Chapter 9. Aftermath
Mike Crampton was relaxing at last after a more than usually busy Friday, not expecting any interruption, and the ringing of the telephone startled him. He took a few seconds to collect his thoughts and answer it. "Michael, this is Sal."
"Who? Sorry, I was napping."
"Sal Hamilton, in Ashton."
"Oh, Sal, hello, it's good to hear from you."
"Thanks, but I'm not sure you'll think so when you hear what it's about."
"Why, what's happened?"
"You remember meeting Donald, Josie's husband, when you were over here three years or so ago?"
"Yes, of course. Rather a dour character, I thought, but I put that down to what he'd been through. What about him?"
"Well, it's a long story, but I'll give you just the bare bones of it. Apparently he had to give some kind of presentation at a meeting in Vienna, and afterwards was waiting on a Metro platform when someone jostled him - a pure accident, by all accounts - so that he fell under an approaching train. He didn't stand a chance, of course. The fact of its happening is bad enough for Josie, but now she has to go and identify the body. I suppose no one there knew him well enough, or maybe it has to be next of kin anyway - I don't know the Austrian regulations. And besides, she has to make all the arrangements for dealing with the remains."
"How awful for her! Do give her my condolences, won't you?"
"Yes, of course, but there's a lot more to it than that."
"Oh?"
"The point is that Donald was travelling on duty, so his department is covering all the costs, and all but insists on providing an escort for Josie, which is very decent of them, but not what she wants. The trouble is that she doesn't know any of his colleagues and doesn't fancy going on an errand like that with a perfect stranger."
"Naturally. Who would?"
"Of course, I'd intended to go with her myself, but Bill's just gone down with a particularly nasty dose of flu and I can't possibly leave him in that state. I know you've kept in touch with Josie and she always speaks kindly of you; there's no one else I can think of asking, no one who'd be at all suitable anyway, and I know it's a dreadful imposition, especially at practically zero notice, but if you remember you did say that if she needed help ... Is there any chance that you could do it?"
"Of course I'll do it."
The sigh of relaxed tension at the other end was clearly audible. "Oh, thank God. You've no idea what a relief that is. I've been going out of my mind worrying about it."
"I'm not surprised. You should have called me earlier. It's a dreadful situation."
"You don't know the half of it. Josie's had an appalling time over the last few years."
"In what way?"
"Well, I really shouldn't tell you all this, and for goodness' sake don't let on that I have done, but the marriage went to pot less than a year after Donald came back. I dare say his ordeal had a lot to do with it, but the immediate cause seems to have been frustrations at work. He started drinking, and it went out of control. He got more and more violent when he was drunk, and it ended with him almost killing her one night, so she took refuge with us."
"Good lord!"
"The worst of it is ..." Mike thought he heard a sob, and for a while Sal was unable to continue. "Do excuse me; I'm sorry about that. The worst of it is that it seems he'd conquered the drink problem and wanted desperately to get back together with her, but I didn't believe he'd sobered up well enough to risk it and stopped them meeting again."
"How was that? I'm sorry, I shouldn't be poking my nose in."
"No, it's quite all right. He called me not long before he went off to Vienna and assured me he'd kicked the booze, begging me to help him get back in touch with Josie - she'd moved to another apartment, you see, and changed her telephone number - but I wouldn't. I just didn't trust him."
"It's hardly your fault. You were right to be cautious."
"Maybe so, but I can't help feeling I overdid it."
"No, Sal, you'd only just heard he'd dried out, and with nothing but his word for it. Alcoholics can be dreadful liars about their condition, even to themselves, and it wasn't enough to go on. With things as they were you were absolutely right to insist on more reliable evidence. It would have been irresponsible not to."
"Well, perhaps you're right. You've certainly made me feel a good deal better. It's a huge relief; I've been worried sick over it. I'm not sure that Josie would see it that way, though, so please don't say anything about it to her."
Sal explained that on the provisional plans they had made, Josie would arrive at Heathrow about ten o'clock the following Tuesday; could he meet her there? Mike checked his diary and confirmed that he could. That flight would just miss the last connection arriving at a reasonable hour, and she would already be tired after a night on the plane, so she intended to stay in London and travel onward the next day; a nine-fifty departure looked reasonably convenient. Sal would check that INL would accept this arrangement instead of providing the promised escort itself, and reimburse his expenses; it would save thousands of dollars for a return flight to Europe, no doubt business class, so there could be no objection on grounds of cost.
