“And the next morning, what happened?”
“I suppose it was a mistake on my part, for when I took him to task for what I considered his ridiculous conduct the previous evening, once again he flew into a rage and…well, we know the rest of what happened, don't we.”
Giving me that same unflinching look, she said, “Brahms alone is what sustains me. So now that I have finished saying what I have to say, now that I have furnished you with every excruciating detail, I suppose it is up to you to do whatever the law bids you to do, is it not?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I arrived back at my office at the Constabulary to find a report routinely filed by my staff at noon daily summarizing the crimes uncovered during the past twenty-four hours and the arrests made. I scrutinized the report, noting the usual tiresome offenses: petty thefts, drunken assaults, indecent exposures in public places. Nothing here that would excite a senior inspector. I was about to toss the report aside when, to my astonishment, one name leapt from the bottom line of the page: Walter Thüringer. Opposite Thüringens name appeared the offense with which he was charged: “Receiving stolen goods, to wit, one pair of diamond earrings, the property of one Countess Maria de Cecco of the City of Rome, Italy.” The arresting officer was Constable Fritz Hesse, a recent addition to my staff, who had not as yet been tested in anything serious, such as homicide or rape, but who possessed a bloodhound's sense of smell whenever someone's jewellery went missing. Bad luck, Thüringer, I thought. Then, in a sudden fit of compassion, I decided to pay him a visit. I pictured him cringing in horror in one of the tomb-like holding cells in the basement of the Constabulary, sharing his confinement with a half-dozen of Düsseldorf's most unappealing citizens.
Which is exactly how I found the poor devil.
“Preiss,” he cried out, “thank God you're here!”
“I'm known as Inspector Preiss in these quarters, Thüringer,” I said, not wanting his cellmates to think he and I were bosom friends, but feeling a bit mean-spirited at the same time. I motioned to a nearby guard to approach. “Release this man into my custody,” I said, “for questioning in the interrogation room.”
I waited for a moment or two while Thüringer composed himself in the small private room just down the corridor from the cells, then fixed him with the most disapproving look I was capable of.
“I know what you're thinking,” he said, “but I swear by everything I hold sacred-”
“Oh please, Thüringer,” I cut in, “save the ‘everything I hold sacred’ speech. You're going to need it later. I've read Constable Hesse's report. The diamond earrings he spotted in your shop perfectly fit the description of the ones stolen from the hotel suite occupied by that Countess and her husband, the couple from Rome. My God, man, have you no shame? Our fair city is desperate to maintain its reputation as a cultural mecca for tourists…the birthplace of Heinrich Heine, no less!..and here you and your myriad accomplices turn Düsseldorf into the kind of slum one would expect to find in…in-”
“In Rome?” Thüringer ventured, eager to assist me.
“This is not an occasion for humorous remarks, thank you very much.”
“I was only trying to be helpful,” he said. “I've always tried to be helpful, as you well know, Inspector,” he added, giving me a wise smile.
“Meaning what?”
Thüringer looked over his shoulder. We were the only people in the room, and the door was firmly closed. Nothing short of cannon fire could have been heard through the thick stone walls. Still, the old man wanted to assure himself that there were no eavesdroppers. He leaned forward over the small wooden table that separated us, his bony white jeweller's fingers resting flat on the tabletop. ‘You know, Inspector, how you've come to count on me to inform you of anything suspicious that comes to my attention-”
“Excluding anything suspicious that you yourself are involved in, of course,” I put in.
“Point taken,” Thüringer said. Undaunted, he went on. “I have some information that might be valuable to you, very valuable indeed, my friend.”
“Such as?”
“Well now, it depends.” Again he gave me that wise smile.
“Depends on what, Thüringer? I have only so much patience, and absolutely none when it comes to playing games with people in your current position.”
He sat back and crossed his arms across his chest, looking remarkably self-confident for a man who might well be facing a prison sentence (I was certain Hesse's report was infallible). “First, Inspector, we must make a-what shall I call it? — a bargain, yes, that's a good way to put it, a bargain. The earrings are returned to the woman from Rome, let us say they were waylaid through an innocent mistake or something of that sort, I apologize to the lady profusely and offer her some nice bauble for her trouble. The charge against me is withdrawn. And that's the end of the matter.”
“And what else do you do for your part, Thüringer?”
The man paused, peering at me over his pince-nez, no doubt wondering with good reason whether or not he could trust me.
I repeated, “What else do you do for your part? Understand something: it's not often that I take the trouble to visit an accused felon as I'm doing now. Consider this a privilege I'm extending to you, but time is quickly running out.” Again the man glanced needlessly over his shoulder, then leaned forward over the table as before. “Does the name Wilhelm Hupfer mean anything to you?”
I affected a blank expression. “Wilhelm Hupfer? What about him?”
“It has come to my attention-never mind how-that he's a piano tuner, of all things. How much do you think a piano tuner, even the most expert piano tuner, earns?”
“I couldn't begin to know.”
“A man like Hupfer is lucky if his income is enough to supply him with three meals a day and a roof over his head. Piano tuners, even the best of them, are perhaps a step or two above shoemakers. How does a man like Wilhelm Hupfer suddenly manage to become one of my steadiest customers? I'd never heard of the man until a couple of months ago, not so much as a syllable of gossip or anything about him. And suddenly he's making weekly visits to my shop. One day he's purchasing a diamond stickpin. I ask myself, would a fellow like him even own a cravat? Next, it's gold cufflinks engraved with his initials. Then a French eighteen-carat gold pocket watch with Swiss movement. A few days, perhaps a week later, he's back. This time it's a ring, again eighteen carats, the setting for a magnificent sapphire. And that's not all, my dear Inspector. Unlike many of my customers, even the wealthy ones who often pay by giving me a note, Hupfer pays in cash! Yes, nice crisp genuine German banknotes!”
“Does it occur to you that Hupfer may be lucky at cards? Or perhaps a rich uncle has died and left him a fortune? Some Germans…you'd be surprised at the number…have recently made piles of money on the stock markets, not only here but abroad. One must always give a man the benefit of the doubt in such matters, Thüringer.”
A half-smile appeared on the old jeweller's face. “I've known you too long, Preiss,” he said, “and not once have I ever known you to give a suspect the benefit of the doubt.”
“And who's to say this man Hupfer is a suspect?”
“Come, come, Inspector,” Thüringer said, “I'm an old scoundrel, and you cannot fool an old scoundrel. The man must be a thief, an embezzler, maybe a blackmailer. These nostrils of mine are never wrong. So, Preiss, do we have a deal? I cannot bear to stay another minute in that hell-hole down the hall. Get me out of here, and I will furnish you with enough solid evidence to back up all the suspicion I've just planted. Look at it this way: I'm just a little fish leading you straight to a possible shark.”