He didn’t park in Spenerstrasse, but on the corner of Melanchtonstrasse, where two roadside trees meant he could keep an eye on her entrance without being seen from the window. By now, certainty had evaporated. Reading her letter for at least the twentieth time offered no clues. Did she actually want to see him? Should he really just go upstairs and ring her doorbell? Perhaps she’d gone for a rest. She’d mentioned how badly she had slept on the train. In which case it would be Greta who came to the door, and that he could do without. He thought back to the year Charly’s housemate had spent abroad, when they’d had the flat to themselves. It was almost like being married…
You’d have been better off staying put, he thought, perhaps she’s trying to call you right now. Then he remembered she didn’t have his new number. Perhaps, thinking him at work, she’d tried the office, unaware of the extent to which he had neglected his duties on her behalf.
While he was thinking, a young man crossed Spenerstrasse, heading for Charly’s front door. Rath hadn’t seen him in almost a year, but recognised him immediately. The grinning man. Guido Scherer, Charly’s former classmate, now plying his trade in some wretched legal practice in Wedding, but clearly still as devoted to her as ever. Rath couldn’t believe it: she couldn’t wait to get out of his flat, yet here she was hosting that arsehole on her first day back? Perhaps she’d invited all of her friends round for a little reunion, all those lawyers he’d never known quite what to make of… and of course Gereon Rath, that rough-hewn cop, would only get in the way.
He started the engine and stubbed out his cigarette. At least he knew he wouldn’t be going up there now. He accelerated so hard that the tyres squealed, causing the grinning man to turn around before he disappeared inside that shitty little house on Spenerstrasse. Fuck! Rath vented his rage on the gas pedal, racing through the city. At first his only aim was to get out of Moabit, but then, without making a conscious choice, indeed, without even noticing where he was going, he travelled further and further south. Only when, in the shadow of the elevated train, he veered east via Gitschiner Strasse, did he understand that he was headed towards Luisenufer.
Parking on the street corner he let Kirie out, and memories came flooding back, all too many of which, stupidly enough, had to do with Charly. The dog sniffed at a tree on the edge of the play area, almost as if she recognised it, before wagging her tail and gazing expectantly towards her master. The cries of the children romping on the vast expanse of sand reminded Rath of how he had sat on a bench here in the sun with Charly, imagining that one of the children playing was their child, the child they shared together. He hadn’t said anything, of course, neither that day nor later on – but then he had shared very few of his dreams with her. Kirie went ahead, full of expectation, having traced the same path many hundreds of times before.
A youth in a brown shirt, blonde hair parted wet, approached from the courtyard entrance. On his left arm he wore a swastika armband; tucked underneath was an SA cap. The Nazi gave him a feisty look, but Rath refused to be intimidated. He’d had enough of these brown so-and-sos ever since he’d seen them running wild on the Ku’damm last year. They were worse than the Communists. If the boy wanted a fight, he could have one, so long as he knew he’d wind up in a police cell. For all that, it seemed as though a provocative glance was enough. The youth walked past Rath without saying anything, only to turn around and shoot him a final, wicked glance as he donned his uniform cap.
Nazis were nothing new in this area, even back when a swastika armband wasn’t nearly such a common sight. At the same time the Liebigs in the rear building had always kept the red flag flying, without things ever coming to a head. Communists and Nazis sharing the same roof; that, too, was Berlin. In workers’ districts especially, Red and Brown often lived side by side, albeit not always as peacefully as here on Luisenufer. As for normal people, Rath had the impression they were getting thinner on the ground, even in the city’s more affluent neighbourhoods.
Annemarie Lennartz, the caretaker’s wife, was out beating carpets, but paused when she saw who was crossing the courtyard. ‘Well, there’s a surprise! Nice of you to drop by.’
Rath tipped his hat briefly and pointed towards the rear building. ‘Detective at home?’
Annemarie Lennartz looked around and lowered her voice. ‘Night shift,’ she said, with a knowing expression. ‘Didn’t get home until lunchtime.’
Rath disappeared inside the rear building and climbed the stairs. Pausing in front of a door on the first floor, he gave a careful knock. He waited a moment, and when still nothing happened, knocked again, violently this time. ‘Police! Open at once.’
Someone clattered about inside, and seconds later the door edged open to reveal Reinhold Gräf.
‘Gereon!’ The detective, hair still wet, and clad in a bathrobe, seemed more irritated than surprised. ‘Has something happened?’
‘Social call. Not interrupting, am I?’
‘I was in the bath, but come on in.’ Gräf opened the door wide. ‘Make yourself at home. Shouldn’t be too tricky.’
Rath followed Gräf into the kitchen where the detective placed a kettle on the stove. ‘Coffee?’ he asked. ‘I haven’t had breakfast yet.’
‘Wouldn’t say no.’ Rath took off his hat and hovered in the doorway. Gräf fetched the coffee grinder from the same cupboard Rath had once used. ‘Take a seat,’ he said, without turning around.
Rath remained standing. ‘How was it this morning then?’
Gräf continued pouring coffee beans.
‘Sorry I had to leave you alone like that… but it really was important.’
Gräf looked at him and turned the crank. For a moment the only sound was the crunching of the grinder. ‘If that’s an official apology consider it accepted.’
Rath fetched two cups and saucers from the cupboard and placed them on the table, while Gräf busied himself with the kettle and filter. For a moment he tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. He sat at the table and waited for Gräf to join him. The coffee dripped through the filter into the pot.
‘You really left us in the lurch this morning, you know that?’ Gräf said. ‘And don’t give me who’s in charge. You’re the one who turned up late to the crime scene. Do you realise how many times I tried to reach you, just to save your skin from Böhm and the rest? Well, more fool me. Because when you do show up it seems you’ve got nothing better to do than piss straight off again.’
Rath nodded without contrition. He had apologised already. Gräf stood up, took the filter from the pot and poured. It was even more watery than usual, but Rath chose to be diplomatic and took an Overstolz from his case. ‘I thought I could make amends by shouting you a beer in the Dreieck.’
‘You’re on standby.’ Gräf shovelled spoonful after spoonful of sugar into his coffee. ‘And I’ve got night shift at the Castle.’