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Last Stop Vienna : Part 4
Rating: PG-13 for some violence
Transcribed by Brightbear
Author's Notes: I have replaced the word Stephansplatz with Stephans Plaza. If anybody knows a better translation, let me know. This story is set a few years after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Some characters I could not find a character name for (the dog handler that looks after Rex & the Russian store owner that helps Richard), so I made up the names Dieter and Stefan Dejevsky. If anybody knows their actual names, please let me know.
Disclaimer: This is written by a fan of the television series Kommissar Rex. Kommissar Rex is owned by Mungo film, Tauris film, SAT.1 and ORF. The script for the episode Last Stop Vienna was written by Peter Moser and Peter Hajek. Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
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Though the afternoon was becoming evening, the sun was still warm in the cemetery. Rex was curled up beside Michael’s flower-covered grave. The smell of Michael’s corpse was muted by the earth that had been heaped on it but Rex could still smell it. It wasn’t much but it was Michael.
Rex’s ears twitched as he heard footsteps approaching. There were a few mourners in the cemetery but most of them had avoided the large German shepherd sitting by his master’s grave. This particular set of footsteps stopped directly in front of Michael’s grave.
“Hello Rex,” said a voice.
Rex looked up. It was Richard. Rex covered his muzzle with a paw and hoped that Richard would go away. More likely was that Richard would call the handlers and Rex would be dragged back to Police Kennel.
“I knew you’d be here,” said Richard gently. “How are you?”
Rex refused to respond. Richard nodded as if this was perfectly reasonable and expected. Richard walked to the other side of Michael’s grave to sit on a tree stump.
“I don’t even know how to console humans in this situation,” admitted Richard awkwardly. “I know how you feel but... you can’t stay here.”
Rex raised his head so that he could see Richard over the grave. Richard didn’t seem to be a trained handler since he hadn’t given Rex a command yet. Not that Rex would have obeyed him if he had. Richard looked back at Rex. Seeing that Rex was listening, Richard looked hopeful. Rex grumbled and put his head back down.
Richard sighed, “I think... the two of us would be quite suited. I live alone. There’s plenty of space, and no furniture.”
Rex found himself listening, reminded of the way that Michael would speak to him as if he was special. As if he deserved extra time and attention.
“You could come to the office,” offered Richard. “I can fix that.“
Richard moved closer to Rex, crouching down to Rex’s level and staring at him over the grave.
“We’ll just have to train Stockinger,” continued Richard thoughtfully. “He’s terrified of dogs.”
Richard reached into his jacket pocket, looking at Rex to make sure he had the dog’s attention. Rex caught the whiff of food before he saw the paper package. Rex clamped his jaws shut and refused to be drawn by the food.
“I don’t know if you like these,” said Richard, holding out a ham roll. “But I practically live on them. I never get to the shops, you see.”
Rex could smell the ham and even raised his head to sniff it. Then Rex swallowed and determinedly lowered his head again.
“Oh well,” sighed Richard. “We’ll find out what you like, won’t we?”
Richard stood up and backed away, “I’m going now. Slowly. Think about it.”
Richard took a small bite of the ham roll and walked away. Unable to help himself, he kept looking over his shoulder to see if Rex was coming.
Rex was determined not to move for food. He’d been offered food non-stop since Michael had been shot. Rex glanced after Richard. Richard was taller than Michael, heavier and he smelled faintly of ham rolls. It wasn't a greasy unpleasant smell and there was no hint of tobacco. There was another faint smell which took Rex a moment to recognise - chocolate cake.
Richard's footsteps faded into the distance. Rex was alone with a grave where the flower bouquets were starting to blot out the smell of Michael. The only noises were the chirping of the birds. Rex wanted Michael to be here. He wanted Michael to sit down and talk to him. It wasn’t going to happen. Rex raised himself to his feet. He wasn’t sure exactly why he was going but Richard’s company seemed better than a grave that was smelling less and less of his beloved Michael.
Rex set out, moving more purposefully than he had since that horrible day. His muscles appreciated the exercise and before long, Rex had broken into a trot. Rex was halfway across the cemetery before he caught sight of Richard again. Richard was walking through the lines of headstones, the ham roll in his hand gone but Rex wasn‘t after a ham roll.
