Babylon Berlin, page 30
The sensationalist papers at the newsstand hadn’t taken any half measures and had come up with correspondingly sensational headlines on their title pages. Although Tageblatt had left it at a simple police officer murdered, under the dry headline they had still listed all the details circulated by Zörgiebel at the press conference, not least the fact that communists had gathered that morning in the vicinity of the crime scene outside Karl-Liebknecht-Haus and that at lunchtime Prussian police had been described by the same group as murderers.
Bruno was right. Blaming yourself was pointless. The only one responsible for Jänicke’s death was the person who had pressed a pistol to his nose and squeezed the trigger.
How well he had been served by his former boss was something Böhm had unwittingly confirmed when Rath brought him the Wilczek file. Rath had added a page with a few observations as to why he had asked Jänicke to investigate on Berolina’s patch. Partly it had been a way to justify his actions to himself.
‘What’s this?’ Böhm had asked, looking at the page as if Rath had just handed him a piece of used toilet paper.
‘A few pointers regarding the course of the investigation…’ Rath had begun, before Böhm interrupted him.
‘Young man, I don’t know if this has been made sufficiently clear,’ Böhm had bawled, ‘but I’m the one leading this investigation. I don’t need pointers!’
Rath had slammed the file on the table and left without saying goodbye.
What an arsehole! Even now he was still annoyed. Was he really going to let himself be treated like that?
Böhm could push other people around if he enjoyed it so much, but Gereon Rath wasn’t going to stand for it. Whenever he thought of the arrogant homicide detective, Rath looked forward to the day when he could show him up with the Aquarius case, on ice for now, like the Wilczek case. Both wet fish for the time being. But Zörgiebel couldn’t keep it up for ever. Rath didn’t think that Superintendent Gennat agreed with all A Division officers being concentrated on a single case. True, a murder investigation was also a race against time, and experience told him that the first day or two were the most important. If you hadn’t achieved a breakthrough by then, the whole thing would drag on for weeks and become an exercise in painstaking drudgery.
The evening didn’t quite pan out as Rath had imagined it.
As he was climbing the stairs to Nürnberger Strasse he saw his suitcase standing outside the door to the flat. Next to it was a large cardboard box with a cord tied round it. Rath unlocked the door and lifted the suitcase, surprised at how heavy it was.
Elisabeth Behnke must have heard him. She was waiting in the corridor, examining him as if she were on break duty in a convent school and he’d just urinated in the yard.
‘Why are you still here, Herr Rath?’ she asked. ‘Take your things and leave!’
She was addressing him formally again. It seemed to be serious. Only, he couldn’t take it seriously.
‘The suitcase might be deceptive, but I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,’ he said. ‘I happen to live here.’
‘Hardly, Herr Rath.’
‘Is this some kind of joke?’
‘I can assure you that a tenant breaking house rules is no laughing matter!’
‘What’s the matter this time?’ Rath wasn’t aware of having done anything wrong.
‘You should read your rental contract more closely! Female visitors are expressly forbidden and can lead to the immediate termination of the lease.’
So that’s how the wind was blowing. But why now? If she had seen Charly then why hadn’t she made a scene about it last week?
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Don’t try and fool me, Inspector!’ She laughed aggressively and hysterically. It sounded like she was braying. ‘Or perhaps it’s you who wears this sort of thing?’ She lifted an artificial silk stocking in the air. Rath recognised it as the one Charly had been wearing last Thursday. Where on earth had old Behnke found it?
‘How dare you go snooping around my personal things?’
‘Snooping around? I was changing the sheets! Like every Wednesday! This was in your duvet cover. Can you tell me how it got there?’
‘I don’t think that’s any of your business, my dear Frau Behnke!’
This quarrel had been coming for days. Like a storm that finally breaks and dispels the oppressive humidity.
‘I’m afraid it is very much my business when you take a woman to your room – despite the strict ban!’
