“You think he saw this?” Willi Bauer inspected the charred strips of paper Trudi had taken from the trash and shown him on his return.
On the part that was not fully burned, the scheme of numbers ending in 12 3. 0300 were clearly visible.
“I don’t know.” Trudi looked back at him. “He was asking so many questions. About the brewery. About the people who have come by. I got nervous once when they ran into Herr Atkins on the landing and I told him he was a customer. But he also knows we closed the business a year ago.”
“Yes, he’s a nosy sort.” Willi nodded, tugging on his pipe. “That Lebensraum thing. From now on, we must be far more watchful. But not to worry, darling.” He affectionately squeezed her arm. “He’s a nobody. Just a drunk with a serious conviction on his record. He barely has a roof over his head. Who would he even turn to?”
“Maybe, but he’s smart, Willi. And no one’s fool. Tomorrow, our friend Kubler is scheduled to come by in the afternoon.”
“No matter, it’s not Charlie’s day to visit, if I recall. He comes Mondays and Thursdays.”
“Yes, but maybe our customers should no longer come around the house. Perhaps we need to find a new place to meet, Willi. The park perhaps? Near the concertina.”
“You might be right, darling,” Willi said. He laid the half-burnt strip of paper in an ashtray. “And maybe we should move this, as well.…” He patted the Darwin book. “Out of sight. Just to be sure. In any event, we must conduct our business with a shade more secrecy, I’m afraid. Now is not the time for any mistakes.”
“No, it’s not,” Trudi agreed.
Willi took out a match and struck it, then dropped it into the ashtray and watched the remaining part of the strip that had not been burned curl and turn to ash, the damning set of numbers along with it. “See, my dear,” he smiled and brushed his hands clean, “all gone.”
“I’m sorry if I didn’t handle things perfectly,” Trudi said, taking a seat next to him. “It won’t happen again.”
“Now, now…” He squeezed her hand. “It all works out. You’ll see.”
She looked straight ahead in a fretful way, nodding, as if to say, Yes, it always does. “Would you care for a schnapps before dinner?” She smiled back at him. “I’ve made your favorite. Rosti. With dumplings. It will be ready at seven.”
“Yes, a schnapps would be just the thing,” Willi said, smoothing his white mustache.
“And what would you like to listen to?” Trudi asked, on her way to the bar. “Brahms, perhaps. It always helps you relax.”
“Yes, Brahms’s Second would be perfect, darling.” He sat back and refilled his pipe as Trudi went over and removed the recording from its sleeve.
“And don’t you worry too much about this.” Willi stoked the gray ash around with the bowl of his pipe. “If our friend becomes too big of a nuisance, we have the ways to deal with him.”
“Yes, I know, Willi.” Trudi nodded.
“And the good news is, my dear,” Willi smiled, “I only know of one person in the world who would even miss him.”