Rex stalked after Richard as he had been taught, drawing level but keeping out of sight. After days of doing nothing, Rex was energised and almost excited. The more he watched Richard, the more he liked what he saw. As Rex rustled the leaves, Richard paused and looked behind him. Rex darted behind a tombstone, not quite willing to give in just yet. He waited as Richard looked about in confusion, certain he’d heard something. Richard looked around the tombstones hopefully but he still couldn’t see a sign of the dog.
“So, you’re not coming,” sighed Richard. “Then I can’t help you.”
Rex tensed and crouched, waiting to see if Richard would return in force once a friendly request had apparently been refused. Richard simply shrugged, looking bitterly disappointed and continued to leave the cemetery. Rex’s tail began to wag. Richard’s offer had been genuine and not just some wild attempt to lure Rex back to the car.
Richard walked without looking back, his shoulders slumped. Rex took a few tentative steps out into the open and barked loudly. Richard stopped and turned.
He broke out into a genuine smile, “Hey. Rex.”
Rex’s tail continued to wag as Richard crouched beside him.
“Have you changed your mind?” asked Richard.
Rex’s answer was to jump up on hind legs and rest his front paws on Richard’s shoulder. Richard laughed as the two of them nearly unbalanced.
“Coming with me after all, are you?” said Richard happily.
Richard’s arms went around Rex to hug and pat. Rex barked and wriggled, Richard’s enthusiasm infectious.
“Rascal!” laughed Richard. “What are you up to?”
Richard climbed to his feet and danced out of Rex’s way. Rex gave chase, jumping to try and catch Richard’s waving hands. The two of them continued all the way to Richard’s car, acting like complete idiots but neither of them really minded.
* * * Richard’s car pulled up to the Police Kennel. Rex whined uncertainly. He’d agreed to come with Richard, not back to the Kennel. Maybe he’d made the wrong choice.
“Wait in the car,” said Richard, patting Rex affectionately.
Only partially reassured, Rex stuck his head out the half-open window to watch as Richard entered the Dog Kennel. Rex could hear the other dogs in the compound. A temporary cage sat on the Kennel lawn. An older German Shepherd peered sadly at Rex through the bars. Rex pulled his head back into the car, hoping none of the handlers would notice him.
Inside the kennel, Richard walked down the central walkway. The kennel was set up like a stable, with a cement floor and walkway with doors leading to the individual indoor enclosures. Each door had a sign on it with a dog’s name. A few of the dogs looked up wretchedly at Richard as he passed. About halfway down, he found a sign that said 'Rex'.
Richard looked through to see the head handler in the outdoor enclosure, examining the bars with a frown.
“Hello?” Richard called. “Hello?”
“Yes?” asked the handler, confused by the appearance of a stranger.
“The dog’s back,” smiled Richard. “I’ve found Rex.”
“Well done,” said the handler. “We’ve no idea how he got out.”
The handler began to inspect the connecting door between the inside and outside enclosures.
“Where was he?” the handler asked over his shoulder.
“At the cemetery,” said Richard.
“It’s sad,” sighed the handler. “Rex... he used to be one of our best dogs. He could sniff out any scent... drugs, missing people. But since Michael’s death...”
“I hear you don’t know what to do with the dog,” interrupted Richard.
“That’s true,” agreed the handler, standing to face Richard. “We can’t even sell him if he doesn’t obey.”
Richard smiled awkwardly, surprised at himself, “I want him.”
The handler snorted, looking sternly at Richard, “It’s not that simple. He’s state property and maintained by our taxes.”
Richard’s smile fell before another idea occurred to him, “It’ll save the expense of having him put down.”
The handler shrugged and raised a condescending eyebrow, “In any case, he stays here.”
The handler shut the enclosure door and looked at Richard through the wire, “You can file an application. And you must pay for him.”
Richard froze, unable to believe what he was hearing. Leave a grieving animal in a concrete prison with a condescending prick for a boss?
“He’s coming with me,” snapped Richard, turning away. “He’ll die in here. Send me the bill.”
The handler jerked open the enclosure door, “Hand over the dog at once! You‘re stealing state property!”
Richard waved a dismissive hand, “Lodge an official complaint.”
