David Birkel's Sister

The call came from a little farther off than the reporters'. Annette, who had kept her head bowed the whole time, turned aside without meaning to.

"……! I am…… of……."

The woman's voice was swallowed again by the clamor and the rain. She looked like an ordinary citizen rather than a reporter, her face urgent and desperate.

She pushed through the reporters, shouting something. Whatever she had said, the cameramen started in surprise and began looking at her one by one.

The murmuring slowly died down. Every gaze in the hall turned toward the woman. She looked straight at Annette and opened her mouth.

"I am David Birkel's sister!"

Until that moment Annette had no idea who David Birkel was. It was a name she was hearing for the first time.

"I have something I absolutely must say to Madame Valdemar!"

Annette's eyes widened slightly.

Me? Why?

There had been no end of talk about Annette. But that was always the many speaking of the one; the only people who wanted a one-on-one conversation with her were the reporters.

At the woman's words the reporters began to buzz. A similar interest flickered across their various faces. Cameras and notebooks swung toward her.

"David Birkel? Are you the sister of Mr. Birkel who shot Madame Valdemar?"

"Is this your younger brother's wish? What business brings you to the Madame?"

"Rose Schwartz of Graphic! Would a separate interview be possible?"

"Did you receive any message from Mr. David Birkel?"

"No, I—!"

The woman's shrill cry silenced the surroundings for an instant. She did not so much as glance at the reporters—from beginning to end she kept her eyes fixed only on Annette.

That clear, lucid gaze, so unreadable it made the heart pound, thudded in Annette's chest.

The woman's lips opened slowly.

"……I would like to see the Madame privately. I couldn't reach her, so I had no choice but to come find her, and I don't want any interviews with any of you."

"Clear the area. Quickly."

From above her head Heiner murmured to an attendant. His voice was cold as usual, yet somehow it sounded angry.

"Then I'll be waiting for your contact, Madame."

The last words were almost inaudible under the reporters' questions. Heiner pulled the dazed Annette tightly into his arms.

"Get in. Quickly."

"Wai—"

"Quickly."

The firm voice fell.

Annette wanted to study the woman's face more carefully, but the arm around her shoulders propelled her forward as if she were being shoved.

"Madame Valdemar, just one answer……"

"Do you know the reason……"

Every sound retreated a handspan from her ears and merely buzzed like noise. Annette drew ragged breaths in the familiar scent rising from Heiner.

Her mind was a whirl, yet only the woman's quiet face remained strangely vivid on her retinas.

That woman…… where have I seen her?

Annette thought it idly, then realized it a beat late. She whipped her head around to look at the woman again. Her vision blurred and sharpened by turns.

She had seen that woman somewhere before. But beyond that vague certainty, nothing came back.

A commoner? When had she seen her? Where? Had the woman harbored a grudge against her then? What on earth had she done to her?

If she could not remember even this much, they could not have known each other well. Perhaps she had merely seen her a few times in passing……

……Is my memory even accurate in the first place?

Her tightly pressed lips trembled faintly.

Lately Annette had been living with forgetfulness. It was almost laughable next to the past when she had memorized hundreds of pages of scores; now she constantly made mistakes because she could not remember even the smallest things.

At this rate she even began to doubt her own sense of familiarity with the woman.

While her thoughts tumbled in confusion, they had already reached the car. An attendant opened the door. Even then Annette and the woman did not take their eyes off each other.

Heiner pushed her into the car. When he climbed into the seat beside her afterward, the view was cut off. Click—the door shut.

Reporters pressed against the windows. The car body rolled out onto the road. The flashing lights of the cameras receded behind them.

"……Who is she?"

"She is indeed the sister of the arrested David Birkel."

"That's not what I mean."

"Then?"

"I mean…… someone connected to me…… somehow……"

Annette trailed off in a ramble. Trying to explain something she herself was not sure of would only make him treat her like a fool.

"……Never mind."

A heavy gaze settled on the back of Annette's bowed head. He asked in a voice that sounded, for a moment, almost generous.

