She let the letter drop. Weiss was safe, the Political Police had been too late in issuing their warrant. Tears flooded her eyes, and she didn’t know why. Relief, perhaps, or grief. Rage that one of Germany’s most celebrated criminal investigators had been forced into exile like a common thief.
The doorbell rang. She wiped the tears from her eyes before opening to a brawny man wrapped in a dark coat and wearing a bowler hat.
93
The morning after his visit to the Adlon, Rath shared the photos of Gerhard Krumbiegel with Gräf and Steinke in the main Homicide office. He was still off-duty, but a visit to Alex had become unavoidable. If Achim von Roddeck knew about Krumbiegel it was essential to bring the official investigation up to speed. He put the letter from Halle in a new envelope, removing the note to Charly. The photographs spoke for themselves; there was no doubt this was the dead man from Nollendorfplatz.
‘Stray post…’ he said. ‘Landed in my office. Actually it was addressed to me, but it’s part of your case.’ He shook them onto the desk. ‘Gerhard Krumbiegel,’ he said, slapping the flat of his hand on the table. ‘The corpse from Nollendorfplatz was Gerhard Krumbiegel, not Heinrich Wosniak.’
Steinke glared at him, while Gräf stared at the photos. ‘Engel must have got them mixed up because he was wearing Wosniak’s coat, and because of the burn scars from the Bülowplatz fire.’
‘Really? Do they look that similar?’
‘We have no photo of Wosniak, but if his former lieutenant got them mixed up, then it’s safe to say Engel did too…’
His attempt to steer Gräf’s thinking had failed. He couldn’t afford to be any more explicit. ‘What are you going to do now?’
‘Intensify the search,’ Gräf said. ‘If Engel got the wrong man we have to do everything we can to find Wosniak. Perhaps we can use him to lure Engel into a trap.’
‘No sign of our captain last night?’
‘I think he was deterred by the police presence. It’s good to know it’s paying off. There’s no question Lieutenant Roddeck is safer for it.’
Steinke had reached for the telephone and asked to be patched through to Warrants. Rath gave up. Let them search if that was all they could think of. ‘Good luck,’ he said, hoping Gräf would hear the sarcasm.
‘Thank you, Gereon,’ Gräf said. ‘Perhaps we can go for a drink when this is all over.’ He seemed glad his old partner was speaking to him again.
Rath left, stopping briefly at his office before heading home. He might be finally rid of the photos, but it seemed unlikely the official investigation would create problems for Achim von Roddeck any time soon.
Opening the door to the apartment, he was surprised to hear voices from the living room. It wasn’t Fritze, and it wasn’t the radio. A deep, booming bass. A dark coat and bowler hat hung on the stand. Entering the room he was ready for anything: for the grinning man, or another of Charly’s university friends, even the Negro from Aschinger who occasionally still haunted his dreams (and about whom she kept quiet to this day), but not for the man sitting in his favourite armchair, a cup of coffee on his lap, speaking earnestly with Charly.
‘Sir,’ Rath said. ‘To what do we owe the honour?’
Wilhelm Böhm looked to the door in surprise. ‘No more “Sir”,’ he growled, setting down his coffee and rising to shake Rath’s hand.
‘They demoted you?’
‘I jumped before I was pushed.’
‘The coffee’s fresh,’ said Charly. She fetched a cup and poured.
‘I’ve retired from police service,’ Böhm explained. ‘Our commissioner would never have allowed me back into Homicide. I’ve already spoken with Gennat.’
‘I’m considering following suit,’ Charly said, ‘but Böhm advises against.’
‘I’ve suggested that your bride-to-be consider thinks very carefully before destroying her career.’
‘Anyway I’ve extended my leave of absence.’
Rath’s gaze flitted back and forth. What the hell was she talking about?
‘What will you do now?’ he asked Böhm. ‘Do you have private means?’
‘I’m not as wealthy as you must think. Besides, I’m too young to pack it in completely. It’s possible to be a detective outside of the police.’
‘If you’re looking for a job as house detective, I could put you in touch with someone at the Excelsior,’ Rath said, earning an angry glance from Charly.
Böhm waved dismissively. ‘I was thinking of starting my own agency.’
‘I hope you’re not here to recruit Charly.’
‘We were having a perfectly normal discussion between friends and ex-colleagues until you arrived,’ she said, sharper than Rath thought necessary.
‘Charly’s been telling me about the strange developments in our old case,’ Böhm said, attempting to change the subject. ‘You know, the dead man from Nollendorfplatz. I understand Levetzow has reassigned you?’
‘He has.’
‘Don’t take it personally. It’s almost a badge of honour to be spurned by our latest commissioner.’
‘Gereon makes a point of being spurned by every commissioner,’ said Charly.
‘Levetzow usually lets Homicide go about its work in peace, but this case is different,’ Rath said.
‘You don’t think his intervention has been for the better?’
‘With all due respect to Gräf, I don’t believe we’ll solve these killings by fixating on a single suspect who might not even be alive.’
Böhm agreed. ‘Charly has explained that the dead man at Nollendorfplatz wasn’t Heinrich Wosniak, but the other beggar. His corpse doesn’t fit with the rest.’
Rath threw Charly a horrified glance. What else had she given away? ‘It’s not for me to worry now I’ve been taken off the case.’
‘On the contrary,’ Böhm said. ‘Your theory about a deliberate identity switch would mean Heinrich Wosniak murdered his former companion and faked his own death, in order to set about killing his ex-comrades.’
At least, Rath thought, she hasn’t told him Wosniak’s corpse is lying at the bottom of the Spree.
‘You’re right about one thing,’ Böhm continued. ‘On no account should you risk making a fool of the police commissioner. These days it could cost you more than your livelihood.’
Rath agreed politely, thinking Böhm was starting to sound like a rich uncle whose advice you couldn’t contradict.
Böhm stood up and they accompanied him into the hall where he shook both their hands. ‘I’ll be on my way now,’ he said. ‘Thank you for the coffee, Charly, and for your hospitality, Herr Rath. It’s good to have friends in times like these.’
Rath nodded and forced a smile. No sooner was Böhm out the door than he turned to Charly. She had a guilty look on her face. ‘You’ve extended your leave of absence?’
‘I’m sorry Böhm heard it before you. His visit caught me off guard. I was going to tell you today that I’d seen Wieking.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She wasn’t pleased, but I need more time.’
‘Charly, this isn’t good. You’re off sick for two weeks, now this? It looks like you’re shirking. Goddamn it, you’re this close to becoming an inspector!’
‘I can’t be there right now, I’ve told you that.’
‘What did you tell Wieking?’
‘Marriage preparations. She’s more likely to understand that.’
‘I’ll tell you what else she’s more likely to understand. Women staying at home to look after their children.’