleven, twelve. I had no pets. So we kept her. No one else wanted her. I made her clothes. I fed her. Nein, more than feeding her, I was the one who taught her how to cook. She was my friend, my sister, my daughter. No mother could love a child more than I loved her. Does she know about Louis?”
“Yes. She was here this morning to make a statement.”
“Did she tell you where she was last night?”
Carmody hesitated.
“Do you know she was making dinner for your Queen?” Hildegarde smiled. “I didn’t do such a bad job, ja?”
“You must be very proud of her.”
“I do not want to see her. I have not seen her in ten years.”
“Then you knew about their… relationship?”
“I knew because Louis told me.”
“He told you!”
“Yes. It was the morning after their first time together. He and I were alone. Rolling the Strudel dough. I looked at him and I knew. I picked up the pastry scissors and put them to his neck. ‘Are you sleeping with her?’ I asked, pushing the scissors into his neck. ‘Ja’ he says to me.” She began to cry. “You have never met such an honest man.”
“Did Miss O’Brien know that you knew?”
“Not for a long time. What kind of person do you think I am? You have no feelings. Do you think I would tell her? And ruin her first affair? I told you I loved her. How wonderful for her to find someone like Louis. What more could any mother ask?”
Inspector Carmody stared at Hildegarde, uncertain how to proceed with his questioning. “Mrs. Kohner, would you mind telling me why you and your late husband separated?”
“Because we had been together for too long.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“You don’t understand how two people can be together too long? Mein Gott! You British are so passionless you cannot understand lack of passion. Louis …” She hesitated. “Ach, mein Schätze.” She began to cry. And then after a moment, “My Louis was not an easy man to love. Even Natasha did not have an easy time with him. What do you think made her marry that American hot dog?”
“Do you think Mr. Ogden might have …?”
“And dirty his lily-white hands? Ha! I tell you, mein Kapitän, I think he would have loved to kill Louis, but he would not have the courage.”
“And Mr. van Golk?”
“Achille? Why should he kill Louis? Mein Gott! Achille had the most to lose by Louis dying. He cannot feed his fat face with Louis’ cooking any more. No, Inspektor. There was only one man with the courage and imagination to have killed Louis. And that was Louis.”
Detective Inspector Carmody rose from his chair. “I thank you for your help. We will be in touch as soon as there is something to report.”
Hildegarde got up. “So I will never hear from you again?”
“I’m confident we’ll be able to clear up this case.”
“I’ll send you a Strudel when you do.”
“Just one more question. When I called you this morning you said that Gerechtigkeit had been served.”
“I loved my husband, Inspector. But what he did was wrong. He was wrong to make my Natasha a Greek tragedy. I told him that But he wouldn’t listen. Now he knows he was wrong. He has been punished.”
“Indeed,” he said softly. “And justice has been served.”
“Precisely.” Carmody hesitated for a moment, then opened the door for her.
“Mami!” Natasha rose from the bench in the corridor and ran to Hildegarde. The two women embraced, crying. They held tightly to one another. “Mami, Mami,” Natasha repeated. Carmody stepped back from the doorway and stood listening as Natasha and Hildegarde sat on the bench.
“I didn’t know what to do, Mami. I called you and Frau Muller told me you were here.”
Hildegarde pulled back. “I did not want to see you.”
“Mami, don’t hate me. We only have each other now.”
“We always had each other. Now we have nothing.”
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear I will.”
“You owe me nothing.”
“Mami, that first time, I made him do it. He was drunk.”
“He told me. Please do not tell me again.”
“You knew? You knew in Vienna?”
“Tochter, I knew before you knew. I could see it on your faces.”
“Oh, God. How terrible it must have been for you.”
“Yes. And now it will be terrible for you. I lost Louis a long time ago. You have just lost him, and I am sorry for you.”
“I’ve always asked about you. Not from Louis, but from others. I’ve always known where you were.” She smiled briefly. “I even knew about your fights with Miss Penreddy, and the time you sprained your arm, and when you flew to Paris to help Auguste start his restaurant. …”
“And I have watched you on the television, and I have read what you write in the magazines.” There was a pause. The crying had stopped and they sat looking at one another, for a moment oblivious to where they were and why. “Do you remember, Tochter, how afraid you were that you would be ugly? Do you think back to those days at all?”
“Yes. I do. Mami, come with me.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere! New York, San Francisco, Paris, Rome. I have a lot of money. We could open a restaurant together. Remember how we talked about it. How we tried to get Herr Schnederer to give us a lease on that place on the Opernplatz?”
Hildegarde moved away. “Please, don’t do this to me. Do not be cruel. I have found peace all these years because I have had no dreams.”
“But, Mami. This would be real. We could have our own place. The way we want it to be.”
“Tochter, I am not unhappy with my life. And I do not think you are so unhappy with yours or else you would not be so successful. The champagne must not expect sympathy because it is not cognac. You have done well. Don’t become bourgeois and punish yourself for it”
“Then come and live with me. Be part of my life.”
“No,” she said softly. “My own life is too important”
“Mami, let me help. I want…”
“Listen to me. I have tried to hate you, mein Tochter. For years I tried, because I thought I should. I thought it would be proper. But I loved you when you were a child because I wanted to love you. Even when you were sleeping with my husband, I loved you.” She stood up. “It is enough. You must understand that I love you, but I do not wish to see you again.”
“Mami, I am all alone.”
“Then you must learn to like yourself.” She looked at her watch. “I must go. I am late for the Sauerbraten.”
Natasha stood watching as Hildegarde walked away. Inspector Carmody came into the corridor and brought Natasha into his office. Without speaking he opened a file drawer, took out a bottle of brandy and a glass. He poured a drink for her. She drank it without ever meeting his eyes.
“Would you like another?” She nodded yes. He poured again.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the glass from him. “I thought on my way back down here that I could make it all up to her somehow. Or that she would at least be angry enough with me to comfort my own guilt. But I just feel so empty now. I don’t feel anything, Inspector.” Natasha looked up and noticed the picture of the Queen on the wall. She started to laugh. “It’s all so absurd.”
“What is?”
“Last night I felt like Cinderella. Inspector, what do I do? About the funeral. How do I …?”
“Mr. van Golk has already made arrangements. The body … the remains were released an hour ago.”
“Thank God. Is there anything else?”
“No. We have your statement from this morning.”
Natasha got up from her chair. “Inspector, do you think he suffered very much?”
He turned away from her. “The report shows that his hands were found clutching the inside latch.”
“Oh, my God. But how did …”
“We believe that he was knocked unconscious before being put into the oven. There was a fracture on the skull. But it would appear that the oven was not turned on until after the body was put into it.”
“You mean he regained consciousness while the oven was heating?”
“It would have taken about ten minutes for the temperature to rise sufficiently to have seared his lungs. But we believe he died from suffocation because the flames took all oxygen out of the oven.”
“Oh, my God. Oh, Louis.” Natasha ran from the room. “I’m going to be sick.”