“Am I correct in thinking that you’re staying at the Erzherzog Rainer, Herr Doktor?”

“Yes. Suite three twenty-five.”

“A wise choice, if you don’t mind my saying so. The manager, Herr Bentheim, is a friend of mine. You must keep us both informed if there’s anything we can do to make your stay in Vienna more agreeable.”

“Thank you.”

“The funeral service will be held at eleven o’clock tomorrow, at Karlskirche. It’s just a few blocks northeast of your hotel. At the opposite end of Gusshausstrasse. And the interment immediately afterward in the family vault at the Central Cemetery. That’s in the French sector.”

“I know where the Central Cemetery is, Dr. Bekemeier,” I said. “And while I remember, thank you for making all the arrangements. As you know, Mother and I didn’t exactly get on.”

“It was my honor and privilege to do so,” he said. “I was your mother’s lawyer for twenty years.”

“I imagine she had alienated everyone else,” I said, coolly.

“She was an old woman,” he said, as if this was all the explanation that was required for what had happened between Eric Gruen and his mother. “Even so, her death was still somewhat unexpected. I had thought she would be alive for several years yet.”

“So she didn’t suffer at all,” I said.

“Not at all. Indeed, I saw her the day before she died. At the Vienna General Hospital, on Garnisongasse. She seemed fit enough. Bedridden, but quite cheerful, really. Most curious.”

“What is?”

“The way death comes, sometimes. When we are not expecting it. Will you be attending, Dr. Gruen? The funeral?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Really?” He sounded a little surprised.

“Let bygones be bygones, that’s what I say.”

“Yes, well, that’s an admirable sentiment,” he said, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

I took out a pipe and began to fill it. I had started smoking the pipe in an effort to look and feel more like Eric Gruen. I didn’t much like pipes, or all the paraphernalia that went with them, but I couldn’t think of a better way of convincing myself I was Eric Gruen, short of buying a wheelchair. “Is there anyone else coming to the funeral I might know?” I asked, innocently

“There are one or two old servants coming,” he said. “I’m not sure if you would know them or not. There will be others, of course. The Gruen family name still resonates here in Vienna. As might be expected. I assume you won’t wish to lead the mourners yourself, Herr Dr. Gruen.”

“No, that would be too much,” I said. “I shall remain very much in the background throughout the proceedings.”