‘I didn’t realise this was a convent!’
‘It’s not a convent, Herr Rath, but it is my flat! And if you don’t stick to my rules, then you must bear the consequences!’
Rath wasn’t just bearing the consequences but the weight of the suitcase. He laid it down.
‘So this is my notice.’
‘Yes.’ She rummaged in her purse and held a few notes out towards him. ‘Here.’
‘What’s this?’
‘The rent you get back. You’ve already paid for this week.’
‘Keep the money.’ He made a move to get past her.
She stood in his way. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To my room.’
‘It’s not your room anymore.’
‘And my things?’
‘Already packed.’
‘Then at least let me say goodbye to Herr Weinert.’
‘He’s not home. Please go now!’
There was no point arguing with a hysterical Elisabeth Behnke. He shook his head, picked up the suitcase again and made for the door.
As he dragged the heavy suitcase and bulky cardboard box onto Nürnberger Strasse, he heard a window above him opening. His window. Elisabeth Behnke was looking out. Banknotes were fluttering down onto the pavement, a lady’s stocking sailing in their wake. Without a word, she banged the window shut.
Clearly, she wanted to give as good as she got.
He collected the banknotes, stuffed the stocking into his coat pocket and stood at the side of the road with his belongings and waved for a taxi.
My God, what a lousy day!
Bruno was flabbergasted to find Rath outside his door in Friedenau, loaded like a donkey.
‘Do you always bring so much stuff when you visit?’
‘Let me come in first.’ Rath explained the situation as they sat a short time later in the Wolters’s living room, interrupting his story only when Emmi Wolter came in and placed their drinks on the table. Bruno shook his head.
‘Should I have a word with Elisabeth?’ he asked. ‘Maybe it can still be sorted out.’
Rath waved him away. ‘Nah, leave it,’ he said, ‘it’s probably better this way.’
Being booted out had finally put an end to the painful comedy of the last few weeks.
‘I can stay in a hotel until I find somewhere new,’ he said. ‘Do you mind if I use the telephone?’
‘A hotel? You must be crazy! Out of the question.’ Bruno turned his head to the side and shouted: ‘Emmi!’
Emmi Wolter poked her blonde head through the door.
‘Can you prepare the guestroom? Gereon is staying for a few days.’
‘Of course.’ Bruno’s dutiful spouse disappeared once more.
Rath protested. ‘No, it’s fine, I don’t want you to go to any trouble.’
‘Trouble? You must be joking. There’s more than enough room. And the larder’s full, so don’t make a fuss. You’ll stay with us until the weekend, and if you still haven’t found something by next week, then I can always start collecting rent.’
Bruno raised his cognac glass. ‘So,’ he said, ‘and now let’s drink to Stephan Jänicke, and to catching his killer.’ They clinked glasses and for a moment no-one said anything, as both men dwelled on their thoughts.
‘Me, you and Jänicke, that could have been some team,’ Wolter said after a while. ‘Nonsense,’ he corrected himself, ‘that was some team.’
‘I always liked the kid, even if I barely knew him,’ Rath said.
‘Stephan was alright.’
‘Even wanted to take me along to the football. I didn’t go.’
‘Do you think he was lonely?’ Wolter asked.
‘He’d left his family and friends back in East Prussia, and whether he had any here…’
‘But Berlin welcomes every new citizen with open arms!’
‘Yeah, and with clenched fists.’ Rath couldn’t help thinking back to his own arrival in this cold, alien city.
Wolter grinned. ‘You just need to strike back.’ He took another sip. ‘It’s funny though,’ he said suddenly. ‘I don’t know either Stephan’s parents or any of his other friends, but now that he’s dead, we’re going to meet them all.’
‘At the funeral?’
Wolter nodded.
‘Have you got enough people?’
‘Brenner’s with us… with me in the office. And then Gregor Lanke’s arriving on Tuesday.’
‘My sympathies!’
