‘You seduced me, you cad,’ she said, taking a drag on the cigarette.
‘I thought it was you who seduced me.’
‘Then we’re equally culpable.’
‘Agreed, Your Honour. Now, how about that response?’
She took another drag and passed him the Overstolz. ‘Not now,’ she said. ‘And not here.’
‘I know a nice restaurant in Friedrichstadt.’ He could have eaten a horse.
‘Gereon,’ she said. ‘Not now.’
‘Then when?’
‘Soon. Right now I don’t have the time.’
He looked at his watch. ‘At nine, then? Ten?’
‘You’re incorrigible!’ She gazed out of the window, as if her appointments diary was hovering in the sky above the court building. ‘Ten’s too late, but nine should be fine.’ She smiled.
‘Splendid, then let’s go to Femina. Make sure you put on your dance dress.’
‘Then I really do have to go.’ She grabbed the cigarette for a final drag. ‘I’m late enough as it is.’ She kissed him, giving him an angry look. ‘You and your delayed gratification.’
With that she turned the key. No sooner had she opened the door than Kirie came bounding in. ‘You two ought to wait a while,’ she said. ‘Late as it is, I don’t want to risk being seen together at the Castle.’
‘Well, don’t be upset if Kirie takes it personally.’
She shrugged and left. He gazed after her pensively, and only when he saw that Kirie wore a similar expression did he break into a grin. Half an hour later, after taking Kirie for a short walk in Tiergarten, he was back in Carmerstrasse, albeit much earlier than planned. He felt almost indecently cheerful as he marched up the steps with Kirie in tow.
‘Evening, Bergner,’ he said in passing.
‘Evening, Herr Rath.’
He relished the porter’s greeting, which sounded a little like Evening, Herr Kriminalrat. Evening, Superintendent. For the first time in a long time he caught himself thinking about rank and promotion as he took the lift up. Superintendent might be a distant dream, but by now detective chief inspector was surely overdue. It felt like forever since he had been in breach of his duties – at least, it would feel like forever to his superiors. His status as husband and, hopefully, family man, could significantly increase his chances of promotion. Assuming Charly said ‘yes’, it wouldn’t hurt to make their engagement public in the Castle as soon as possible. Perhaps they might even persuade Gennat to act as witness…
Arriving upstairs, he slung his hat on the hook and let Kirie off the lead. He went into the living room, opened a window, lit a cigarette and gazed out. The fresh summer breeze and evening atmosphere only improved his mood further. For once he felt at peace with the world.
The telephone rang. Was it Charly already? He still had to get changed.
‘Apparatebau Rath, Rath am Apparat,’ he answered, rolling his ‘r’s’ and stressing his ‘t’s’.
‘Are you ever going to grow up?’
‘Paul?’
Paul Wittkamp was Rath’s oldest friend, the only one left from his Cologne days. When he’d moved to Berlin, nearly all his supposed friends had turned their backs on him. In truth it had started even before that, when the Cologne press were hounding him and his colleagues began avoiding him in the canteen; when his fiancée, a good match from an equally good Cologne house, broke off their engagement. Only Paul had stayed loyal. Since then Rath had met a great many people in Berlin, but Paul remained his one, true friend, even if they only saw each other once in a blue moon.
‘Fräulein Heller left a note saying a Herr Rath from Berlin had been in touch.’
‘I need your advice.’
‘There was me thinking you needed a best man. She’s back now, isn’t she?’
Paul had already made Charly’s acquaintance. In fact, it was he who’d urged Rath to marry her, over two years ago. Since then the prospect of their marriage came up at every turn.
‘We Prussians are slow on the draw.’
‘Funny, I’d never realised. How long is it now?’
‘You know very well.’ Rath was pleased Paul couldn’t see his grin. ‘Things might be moving quicker on that front than you think, but right now what I need is your professional advice.’
‘Do you want me to recommend a wine? I’m afraid Wittkamp don’t supply bachelors with burgeoning drink problems.’
‘But you do supply Kempinski?’
‘For two years now. I remember my Berlin visit very well. Cost me a grazing shot and a few bruises. Managed to get you out of trouble and land my contract with Kempinski on the side.’
‘Just how important is that contract with Kempinski?’
‘Very. Not only in terms of revenue, but reputation. Once upon a time you could be a purveyor to the court, to the Kaiser or King. Now you can supply Kempinski. The name means something, not just in Berlin.’
‘Is it hard to get in there?’
‘Let’s just say, other clients are easier. For Kempinski quality is the most important thing, and then the price.’
‘Can Kempinski buyers be bought?’
‘Pardon me?’
‘Can you jog their goodwill? I don’t know, with gifts for example.’
‘I don’t know how you think these things work, but I’ve never done anything of the sort.’
‘I’m not saying you have. I’m just asking if it’s a possibility.’
‘Fundamentally, anyone can be bought. But if the quality isn’t right, no Kempinski buyer would be interested. The supplier would be out on their ear right away.’
‘Supposing the quality wasn’t up to scratch just once, and you were in danger of being out on your ear, might a gift help then? Provided you swore blind it would never happen again?’
‘Gereon, listen, I don’t know if I can help. I don’t know what desperate people do. I can’t predict how Kempinski buyers might react.’
‘But it could drive you to despair, losing your Kempinski contract…’
‘It could certainly ruin your good reputation. Provided, of course, you had one in the first place.’
13
The Femina-Bar was at the top of Nürnberger Strasse, right by Tauentzienstrasse, in a large, modern premises with an apparently endless, elegantly curved façade. Nowhere was Berlin more fashionable than here. A man in a red-gold uniform opened the taxi door and helped Charly out, while Rath pressed a note into the driver’s hand. Already he knew the evening wouldn’t be cheap. A few hundred metres further towards Wilmersdorf was where he had lodged with the widow Behnke, three years before. Back then the Femina had still been a construction site.
Charly stood next to the taxi and smiled, looking stunning in her midnight-blue dress and light summer coat. Rath was glad he’d purchased a new dinner suit. He offered his arm, and she took it in hers, and how amazingly proud he felt to be strolling with her through the night, following the gold-braided porter as he led them to the entrance, a row of modern glass doors, a wide, inviting strip of warm, bright-coloured light, above which the rest of the façade was lost in darkness, broken only by ribbons of neon: Femina, das Ballhaus Berlins. Berlin’s ballroom.
It was the hottest ticket in town, but he wanted to show her that she was worth it, that she meant more to him than money could buy. In the taxi they had barely exchanged a word. Rath had the feeling that Charly was at least as nervous as he was, although he didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad.
The porter opened one of the glass doors. Unseen by Charly, Rath thrust five marks into his hand, upon which the man entrusted them to a colleague in the lobby, who in turn led them to the cloakroom, where he was likewise rewarded with five marks. All the while Rath took pains to ensure that Charly saw no money exchanging hands. After relieving them of their coats, the man accompanied them to a large lift. As they stepped into the car Rath couldn’t help thinking of Herbert Lamkau’s dead eyes.