She woke me at seven with a glass of grapefruit juice and an almost veterinary selection of pills.
Enjoying the curve of her buttocks and the stretch of her pendulous breasts, I watched her draw back the curtains to reveal a fine sunny day, and wished that she could have revealed her naked body as easily.
‘And how are you this beautiful day?’ I said.
‘Awful,’ she grimaced.
‘Marianne, you know it’s supposed to be the other way around, don’t you? I’m the one who is supposed to feel awful, and you’re the one who should ask after my health.’
‘I’m sorry, Herr Strauss, but I am bored as hell with this place.’
‘Well, why don’t you jump in here beside me and tell me all about it. I’m very good at listening to other people’s problems.’
‘I’ll bet you’re very good at other things as well,’ she said, laughing. ‘I shall have to put bromide in your fruit-juice.’
‘What would be the point of that? I’ve already got a whole pharmacy swilling around inside of me. I can’t see that another chemical would make much difference.’
‘You’d be surprised.’
She was a tall, athletic-looking blonde from Frankfurt with a nervous sense of humour and a rather self-conscious smile that indicated a lack of personal confidence. Which was strange, given her obvious attractiveness.
‘A whole pharmacy,’ she scoffed. ‘A few vitamins and something to help you sleep at night. That’s nothing compared with some of the others.’
‘Tell me about it.’
She shrugged. ‘Something to help them wake up, and stimulants to help combat depression.’
‘What do they use on the pansies?’
‘Oh, them. They used to give them hormones, but it didn’t work. So now they try aversion therapy. But despite what they say at the Goering Institute about it being a treatable disorder, in private all the doctors say that the basic condition is hard to influence. Kindermann should know. I think he might be a bit warm himself. I’ve heard him tell a patient that psychotherapy is only helpful in dealing with the neurotic reactions that may arise from homosexuality. That it helps the patient to stop deluding himself.’
‘So then all he has to worry about is Section 175.’
‘What’s that?’
“The section of the German penal code which makes it a criminal offence. Is that what happened to Reinhard Lange? He was just treated for associated neurotic reactions?’ She nodded, and sat herself on the edge of my bed. ‘Tell me about this Goering Institute. Any relation to Fat Hermann?’
‘Matthias Goering is his cousin. The place exists to provide psychotherapy with the protection of the Goering name. If it weren’t for him there would be very little mental health in Germany worthy of the name. The Nazis would have destroyed psychiatric medicine merely because its leading light is a Jew. The whole thing is the most enormous piece of hypocrisy. A lot of them continue privately to subscribe to Freud, while denouncing him in public. Even the so-called Orthopaedic Hospital for the SS near Ravensbrück is nothing but a mental hospital for the SS. Kindermann is a consultant there, as well as being one of the Goering Institute’s founding members.’
‘So who funds the Institute?’
‘The Labour Front, and the Luftwaffe.’
‘Of course. The prime minister’s petty-cash box.’
Marianne’s eyes narrowed. ‘You know, you ask a lot of questions. What are you, a bull or something like that?’
I got out of bed and slipped into my dressing-gown. I said: ‘Something like that.’
‘Are you working on a case here?’ Her eyes widened with excitement. ‘Something Kindermann could be involved in?’
I opened the window and leant out for a moment. The morning air was good to breathe, even the stuff coming up from the kitchens. But a cigarette was better. I brought my last packet in from the window ledge and lit one. Marianne’s eyes lingered disapprovingly on the cigarette in my hand.
‘You shouldn’t be smoking, you know.’
‘I don’t know if Kindermann is involved or not,’ I said. ‘That’s what I was hoping to find out when I came here.’
‘Well, you don’t have to worry about me,’ she said fiercely. ‘I couldn’t care what happens to him.’ She stood up with her arms folded, her mouth assuming a harder expression. ‘The man is a bastard. You know, just a few weeks ago I worked a whole weekend because nobody else was available. He said he’d pay me double-time in cash. But he still hasn’t given me my money. That’s the kind of pig he is. I bought a dress. It was stupid of me, I should have waited. Well, now I’m behind with the rent.’
I was debating with myself whether or not she was trying to sell me a story when I saw the tears in her eyes. If it was an act it was a damn good one. Either way it deserved some kind of recognition.
She blew her nose, and said: ‘Would you give me a cigarette, please?’
‘Sure.’ I handed her the pack and then thumbed a match.
‘You know, Kindermann knew Freud,’ she said, coughing a little with her first smoke. ‘At the Vienna Medical School, when he was a student. After graduating he worked for a while at the Salzburg Mental Asylum. He’s from Salzburg originally. When his uncle died in 1930, he left him this house, and he decided to turn it into a clinic.’
‘It sounds like you know him quite well.’
‘Last summer his secretary was sick for a couple of weeks. Kindermann knew I had some secretarial experience and asked me to fill in a while while Tarja was away. I got to know him reasonably well. Well enough to dislike him. I’m not going to stay here much longer. I’ve had enough, I think. Believe me, there are plenty of others here who feel much the same way.’
‘Oh? Think anyone would want to get back at him? Anyone who might have a grudge against him?’
‘You’re talking about a serious grudge, aren’t you? Not just a bit of unpaid overtime.’
‘I suppose so,’ I said, and flicked my cigarette out of the open window.
Marianne shook her head. ‘No, wait,’ she said. ‘There was someone. About three months ago Kindermann dismissed one of the male nurses for being drunk. He was a nasty piece of work, and I don’t think anyone was sad to see him go. I wasn’t there myself, but I heard that he used some quite strong language to Kindermann when he left.’
‘What was his name, this male nurse?’
‘Hering, Klaus Hering I think.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Hey, I’ve got to be getting on with my work. I can’t stay talking to you all morning.’
‘One more thing,’ I said. ‘I need to take a look around Kindermann’s office. Can you help?’ She started to shake her head. ‘I can’t do it without you, Marianne. Tonight?’
‘I don’t know. What if we get caught?’
‘The “we” part doesn’t come into it. You keep a look-out, and if someone finds you, you say that you heard a noise, and that you were investigating. I’ll have to take my chances. Maybe I’ll say I was sleepwalking.’
‘Oh, that’s a good one.’
‘Come on, Marianne, what do you say?’
‘All right, I’ll do it. But leave it until after midnight, that’s when we lock up. I’ll meet you in the solarium at around 12.30.’
Her expression changed as she saw me slide a fifty from my wallet. I crushed it into the breast pocket of her crisp white uniform. She took it out again.
‘I can’t take this,’ she said. ‘You shouldn’t.’ I held her fist shut to stop her returning the note.