He opened his mouth. Then he nodded, slowly.
Ten minutes later, Weidenbusch had smoked three cigarettes while telling me how he had arrived at the villa, how he had snuck down into the basement, and how he had seen Manne Greiner raping Sri Dao. What followed was pure reflex-a knee between the prone man’s shoulders, a firm grip on his forehead, and a powerful tug to snap his neck.
His voice grew firmer as he spoke. He stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray and for the first time in our acquaintance seemed almost calm. “I wouldn’t have thought you could do that.”
He shrugged. “Me neither. So. Are you going to hand me over to the cops?”
“No.” I pocketed my cigarettes. “Just don’t start writing a poem about it when you’re back in shape.”
I was about to get up when Sri Dao grabbed my arm and pointed at the newspaper with a questioning expression. I tapped the tennis results with my finger. She looked perplexed. Then the doorbell rang. Weidenbusch stared at me. I ran to the window. A green and white van stood in the carriageway.
“Police. I’ll take care of them. But you better think of something to get her visa extended. Good luck.”
“But,” Weidenbusch cleared his throat, “I mean, won’t I see you again?”
Without turning, and casting a final glance at the painted breakfast trays, I replied: “That’s entirely up to you. As you know, it’s two hundred a day plus expenses.”
I opened the door. There were four of them: three in uniform and one in plain clothes. The plainclothes guy had a friendly face adorned by a mustache. We looked at each other with a degree of amazement.
“Goodness, Inspector, what are you doing here?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you.”
I pulled the door shut behind me. “This is my new apartment.”
Klaase craned his neck to read the nameplate. “Oh-but what about Mr. Weidenbusch?”
“I think he moved to Munich. Why?”
“Well, because …” He unfolded a sheet of paper. The uniformed guys were looking at me in a manner indicating that as far as they were concerned, it was a criminal offense for me to be walking on two legs.
“I have here a deportation order against a Mrs. Sri Dao Rakdee. And we’ve been informed that she resides here.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know her. You coming down with me?”
Descending the stairs we exchanged the usual HowAreYouThanksAllRightWeekendComingUpThankGod platitudes. But once we were on the sidewalk, Klaase took me aside, waving the uniformed guys back into the van.
“I hope you treated the information I gave you confidentially?”
“But of course.”
He didn’t look totally convinced. “This morning Hottges asked me if I had told anybody about Gellersheim.”
“Really? Speaking of Hottges-you said such a kind thing about him when we talked on the phone: something to the effect that he’d had a hard life. What were you referring to?”
“Oh, that.…” He cleared his throat, seemed reluctant. “I don’t have any details, exactly.”
“How about some inexact details?”
“Well … he was always so proud of his family, a happy marriage, three kids … but then it all turned bad. Because of infidelities.”
“He doesn’t look like a womanizer.”
“That’s just it.”
“… I see.”
We walked to the van. The uniformed guys watched us through the windows, talking to each other.
“You should change that name plate.”
“Yes, the super’s been at me about that for two days.” I patted his shoulder. “So, keep up the good work. Keep an eye out for things.”
He smiled hesitantly. “Thanks.”
I grinned. “Don’t mention it. Goodbye.”
“Bye.”
I turned and walked down the street. It still was a warm day with blue skies. I took off my jacket and slung it over my shoulder. My wallet now contained a check for twenty thousand marks and Weidenbusch’s thousand. My first purchase was an ice cream cone, and while the vendor scoured the neighborhood to get me my change, I stopped in the drug store next door and picked out a pair of sunglasses, whistling “Say a Little Prayer for You.” It was easy to whistle with that kind of money in my pocket. I wouldn’t be doing it for very long.
I unlocked the door to my office, tossed the mail and newspapers into the clients’ chair, and opened the windows, letting in a blend of odors: vanilla and frying fat. The Chicken Inn across the street had put its soft-ice machine out on the sidewalk. I went to the sink, rinsed a glass, took the bottle of Chivas out of the desk drawer and helped myself to a generous drink. Then I stood by the window, sipping Scotch and letting the sun shine on my face. I had finished the job, and the next couple of weeks, I thought, I could do as I pleased. Sleep, play billiards, sit in cafes, perhaps even take a drive out into the countryside. Eat some good food, smoke good cigarettes at eight marks a pack. And I would ask Gina if she knew the name of that book about the old guy in the sewers of Paris. Maybe, at long last, I’d even hop on a plane headed south. For a week or two, if not longer.
I finished my drink and was about to check the mail when the phone rang.
“Mr. Kayankaya?”
“Yes?”
“Olschewski here. Mr. Schmitz would like to talk to you.” The line crackled. I hurried to refill my glass and pulled a cigarette from the pack. Then Schmitz’s distinguished voice came on the line. “Good afternoon, Mr. Kayankaya. I’ve been reading the papers, and I gather that several dozen refugees were found in a bunker in Gellersheim, where they had been taken from some otherwise unspecified villa. I assume that you were the source of that information?”
“Let’s just say that I made sure the newspapers were able to talk to those refugees.”
“So you forgot what I explained to you?”
“You mean that thing about the difference.…” I lit my cigarette, took a deep drag, blew the smoke out. “It really isn’t that great. You’re doing your job as best you can, and I’m doing mine to the best of my ability. Beyond that, it’s just a question of how many gilded objects one wants in one’s house, and whether one really needs a flunkey at the door. I have no objections to that, but I like to open and close my own doors. If you think you need to get rid of me, you’ll have to hire killers to do it. But if I blow the whistle on you, I’ll do it in person-either because I want to, or because I’m forced to do it. So, let’s see who gets more ambitious.”
“You’re threatening me?”
“I’m just letting you know what I think of your little lecture the other night. I’m doing my job, and if you attack me because of that, I’ll defend myself. I may just kick you in the shins, but, who knows, I might even land one on your head.”
He cleared his throat, then asked, with a pretense of mild amusement: “Seems almost as if you’d been waiting for me to call.”
“I’ve been counting on it.”
“Well, I really should be mad at you, but I think you’re quite a guy. After our conversation I didn’t think you’d pursue that affair. To tell the truth, I didn’t get my information only from the newspapers. Mr. Koberle told me everything.”
I felt a lump in my throat. “Everything?”
“How you took the money back from the gang. Very brave, one against three. Which brings us to the main reason for my call. I would like to hire you.”
Was the whisky that strong this afternoon, or was I dreaming?
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. It concerns my nephew Axel. You met him. I admit that he’s a disaster in every respect, but for the last twenty years, he has always showed up on time for our little talks. Until this morning. Mr. Koberle tells me that after your show at the garage last night, he drove Axel home. But he isn’t there. I’ve spent the morning making calls, but I haven’t been able to reach him. Frankly, I’m worried about what may have happened to him. There are these Yugoslavs who are trying to muscle in on my business-I’ll tell you the details when you come over. In any case, I want you to find my nephew. And I suppose that the check I gave you-which did not fulfill its original purpose-would do as a retainer.”