The Zurich Conspiracy

concentrating.
    “For almost three years. But then her engagement to Richard Auer fell through, and she did something completely different. But you know that of course. That is why my Peter sold the company to Swixan; he thought his life’s work would be secure. What a fatal error! And when my husband…left us…it was dreadful for Helene, simply dreadful.”
    Josefa listened, her heart racing. Helene engaged! To Richard Auer? Had she heard right?
    “But here I am, just chatting away. I imagine you do not want to get to the transit too late; I have not forgotten.” She stood up and Josefa followed.
    “How nice to have finally made your acquaintance! And I am delighted every day with the handbag you gave me,” she said as they left the room. “You know, I could have gotten in touch with you sooner, through Richard perhaps, but Helene would never have forgiven me. And we have indeed found a better solution—thanks to you. I shall go get your coat right away.”
    Josefa was still stunned as she left Athena Meyer-de Rechenstein’s house. She just couldn’t get her head around it. Helene and Richard Auer.

Pius draws her toward him. She offers no resistance. His back muscles ripple beneath her fingertips. His cheek brushes against hers. His hand lies firmly on the small of her back. She’s all aflame. She desires him. She wants his body. His mouth is so close.
    Then a shrill sound. The phone. Josefa suddenly woke up, her heart beating wildly. She could feel it in her breast, her throat, her head. It took some time before she realized where she was. That dream about Pius. So beautiful. So discombobulating. She dove under the covers. Dammit, she’d forgotten to set the answering machine.
    Her hand groped for the phone. “Hello?”
    At first she heard a soft rustling sound.
    “Josefa?” A voice from far away that she didn’t recognize.
    “Josefa, is that you?”
    “My dear, sweet brother, do you know how late it is? It’s the middle of the night, goddammit!”
    “It’s eight in the morning and it’s Monday. You’re always awake at this hour. Besides, it’s important.”
    “What’s happened?”
    “Werner Schulmann is dead.”
    “Who?” She was certain that she hadn’t heard properly. All of a sudden she was wide awake.
    “Werner Schulmann. The guy at Loyn. Verena called me yesterday. She tried to get you, but you were away and your answering machine wasn’t picking up. So she phoned me, and because I wanted to talk to you anyway, I told her I’d give you a call.”
    Verena? How did her stepmother know?
    “I don’t get it.”
    “Verena’s a friend of Schulmann’s mother and she told Verena, and Verena thought it best for you to know before you went to work,” he explained.
    Of course, Verena thinks I’m still working for Loyn.
    “How did he die? What happened?”
    “No idea. Looks like the official cause of death hasn’t been determined yet. But apparently he was found at home. You can call Verena later, but she’s at the clinic all day. Best try her tomorrow.”
    Josefa felt as if the room was whirling around her. Markus’s voice was fading away.
    “Hey, gotta go. Sorry I woke you up. We’ll talk later, OK?” And he promptly hung up.
    Josefa fell back into bed, pulling the covers tightly around her. Schulmann. Dead.
    Did the people at Loyn know already? Did Claire know? She was about to pick up the receiver, but something held her back. She didn’t relish the idea of telling Claire. Would she be relieved? Maybe even feel some schadenfreude? Or melancholy? Or mourning?
    Despite the tragic occurrence, Josefa couldn’t quell her anger at him. The guy walks into Loyn, provokes her into leaving, and now he’s gone. It all needn’t have happened. What a laugh.
    Josefa couldn’t even imagine going back to sleep at this point. Instead she pulled herself out of bed and wobbled toward the bathroom. A bracing cup of tea would do me good , she thought. Her ski gear was still scattered over a couple of chairs. She boiled some water and poured it over the dried peppermint leaves. She could hear voices out on the stairs.
    An hour later she’d calmed down enough to think about one of her assignments for a client: a presentation with a buffet to follow. She went to the guest room she’d turned into an office, sat down at her desk, and stared at the screen.
    “I would suggest that a brief outline of your company’s history be included with the invitations for the guests, along with some