Funeral in Blue - Anne Perry [107]
That certainly provoked all the emotional reaction he could have wished. Magda buckled at the knees and sank onto the sofa behind her, gasping for breath. Josef went absolutely white and swayed on his feet, ignoring his wife.
“God in heaven!” he said sharply. “This is terrible!”
“Poor Kristian,” Magda whispered, pressing her hands up to her face. “Do you know what happened?”
“No,” Monk replied with less than the truth. “I think the beginning of it, and perhaps even the end, may be here in Vienna.”
Josef jerked up his head. “Here? But Elissa was English, and they both lived there since ’49. Why should it be here? That makes no sense at all.”
Magda looked at Monk. “But Kristian didn’t do it, did he!” It was an exclamation, almost a challenge. “I know he is very passionate about things, but fighting at the barricades, even killing people—strangers . . . for the cause of greater freedom . . . is quite different from murdering someone you know. I can’t say we ever understood Kristian. He was always . . .” She gave a tiny shrug of her shoulders. “I’m not sure how to explain it without giving a false impression. He made quick decisions, he knew his own mind; he was a natural leader, and other men looked to him because he never never showed his fear.”
“He was hotheaded,” Josef said simply, looking at Monk, not at Magda. “He didn’t always listen to reason, and he had no patience. But what my wife is trying to say is that he was a good man. The things he did which were violent were for ideals, not out of anger or desire for himself. If he killed Elissa, then there was a cause for it, one which would surely act as mitigation. I assume that is what you are looking for, although I doubt it is actually here in Vienna. It is all too long ago. Whatever occurred here is long since resolved, or forgotten.” He was looking at Monk and did not notice the shadow pass across Magda’s face.
“Did you know a man named Max Niemann?” Monk asked them both.
“I’ve heard of him, of course,” Josef replied. “He was very active in the uprisings, but I believe he has made a good life for himself since then. There were reprisals, naturally, but not long, drawn-out reprisals. Niemann survived quite well. It was wise of Kristian to have left Austria, and certainly for his wife to have. She became . . .” He hesitated. “She was quite famous among a certain group. But all the same, I don’t find it easy to imagine that someone held on to a hunger for revenge for her part in the uprisings all those years, and went all the way to England to kill her.” He frowned. “I wish I could be of assistance to you, but I assure you, that really is too unlikely to waste your time with.” He made a slight gesture with his hands. “But, of course, we will do anything we can. Do you have names, anyone you wish to meet or to make enquiries about? I know several people in government and in the police who would assist, if I asked them. It might be wiser not to mention that Kristian himself is suspected.”
“It would be helpful to hear other stories of his part in the uprising,” Monk said, trying to keep the confusion and disappointment out of his voice. “Even other opinions of Kristian himself.”
“You want witnesses for his character?” Magda asked quickly. She glanced up at Josef, then back at Monk. “I’m sure Father Geissner would be willing to do that, even to travel to London, if that would help.”
“Father Geissner?” For a moment Monk was lost.
“Our priest,” she explained. “He is very highly regarded, even though he supported the uprisings, and actually ministered to the wounded at the barricades. He would be the best advocate I can think of, and—”
“Absolutely!” Josef agreed instantly and with enthusiasm. “Well done, my dear. I don’t know why I didn’t think of him. I shall introduce you—tomorrow, if you wish?”
“Thank you.” Monk grasped the unlikely thought immediately. Perhaps the priest would give him a clearer picture of Niemann. He might have observed subtler emotions than the rather colorful stories that had grown up in the thirteen