Wolter forced a smile. ‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘but better save your sympathy for next week. A funeral with flags, uniforms and a salute. Zörgiebel wants to deliver the eulogy himself.’
‘I can’t think about it,’ Rath said. ‘How am I supposed to look Stephan’s parents in the eye? If I hadn’t loaned him he might still be alive.’
‘You don’t know that!’ Bruno sounded peeved. ‘Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Bülowplatz is the wrong place for a police officer when the commies are banding together. It doesn’t matter if you work for Vice or Homicide!’
He stood up and moved towards a dark-coloured cupboard, behind the glass door of which the drinks cabinet was located. He returned with the bottle of cognac.
‘Better it’s on the table,’ he said.
‘Wilful drunkenness is what we’re doing here.’
Bruno shrugged his shoulders and poured. ‘If you can’t get wilfully drunk on a day like today, when can you?’
23
When he awoke the next morning, Rath didn’t know where he was. His head throbbed when he sat up until, gradually, his memory started to return. He had stayed at Bruno’s. They had got drunk, drowning their grief at Jänicke’s death in cognac. At least, that’s what he thought. Only to realise that it wasn’t grief he was feeling, but rage allied with fear. Rage that didn’t know where it was directed; fear that didn’t know what it was afraid of.
He hoped he hadn’t told Bruno too much, but couldn’t remember.
In a corner of the room, next to the chair where he had thrown his clothes, stood his suitcase and a large cardboard box, a reminder that old Behnke had chucked him out and he had no home. Since he didn’t want to impose on the Wolters for too long, he would start looking for a new flat today.
Emmi Wolter knocked at his door. ‘Herr Rath? Are you awake? Breakfast is ready.’
Bruno was already sitting at the table when Rath entered the dining room, freshly showered but still hungover. The smell of coffee hung in the air. Bruno grinned broadly, apparently without a hangover.
‘Sleep well?’
‘The sleep was OK. Waking was the problem.’
‘Sit down, have a coffee and eat something. Then you’ll feel better.’
Breakfast did him good. Emmi Wolter made even better coffee than Elisabeth Behnke.
They took the Ford to the Castle, and it felt almost like the old days. They didn’t talk much during the drive, but Bruno made Rath feel like he wasn’t alone in this city. They parked in the atrium and went together to the conference room where Böhm had arranged an eight o’clock briefing. The room slowly filled until, at eight on the dot, Böhm emerged like a school master sweeping into a classroom, followed by his team. Rath’s heart almost stood still when Charly entered last, closing the door behind her. She took her seat at a table on the platform at the front and laid her pen and paper out. Realising that he wasn’t the only man in the room stealing a glance at her legs, Rath felt a pang of jealousy.
Was she deliberately ignoring him? In vain he tried to catch her eye. She was looking almost constantly down at her pad, and when her dark eyes did gaze into the room they didn’t fix on anything.
Böhm summarised their findings, but Rath was barely listening. The image of Charly kept running through his brain, Charly, Charly, Charly, as he observed her discreetly out of the corner of his eye. He had almost forgotten how good she looked. He rummaged in his coat pocket until he found her stocking, exactly where he had stuffed it yesterday, and couldn’t help but smile.
A sudden bustle of activity interrupted his thoughts. Böhm had finished and people were getting ready to leave. Chairs were being shuffled as a burble of chatter started up and Charly handed leaflets to people on their way out. Rath’s heart pounded as he walked past her and their hands briefly touched. Her gaze was so remote it almost hurt.
‘Thank you, Fräulein Ritter,’ he said.
He almost forgot to say goodbye to Bruno. His colleague grinned as he made his way back to E Division. Hopefully, he hadn’t said too much last night when he was drunk.
It was only when he was sitting in his little office that Rath took a closer look at the piece of paper. There were a few names on it but he had no idea what he was supposed to do with them. He should have paid more attention, but even now he couldn’t get Charly out of his head. The names were arranged alphabetically, all beginning with the same letter: I.