He stormed through the door before pausing to stick his head back in, “In triplicate!”
Rex was waiting in the car, having heard the whole argument. He stuck his head out the sunroof and wagged his tail happily at the sight of Richard. Richard smiled back before he climbed into the driver’s seat.
“We’re leaving, Rex.”
* * * Landovsky bustled into the Councillor's office, still panting. The Councillor's secretary was on the phone. Tall, thin and blonde, she would have been beautiful except for the permanent sneer on her face. She looked distastefully at Landovsky and continued her phone call.
"The councillor is busy," she said into the phone. "He can see you in two weeks."
Landovsky was in no mood to put up with her routine today.
"I've got an appointment," he said gruffly.
The secretary held up an impertinent finger and continued her phonecall, "Fine. Goodbye."
She put down the phone and looked down her nose at Landovsky, "I know. I'll tell him you're here, Mr Landovsky."
She stood and sashayed across the room to the Councillor‘s office. Maybe she was trying to look sexy but to Landovsky she just seemed ridiculously overbalanced. If he wasn’t in such a bad mood, he would probably have found it amusing.
A minute later she reappeared, “The Councillor will see you now.”
She stood in the doorway, trying to appear beneficent as if she was somehow responsible for the Councillor’s decision. Landovsky pushed past her and slammed the office door.
Through the door, he heard her mutter “Pleb!”
Landovsky stormed up to the Councillor’s desk.
“Listen,” said Landovsky. “We’re in deep trouble.”
The Councillor, an aging man with white hair and glasses, looked up irritably.
“Please,” said the Councillor quickly. “Not so loud. The walls have ears, since the Zhukov business.”
Landovsky shrugged, in no mood to be told what to do. He began to pace in front of the Councillor’s desk.
“The police came to see me,” said Landovsky. “And Mrs Werner. They’re questioning everyone who did business with Zhukov.”
“Sit down,” snapped the Councillor. “You’re making me more nervous.”
Landovsky sat down and the Councillor forced himself to remain calm. When Landovsky had stopped panting, the Councillor motioned for him to continue.
“The police have got all Spitzer’s documents,” said Landovsky, leaning across the Councillor’s desk. “If they start examining our books, you’ll be in trouble too.”
“Me? Why?” asked the Councillor, amused. “You overcharged for your goods and got an export subsidy. Zhukov approved everything and pocketed a cut. How was I to know your figures weren’t right?”
Landovsky rolled his eyes, “Oh please! They know enough to work that out too. Can we be sure Spitzer didn’t talk before he died?”
At the mention of Spitzer, the Councillor’s eyes narrowed, “That miserable rat. He blackmailed me.”
The Councillor looked suspiciously at Landovsky, “I’d really like to know who told him about our little arrangement.”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t me,” said Landovsky surprised. “I didn’t know he was pressuring you too.”
“Did you know Spitzer personally?” asked the Councillor.
Landovsky shrugged, “You know what it’s like in our line.”
Landovsky leant back in his chair, “Where do we go from here? Tidying up our own books won’t help. The amounts all appear in the Tax Office Records.”
The Councillor thought for a moment, “See what you can come up with. I know nothing.”
Landovsky snorted, “Mrs Werner has her hands on the money... but not for long.” * * * Richard put his beer down on the bar and leant down to give Rex a sausage. Rex wagged his tail, happily, knowing he was being thoroughly spoiled.
“Look, Max,” said Richard, proudly. “He’s eating again.”
Max Koch, Richard’s former boss, looked up from the billiard table. He smiled at Richard.
“It’s funny,” said Max, lining up his cue. “When you talk about the dog, your eyes get moist.”
Richard looked embarrassed, “I just wanted to show him to you.”
As Richard stood to take his own shot at the billiard table, Rex turned around and walked off.
“Rex, come here,” Richard called, hurrying after the dog.
Rex turned at his call and came back to Richard. Many of the other customers in the bar watched in amusement as Richard led Rex away from the food.
“Come on,” said Richard. “You’ve had enough to eat.”
Richard led Rex back to the billiard table, looking apologetically at Max, “He wanted to go walkies.”
Max nodded, watching critically as Richard lined up for his next shot. Rex stood on his hind legs, front paws resting against the billiard table, to watch the game.
