Herta blushed, but didn't turn around. "Is this where I come along quietly or are you allowed to question me while I eat my breakfast?" She looked over her shoulder at the stern woman. "I have nothing to hide, you know, but I am rather hungry."
The two women stared at each other for a long moment before the police woman nodded, and sat down in the chair Turan had vacated for her. He whispered something into Father Edmund's ear, bowed slightly to the others with a muttered "excuse me" and left.
The police woman raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
"Turan Freiermann is merely running some errands for me, Frau Zwitzer. Your man will undoubtedly confirm that."
She nodded, accepting the explanation. She only glanced at Gebhardt as Father Edmund introduced him, but gave Herta a hard look as she was introduced.
"And this," the cleric finished, "is Detective Krista Zwitzer."
While the detective was occupied with Father Edmund and the introductions, Herta reached into her purse and turned on the tape recorder. The external microphone was permanently clipped to the outside of her purse, one of the hazards of working for a newspaper.
Turning to Herta, Detective Zwitzer asked, "And you, Frau Tanner. Where did you go after you left the bank yesterday?"
Herta looked surprised. "After the bank?" she repeated. "Let's see, we went to the power company--"
"We?"
"Gebhardt, that is, Herr Brunwold and I. No, we came here first, didn't we, and then went to the power company. That was around this time of day, too, come to think of it. Father Edmund saw us, as did Turan and the waitress."
Father Edmund murmured a confirmation, but was silenced by a glare from the detective.
"After that?"
"We ran into Turan again after we left the power company. That's when we split up, Gebhardt and I. I went with Turan and Gebhardt went to arrange other things."
"You always wander off with strangers, Frau Tanner?"
Herta grinned and shrugged. "Stout shoes, a good pair of lungs and five years in Army Cadets. I get by."
Detective Zwitzer, her head bent over her notebook, nodded. "From there you went...?"
"To visit Father Edmund." The cleric merely nodded his confirmation at the detective's sharp glance.
"Why?"
Herta stared thoughtfully at the detective for a long moment, measuring. Leaning back in her chair, she absentmindedly thanked the waitress for refilling her coffee cup. She put cream and sugar into it, using the action to delay answering until the waitress left the table. Father Edmund waved away an offer to refill his teapot, much to the obvious dismay of the waitress.
When she'd left, Herta continued, not quite answering the question. "Father Edmund knew both my grandfather and my great-grandfather. Being that I'd never heard of either one until about six months ago, you can understand my curiosity."
Detective Zwitzer murmured noncommittally.
"Father Edmund and I chatted for about an hour, I guess. I was..." Herta hesitated slightly. "I was a bit upset when I found out certain things about my family." She stared into her coffee cup.
"Things like?"
Herta stole a glance at Father Edmund's still face. She sighed. No help there. She avoided the detective's eye.
"Like?" came the ice-cold prompt.
Herta took a deep breath and let it out, straightening in her chair as she did so. "Detective Zwitzer, am I correct in believing that you're related to the banker?"
"And that information is pertinent?"
Herta shrugged. "It is when you consider that I've only recently found out what my grandfather did for a living."
The two women locked gazes, one calm, one slightly challenging. Herta surrendered to the calm, breaking off to stare down at her coffee cup again. She missed the flash of compassion in the detective's eyes.
"And after you found out?" It was a quiet question.
Herta chuckled ruefully. "I'm afraid I don't remember much after that. I lost my temper with Father Edmund." She looked at the clergyman. "For which I owe you an apology, sir. I shouldn't have stormed out like that."
Father Edmund only winked.
"Where did you go?"
Herta's eyes widened as she realized something. "You know, I have no idea. There's a cemetery just outside the village? Something about it being for non-Christians?"
The confirming nod was reluctant.
Herta sagged with relief. At least that part was real. "Well, however I managed it, I ended up out there. I sat down, had a good cry and then borrowed Turan's handkerchief to mop up with."