"What is it you want to know?"

"Why……"

The words slipped out unbidden.

"Why would she come looking for me?"

Annette kept her eyes somewhere around her hands on her knees and the empty air, speaking blankly.

"What reason could she have for wanting to meet me privately? Without even telling the reporters……"

"For her brother's clemency, no doubt. Don't think too deeply about it."

"It didn't seem like that was the only reason. And…… what does she mean she couldn't reach me?"

Annette turned to Heiner and pressed as if interrogating him.

"You know something, don't you?"

"……I did receive a few letters."

He admitted it surprisingly readily.

"Then why weren't they delivered to me?"

"I judged there was no need to pass on letters from the perpetrator's sister to you, the victim and a patient."

"That's for me to decide, Heiner."

Annette did not particularly believe his excuse. She thought there must be some other reason. From the start he was never the sort to look after her circumstances like that.

"Have there been other letters that weren't delivered to me this way?"

Heiner did not answer. From that silence Annette read affirmation.

She felt neither angry nor irritated. Only a sensation as if something inside her chest had worn thin. Fiddling with the strap of her handbag, Annette said quietly,

"I want to meet her."

"You're not going to ask more about the letters?"

"It's already past; never mind."

"Does that mean you don't care even in the future?"

Annette's hand paused for an instant. She looked at him with a faintly strange expression. There was a sense of dissonance in his words.

Even in the future……

Was Heiner assuming that they would have a future? What kind of future did he imagine? Was he truly prepared to look toward that future, enduring everything?

Somehow it seemed absurd.

"……That's enough. Was her number or address written on the letter? If not, find it out for me. In exchange for the letters you withheld."

"Madame, there is absolutely no reason to meet—"

"And no reason for me to ask your permission, either."

Because her natural manner of speaking was soft, her words did not sound firm at all. To a casual ear they almost seemed like a plea.

Yet Heiner, though he still wore a look of dissatisfaction, nodded without further objection.

"……I'll take care of it. But personal security will accompany you."

That much she had expected, so Annette accepted it. For reasons she could not know, he was not as high-handed as before.

Annette turned her head as if that answer were enough. A single fallen leaf swept past the car window. The trees, nearly bare of leaves, had already grown skeletal.

The woman's name was Katrin Groth.

Katrin lived with her husband of not even six months, running a fruit shop on Western Road, Number 23.

Even after hearing the name and address, Annette could not recall who she was. It was a name she was meeting for the first time, and the address had no connection to her at all.

Holding a scrap of paper in one hand, Annette slowly turned the dial of the telephone exchange. A phone number was written on the note.

Once the line was connected to the exchange, a ringing tone sounded. Annette clutched the receiver anxiously and swallowed once. After a long series of rings, the call connected.

"……Are you Katrin's husband?"

The question of who she was somehow stopped her cold. After a brief silence Annette opened her mouth hesitantly.

"Would you…… please pass a message to Mrs. Groth? Ask her to come to my residence tomorrow or the day after. Entry has been authorized, so she need only give her name…… She'll understand if you tell her that."

A strange tension hung after the period. The man on the other end seemed to have guessed her identity; for a moment he said nothing.

As her husband he could hardly be ignorant of his wife's and brother-in-law's affairs. Annette could not know what he had been told, and so she kept every nerve taut.

At last a businesslike reply came across the line.

"Yes, thank you."

Annette waited for him to hang up first, but the line remained open in silence. Unable to bear it any longer, she set the receiver down herself.

With a soft click, quiet settled. Even afterward Annette stood for a long while without taking her hand from the receiver.

In truth there had been no need for her to seek Katrin out first. The woman was hardly likely to feel any goodwill toward her, and as Heiner had said, clemency for her brother was the most probable motive.

And yet, strangely, Annette felt she had to hear her story.

What had happened, why she had done it, what feelings she held toward her, what she wished to say—and what she herself ought to say in return.

It might be the first and last chance to face the past.

Even if it wounded her in the process……