‘I don’t know… I can’t…’
‘If you give me ten pfennigs for the telephone booth, I’ll do it. I’ll call the cops and tell them who Benny is. So that he at least gets a proper grave with his name on it.’
Alex felt tears welling in her eyes and had to pull herself together to continue. ‘I don’t even know his surname,’ she said.
Vicky comforted her. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll find out. I think he and Kotze were in the same home.’
17
It was impressive, the desk in the corridor, more imposing even than that of Police Commissioner Grzesinski. A real whopper. Rath had noticed it yesterday by the lifts on his way to Goldstein’s room. He spread his things across its spacious, intarsia-decorated top. Alongside his cigarette case – this time he had come prepared with a dozen Overstolz – lay two well-thumbed newspapers, a cup of coffee, a glass of water and a half-full ashtray.
After yesterday, he had changed tactics. Weiss, to whom he had reported that morning, wasn’t prepared to assign more men, despite what had happened. Thus, a new plan was required.
If it no longer mattered whether they were seen or not, there was no reason why they couldn’t station themselves outside their target’s door, and the desk made a perfect observation post. The service might not be quite as good as in the lobby – the ashtrays weren’t emptied every three minutes – but Rath had managed to order a coffee along with copies of Tageblatt and the Vossische Zeitung, and he felt perfectly content. Especially since he could take turns with Gräf, and no longer had to spend the whole day in the same place.
The lift door opened with a soft pling. An elegant lady, who had linked arms with a smallish man, glanced at his desk curiously as she passed. Rath gazed after her; any distraction was welcome, especially one with such a nice rear end. The sound of someone clearing his throat made him spin around. Next to him stood the hotel detective, who must also have emerged from the lift.
‘Good morning,’ Rath said, and stood up.
Grunert gave a sour smile and shook his hand. ‘Our conversation yesterday was interrupted,’ he said. ‘I looked for you in the lobby, but your colleagues said you were up here.’
Rath nodded. ‘It’s the best view of room 301.’
‘If not exactly inconspicuous.’
‘It isn’t about being inconspicuous, it’s about being effective.’
Grunert smiled his pickled smile. ‘I would be most grateful if you finally explained why you are here.’
‘You’re aware that any information I do give must remain between us, and is subject to the utmost discretion?’
Grunert nodded.
‘Good. The matter is quite simple: Abraham Goldstein, your esteemed guest, is strongly suspected of being a member of an American criminal cartel, and for this reason has been placed under surveillance by the Prussian Police. We don’t want Berlin turning into Chicago, do we?’
Rath had hoped to lighten the mood a little with his final remark, but Grunert continued to look as though he had a bad stomach ulcer. Perhaps he did, too.
‘And what is this… strong suspicion based on?’
‘You’ll understand that I can’t tell you that. It’s confidential CID material.’
‘I just hope your suspicions aren’t based purely on the fact that Mister Goldstein is of Mosaic faith.’
‘Rest assured,’ Rath said. ‘The order to place Mister Goldstein under surveillance comes from Deputy Commissioner Weiss himself.’
Grunert gave a satisfied nod. Accusing Bernhard Weiss of anti-Semitism would be laughable.
They took such things seriously in the Excelsior. The hotel was thought to have once ejected Adolf Hitler out of consideration for its Jewish guests who, it was said, could not be expected to share the same roof as such a crude anti-Semite.
‘Inspector, we have no objection to your monitoring Mister Goldstein, although I doubt your suspicions are warranted. Nevertheless, while I fully understand the need for this operation, I must also ask for your discretion…’
‘Of course.’
‘…and viewed in such light, your surveillance post is a little too conspicuous. At least for the remainder of our paying guests, who must be asking themselves why you need to spend the entire day seated at this desk.’
‘We’ll have to give them a story then. I certainly don’t intend on leaving my post for the sake of a few guests.’
‘A story,’ said Grunert. ‘Exactly what I was going to suggest. I’ll have a few books brought to you from the library, along with a pen and paper. You’ll be an author staying at our hotel, drawing inspiration from his surroundings…’
‘An author?’ Rath looked sceptical. ‘Who’s going to believe that?’
‘I’ll put the rumour about in the lobby, and soon the whole hotel will know. Old Teubner can be relied on there.’
‘I don’t know the first thing about writing. I hunt criminals!’
‘Then you’re a crime writer. That fits. And your new novel is set in our hotel.’
When Reinhold Gräf exited the lift half an hour later, accompanied by a black dog wagging its tail, he was a little taken aback by the pile of books and notepad.
‘Are you keeping a record of everyone who emerges from the lift, or just copying the wallpaper pattern?’
‘Don’t you see? I’m a famous author, setting down his latest work. Incognito, naturally.’
Gräf glanced over Rath’s shoulder. ‘Looks more like wall-paper to me.’
The only things on the page were stick men and abstract patterns.
‘I’m seeking inspiration,’ said Rath. ‘How did it go outside?’
‘Kirie was a good girl and did a wee-wee, if that’s what you mean. And Goldstein hasn’t tried to climb down the façade, though I did see him at the window, I think. I’m not sure he recognised me though. What about you? Has our friend put in an appearance?’
Rath shook his head. ‘So far just the hotel detective. This was his brainwave. But Goldstein must be awake; he let in the chambermaid.’
‘Has he had breakfast?’
‘He’s had the chambermaid. Nothing’s been brought to his room otherwise.’
As if on cue, the door to room 301 opened and the chambermaid emerged, throwing the two officers a brief glance and vanishing into the corridor. No sooner had she disappeared than the lift doors parted and the room service waiter rolled out a trolley, which he then wheeled into room 301.
‘Maybe he really did have the chambermaid for breakfast,’ Gräf whispered.
Rath shrugged. ‘He’s certainly enjoying himself.’ He looked at Gräf. ‘You shouldn’t stand here the whole time. People will think you’re my secretary. Leave the dog here and go and stretch your legs. Keep the hotel front in view. The last thing we need is for Goldstein to start climbing hand-over-hand across the balconies.’
Gräf nodded. ‘When should I relieve you?’
‘Let’s say at one. I’ll need to go walkies with Kirie then anyway.’
The detective had been gone perhaps quarter of an hour when Abraham Goldstein appeared in the doorframe of room 301 and carefully locked up. He hesitated when he saw Rath sitting at the desk, then burst out laughing.
‘Good morning, Detective, have you transferred offices?’
‘To be close to you,’ Rath said, snapping shut his notepad of doodles. ‘Sleep well?’
‘Very well, thank you.’ Goldstein pressed the button for the lift. ‘Looks like it’s going to be a nice day. Shall we then? I say we, since I assume you’ll be joining me.’