Reaching the door, Charly realised what was so funny. The man reading a newspaper behind the glass of the porter’s lodge was certainly overqualified. Detective Chief Inspector Wilhelm Böhm, one of the most established and reliable members of Gennat’s Homicide Division, had been assigned porter duties in Köpenick Police Academy. They had even given him oversleeves. Or did he wear them out of choice?
For a moment Charly regretted her decision to visit, Böhm was clearly embarrassed to be seen like this. He cleared his throat as she approached the glass.
‘Sir,’ she said.
‘Charly. What on earth are you doing here?’
‘I need to talk to you.’
‘Well, I’m not short of time.’
Uniformed officers were speaking in hushed tones in a corner of the lobby. ‘Preferably in private.’
‘If you can hold on until the end of my shift.’ He gestured outside with his head. ‘There’s a little café down the road towards the train station. I’ll be with you in half an hour.’
Back outside, the first thing Charly did was light a Juno. She had been prepared for anything but this. How was it possible for a chief inspector to be downgraded to porter? Half an hour later she had her answer, when Wilhelm Böhm appeared in the small, slightly overheated cafe, now devoid of oversleeves, and dressed as she remembered him in coat and bowler hat, an imposing figure who instantly commanded respect.
‘Detective Brenner couldn’t bear my presence any longer,’ he explained as he took his place beside her, a mug of coffee before him. ‘Perhaps he felt uneasy giving orders to a chief inspector. Anyway, he arranged this business with the police academy. Clearly he knows someone there.’
‘But they can’t just make you porter! Does Gennat know? Does the police commissioner know?’
‘Certainly not, and I would be grateful if you could keep it that way.’ He stirred his coffee. ‘It’s a chance to prove myself, Daluege said, but in reality they’re phasing me out. Seems my face no longer fits.’
‘I don’t think it’s your face that’s the problem.’ Charly didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m so sorry, Sir. It’s all my fault.’
Böhm furrowed his brow as she told him what was on her mind, her carelessness with Weinert, the whole sorry tale. To her surprise he wasn’t in the least angry.
‘Oh, Charly,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t transferred because of that ridiculous article.’ He shook his head. ‘No, Daluege won’t stand for Social Democrats at headquarters.’
‘You’re a Social Democrat?’ Charly had always assumed that Böhm was above party politics, like Gennat. A democrat to the core, of course, but at the same time non-partisan.
‘Come off it! My only membership is with the Lankwitz Allotment Association. Someone from Alex saw me in the Pharus Halls, at an SPD rally. It would seem that’s enough these days to be classed as politically unreliable.’
‘Pardon me?’
‘Someone saw me there and informed the police commissioner, or went straight to Daluege. No doubt they were waiting for an opportunity. It’s no secret I have a low opinion of the Nazis.’
‘That was never an issue in the past.’
‘What can you do?’ Böhm attempted a smile. ‘How’s that fiancé of yours? Made any progress on our case?’
‘Yes and no. He was seconded to the Politicals. Probably interrogating Communists as we speak.’
‘I saw this coming, you know. Soon 1A will have the whole of Homicide working for them. It’s almost a relief to have been transferred out.’ He shook his head. ‘Just when we were starting to get a few leads.’
‘A witness got in touch, Wosniak’s former lieutenant from the war. He thinks he knows who the killer is.’
Charly told Böhm the story, and when she had finished he shook his head. ‘What a lot of cock and bull.’
‘That’s what Gereon thinks too.’
‘Which doesn’t change the fact that Wosniak is dead. Still, what’s one more death these days?’
‘Gereon’s secretary is collating everything that comes in.’
‘What about the request we submitted to the Reichswehr?’
‘Gereon hasn’t mentioned it. He goes through the material with her each night.’
In fact Gereon was mainly picking up the dog when he called in on Erika Voss, but Böhm didn’t have to know that.
‘Do me one last favour, Charly,’ he seized her arm and looked at her beseechingly. ‘Don’t tell anyone about what you’ve seen here. No one, do you understand? I don’t want the bastard who denounced me to have the satisfaction.’
40
Entering the green inner courtyard of St. Hedwig’s Hospital, straight away Rath felt the bustle of the city recede. The complex was bigger than it looked from the outside but that wasn’t why he had chosen it, nor was it the building’s proximity to Alex. No, he had chosen it because it was a Catholic hospital. They wouldn’t cooperate with the SA at St Hedwig’s. Even former Chancellor Brüning had found asylum here after being sacked by Hindenburg.
Not that CID were in the staff’s good books either. The doctor in attendance, who introduced himself as Dr Fabritius, looked at Rath with unmistakable reproach. ‘What happened to this man, Inspector?’
‘An accident, the SA tell me.’
‘An accident? The man has lost his right eye, the entire eyeball. Let’s leave aside the bruises and cuts, and the two broken ribs.’
Rath looked around before responding. ‘The SA is no boys’ choir, Doctor, which is why I requested that the man be transferred here, from Papestrasse.’ He looked around a second time to make sure they really were alone. ‘If I have my way, the SA won’t be getting him back. Will you help me?’ Dr Fabritius nodded. ‘I need the patient as a witness in a murder investigation. Is he fit for questioning?’
‘There’s no reason you shouldn’t try. He’s certainly responsive. A tough customer evidently. Do you want company?’
‘Not necessary. It’s better if I speak to Juretzka out of the public e…’ Rath corrected himself. ‘Alone.’
An aggressive-looking SA man stood guard outside Juretzka’s room. An auxiliary police officer. ‘You can’t go in there,’ he said, as Rath approached.
‘On the contrary. CID had Herr Juretzka transferred here. After a bad… accident in Papestrasse.’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘That the poor man had an accident. That’s correct, isn’t it?’ The SA man looked suspicious. ‘I’m going to question him now. See that I am not disturbed. That goes for your superiors too.’ The SA man gazed stupidly. ‘Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, Sir.’ The man stood to attention.
Leo Juretzka was alone in his room. It wasn’t just his eye that was bandaged, but his left ear too; there were various sticking plasters attached to his face. He wore a patient gown and looked as if he had been washed. The expression in his remaining eye was still strangely blank.
‘Good day, Herr Juretzka,’ Rath said, approaching the bed. ‘Please don’t say anything until you’ve heard me out.’
Juretzka nodded.
Rath pulled up a chair, and positioned himself so that he could whisper into Juretzka’s un-bandaged ear. ‘I’m from CID. Johann Marlow knows you have been transferred here, but won’t be able to secure your release with the help of his lawyer alone. I had to tell a white lie to get you out of SA prison. If we don’t want to get busted, you’ll have to help corroborate it. I’ve informed the SA that you are a witness in a murder investigation.’
For a moment Juretzka’s left eye seemed to grow larger.
‘I’m going to have you brought into police headquarters for questioning. Here’s what you’re going to say. Make sure you memorise the details.’