It was too late for Mike to do any more about it that evening. Fortunately business was running smoothly and he was not aware of anything likely to demand his personal attention in the next week or so, but he telephoned Terry Haskins first thing the next morning to make sure that he was willing and able to stand in for him over the time he was likely to be away. If necessary one of the retired drivers who occasionally helped out could be brought back in. With that settled, as soon as he thought acceptable in her time zone he called back to Sal, who by that time had somehow managed to get a verbal assurance that INL would accept the revised arrangements.
With some apprehension he wondered how he would react to meeting Josie again. The last occasion had been over two years ago, when learning that she was already married had dashed some notions he had been cherishing on his own behalf. In all that time they had not been entirely extinguished, but even now he would not allow himself to entertain consciously a hope that might again be disappointed.
Heathrow seemed even busier than usual on that Tuesday, with the flow of people emerging from Arrivals dragging on for ever, although perhaps that was an illusion due to nerves. He still felt a flutter at the first sight of Josie's approach, and when she actually reached him with the faintest of smiles touching her woebegone face, he impulsively hugged her to himself almost like the father he had never been and maybe never would.
He had toyed with the idea of taking her to one of the more agreeable hotels on his tour circuit rather than stay overnight near the airport, but the requirement to check in hours before the flight made that impracticable. Instead he had booked rooms in one recommended by Horace Turnbull, who assured him that although it overlooked one of the runways, the noise of departing aircraft was scarcely audible inside. Fortunately that proved to be true.
She was very quiet on the taxi ride, tired and distressed no doubt, and he was not surprised when she retired for the afternoon as she couldn't face lunch. He took the opportunity to study a German phrase book picked up at the airport. At least, that was the intention, but he found that his mind wandered after half an hour and he allowed himself a few minutes' relaxation with a novel bought at the book stall. An hour or so later he put it down and tried the phrase book again, but this time managed only twenty minutes before deciding that he was doing no good and might as well pack it up. He thought of taking a walk, but the surroundings were not enticing and in any case it had started to rain, so he returned to the novel.
By evening Josie was sufficiently restored to dine with him and give an account of events since Donald's discharge from hospital, heavily censored but still horrifying enough. "It wasn't entirely Don's fault," she was anxious to stress. "He was eager to get back to work, but when he did he found his project had been axed and he was given a sort o
f graveyard job. He started drinking to help him over his depression, but of course it didn't and only made matters worse. Eventually I couldn't bear it any longer and had to leave him to it. I'd changed my phone number because he was driving me mad begging me to return - I wanted to but didn't dare - and I never heard from him after that, but he must have pulled himself together afterwards or he'd never have been sent to Vienna."
"I suppose so. He wouldn't have been much of an advert for his organisation in anything like his condition when you left him."
"No, far from it." She tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn and asked him to excuse her; "I'm sorry to be such a bore, but I'm still tired out. I'll see you in the morning; sleep well."
"You too." Mike took the opportunity to call Terry and check that all was well. After that he went back to the phrase book, but he was tired himself and found it even harder than before to concentrate. After ten minutes he gave up and returned to the novel for a while before himself turning in.
In the morning Josie was fairly well recovered, very fortunately as an early start was needed. He mentioned that he had never been to Vienna and wondered what it would be like. "Are you worried about finding your way around?"
"A little bit, I must admit."
"Well, there's no need. Don's section head - he's been very kind - arranged for someone from the embassy to meet us and help deal with the local officials. I gathered that it's standard practice in this sort of situation."
"If anything can be called standard in this situation."
"I don't suppose it's routine, but fatal accidents and sudden death aren't all that unusual."
"Unfortunately, I suppose not."
She slept quite soundly during the flight and Mike thought it best not to disturb her when lunch was offered. After landing, baggage retrieval and customs, it suddenly occurred to Mike to wonder how they were to identify their contact; several people outside the barrier were waving name cards, but none of them was "Harris" and it would be a rather undignified procedure for an embassy official. "Didn't I tell you?" Josie asked. "We meet him at the information desk." Mike asked if she needed a bite to eat, but she was unwilling to keep the escort waiting and in any case still had no appetite.
Tim Drysburgh of the Citizen Services department was indeed used to this sort of thing and duly sympathetic to Josie in her bereavement. "Actually I thought the name Donald Harris rang a bell. Wasn't he in the news a while back? There seemed to be something at the back of my mind, but I couldn't quite nail it down."