"Turan?"
Herta smiled. "He must have seen me leave the church in a fury and followed me. It's a good thing, too."
"Why is that?"
Herta propped her chin in one hand and grinned. "No map, no compass and absolutely no idea where I was. Turan was my 'ball of string', so to speak."
A nod.
"Anyway, when I was done, Turan and I talked for a bit." Herta couldn't help a blush at the memory of part of that conversation. The detective caught it.
"What did you talk about?"
Herta shrugged. "History mostly. And the differences between our homelands." It wasn't quite an outright lie. "We talked about the differences in cultures and ideas. Stuff like that. Nothing serious. Just small talk to help me calm down and get things into perspective."
"Nothing else?"
Herta shook her head. "Nothing else."
"And this causes you to blush? Our cultures are certainly different, then."
Herta blushed again. She tipped her head, a slight smile on her face. "Detective Zwitzer, Turan Freiermann isn't a bad looking gentleman. He also saw me with a blotchy face, red eyes and in tears. Not quite the best impression I could have made, was it?" Herta was positive she saw a glint of humour in the detective's eyes, but that worthy said nothing.
"I'm not sure how long we were there, to be honest. I know we got back into town at noon. I heard a clock strike the hour."
"And you took the time to count the chimes, did you?" Not quite sarcasm, but disbelief, certainly.
Herta chuckled. "Actually, no. Well, not quite. I have a clock at home that chimes on the hour." She shrugged, not quite sure how to explain it. "Familiarity with how long it takes to chime twelve, I guess. Besides, it couldn't have been much earlier than that. Gebhardt and I didn't leave here until almost ten, and I was with Father Edmund for at least an hour." It sounded reasonable, and from her expression, Detective Zwitzer thought so, too.
"And after that?"
"Turan took me to pick up some groceries, we met up with Gebhardt in the Kircheplatz and returned home. I'm not sure of the time. Between jet lag, a short night the night before, the long walk and the upset, I was zonked. I went and had a nap when we got home."
"When did you wake up?"
"Around sunset. Gebhardt had arranged for some workmen to come in to check on the chimneys and stuff and, I guess, someone to help with the cleanup."
Gebhardt spoke up for the first time. "Frau Hörst offered--"
The detective shot a sharp glance at Gebhardt.
He shook his head. "Not the woman from the bank. Frau Sondra Hörst. She overhead me asking for the name of a maid service in town and offered to help." He turned to Herta. "Which reminds me, someone from the telephone service will be by this afternoon or tomorrow morning."
Herta nodded, her attention on the detective. "Frau Hörst was just leaving as I woke up. We spoke briefly and she left. Turan left shortly after that."
"Was anyone else there?" The detective looked pointedly at Gebhardt.
He shook his head again. "Both Herr Freiermann and Frau Hörst were there when I left, as well as several others. I returned to my room at the Gasthaus, made several long distance calls, and went to the pub for a late supper. After that, I went back to the Gasthaus and straight to bed."
"I did almost the same thing," Herta added. "I tried to work for a bit, but I was still groggy. I ended up going back to bed after everyone had left."
Detective Zwitzer favoured Herta with a stony glare. "And just what kind of work do you do, Frau Tanner? Considering that you've not been in the country long enough to have a job."
Herta grinned sheepishly and reached into her purse. The other three stared at the tape recorder she drew out. It was clearly recording. "I work for a Toronto newspaper, I'm afraid. Do you want me to transcribe this, or would you prefer to?"
Father Edmund let out a bellow of laughter that caused heads to turn. "An investigative reporter, no doubt."
Herta grimaced. "I'm not that lucky. Mostly, I cover City Hall and occasionally the court beat. And write the odd filler fluff."
"Filler fluff?"
Herta shrugged. "Once in a while, a freelancer can't meet their deadline, so I write something to fill in the space. Usually, it's only a few hundred words, so it's not fancy or overly intelligent."