“What about your wife?” asked Max, nodding at the dog.
“Ex-wife,” said Richard coldly, slamming his cue into the billiard balls and sending them off in random directions. Rex’s attention was caught by the brightly coloured balls as they zoomed past him.
“Has she left at last?” said Max.
“Yes, with the furniture. Why?” said Richard tightly, his eyes focused firmly on the game.
“Just wondering,” said Max lightly. “Don’t let it get to you. It’s an occupational hazard. It was the same when I was a policeman. Every second police officer is divorced.”
“Yes, I’m over it,” said Richard, again hitting the billiard balls a little harder than was necessary.
As the white ball went flying past Rex, he snapped at it. Smiling at the dog, Max picked up the ball. Richard perched on the edge of the billiard table to chalk his cue.
“Play-acting is the one thing you’ve never been good at,” said Max pointedly.
“If I were, you’d never have caught me,” said Richard.
“Be glad I did,” said Max, lining up for his own shot. “Or God knows where you’d be.”
Richard turned to look at Max reproachfully, “Not every kid that nicks a moped becomes a criminal.”
“True,” said Max. “But from your gang, everyone did.”
“We’ve all made a career for ourselves,” said Richard, sobering. “On different sides of the law. And they earn more than me.”
Max grinned, “Be glad that I got you to join the police. By the way, how’s the man who planted the bomb?”
“Someone turned off his respiratory machine,” said Richard.
“Goodness,” said Max, surprised.
He stepped back to allow Richard to take a shot.
“At first we thought it was Landovsky’s secretary. But she’s got an alibi,” explained Richard.
“A good one?” asked Max.
“Not really,” said Richard, taking his shot. “She and Landovsky say they were busy at the office. With private matters.”
Max chuckled, “It’s not a good alibi but it’s a pleasant one.”
Richard rolled his eyes. Did everyone find that amusing?
Max stepped forward to take his own shot. Richard sat on a nearby stool, rolling the cue across his palm.
“Landovsky went bust once before. Over a speculation in Moscow,” said Richard, thinking aloud. “The opening of the East hurt his business. Mrs Werner is also suss.”
“We have two suspects,” said Max, sinking another billiard ball. “That’s good. Better two suspects... than none.” * * * Later that night Höllerer was sitting in his car, the lights of the Werner mansion visible across the road. He stifled a yawn and shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable. His cell phone rang and he fumbled for it in the dark.
“Höllerer speaking,” he said, when he managed to find it. “Hello, Richard. Nothing. The light’s on in her room. The car’s in the garage.”
Höllerer listened for a moment, “I had a thought. This is going back a bit but Mr Werner’s death was a bit fishy.”
* * * Back in his apartment, Richard was listening to his mobile, “There should be a file. Good, Höllerer. Get a hold of it.”
There was a crash from the living room and Richard hurriedly hung up the phone.
“Oh no! Rex, what are you doing?” demanded Richard, finding Rex in the middle of a collection of trophies. “My trophies! Go on, move.”
He gave Rex a push and Rex scuttled out the way. As Richard righted the trophies, Rex watched curiously. Most of the furniture in Richard’s apartment was missing, leaving all the trophies and usually forbidden knick-nacks on the floor.
“The only prizes I’ve ever won for brawling,” sighed Richard, scrubbing at an imaginary mark on one of his trophy cups.
Richard wandered over to sink onto his couch, the only piece of furniture left in the room. Most of the couch was covered in photo frames and boxes of belongings. Rex trotted over to peer at the photo frames.
“Know him?” asked Richard, holding up one of the photos. “Max Koch. We met him just now.”
Rex sniffed the photo but turned back to Richard, puzzled.
“Oh well,” sighed Richard. “My ex-boss.”
He picked up another photo frame, “And this is my ex-wife.”
Rex jumped up to peer curiously at the photograph. In the photograph Moser was standing, smiling in a black suit, with his arms around a beautiful woman in a wedding dress.
“It’s funny,” said Richard. “They always want a photo... always, always. Oh well.”
Rex looked up at Richard, sensing Richard’s sudden depression. Rex wandered off into the other room as Richard moved on to a photograph that had been tacked up on the wall.
