Lunch over, he was called into the study, where in bygone days Engelbert Rath had presided over his children’s misdemeanours like almighty God. Even now it was clear he was brooding over his wayward third son. He skimmed through his papers, stacked them neatly together and shifted them around a huge desk.
Rath still felt hungover, though his symptoms were mainly psychological. The shower had helped with the physical side, but his guilty conscience was harder to shift. At last his father broke the silence. ‘You didn’t stay on the balcony for long yesterday.’
Engelbert Rath didn’t come at you with questions, but statements and accusations.
‘I had an invite from Paul Wittkamp. Like I told you.’
‘You had an invite from the mayor too.’
‘I came, didn’t I?’
‘You disappeared after ten minutes.’
‘Half an hour. I didn’t ask to parade around with the big shots on the town hall balcony.’
‘Konrad and I were doing you a favour.’
‘Thank you.’
‘There’s no need for sarcasm. Are you one of those who refuse to acknowledge our mayor since the Nazis started agitating against him?’
‘He isn’t my mayor.’
‘You know what I mean. Are you avoiding him because it’s politically opportune?’
‘Political opportunism is more your domain. I already know how it feels to have your friends desert you overnight.’ Rath lit an Overstolz, knowing his father would hate it. ‘Konrad Adenauer isn’t my friend. He’s yours. Don’t take it out on me if your cabal is vanishing into thin air. You backed the wrong horse. The Centrists are out. You’d have been better off with the Nazis.’
‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this from my own son. Konrad Adenauer is my friend and, precisely because he is having a rough time politically, I took the opportunity to stand by his side. I’d have welcomed you being man enough to do the same.’
‘I wanted to enjoy Carnival, not play at politics.’
‘Politics happens whether you like it or not. We need to ensure it’s conducted by the right people.’
‘I’m a police officer.’
Engelbert Rath slammed his fist against the paper on his desk. ‘What do you think this is? The Reichstag on fire. Politics! As well as being a police investigation.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Berlin called. Several times.’
‘Police headquarters?’
‘Who else? Heinz Rühmann? Of course it was headquarters.’
‘They do realise yesterday was Rosenmontag?’
‘What does that matter? What matters is that someone wishes to speak to my son on police business, and no one has the faintest idea where he is.’
‘How about you? Do you realise yesterday was Rosenmontag? No, of course not. You were too busy playing at politics. You didn’t celebrate Carnival. You just took the salute.’
‘The same clearly can’t be said of you.’
‘I had my fun. Thank you.’
Engelbert Rath shook his head. ‘Officials in your position need to be available. Even when they’re on holiday.’
‘Don’t get so worked up. I’ll call them back.’
‘You should have been in touch of your own accord. That’s what a dutiful police officer would have done. Where are you going?’
Gereon had had enough. ‘To make a telephone call.’
‘I haven’t finished. There was another call for you, a Herr Klefisch. Apparently he will be making a police statement after all.’
Engelbert Rath waited for an explanation, but Gereon refused to oblige. He stubbed out his Overstolz and left without another word.
14
Charly returned later than anticipated, to find Karin van Almsick on the telephone looking overwhelmed.
‘I’ll pass you over now,’ she whispered, placing one hand over the mouthpiece. She must have exhausted all her good will on her voice as her face was decidedly less friendly. ‘That’s four hours I’ve been waiting for you!’
‘Sorry,’ Charly took the receiver from her colleague. ‘Ritter, G Division.’
It was Gereon. Typical. Disappears for days, then calls at precisely the wrong time. She decided to keep things businesslike. Fortunately he wasn’t one for sweet nothings. ‘Are the Communists in revolt?’ he asked.
She gazed out of the window, away from her nosy colleague. The sky was even greyer than yesterday. ‘How nice of you to get in touch,’ she said.
‘I’ve tried God knows how many times in the last few days, both at Carmerstrasse and the office.’
The call had taken an unwanted turn. She placed a hand over the mouthpiece and addressed Karin. ‘Would you mind making us some tea?’
Karin lifted two cups from the desk and marched out of the room. Charly waited until the door was closed. ‘I was there.’
‘At the Reichstag? On duty?’
‘By chance. It certainly wasn’t a Communist revolt. There’s hardly a Communist here who dares venture out.’
‘Well, that’s something. About time that lot started taking cover.’
‘What do you know about politics? What is it you want? I can’t believe you’ve called to discuss the Reichstag fire.’
‘Yes and no. It’s just… they’ve ordered me back to Berlin. There’s a ban on leave.’
‘Because of the Reichstag fire?’ She might as well have said: because of the Communist witch-hunt, since that was clearly why the commissioner was pooling police resources. He wasn’t interested in an actual investigation.
‘My train gets in just after midnight,’ Gereon said.
‘Tonight?’
‘You saw it? The Reichstag, I mean.’
‘Greta and I happened to be passing. It was late and we had to take the dog out. That’s when we saw the flames.’
‘We had to take the dog out? You sound like an old married couple. You were in Moabit with Kirie?’
‘Greta looks after her while I’m at work. The poor thing has to go somewhere. Wieking’s forbidden me from bringing her here.’
‘Bergner’s perfectly happy looking after her.’
‘I can’t ask for the porter’s help every day.’
‘But you can ask Greta?’
‘She’s my friend, so yes, and she doesn’t complain when I’m late. Think of the money we’d be wasting on tips!’ Why, in God’s name, did she have to justify what she did with the dog? Who was it who’d left Kirie with her in the first place?
‘I thought Carmerstrasse was our home…’ said Gereon. ‘Sounds like I can count myself lucky if I see you tonight.’
‘You were saying about an old married couple?’
‘Need I remind you that we will be married soon?’
‘Remind me? Who’s the one gallivanting around Cologne while I’m stuck at home with Kirie? If I choose to spend the night at an old friend’s house because it’s late, then that’s my business, and my business alone!’
Charly heard someone clearing their throat behind her and spun around.
‘If it’s your business alone, Fräulein Ritter, and I’m perfectly happy to concede that it is, why do you need to conduct it using a police telephone?’ Superintendent Friederike Wieking stood in the doorframe, gazing sternly, report file wedged under her arm.