Vienna Blood Read Online Free PDF Page B

crater had replaced the expectation of a tidy vertical line. An incontinent eruption of gore had flooded the mattress and splashed onto the floor. A flap of skin, covered in matted pubic hair, hung precariously from where it seemed to have stuck on the bedspread.
    Rheinhardt felt an involuntary spasm in his gut. A wave of nausea made him feel unsteady. His rational everyday self struggled to comprehend such depravity—such unspeakable savagery.
    The scene in the second upstairs bedroom was even more sickening. Another woman, young like the first, had been laid out in a similar fashion. Again, her throat had been cut, but in addition her belly had been sliced open and her intestines scooped out. A bulkysegmented length of colon had been looped around her head like a garland. The smell was so revolting that Rheinhardt's head began to swim. He rushed to the window and forced it open. Leaning out, he saw two faces staring up at him.
    The senior constable called out, “Unbelievable, isn't it, sir?”
    Rheinhardt nodded. There was nothing he could add.
    The street was now covered with a thick carpet of snow. In the recess opposite, Saint Joseph and the infant Jesus had acquired an attractive white mantle. The winter weather was cleansing Spittelberg, concealing its poverty beneath a garment of vestal purity. Rheinhardt could not reconcile such beauty with what he had just seen. It seemed impossible that a single world could accommodate such disparities. In the distance, he saw a figure trudging up the incline: it was young Haussmann. Rheinhardt reluctantly resolved to continue with his own ordeal.
    In the final bedroom he found the fourth body: a woman lying facedown on the floor. It appeared to Rheinhardt that she had stumbled and had grabbed the bedsheets as she fell. Her right hand, adorned with cheap jewelry, was still closed around a blanket. She was wearing a nightdress, but unlike those of her housemates, its material was relatively clean. There were no bloodstains, splashes, or trails of grume.
    Suddenly it occurred to Rheinhardt that the girl might still be alive. He hurried over to the prone body and fell to his knees, anxiously resting a hand on her back. She was cold—very cold—and perfectly still. Refusing to accept that this newly kindled hope should be so precipitately extinguished, Rheinhardt snatched a small hand mirror from a chair by the bedside and wedged it close to the woman's nose and mouth. There was no misting. She was, all too clearly, dead.
    Rheinhardt sighed and sat back on his heels. As he did so, he noticed a crusty deposit on the woman's crown. He systematicallyteased her hair apart, burrowing down toward her scalp. The perfumed fibers became increasingly matted with blood. She had obviously received a fatal blow that had been delivered to the back of the head.
    As Rheinhardt rose, he caught sight of an object sticking out from beneath one of the pillows. He flipped the pillow over, exposing a small book bound in worn red leather. He picked it up, opened it, and discovered an inscription on the first page. The spidery scrawl was written in a foreign language, but he recognized the name Ludka. On the next page there were a Star of David and some Hebrew characters. Rheinhardt flicked through the thin, almost transparent pages, and surmised that the item was some kind of prayer book. He placed it in his pocket and sat down on the edge of the bed.
    Resting his elbows on his knees, Rheinhardt placed his head in his open hands. He remained in this position for some time, eyes closed, unable to think, and feeling strangely numb, impressions of carnage flaming in the darkness behind his eyelids.

6
    L IEBERMANN OCCUPIED A WINDOW seat in the small coffeehouse near the Anatomical Institute. He dabbed his lips with a starched napkin, and examined the remains of his breakfast: a few croissant flakes and a mauve smear of plum jam. Raising his cup, Liebermann swirled the dark liquid and savored its aroma. It