William Monk 12 - Funeral in Blue

at Magda Beck’s round, serious face, and saw a flicker of some inner certainty in it, or at least the knowledge of where to reach for it.
    When he got home he must make sure that Kristian had a priest to visit him as often as he wished and it was allowed.
    “Thank you very much,” he said with more confidence. “I should like very much to speak with Father Geissner.”
    “Of course.” Josef looked happier. He had been able to do something to help.
    Monk was about to ask where and when they should meet, and then take his leave, when the footman came to announce the arrival of Herr and Frau von Arpels, and Josef told him to show them in.
    Von Arpels was slender, with wispy fair hair and a lean, rather sharp face. His wife was plain, but when she spoke her voice was surprisingly attractive, very low and a little husky.
    Introductions were made, and Josef immediately told them of Elissa’s death, although not the cause of it. Suitable distress was expressed, and both of them offered to pray for her soul and to attend mass for her.
    Von Arpels turned to Monk. “Are you staying in Vienna long, Herr Monk? There are many sights for you to see. Have you been to the opera yet? Or the concert hall? There is an excellent season of Beethoven and Mozart. Or a cruise on the river, perhaps? Although it is a little late for that. Too cold by far. The wind comes from the east and can be rather biting at this time of year.”
    Frau von Arpels smiled at him. “Perhaps you prefer something a little lighter? Café society? We can tell you all the best and most fashionable places to go . . . or even some of those which are less fashionable but rather more fun? Do you dance, Herr Monk?” Her voice lifted with enthusiasm. “You must waltz! You cannot be in Vienna and not waltz. Herr Johann Strauss has made us the capital of the world. Until you have heard him conduct . . . and danced till you drop, you have been only half alive!”
    “Helga . . . please!” Von Arpels said quickly. “Herr Monk may find that too frivolous.”
    Monk thought it sounded wonderful. His imagination raced far ahead of anything of which his feet were capable. But he remembered from Venice that, surprisingly, he could dance . . . rather well. “I should love to,” he said honestly. “But I know no one, and unfortunately I have to return to London as soon as my business here is completed.”
    “Oh, I can introduce you to someone,” Helga von Arpels offered easily. “I am sure I can even get you an introduction to Herr Strauss himself, if you like?”
    “Helga! For heaven’s sake!” Von Arpels was brisk to the point of rudeness. “Herr Monk will not wish to meet Strauss socially. The man’s an excellent musician, but he’s a Jew! I’ve warned you before about making unfortunate friendships. One must be civil, but one must also be careful not to be misunderstood as to one’s loyalties and one’s identity. Look what happened to Irma Brandt! She had only herself to blame.”
    The air in the room seemed suddenly brighter and colder. A dozen questions poured into Monk’s mind, but these were not the people to ask. Helga von Arpels looked angry. She had been embarrassed in front of her friends and a stranger, but there was nothing she could do about it. She had strayed into forbidden territory, and apparently it was so by mutual agreement. Monk was sorry for her, and angry on her behalf, but also totally helpless.
    “Thank you for your generosity, Frau von Arpels,” he said to her. “I shall endeavor to hear Herr Strauss conduct, even if I am alone and cannot dance. Then my imagination can store the memory.”
    She made an effort to smile, and there was a flicker of light in her eyes, and recognition of his feeling.
    He thanked Josef and Magda again, getting from them the address of the priest, Father Geissner, and Magda accompanied him to the door. Out in the hall, she dismissed the maid and went to the step with him herself.
    “Mr. Monk, is there anything else we can do to help Kristian?”
    Was that really what she wanted to say that she had followed him to speak privately? There would only be a few moments before Josef would miss her.
    “Yes.” He decided without hesitation. “Tell me what you know of the feelings between Kristian and Elissa, and Max Niemann. He has visited London at least three times this year, and seen Elissa secretly, and not Kristian at all.”
    She looked only slightly surprised. “He was always in love with