There was knock on the door. He sat up.
‘Yes.’
‘DCI Böhm would like to return these documents.’
Charly was standing in the door, smiling and offering the Wilczek file.
‘Oh, why don’t you come a little closer? And shut the door behind you.’ She entered. ‘My secretary isn’t here today, so I’m alone and…’ But she had already pressed her lips onto his mouth. The Wilczek file crashed onto the desk and fell to the ground.
They looked at each other for a time in silence. He could have got lost in those eyes.
‘I’m sorry about your colleague,’ she said.
‘I guess it’s just a lousy job.’
‘Was he a close friend?’
‘I barely knew him. He was a pretty taciturn guy. An East Prussian.’
‘He was younger than me, wasn’t he?’
‘Twenty-two.’
‘There are too many people in this country who think they can settle their affairs with guns.’
He nodded. ‘And it’s our job to teach them that’s no solution. Or at least one that’ll land them in jail.’
‘It’s nice here. A few pot plants and you could almost call it cosy.’
He took her in his arms. ‘We have to see each other more often,’ he whispered. ‘I missed you.’
‘If you’re pining for me, there’s always the telephone.’
So, she had taken offence.
‘Guilty as charged,’ he said. ‘But whenever I rang there was no-one there. Maybe I’d be better off writing letters.’
‘Real love letters!’ She sighed theatrically and rolled her eyes upwards. ‘Yes please! I’ll disconnect my telephone!’
‘I’m afraid I’m not very good at stuff like that. Interrogation records and reports are about the only things I write normally.’
‘The need to bestow numerous caresses on your person shall henceforth be seen as unavoidable. I don’t have a problem if you write like that. I read sentences like that every day.’
‘I like it when you’re goofy.’
‘Goofy? I’m not really goofy, just in high spirits.’
A thought occurred to him. He went to the coat stand and fetched the stocking from his pocket. ‘A propos high spirits,’ he said, waving the rayon stocking. ‘To this corpus delicti I owe my temporary homelessness.’
Her eyes almost popped out of her head. Even then they were pretty.
‘My landlady discovered this while she was changing the sheets and gave me summary notice to quit.’
‘No?!’
‘Yes!’
She stood there so dumbfounded that he couldn’t help but grin until they both exploded with laughter.
When they had calmed down, her fingers began to play with his tie. ‘Gereon,’ she said, ‘I have to tell you something.’
‘What is it?’
‘I… Well, you hadn’t been in touch, so I thought I’d try at yours. By telephone, I mean. And… you didn’t pick up, so I let it ring a little longer, and then… then finally someone did pick up. A woman.’
He sighed. ‘A Frau Behnke…’
‘Yes, Behnke. I asked for you and she said you didn’t live there. So I asked whether it was Nürnberger Strasse 28, and all of a sudden she got mad and started bawling like one of the Furies, saying if I dared set foot inside her house again… hers was a respectable house and I was a little tart.’
Rath could picture Elisabeth Behnke changing the sheets in his room; first she finds a lady’s stocking, and then its owner rings.
‘And then?’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I was so shocked at her screaming that I couldn’t think of anything to say. So I hung up. She called me a little tart and all I wanted was to say hello!’
‘Grr… I should bite your head off. You’ve made me homeless.’
‘Where are you staying now?’
‘They say the best spots are under Victoria Bridge, but I’m not sure if I’ll stay there. Berlin’s got so many nice bridges it’s hard to decide.’
‘And for real?’
‘For real, a colleague has taken pity on me. At the moment I’m living with Bruno Wolter in Friedenau. No chance of female visitors there either. That’s what you get!’
‘But I’d rather like to pay you a little visit,’ she said and began stroking his chest.
‘Let’s see, there must be a key for this door somewhere,’ he mumbled and was searching the drawers when the telephone rang. Both of them gave a start. The feeling of tenderness had gone west, his erection too.
