‘Morning, Lange. What a lot of people!’
‘Witnesses. Detective Gräf rounded them up.’
‘And all of them saw something?’
‘We don’t know yet. These workers were on early shift at the probable time of death. Or late shift.’
‘All of them?’ If Gräf really meant to question each one, they’d be here all day. ‘Let’s just be grateful this didn’t happen last night during the rush. Then there’d be another thousand people on the stairs.’ Rath thought of Charly in Carmerstrasse, and his mood darkened further. ‘Any findings?’
‘Depends how you look at it. We have a dead man, and an unusual cause of death. Otherwise no idea what happened to the poor fellow.’
‘Do you really think it’s possible that he drowned?’
‘If that’s what the doctor says.’
‘Has he been identified?’
Lange took a document from his pocket. ‘Forensics found this in his overalls.’
Herbert Lamkau, Rath read. A driver’s licence, issued in October 1919 by the Oletzko district authority. The man’s eyes flashed, piercing the photographer with his gaze, a look he must have copied from Kaiser Wilhelm.
‘Lamkau. That’s what it says on the delivery van too, isn’t it?’
Lange nodded. ‘Must be the manager.’
‘Strange that he should be making the delivery himself…’
‘Depends on the size of the company. Perhaps he’s the only employee.’
‘A small-time firm supplying a huge enterprise like Haus Vaterland? I don’t think so. Try to find out how big it is, and whether Lamkau always made the deliveries himself.’
‘Right you are.’
‘And tell the ED men to check the lift was working properly. Just to be on the safe side.’
‘We’ve already spoken to the in-house engineer. As well as the chef, who literally stumbled on the corpse. He called the lift up to the fourth floor and almost fell into the car when he opened the door. At the last moment he saw that it was too low in the shaft, and managed to hold on. That’s when he saw the corpse.’
‘And raised the alarm.’
‘Yes. He informed the guard, who alerted us. The engineer says there’s nothing wrong with the lift.’
‘It doesn’t look that way to me.’
Lange shrugged. ‘He’s assuming someone activated the emergency switch between the two floors. Sometimes when that happens the lift’s no longer properly aligned, and doesn’t stop on floor level.’
‘Hmm…’ A blurred image flickered in Rath’s mind. ‘That would mean Lamkau activated the switch himself, before he died, wouldn’t it?’
‘We’ll see. ED have taken fingerprints.’
Rath gestured towards the office door. ‘Who is Gräf interviewing?’
‘The security guard. He was next on the scene, after the chef.’
‘Fine. I’m going in.’
Rath knocked and stepped inside. The office was surprisingly small and dark in comparison with the brightness of the central hall, the only source of light a desk lamp with a green shade. Numerous photos of artists hung on the wall behind the executive desk where the detective sat: musicians, illusionists, singers, female dancers. Christel Temme sat with her pad at a small visitor’s table, registering the inspector’s appearance as stoically as she did everything else. The stenographer was famously unflappable, even during the interrogation of the most callous murderer. She simply noted everything that was said, no matter how appalling or how trivial.
The man sitting on the chair between the two desks was no callous murderer, however, but a gaunt man in his early forties, dressed in the uniform of the Berlin Security Corps, kneading his cap in his hands. Reinhold Gräf rose from his chair.
‘Inspector,’ he said. It was part greeting, part explanation. The guard started to get up, but Rath waved him away.
‘Herr Janke works as a security guard here,’ Gräf added superfluously.
Rath sat on the edge of the desk and lit a cigarette. Gräf remained standing. Together they gazed down on the man’s eyes flitting between them.
‘So…’ the guard began, and immediately the stenographer’s pencil could be heard scratching across the page, ‘where were we…’
‘You were about to tell me how you knew the man in the lift was dead, Herr Janke,’ Gräf prompted, sitting down when he realised Rath wasn’t interested in taking over.
‘Right.’ Janke nodded. ‘So, I went down into the car…’
‘Did you have to open the door?’ Gräf asked.
‘Pardon me?’
‘The elevator door.’
‘No, Unger had already opened it.’
‘The chef who discovered the corpse.’
‘Right.’ The guard squinted from one officer to the next as if sensing a trap. ‘So, I went down into the car. The way he was lying there all glassy-eyed… I thought straightaway the man’s dead. But first I felt his carotid pulse.’
‘Why the carotid?’ Gräf asked.
‘That’s… what we learned… during training. Security Corps.’
Gräf made a note. Rath caught himself looking at his watch. It was all getting too much for him: the guard’s long-windedness, Gräf’s pedantry, the excruciatingly slow pace of the interrogation.
‘What did you do then?’
The guard stole a glance at Rath. ‘First I climbed out of the car, and then…’
‘Thank you, Herr Janke, but we don’t need to know every last detail.’ Rath slid from the desk. ‘I’d like to pause the interrogation for a moment. Would you be so kind as to wait outside?’
‘Of course.’
Gräf waited until he had left the room. ‘Can you tell me what the hell you think you’re doing?’
‘No need to take down our conversation, Fräulein Temme. If you could wait outside too. Take a little break.’
‘I don’t need a break, Inspector.’
‘We’ll call you back in when you’re needed,’ Rath said, gazing sternly. The stenographer gathered her things and took her leave.
‘Damn it, Gereon! First I spend hours trying to reach you, then when you do finally turn up, you have nothing better to do than terminate an interrogation just as it’s getting started.’
‘Take it easy. I haven’t terminated the interrogation, only interrupted it. You can carry on in a moment; our guard here seems very co-operative.’
‘What did you want to talk about?’
‘First: the people outside – do you mean to question them all here? In person?’
‘I wanted to make a start. Now that you’re here, you can decide.’
‘In that case, continue questioning the guard but, first, tell the cops outside to take down the personal particulars of every employee waiting in the hall.’
‘What do you think we’ve been doing all this time?’
‘If someone saw something, then question them here. If not, these people should kindly proceed to headquarters. In the meantime Lange can supervise Forensics, and we’ll take care of everything else next week in the office.’
‘Who’ll inform the next of kin?’
‘Lange can look after that. He has to learn sometime if he’s to be an inspector.’
‘You’re right.’ Gräf nodded. ‘But that still leaves one question…’
‘Which is?’
‘What’s your role in all of this?’
‘That’s why I’m telling you now.’ Rath didn’t attempt to appear contrite. No one would believe him anyway. ‘I have to go. I’d be grateful if you could run things in the meantime.’
‘Gereon, you know I’ve never led an investigation.’
‘Just do what I told you, then call it a day.’ Gräf didn’t look exactly thrilled. ‘Come on. I’ll make it up to you.’
‘You’ve got some nerve.’