While listening to him I had helped myself to a big gulp of Scotch and made myself comfortable behind the desk.
“Sorry, but I can’t take that on.”
“Why not?”
“I’m in training for a billiards tournament.”
“You’re joking.”
“No, I’m not.”
I looked out the window. A vapor trail stretched across the sky, heading south. Then Schmitz asked, pretending to be casual about it: “Have you cashed that check?”
I knew what he had in mind, and I knew that I could keep the twenty thousand if I said “Yes.” I didn’t really know why I said “No.”
“Well … Come to think of it, there’s no dead body in Gellersheim, and there’s no way you could take that refugee story to the cops … ”
He paused, just in case he was wrong and I would tell him so. But he wasn’t wrong, and he went on to say: “So I guess I’ll stop payment on it.”
“Do that. You’ll have more money that way.”
He laughed. “Right you are. Goodbye.” He hung up. I stared into space for a while. Then I took half of Weidenbusch’s money, stuck it into an envelope with a note that said “Kayankaya’s rent” and wrote Kunze’s address on the envelope. After which I started cleaning up the office. I vacuumed and swept, washed dishes, took the garbage downstairs.
With a replenished glass of Scotch I sat down at my clean desk and opened my mail. A subpoena to be a witness at a trial-the case was two months old; an advertising circular from a weapons firm; a “League for a Future Palestine” wanted to know if they could hire me as a bodyguard.… I began to read sentences three or four times without comprehension. Finally I put the rest of the unopened mail aside and leaned back in my chair. This was no day for routine, no matter how hard I’d try. Tomorrow would be such a day, and so would the day after tomorrow, and the days to come, but today even the sight of my name on those envelopes was too much. I took Schmitz’s check out of my wallet and leaned it against the base of my desk lamp. It looked good there. Then I finished my drink and got up.
A little after two o’clock I left the brown office building and headed downtown. At the first refreshment stand I purchased some cigarettes for eight marks a pack. In six hours I would have my date with Elsa Sandmann, and it looked like the weather would stay warm and nice until then. I would find a quiet cafe with an outdoor terrace, maybe even one with a small billiard table in the back. I could practice a few masse shots. The tournament was in three weeks, and since Slibulsky was only half a player now, I had to get twice as good.
I paid, put on my new shades, and walked down the street. The high-rise buildings gleamed above the American barracks, and the air smelled of tar and burnt rubber.