“This was my job once,” said Richard, tapping a photograph of himself sitting in the cab of a truck. “I used to smoke then. I was with Gina. Then I got pneumonia and gave up smoking because Gina said... never mind. Anyway, this is the living room. Rather sparsely furnished but... Rex?”
Richard finally noticed he was only talking to himself. Still absent-mindedly holding a trophy in his hand, Richard went looking for Rex.
“Now where’s he got to? Rex?”
Richard walked into the bedroom, to see Rex sitting comfortably on the end of his bed.
“Off!” yelled Richard. “Off you get! Scram. I sleep here. You’re in the living room.”
Rex hurriedly jumped down and scampered into the living room. Richard brushed off his quilt. Although his wife had been kind enought to leave him the bed, he still didn’t have any sheets or covers for the pillows or quilt. Richard looked back at Rex, who was watching him from the bedroom door.
Remembering that he still had the trophy in his hand, Richard got an idea and headed into the kitchen. Slipping the trophy into the sink, Richard filled it to the brim with water.
“I must buy cans of dog food tomorrow,” said Richard, thinking aloud. “A whole boxful.”
He carried the trophy carefully out to the living room. Rex was gone from the doorway, instead curled up on the leather couch.
“I see,” said Richard. “Good idea.”
He placed the trophy down beside the couch where Rex could reach it. He sat down on the couch beside Rex and scratched him behind the ears.
“Sleep well,” said Richard. “Wake me if you need me although I may not know much. I’ve never had a dog before. Goodnight.”
Richard stood and went to the bedroom, leaving the living room light on. Rex crawled forward and began lapping at the water from the trophy. Seeing Richard’s bedroom light go out, Rex looked around. Without Richard talking, the apartment was suddenly dead silent. Rex was used to other dogs rustling and breathing in their nearby enclosures every night. Richard’s uncarpeted concrete floors reminded Rex of the kennel. Rex didn’t want to spend the night alone.
He jumped off the couch and walked across to the light switch. Standing up on his back legs, Rex’s pushed at the light switch and turned off the living room light. Rex peered into Richard’s dark bedroom. He hesitated and trotted into the rest of the apartment. A moment later he trotted back with a police issue blanket and curled up beside Richard’s bed.
Unable to sleep, Rex sat on the floor with his head resting on the bed, watching Richard sleep. Richard rolled over underneath his coverless quilt. His arm stretched out near Rex’s head.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” said Richard sleepily, his eyes still closed.
Rex whined apologetically and Richard scratched him between the ears. Rex laid down and went to sleep, comforted that he was not alone anymore.
* * * As the grey light of dusk crept up on Vienna, it brought with it a chill wind. Walking through the forest, Landovsky pulled his coat tighter around his neck. In the last couple of years, Landovsky had come to feel the cold more and more. Thankfully, his aim was still good.
Landovsky's sense of direction was also still as good as ever and he knew exactly where he was going. Set on a slope, in a grassy clearing overlooking the forest, was a bird hide. Wooden and creaky, it was nevertheless sturdy and Landovsky had spent years hunting birds from its camouflage. With a pair of binoculars around his neck and a rifle slung over his shoulder, Landovsky began to climb the four metre high ladder.
He was almost to the top when the door to the hide swung open. His face only a foot above the level of the hide floor, Landovsky stared in surprise at a pair of black gumboots. There was a person standing in the hide, staring at him and blocking his path. Landovsky slowly looked upwards, seeing first an expensive woman's red dress suit, leather gloves, dark hair, a leopard skin patterned head scarf and dark sunglasses.
Landovsky froze on the ladder, trying to remember why the set of the jaw was familiar to him. He had met this person before but something didn't seem quite right. If only he could see their eyes. Just as Landovsky managed to place who the person was, a black gumboot kicked out. The kick landed square on Landovsky's chest. Unprepared for the force of the kick, Landovsky's hand slipped off the ladder rungs. He flailed with his arms, trying to regain his balance. He tried to lean his legs into the ladder, to stay upright but gravity was against him. He fell backwards, arms swinging wildly, looking for some sort of handhold but they found nothing but air. He fell four metres to the ground, hitting hard and snapping his neck before rolling gently down the slope.
