Achim von Roddeck was right to suspect Benjamin Engel had survived the war, but not that he had threatened him and slain his most loyal men.
‘Why didn’t you say he had survived?’.
‘Because Benjamin wouldn’t have wanted it.’
‘Sounds like you have a lot more to tell me.’
‘Why should I tell you anything? Walther wrote to say you were at the university. That you suspect him of killing these men.’
‘I don’t suspect your son.’
‘That’s not the way he tells it.’
‘Meantime I know who did it. I just don’t understand why.’
‘You think I can help you?’
‘I think you can help me get closer to the truth.’
‘I have to go back to Bonn, Inspector. I’m needed in the store.’
‘I’ve driven hundreds of kilometres to speak to you.’
‘No one asked you to come, not even your own superiors. I don’t know why you’re here.’
‘Because I can’t stand back and watch while our commissioner confuses an anti-Semitic witch-hunt with a police investigation. And because I want to know what really happened.’
Eva Heinen looked surprised by his honesty. ‘Do you know Bonn?’ she asked.
‘I’m from Cologne.’
‘Then be at the Rheinisches Möbelhaus on Brückenstrasse at ten. On the left-hand side as you approach from the Beuler Bridge, you can’t miss it…’
With that she turned and hurried back to the parking lot.
He listened for the noises of two engines, the sonorous drone of the Mercedes and the clank of the police Opel that followed. He didn’t have any Overstolz left, but waited for what he guessed was the length of a cigarette before making his way back.
85
They had washed the dishes together after breakfast. Fritze took Kirie for a walk while Charly read her book. Two pages in, the doorbell rang. She sighed and stood up. That wasn’t much of a walk, she thought. Had he already given up on his chores? He was only a kid; she shouldn’t impose stricter standards because he had lived on the street.
She opened the door, ready to issue a few stern words and send him on his way, only to find Karin van Almsick grinning awkwardly, with a box of chocolates and a large brown envelope tucked under her arm. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb, just to see how you were.’ She handed Charly the chocolates.
‘Thank you, but there’s really no need.’ Charly felt thrown by the surprise visit.
‘It’s from all of us,’ Karin said. ‘Everyone sends best wishes, including Superintendent Wieking.’
‘Thank you,’ Charly stammered. Karin came as if from another world, reminding her of everything that had happened in the last few days. Those things that no one could ever know. She had thrown a corpse into the Spree instead of informing Gennat, concealed a wanted killer and escaped lunatic, visited the notorious underworld boss Johann Marlow and enlisted his aid… and, of course, she wasn’t the slightest bit ill and had spent the last few days gadding blithely around town. She felt her conscience breathing down her neck, an ugly little monkey that refused to be shaken off.
‘Can I come in?’ Karin asked, having already taken a step inside and started nosing around.
‘I… I was just on the sofa.’ A chance look in the wardrobe mirror revealed an idiot grin.
Karin hung up her coat and gazed around the living room. She whistled through her teeth. ‘Nice place.’
‘Gereon inherited a little money.’ It sounded almost like an apology. She adopted a long-suffering face to go with her supposed condition.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ Karin asked. ‘On you go, lie down, and I’ll make us tea.’
‘That’s not necessary, thank you. I haven’t lost the use of my arms.’
‘Is the kitchen through here?’
Charly nodded weakly and left Karin to it. She lay on the sofa with a wet flannel on her head until, a few minutes later, Karin emerged with a tray, two teacups and a pot. She pressed the flannel to her forehead. ‘What brings you to Charlottenburg?’
‘You, silly!’ Karin gave her a sympathetic look. ‘Everyone in the department’s rooting for you. We hope you’ll be back soon.’
‘What are you working on? Any Communist gangs still out there, or have we locked ’em all up?’
Karin van Almsick had never understood irony. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘there’ll be plenty to do when you get back. It was all just too much, all that overtime, and then the wedding. I saw it coming, you know.’
‘The doctor says rest is the most important thing.’ Charly was starting to feel like her grandmother, discussing her various aches and pains over coffee with friends.
‘Tea can work wonders too!’
Charly set the flannel on an armrest.
After pouring the tea Karin pointed to the envelope. ‘There’s post for you.’ She looked at the envelope and read: ‘A Division, Fräulein Ritter, confidential, Police Headquarters Berlin, Alexanderplatz 2-6.’
‘A Division, and it wound up with you?’
‘A stray, from Halle. You know what these provincials are like, always getting things mixed up.’
‘I did make a telephone call for Gereon, last week or the week before, when we were about to go for lunch. Perhaps our friend in Halle got the wrong end of the stick.’
‘You can give it to him when he gets back. Where is he, anyway?’
Exactly the question Charly had feared. The whole department was curious about Gereon, partly because they so rarely set eyes on him in G.
‘Visiting family. Wedding stuff.’ She touched her temple. ‘I ought to be there too, but I couldn’t, not like this.’
‘You poor thing.’
The doorbell rang.
‘That’ll be Fritze,’ Charly said and stood up.
‘Who?’
‘A boy… from the neighbourhood. He’s been looking after the dog while I’ve been sick.’
Charly went into the hall and almost before she could open the door Kirie had slipped past her. Nothing was more urgent than settling into her basket.
‘You wouldn’t believe the number of Jewish shops,’ Fritze said, removing his scarf. ‘There are SA officers outside half the Ku’damm.’
‘Fritze, this my colleague, Fräulein van Almsick,’ Charly said, exaggeratedly, so he realised they weren’t alone.
‘It’s just Almsick,’ Karin said, extending a hand. ‘Forget the van.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ Fritze made a perfect bow. ‘Friedrich von Thormann,’ he said and winked. ‘Forget the von.’
It was all Charly could do not to laugh. She hoped the word ‘colleague’ would make Fritze think twice about shooting his mouth off, but he seemed to have other things on his mind. ‘Did you know that Goebbels is planning is to expel all those with Dutch heritage from the public sector? Because of this van Lubbe.’
‘You mean van der Lubbe?’ Karin asked, making a horrified face.
‘That’s right, van der Lubbe. All those with van in their names are being laid off.’
‘Really?’
Fritze nodded seriously. ‘Something about a fire risk. Unless they’re non-smokers of course, in which case they can stay.’
‘That can’t be right,’ Karin cupped her hand over her mouth.
‘Ha! Got you!’ Fritze beamed. ‘April fool!’
Charly had to smile. The boy had been at it all morning.
Karin van Almsick wasn’t in the mood for jokes. ‘Is that the time?’ she said, before turning to check the clock on the wall. ‘I have to go. Our colleagues will be wondering where I am.’ She took her coat from the stand, threw Fritze a hurt expression, shouldered her bag and opened the door. ‘Get well soon, Charly.’