last straw. When he said to himself, There’s no point anymore, and then he chucked his badge at them. Although, I’ll say it again and again, these days, when you’re forty-four, well, hats off to a thing like that.
And all that about the civil service apartment. That had Brenner thinking all over again, Maybe there’s a possibility that his classmate Schwaighofer could get him a one- or two-year deferral.
“You don’t know about everything as much as I thought you did,” Brenner says. “You don’t even know that Lorenz doesn’t even need an alibi from you because he’s already got one! Lorenz thinks he has to lie for your sake.”
“All the better,” Vergolder says.
“Just tell the truth finally. It’s all a huge misunderstanding. Lorenz believes he has to protect you and you believe you have to protect Lorenz.”
“All the better for me and Lorenz,” Vergolder says.
With that, though, he promptly rang for the maid. She saw the guest out, and Brenner lost all sense of where he was again because it was only a few steps to the front door, and before, he’d had to follow Vergolder up stairs and through hallways.
It seemed to him like in those pictures, maybe you know them, where the people are going up a staircase, up and up, but suddenly they’re back where they started, so, what’s there can’t actually be real because—constantly going up and suddenly right back at the bottom. There’s a painter who does that kind of thing, makes you real nervous. But it was actually calming Brenner down now since it meant he’d caught on to Vergolder’s human weakness. That he was an antiques show-off and had schlepped Brenner through half his castle.
But the maid seemed to take notice that he didn’t know where he was anymore, and she couldn’t help but smile a little. Now, she had a painted incisor. A kind of neon color she had on it, on one of her incisors. Needless to say, Brenner recognized Clare Corrigan right away now.
Her name was actually Elfi Lohninger. Engljähringer told him that she’d dropped out of school. And that the people were talking about her being one of Vergolder’s
“Nebenzu,”
she told him that, too. But, the fact that Clare wasnow working as a maid at Vergolder’s, well, she didn’t tell him that.
Kati just gave him Elfi’s composition book to take with him. But then Mandl showed up and sent Brenner off packing to Vergolder’s. And now the book was just lying in his room at the Hirschenwirt, and he still hadn’t gotten around to reading it yet.
CHAPTER 9
“6th Grade,” it said on the book. “Clare Corrigan.” But the name was crossed out, and in somebody else’s handwriting it said: Lohninger, Elfriede. The last composition in the book was on the theme: The Significance of Our Reservoir as a National Symbol.
But you almost couldn’t read the composition anymore, because it’d been marked up in red all over the place. And written at the end:
“Unsatisfactory!”
And now, this was the same handwriting that wrote “Lohninger, Elfriede” on the cover, namely, Engljähringer’s handwriting.
“Completely off topic!” Engljähringer scrawled on, but for Brenner it was the complete opposite, for him, of course, the topic was spot-on:
“I’d like to write a little bit about a company that’s played an important role in the building of the dam.”
That’s how she started off. And the very first word, Engljähringer the schoolteacher had scribbled under it in red—must’ve been because maybe you don’t begin a composition with “I,” like they used to say about letter-writing.
But Brenner was reminded of another scribbly red line now, the one that was the wrinkle in Mandl’s furrowed forehead when he found Brenner on Engljähringer’s couch.
“The company was an American chemical company. It provided the Austrian companies with the necessary know-how for them to manufacture high-grade concrete for the three dam walls.”
Engljähringer the
And all that about the civil service apartment. That had Brenner thinking all over again, Maybe there’s a possibility that his classmate Schwaighofer could get him a one- or two-year deferral.
“You don’t know about everything as much as I thought you did,” Brenner says. “You don’t even know that Lorenz doesn’t even need an alibi from you because he’s already got one! Lorenz thinks he has to lie for your sake.”
“All the better,” Vergolder says.
“Just tell the truth finally. It’s all a huge misunderstanding. Lorenz believes he has to protect you and you believe you have to protect Lorenz.”
“All the better for me and Lorenz,” Vergolder says.
With that, though, he promptly rang for the maid. She saw the guest out, and Brenner lost all sense of where he was again because it was only a few steps to the front door, and before, he’d had to follow Vergolder up stairs and through hallways.
It seemed to him like in those pictures, maybe you know them, where the people are going up a staircase, up and up, but suddenly they’re back where they started, so, what’s there can’t actually be real because—constantly going up and suddenly right back at the bottom. There’s a painter who does that kind of thing, makes you real nervous. But it was actually calming Brenner down now since it meant he’d caught on to Vergolder’s human weakness. That he was an antiques show-off and had schlepped Brenner through half his castle.
But the maid seemed to take notice that he didn’t know where he was anymore, and she couldn’t help but smile a little. Now, she had a painted incisor. A kind of neon color she had on it, on one of her incisors. Needless to say, Brenner recognized Clare Corrigan right away now.
Her name was actually Elfi Lohninger. Engljähringer told him that she’d dropped out of school. And that the people were talking about her being one of Vergolder’s
“Nebenzu,”
she told him that, too. But, the fact that Clare wasnow working as a maid at Vergolder’s, well, she didn’t tell him that.
Kati just gave him Elfi’s composition book to take with him. But then Mandl showed up and sent Brenner off packing to Vergolder’s. And now the book was just lying in his room at the Hirschenwirt, and he still hadn’t gotten around to reading it yet.
CHAPTER 9
“6th Grade,” it said on the book. “Clare Corrigan.” But the name was crossed out, and in somebody else’s handwriting it said: Lohninger, Elfriede. The last composition in the book was on the theme: The Significance of Our Reservoir as a National Symbol.
But you almost couldn’t read the composition anymore, because it’d been marked up in red all over the place. And written at the end:
“Unsatisfactory!”
And now, this was the same handwriting that wrote “Lohninger, Elfriede” on the cover, namely, Engljähringer’s handwriting.
“Completely off topic!” Engljähringer scrawled on, but for Brenner it was the complete opposite, for him, of course, the topic was spot-on:
“I’d like to write a little bit about a company that’s played an important role in the building of the dam.”
That’s how she started off. And the very first word, Engljähringer the schoolteacher had scribbled under it in red—must’ve been because maybe you don’t begin a composition with “I,” like they used to say about letter-writing.
But Brenner was reminded of another scribbly red line now, the one that was the wrinkle in Mandl’s furrowed forehead when he found Brenner on Engljähringer’s couch.
“The company was an American chemical company. It provided the Austrian companies with the necessary know-how for them to manufacture high-grade concrete for the three dam walls.”
Engljähringer the
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