Fatal Lies by Frank Tallis (english love story books txt) 📕

afraid you will have to ask Dr. Kessler when he arrives. I have no idea.”

Rheinhardt leaned forward and examined Zelenka's head. As he did so, he registered a light dappling of juvenile freckles on the boy's cheeks.

“No bleeding? No signs of the boy having been struck?”

“No,” said the nurse, sounding a sudden note of surprise.

Rheinhardt looked into her eyes. They were gray and watery.

“Did you know the boy?” he asked.

“Yes,” Nurse Funke replied. “I knew Thomas Zelenka very well.” She blinked a tear from her eye. “He was always catching colds.… I used to give him a balsam inhalation to help him breathe.”

“Did he suffer from any serious ailments?”

“No—not to my knowledge. Although you had better ask Dr. Kessler.”

Rheinhardt turned to face the headmaster.

“I would be most grateful if you would allow my assistant to call for a mortuary van. There will have to be an autopsy, and it is my preference that this be conducted at the Physiological Institute.” He then turned to Haussmann. “See if you can speak to Professor Mathias. I'd like him to perform an autopsy as soon as possible.”

“Tonight, sir?”

“Yes. Why not? Professor Mathias is a famous insomniac and is always happy to assist. And while you're at it, see if you can get a photographer… but tell him to get a driver who is familiar with the woods around Aufkirchen. Otherwise they'll never get here!”

“Yes, sir.”

“You will then meet me in the laboratory, equipped with pencils, paper, a notebook, and…” He broke off to address Eichmann. “Is art taught in this school, headmaster?”

“Yes,” Eichmann replied. “We have a drawing and calligraphy master—Herr Lang.”

“Good,” said Rheinhardt, before continuing to address Haussmann: “Some clean paintbrushes—preferably unused—and about twenty stiff isinglass envelopes. I am sure that the deputy headmaster will help you to find these items. You, headmaster, will kindly escort me to the laboratory.”

For the first time, the headmaster and his deputy were looking at Rheinhardt with something approaching respect.

“Well?” said Rheinhardt, his voice rising in a fair imitation of the headmaster's earlier reproach. “What am I supposed to do—find it myself?”

5

LIEBERMANN HAD HAILED A CAB for Else Rheinhardt and was about to do the same for Amelia when she surprised him by saying:

“No, Dr. Liebermann. I would very much like to walk home. I am still excited and will not sleep. A walk will do me good.”

“Very well,” said Liebermann. “You will, of course, permit me to escort you?”

Amelia offered the young doctor her arm, and they set off in the direction of Alsergrund. At first, their conversation was given over entirely to the subject of Fasching. Amelia showed a keen interest in the historical origins of the ball season; however, in due course, Liebermann inquired how her studies at the university were progressing and she began to speak of more serious matters: microscopy, anatomy, diseases of the blood. She had also chosen to attend a course of philosophy lectures and had become very interested in the writings of Friedrich Nietzsche.

“Are you familiar with his works, Dr. Liebermann?”

“No, I'm afraid not.”

“A pity. As a devotee of Professor Freud, you would appreciate his thoughts on the importance of unconscious mental processes. I have been somewhat preoccupied of late by his notion of eternal recurrence.”

“Oh? And what is that, exactly?”

“The idea that we are destined to repeat our lives again and again—in perpetuity.”

Liebermann was taken aback by Amelia's comment. She possessed a very logical mind, and he could not understand why such a whimsical notion had captured her attention.

“As in reincarnation?” said Liebermann disdainfully. “The transmigration of souls?”

Amelia shook her head.

“No, Herr Doctor—not at all. Nietzsche's proposal is rather different, and should not be confused with Pythagorean or Hindu doctrines.”

She had turned her face toward him. Beneath the brim of her feathered hat, Amelia's expression was typically intense. A silver ribbon had loosened and was dangling past her ear.

“If my understanding of Nietzsche is correct,” continued Amelia, “then he is suggesting something much more plausible… something that—unlike comparable religious ideas—does not contradict science. Perhaps this is why I have been so preoccupied. I have had to reevaluate a notion that I had previously rejected. Nietzsche seems to have provided a perfectly rational explanation for a supposedly metaphysical phenomenon.”

“But how?”

Amelia's forehead creased.

“If time is infinite and there is also a limited amount of matter in the universe, then past configurations of matter must eventually recur. Is that not so?”

As Liebermann considered the argument, Amelia pressed on: “Imagine, if you will, that the world in which we live is analagous to a game of chess. Because of physical limitations—for example, the number of pieces, the number of squares, and so forth—there are only so many games possible. Therefore, if two immortal adversaries were locked in competition forever, at some point the precise sequence of moves that constituted a previous game must necessarily be repeated. And so it must be with atoms and the universe.”

“Well,” said Liebermann, slightly perplexed. “That is indeed a fascinating argument. If one accepts that time has no end and that matter exists in only finite quantities, then one is also bound to agree with Nietzsche; however, I find the idea of my own personal reconstitution vaguely depressing. It makes me think of all the mistakes I have made.”

“Nietzsche hoped,” Amelia continued, “that contemplation of eternal recurrence would inspire humanity to make wiser choices. If we are trapped in an infinitely repeating cycle of existence, then we should make every effort to live our lives to the full.”

Their destination came into view: a substantial town house, where Amelia occupied rooms on the top floor.

Liebermann had been so absorbed by Amelia's conversation that their walk across the city seemed to have taken no time at all. Reluctantly, he released her arm.

“Thank you so much for inviting me to the detectives’ ball,” said Amelia.

“I am delighted you enjoyed it.”

“It is such a shame that Inspector Rheinhardt was called away.”

“An occupational hazard, I fear.”

“And thank you also for your invaluable guidance on the dance floor.”

“It