Up in the hide, Hermine Werner pulled off her sunglasses and looked down at the body. She shuffled awkwardly to the ladder and climbed down. Holding her back and wincing, she limped towards Landovsky. Leaning down, she moved the strap of his binoculars away from his face and closed his eyes. He would certainly never bother her again.
The sound of singing voices began to drift up the slope and Mrs Werner shuffled awkwardly into the bushes, branches catching at her wig. Unhooking herself, she slid out of sight just as a kindergarten class came marching up the slope.
* * * A little later that morning, Höllerer was the first one to arrive in the office. He was rifling through his paperwork when Richard arrived a few minutes later.
“Morning,” smiled Richard.
“I’ve found something,” said Höllerer, holding up a file.
“What?” asked Moser, taking the file from him and walking to his own desk.
Höllerer was about to answer but paused at the sight of Rex happily trailing along behind Richard. Rex paused and walked towards Höllerer. He rested his nose on the desk and regarded Höllerer curiously.
“What the...,” began Höllerer.
“A dog,” shrugged Richard. “It’s fairly obvious.”
Höllerer looked at his boss dubiously. When he looked back, Rex was still watching him.
Höllerer leant across the desk, making eye contact with Rex, “Name?”
Rex maintained eye contact with Höllerer but it was Richard who answered, “Reginald von Ravenhorst.”
Höllerer pursed his lips and leant towards Rex again, “Address?”
“8 Marokkannergasse,” supplied Richard.
Höllerer turned back to Richard, “He’s yours?”
“Yes, since yesterday,” said Richard dismissively but with a hint of a smile. “And yes, I’ve asked the boss. It’s okay.”
Höllerer looked back to find that Rex had curled up in front of Stocki’s desk. This day was becoming very unusual. He turned back to Richard.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. He swallowed,” shrugged Richard, trying not to look too pleased with himself. “If no one objects, its okay. Do you object?”
“No but...,” Höllerer motioned towards Stocki’s desk.
Richard had the decency to look slightly guilty but the effect was ruined by his broad smile. Richard opened the file Höllerer had given him.
“Accidental death of Harold Werner, 1979,” read Richard. “Is he... is he... is he our Mrs Werner’s husband?”
Höllerer nodded, “Yes. Get this. If she weren’t in a wheelchair, you’d say she killed him.”
Before Richard could reply, Stocki walked into the office. He carried a carton of drinks with him.
“Morning,” said Stocki tiredly. “No news on the Werners.”
As Stocki put the drinks in the fridge, he failed to notice Rex, who was hidden from view behind Stocki’s desk.
“Wimmer’s watching Mrs Werner,” continued Stocki, moving back towards his desk. “The car’s in the garage. The chauffeur is washing the car. Without them she can’t go out.”
Stocki turned the desk light on and went to sit in his chair. Rex grumbled at the sudden bright light. Stocki paused halfway into his chair.
Stocki looked at Richard, “Did you say something?”
“Me?” asked Richard innocently. “No. Why?”<
“Anyway,” continued Höllerer. “Mrs Werner became disabled two months before her husband died.”
Rex grumbled again and Stocki jumped.
“I don’t know... Can’t you hear it?” Stocki asked, frowning. “Someone’s growling.”
Richard and Höllerer exchanged amused looks.
“My stomach,” offered Höllerer.
Stocki looked sceptical but settled back in his chair.
“Stocki,” said Richard, not quite sure how to put it. “I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is that the dog... the one that went missing... is back.”
Stocki looked at Richard suspiciously, “What’s the bad news?”
“Well...,” began Richard.
Höllerer chuckled, enjoying the show. Sensing the tension, Rex jumped up and laid his front paws on Stocki’s desk. Stocki jumped back, staring in horror at the huge dog.
“He works for us now,” said Richard.
“No!” gasped Stocki. “No. No.”
Shaking, Stocki stumbled out of his chair and fled the office.
“Stocki, stay here!” called Richard. “He won’t hurt you.”
Stocki’s muffled voice could be heard through the door, “Richard, you know I’m not scared.”
He opened the door again to face a playful Rex who was wagging his tail enthusiastically. Rex trotted happily towards Stocki, who jumped backwards and slammed the door again. Rex titled his head to the side, puzzled and looked back at Richard. Richard and Höllerer were too busy laughing to speak.
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