"He was kidnapped nearly ten years ago, then rescued three years back after I'd all but given up hope of ever seeing him again. There was quite a splash about it in the media."
"I remember now. Terrible, though, to get him back after all that time and then lose him again through such an accident. It would be absurd if it weren't so tragic."
"Actually, I'd lost him long before." Her voice trembled and Drysburgh apologised for putting his foot in it, but she quickly recovered from the lapse in composure and reassured him. "You weren't to know."
He had an embassy car, and on the way apologised for the view of the vast chemical works that dominated the early part of the journey. "Hardly the romantic vision of Vienna, I'm afraid. Whereabouts are you staying?"
Josie said she had the address written down somewhere, found the note and passed it to him when the opportunity offered at traffic lights. "I believe it's the same place where Don was staying."
Drysburgh was afraid that it might have unpleasant associations for her, but kept that to himself. "Oh yes, I know it. It's comfortable, I'm told, and the people are friendly. Actually it's quite close to the embassy and on the same road."
On dropping them there he told them what was planned for the next day. "We have to visit the police headquarters in the morning to see the officer in charge of the investigation - "
"Investigation?" Mike interposed. "I thought it was a straightforward accident."
"It almost certainly was. The explanation given by the man responsible for it was so ridiculous it must be true, but they can't altogether rule out the possibility of manslaughter, or if a motive could be found even murder."
"What was the explanation?"
"I daren't tell you. My wife nearly had hysterics when she heard it. We don't wasn't to make an exhibition of ourselves in the street. Anyway, I'll call for you about half past nine if that suits you. By the way, I believe there's something else to do besides confirming Dr. Harris's identity and making the funeral arrangements. Just a slight complication Someone who wants to see you, I think"
"What about, and who on earth can it be?"
"Sorry, I don't know any more than that."
With time to spare after unpacking and a rest, Mike thought some distraction advisable and suggested that they could hardly visit Vienna without seeing some of the sights. The Stephansplatz was within walking distance and that was an obvious place to start. Josie was impressed by the cathedral, outside and in, and after walking slowly round the nave suddenly paused. "What is it, Josie?"
"Just a fancy. All these candles; do you suppose people light them as a memorial to someone?"
"Maybe. More likely an offering to go with a petition."
"Do you think ..."
"What?"
"It probably seems crazy, but would you think me utterly absurd if I lit one?"
"Not in the slightest. What's the petition?"
"I don't know, really. That Don may at last be at peace, perhaps, after all he'd been through."
"I'll join you in that, if I may." Josie almost kissed him, but thought it might be frowned upon in such a place and simply squeezed his hand.
After that she suddenly realised she was hungry, not surprisingly after missing lunch. Drysburgh had mentioned a particular restaurant as famous for its Wiener schnitzel, half way along one of the narrow alleys leading from the square, but it was evidently full with a queue already waiting, so they went on to the end of the alley and found another that looked promising. Having to go down rather steep stairs to the cellar dining area amused Josie, but she liked the alcove to which they were directed and enjoyed her meal; not the schnitzel as it happened, but a grilled trout.
The next morning Drysburgh took them to police headquarters by the long way round the Ring. "You may as well see something of our best buildings while you're here."
"Our buildings?" queried Mike.
"Well, we tend to think of ourselves as honorary citizens."
On arrival Drysburgh stated their business and they were ushered in to see Hauptmann Strasser. Shades of Casablanca, Mike thought, but there was nothing of the Nazi about this Strasser. He offered his deepest sympathy to Josie and apologised for the need to subject her to this ordeal, which she assured him she understood to be necessary however unpleasant. A female officer would accompany them to the morgue; Mike was welcome to go too if he wished, or he could wait for their return. "Oh, we're coming back, are we?"
"Yes, there's a little further business. Nothing to worry about." Mike asked Drysburgh, sotto voce, if this was the complication to which he had alluded, and he nodded.
The officer, Anneliese Schmidt, was called in and proved to be a motherly type, very sympathetic in offering her condolences. Josie was glad of her presence, since despite the best efforts of the mortuary attendants, the body when they came to see it was in a distressing condition not entirely concealed beneath the covers. Fortunately the face had been spared further disfigurement, and there was no doubt about the identity. Josie could not completely restrain her tears and apologised for them: "I know things went terribly wrong at the end, but I can't help thinking how good they were before the kidnap, and how we might perhaps have got them back again if I'd been braver."
