Street Dreams

“How so?” Rina asked.

“All of Germany was imploding. Munich was no exception. The city was in terrible chaos, and the deaths made even more chaos. München held much militaristic presence, of uniforms and armies and parades. It was the birth home of the Nazis, yes, but they were not the only political party. There were many and every group has its own flag, its own identity. Every party is color coded. Brown for Nazis, the Social Democrats are green, Communists are red or black shirt with red bow ties. Then there are the royalists. The Bavarian monarchs were expelled by the Communists in 1918, but many relatives remained and dressed in oldBayerischenroyal uniform for every parade on every occasion. There were always demonstrations in Konigsplatz… in every public square. I go to a school in Turkenstrasse-”

“My mother’sschule,” Rina said.

“Yes, your mother’sschule,too. Next door was the seat of the Nazi newspaperVolkischer Beobachter.We used to see the Brown Shirts goose-step. A few times Hitler, too. It was all part of the show. Looking back as an adult, I was very frightened, I think, because these groups used to come to theschuleand talk. They ask about our parents-what they did, who they knew, what newspapers were at home. The newspapers in Europe are different than newspapers in America. They are political-party papers, so by asking about the newspapers, the groups know the parents’ party affiliation. So when the deaths happen, like your grandmother, Mrs. Decker, the talk is that maybe your Omah was on the wrong side politically.”

“Do you think her murder was political?”

“After the first one is found, everyone says that yes, it must be political. Everything in Munich was political. There were several other murders of young women that were political, one very famous-a farm girl named Amalie Sandmeyer who was murdered by theFememord,a very secret right-wing group. Everyone is afraid of theFememord.”

“Why was Amalie Sandmeyer murdered?” Decker asked. “Was she a spy?”

“On the contrary. She was a working girl and was too naive to realize what was happening. Weapons at the time were illegal in München. If you find weapons from World War One, to the police you must bring them. But all the groups have secret caches. Amalie found a secret cache of weapons, and like the dumb good girl she was, she reported it to authorities. The problem was she found a Nazi cache and the police had many members in the National Socialist German Workers Party. Everyone knew her murder was political.”

Anika drank her tea and appeared to collect her thoughts.

“But then another is found dead. Then it was your grandmother. By then, mothers tell their daughters never to walk the streets alone. That there are madmen other than Hitler.”

“I found my grandmother’smordakte-her homicide file,” Rina said.

“Mein Gott,how did you find?”

“It’s a long story. But her file was found with those of the two others murdered before her. The cases were all packaged together in one big box apparently. I was sent a copy, not the original.”

“What was in your grandmother’s file?”

“Not much,” Decker said. “A pathology report, interviews, witnesses, crime scene report. Comparison of her murder to those of the two other women-Marlena Durer and A

“There were two more after your grandmother, Mrs. Decker. Then we move. But the last I remember well because it was a young girl who lived near me in Schwabing. Her name was Joha

The woman had turned red and was panting hard.

Rina said, “Thank goodness it’s in the past, Anika.”

“Yes…” The old woman took a few moments to steady her breathing. “Yes, it is all in the past and every day I walk past mountains, sky, and beauty.” She exhaled loudly. “Your grandfather did a good deed when he moved your mother away. The other families stayed, the motherless children receiving not pity but suspicion: ‘What did your mother do to deserve her death?’ If you want my opinion, Mrs. Decker, I say your grandmother was murdered by the same hand, even if the women were different. Thinking about it… it was all so much the same.”

“Any idea who might have done it?”

“Ach,no, sorry. A madman, a political man, a man who was both mad and political. You choose.” Anika clenched her jaw. “There was one investigator… he talked to us. I remember him well-strong, blue eyes, and black curly hair. He had… I don’t know… a swagger in his step… a charisma. He spoke softly but with much intensity. If we see anything, if we hear anything, we must tell him. He was terrifying and appealing at the same time. I don’t remember his name.”

“Heinreich Messersmit?” Decker tried.

She shrugged.

“Rudolf Kalmer?” Decker paused. “Axel Berg?”

“Maybe that was it. I wonder what happened to him?” She waved a bony hand in the air. “Now he’s dead. They’re all dead. I should be dead.”

“God forbid!” Rina said.

Anika smiled. “I was glad when we moved. Hamburg was different-a free state, a port city, more international, less Bavarian. And the beer in Hamburg is stronger.” She looked at an empty wrist.

Decker said, “It’s twelve-ten.”

“Marta should be here soon,” Anika repeated. “Maybe we take a walk?”

But just then, the door opened.

Marta was definitely Anika’s sister, having the same wrinkled face, same long jawline, and white hair, except she had it tied into a bun. She wore a fitted blue suit but had orthopedic shoes on her feet. She met Rina’s eyes, then clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh mein Gott,it is Marta Gottlieb!” Tears welled in her blue eyes. “I can’t believe…”

She started to cry. Anika said, “My sister is emotional.”

Rina held out her hand. “I do look like my mother.”

But Marta was weeping too hard to respond. Anika hit her shoulder. “Stop!”

“You stop!” Marta choked back. Finally, she took Rina’s hand and clasped it. “How is your mother?”

“Mama is fine. Very fine and very well.”

Marta exhaled. “We were very good friends once. A lifetime came between us.”

“I know.”

“She was in Auschwitz?”

“Yes.”

“Ach… terrible, terrible.” She brought her hand to her chest. “Such a strong woman. If anyone could survive, it would be Marta. I would have surely died.” She wiped her eyes. “It smells good, Anika. I am hungry.”

“They can’t eat. They are kosher,” Anika explained.

“Yes, yes… I should have thought of that.”

“It’s really fine,” Rina said. “Peter and I have to start heading back. We still have a young child at home. How long are you staying in town, Mrs. Wallek?”

“Marta, please. This time, I stay through August. A long time. I must see your mother. Please. It would do well for me. I think it would do well for her, too.”

Rina nodded. “I’ll ask her. But I have one favor-no more talk about the murders. It should be only pleasant recollections.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Marta said. “So many bad memories.” A sigh. “It is bad to be senile,ja?But not so bad to forget some things.”

“Selective repression,” Rina said.

“Exactly,” Marta said. “Our lives now are very short. It is not a time to dwell on the past.” She squeezed Rina’s hand. “We can come to Los Angeles.”

“We can?” Anika said.

“Yes, we can,” Marta insisted. “I can drive.”

That thought was truly terrifying. Decker said, “How about if I arrange to have you driven down? Arrive in style.”

“No, I wouldn’t accept!”

“As a present to Rina’s mother,” Decker insisted. “It would be my pleasure.”