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She broke from him, and gave him a strange look. He could feel her mistrust.

"It's true, Ruda, you have done nothing wrong! You have to believe that!"

She reached the door leading to the small hallway. "I had better rest before tonight."

"You sure you will be all right?"

She nodded. "I do care for you, Luis, you know that. I think I always have. Maybe, in my own way, I..."

She couldn't say the word.

"Ruda, maybe it's taken me a long time to realize just how much I need you, that I'm nothing without you... but I understand that you need me too, Ruda, and it makes me feel good."

"Don't tell anyone what I have told you."

"As if I would... but, remember, you have nothing to be ashamed of."

She gave him that look, her eyes slightly downcast. "I didn't tell you all of it, some things you can never tell anybody. You know why? Because nobody could really believe it ever happened."

"May I ask you something? Did you know Kellerman at the camp? Was he at the same place?"

"Yes, Kellerman was also at Birkenau. I didn't know him there... he had it bad, they made him fuck dogs for their entertainment — and you thought it was funny to make jokes about the size of his dick, didn't you? See, look at you, you don't really believe it, do you? Kellerman the clown, haw haw... they degraded him, defiled him, and treated him like an animal, haw haw. Kellerman was not a clown, not in his heart."

"You did see him, here in Berlin. Didn't you?"

She looked at him straight in the eyes, without a flicker of hesitancy to indicate she was lying. "No. I suppose he came to try and squeeze money out of me, but I didn't see him. Look, I'd better go and rest, then I'll check on the animals."

She closed the door of her bedroom. Grimaldi put her half-finished mug of hot chocolate in the sink, then strode across the trailer and rapped on her door. She pulled it open. "What?"

"That little prick of an inspector was here, he wanted to know about the night Kellerman died, something about a pair of boots, the ones he'd seen outside."

She shrugged, gestured to her closet. "He can take whichever ones he likes. Is that all you wanted to say to me? I got a lot to do..."

"I'll go and check the props — and Ruda, if you still have Kellerman's hat, get rid of it. They asked about that, a leather trilby... Mike borrowed it, he said that you had said it was mine. Get rid of it, Ruda." Grimaldi slammed out of the trailer.

Ruda kicked her door shut. "Damn!.. Damn!"

She paced up and down. She had gotten rid of everything, she was safe, they couldn't link her to Kellerman's murder. Then she realized maybe the police had not made the connection, but Grimaldi had. She stood with her hands clenched at her sides. "Damn!" She calmed down, ordered herself to remain calm.

Torsen hovered around the bus station, checking his watch. He had to get back to his apartment, bathe and change, and collect Freda; he wouldn't make it if the bus didn't come soon. There was a sound of a car backfiring, and Torsen looked out. He hurried toward the driver as he slammed the door shut. "Eh, you'd better be careful, slam it too hard and the engine'll fall out."

Torsen smiled. "Could I have just a word?"

The driver nodded, but said he would have to make it quick since he was late. Torsen produced the leaflet. "Can you look at this, it's not a proper photograph, but it's a good likeness of the person we think may have been the passenger on your bus the night the dwarf was murdered. Remember we spoke about it?"

Again the driver nodded. "You know it's been a while now. I dunno if I can remember her, let me see..." He squinted at the picture.

"I'm sure I've seen this before..."

"But is it of the woman on your bus that night?"

"I have definitely seen this woman's face before, but whether it was her or not, I couldn't honestly say. I just took her fare, I didn't have a conversation with her. It could be, but I couldn't say it was."

Torsen slipped the picture back into his wallet. "Thanks for your time. Have a good night!"

He returned to his car, was unlocking it as the bus drove past. On the side of the bus out of Torsen's sight was a large poster — Ruda Kellerman's face about a foot high was posted up on the wall of the bus terminal.

Torsen threw up his hands. So much for a valued eyewitness. He drove back to his apartment. On the way he called in for messages by radio, and stated that he would be using the patrol car that evening. Rieckert radioed back to Torsen asking if he could pick him up. There was just his girlfriend and himself. Torsen snapped that he thought he was giving the tickets to his wife and kid. Rieckert laughed. "Na, they hate the circus... see you about seven, over and out!"

Mama Magda's was empty when Vebekka walked in. She called out and, receiving no reply, descended the dark unlit staircase. She passed through the arch with the beaded curtains, called out again, and walked toward the office. Eric opened the door.

"I came to see Magda."

Eric squinted in the darkness, unable to see her face clearly.

"I want to talk to her."

"That would be very difficult. Who are you?"

Vebekka introduced herself, and Eric opened the door wider.

"Please, it is very important I speak to her."

Eric gestured for her to come in. "You're twenty-four hours too late. She died last night."

Vebekka leaned on the doorframe. "Oh no... no please, no!"

Eric offered her a chair, but she refused.

"Can I be of help? I've taken over the club... sit, please sit."

"She called me Ruda..."

Eric saw how distressed Vebekka was. "Look, I'm sorry I can't help you."

Eric watched her leave, then remembered the purse. If she was who she said she was maybe she could cause trouble. He opened the drawer, picked up her purse and ran after her.

"You left this last night, your purse... no money, there was no money in it, okay?"

She stared at the bag, disinterested. Eric thrust it toward her.

"It's yours, eh, are you okay?"

She took the purse. She seemed close to tears. "It was perhaps just a coincidence, you see... Ruda, Ruda was my sister. The big woman called me Ruda."

"I can ask around for you, what's her last name?"

"I don't know."

Eric backed away; she was a nut. "Well I can't help you then, good-bye. Any time you're passing, drop in..."

He made his way back, and heard a screech of tires. She had walked out into the street and a car had narrowly missed her, but she kept on walking, not even turning to the shocked driver.

Helen turned to see the baron, who was out of breath, having run up from the reception. "She came to the hotel, went up to the suite, and then took a taxi. The driver has just come back. He said Vebekka went to 'Mama Magda's' and he's waiting to take us there now."

When they reached the club, Eric explained that the baroness had been there; he swore he had returned the handbag she left there the previous evening.

"We are not interested in that, all we want to know is where she went."

Eric explained she had come asking about her sister, someone called Ruda, and the next minute she had almost got herself killed walking across the street, straight into the traffic.

Eric followed them out to the sidewalk, and watched them as they, too, ran across the street amid blaring horns. He shook his head. Crazy foreigners, all crazy.

Vebekka walked on, bumping into passersby. She turned into a churchyard, unaware of where she was going. Fragmented pictures kept cropping up in her mind. She walked into the church and sat in a row at the back. Rosa used to take her to church on Sundays, but her adopted father never accompanied them. Vebekka closed her eyes, remembering. She used to call Rosa "the woman" — she didn't know the name of the woman who worked at the hospital where they had taken her after the camp was liberated.