“No. Hedy was in on the plan. She contacted Nightingale via Verena. Blackmailing Madame’s son was her ticket out and my chance to learn what happened to Serafina. But it backfired.”
“Oh, you don’t say.”
“After Hedy died, you started investigating. I tried to scare you off with warnings from Nightingale. But you’re so damn stubborn.”
“Thank you,” said Sterling, briefly perking up. Her face hardened. “How was it supposed to work?”
“Hedy slipped David a little something to make him cooperative. Some trick of the trade.”
Sterling eyed Verena, asking the question with raised brows. Verena understood. “Ketamine”—she stopped, eyeing the police—“which is something I’ve only read about in books.”
Christoph continued. “The plan was to take David here to stage naughty photos with Clemens—”
“Who?” asked Sterling.
“My former lead actor, your Third Man. After Hedy lured David here, the troupe kept you distracted with phone calls and deliveries. Meanwhile, Clemens slipped inside with a camera using Serafina’s old keys.” He shot Mr. K a judgy look. “You should change the locks more than once per century.”
The dishwasher in the kitchen hissed. Odd, since it wasn’t running.
“But I assume Clemens found them both dead and maybe he couldn’t resist stealing David’s bracelet. He disappeared after.”
“How did Weiss find him?”
Andreas spoke up. “Using illegal hidden-camera footage from David’s company, taken outside the Hotel after the event. It also led her to your storage compartment.”
Sterling tensed.
“Footage that has all been erased now,” Beate assured her.
Sterling exhaled.
She paced the circle, pinching her hat. She stopped short, pointing at Verena.
“You gave Nightingale photos of me and Andreas.”
Verena stammered, “I—I didn’t know who they were, I sent them by email.” She leaned against her beau, Dr. Schlesser, who cowered.
“Nice try, Doc. Why the guilty face? And why are you glancing at her?” said Sterling, pointing at Mrs. Boring.
Mrs. Boring fiddled with the chain of her Chanel bag, then said, “Dr. Schlesser was our couples therapist. Heinsistedwe visit the Orient that night to repair the wound of my ex-husband’s infidelity by confronting the location of his misdeeds.”
Sterling spun back to him, a little too fast, so she wobbled a bit.
While she steadied, the doc sang like an erudite canary. “Nightingale instructed us to cause a scene at the Orient as my remittance for guarding my reputation, we didn’t know why they chose us. I sent clients in our stead, a pair I surmised would argue. Correctly, I might add.”
“None of this explains why Hedy had to die,” said Sterling.
Christoph sighed. “Madame suspected Hedy was plotting her escape but didn’t realize the plan involved David. She paid Lukas to poison Hedy, and David was collateral damage. Felled by a deadly kiss, made poisonous by his own mother.”
How Shakespearean. Or Freudian.
As Sterling slowly neared her uncle, she pictured Frau Thursday’s transcript of Hedy’s death. The mundane, uneven typescript of the final moment of Vienna’s most beautiful woman, relegated to footnotes in a redacted document.
02:11 [Crack] [Thud]
Sterling swept away tears, then leaned forward, pressing her finger to Christoph’s bony chest. His glassy eyes pleaded. Hers narrowed.“You didn’t kill Hedy, but you played a part. You lied. Stole. Blackmailed. Violated the sanctity of the Orient. And you pointed a gun at the love of my life.”
Fernando clutched his heart. “I love you too, honey-muffin.”