"I see." After a moment, the woman asked, "So you understand politics?"
Herta laughed. "I defy anyone to understand either politics or politicians. No, I just rephrase what they've said and let the readers decide what was meant."
The detective reached over and switched off the recorder. "Then understand this, Frau Tanner. I'm not sure if I should believe you."
Herta shrugged. "I don't have an alibi for last night. I understand that."
The detective rose. "Considering your family's reputation and past history..."
Herta got to her feet, as well. "I understand. Once you have the autopsy report and a cause of death, you're welcome to search the house and my things for evidence. But I've only ever seen the woman once. I have no motive for her death, should it be something other than natural causes."
Krista Zwitzer flushed. "It's being done as we speak," she murmured.
Herta drew herself to her full height and tried to ignore her tingling nerves. She had to stay calm. This was not the time to come unglued. But it was still too early for her to speak civilly.
"It was not my choice, you understand, and you were not to know."
That surprised Herta. She took a deep breath, thinking. Glancing at the astonished faces of Father Edmund and Gebhardt, she realized that this was all boiling down to one thing. Trust. With a quick motion, Herta popped the tape out of the machine and handed it to the detective. "You look for someone who would have a reason to kill the woman, and I'll look for a reason for someone to want me killed," she promised quietly.
The other woman accepted the tape with a slight nod. "Germany does not have the death penalty, you know," she said. Louder, she continued, "I appreciate your co-operation, Frau Tanner. We will talk again." With a glance at the others, she was gone.
Herta sat down slowly, shifting as the waitress appeared at her elbow. How much had the woman heard?
"You did not know your family?" she asked under cover of pouring coffee.
Herta looked up in surprise. "No, I didn't."
"Old hatreds don't die. People do." She was gone before Herta could ask for an explanation.
Herta stared after her, and then at Father Edmund and Gebhardt. "Well, it has been a morning for questions, hasn't it? I wonder if that was a threat or a warning?" With a shake of her head, Herta continued.
"As I was saying, I'll need a bike and maps of the area, as well as--"
"Fräulein!" Gebhardt blurted out.
"Gebhardt, until I know what's going on, there's nothing I can do, except get on with my life." Her voice hardened. "No one is going to scare me away just because of something that happened more than thirty years before I was born. I didn't have anything to do with it, and if some donkeys can't accept that, that's their problem."
Father Edmund nodded his agreement. "This could be nothing more than a tempest in a teapot as well. Frau Hörst may have died of natural causes. Or," he added after a thoughtful pause, "possibly a heart attack. I've heard that she had a bad heart. In the meantime." He turned to Gebhardt. "In the meantime, perhaps, Herr Brunwold, you could return to München and apprise the estate lawyers of recent events?" That got the clerk's attention.
"Leave? And leave die Reizengebleiterin unprotected?"
"Call it a strategic withdrawal to get reinforcements," the priest said smoothly. "I will help Fräulein Tanner get settled comfortably and see that she's kept safe, while you prepare our defenses, so to speak."
"Don't I have a say in it?" Herta asked, amused.
"No," Father Edmund answered.
Herta chuckled. "Didn't think so. Gebhardt, I could give you the papers and a written authorization to have my personal effects shipped from Canada. I'm not sure you'd need them, but just in case. If the phone is going to be connected soon, I'll have access to my e-mail and we can keep in touch that way. If someone is looking to cause trouble for me, they'll have a harder time finding out what I'm doing than if I merely phoned you."
It took some minutes for Herta and Father Edmund to convince him, but in the end, Gebhardt agreed. "But I don't like it," he stated.
"And what makes you think I'm keen on the idea," Herta asked dryly. "It's not your neck in the noose."
Gebhardt blushed, stammered, gave up and went to pack, paying the bill on his way out.
Father Edmund rose, too. "Come, child. You left some things at the church yesterday. We'll go get them and then get you home safely."
Herta collected her tape recorder and silently followed him out into the bright sunshine.
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