“The first I’ve heard of it.”

“What do you think she did? A maid?”

Rina tried out a winsome smile. “I’ve got a confession to make.”

Decker sneered. “Do tell.”

“I screwed up my courage and called my mother this morning after you left.”

“I knew this was going to happen! Did you get into a fight with her? Rina, the woman is in her eighties!”

“No, I did not fight with her. To my surprise, she was actually receptive to talking about her past. I was shocked.”

“Did you happen to tell her what you were doing?”

“Not exactly.”

“Here we go again.” Decker was used to his wife’s little white lies. “What yarn did you spin?”

“I told her Hannah was doing a family tree. I just needed to know what her mother and father did. I told her that I knew that Opah was a tailor. Then I said I assumed that Omah was a housewife. I asked if she had anything to add. …”

“And?”

“There was this pause. Then, in a voice bursting with pride, Mama told me that Omah was also a very fine seamstress. She used to make Mama and her sister beautiful party dresses. They were the best-dressed girls in the neighborhood, and the most beautiful girls as well.”

“Your mother’s words? I’ve never known her to brag.”

“Old age … I guess her inhibitions are lowered. Then she told me that Omah used to sew dresses for some of the richest people in Munich. Then … almost conspiratorial, as if my grandfather could hear from the grave, she said that Omah was a better seamstress than Opah was a tailor. Then”—Rina’s face took on a slight blush—“Then she said if Hannah needs more information, she’d be happy to talk with her.”

“Have you informed Hannah about your deception?”

“Hannah was happy to help me out. I think she likes playing detective. Truly her father’s daughter. So putting two and two together, it stands to reason that Omah worked for this woman Julia Schoennacht as a seamstress.”

“Where did Julia Schoennacht live?”

She pointed to her address. “Near Ludwig-Maximilian-University in Schwabing … not so far from the Englischer Garten. So maybe Omah was a random murder. Maybe she was walking through the park on her way home when someone grabbed her.”

“I don’t know where your grandmother lived. Would she have walked through the park to go home?”

“My grandmother lived around here.” Rina located the area on the map. “Near the Gartnerplatz off Reichenbachstrasse.”

“These names are going to kill me,” Decker said.

“You’ve got to add imaginary slash marks.”

“Your grandparents’ house was nowhere near the park,” Decker pointed out. “And to get to Julia Schoennacht’s house near … what’s this street … Ludwigstrasse or is it Leopoldstrasse … they look like they run into one another. … Anyway, there wouldn’t be any reason for your grandmother to walk through the Englischer Garten. It’s out of the way.”

“It’s not that much out of the way and it is more scenic. And look here”—Rina flipped through several pages—“Look at this, Peter. My grandmother was—quote unquote—relieved of her services about two weeks before she was murdered. Do you want to hear my theory?”