"After a breakdown in a relationship," Anneliese commented, "it can never be quite the same. With a lot of patience and effort it may sometimes become stronger, though it will then be very different." Mike wondered to himself whether he
r own evident strength and compassion might have come from just such an experience. He also thanked his lucky stars for having kept Sal's secret, as otherwise Josie would have felt very much worse.
Strasser, back in his office, apologised for having to deal with practicalities that might prove distressing. "The question is, what would you like to be done about the funeral? There are two basic possibilities: the body could be repatriated intact, though that would involve certain formalities and of course be expensive at several thousand dollars, or it could be cremated and the ashes shipped to an address in the USA."
Josie asked Drysburgh's opinion, as he must be much more familiar with the situation. "It's completely up to you, of course, but quite apart from the matter of cost, local cremation would be by far the more practical course." She immediately saw the point and agreed. The procedure would take some days to set up; would she stay for the service, or return? She would have to think about that.
Meanwhile there was one other thing that Strasser had to introduce. "You'll probably be interested to know that Professor Bertolucci, whose blundering led to the accident, is not after all to be charged with any offence. We never seriously thought that he would, but we had to look into the possibility of foul play. So far as we've been able to find out he had never previously heard of Dr. Harris or for that matter INL itself, still less had any cause for complaint against them. Had he been an Austrian national; we might perhaps have dug a little deeper, but as it is we don't want to risk a pointless diplomatic incident by pursuing a distinguished Italian academic we had no grounds to suspect of anything. He has been given permission to leave as soon as he wishes, but he somehow heard that you were coming and was particularly anxious to apologise to you in person. Are you willing to see him?"
Josie wondered what Mike thought. "Well, it's bound to be embarrassing, but I dare say the poor sod's in agonies of remorse and it might help him. You could notch up a credit or two with the recording angel if you agreed."
So they met, and it was quite as embarrassing as Mike had expected. Bertolucci overwhelmed Josie with abject apologies, but she took it well, and her assurance of having no hard feelings produced some of the desired effect. Mike however wondered what actually had happened.
"Ah, Signor, it is so absurd that I can hardly believe it myself. I was engrossed in an argument with Dr. Antonelli, we were getting rather heated, and to my sorrow I failed to notice Signor Harris standing there. I tripped over something, stumbled against him and he seemed to lose his balance. For some reason he could not recover it and fell off the edge of the platform."
Josie told him that Donald's injured leg had probably not regained its full strength and might have given way under him, and Bertolucci nodded. "That must be it. It is some slight relief to my conscience."
"But what were you arguing about, to get so excited?" Mike asked. Remembering Drysbergh's wife, Josie reprovingly dug him in the ribs, and indeed Bertolucci had his head in his hands, muttering incomprehensibly. "What? I didn't catch it":
"I am so sorry, I am desolate that my clumsiness caused such a terrible accident through a dispute over so trifling a subject." "What subject?" "Mike, it doesn't matter, don't push it," Josie anxiously interrupted, but Bertolucci continued, perhaps wanting to get it off his chest. "We were disputing - God forgive me for it - whether Pavarotti or Domingo was the greater singer."
Josie gaped in astonishment, then burst into uncontrollable laughter that indeed threatened to become hysterical until Anneliese took her in hand. Meanwhile, Mike somehow managed to keep a straight face and as he could think of nothing constructive to say, in the hope of breaking the tension shook hands with the bemused Bertolucci, who accepted the gesture avidly. When Josie had recovered her composure she too offered her hand which instead he kissed.
By that time she had decided that she could not in conscience take more time away from her work than was already committed and asked if it would be fitting for Drysburgh to represent her at the cremation. "I'll do that gladly. You'll want the ashes shipped back to you in the States, I suppose."
"Oh, yes, of course. Mike, do you think Sal and Bill would mind if I had them sent there?"
"Well, you know them better than I do, but I'm pretty sure they'd gladly fit in with whatever you want."
Drysburgh looked puzzled. "Oh, of course, you wouldn't know. They're my aunt and uncle. I spend quite a lot of time with them when I'm not at work, and I'm not sure about keeping my present apartment, so that would be safer. I'll write the address for you."
"There is one other thing," Drysburgh added. "Before the ashes can be despatched, Austrian regulations require a certificate that a cemetery has a burial plot for the urn."
"Oh, right, I'll see to that as soon as I get back."
"Of course, it doesn't mean you have to use it if you've other ideas about the disposition." Indeed she had, but for the present she kept them to herself.
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