When Seb arrived at the Presidium in the morning, he was surprised to find Hans Winter there in his office, smoking a cigarette.
‘Good morning, Sergeant. I thought our partnership was successfully concluded.’
‘Heil Hitler, Inspector.’
‘Oh yes, Heil Hitler. Anyway, our time together is done, isn’t it? Seems your idea that the markings on the corpse were part of some diabolical Jewish ritual was correct after all. What a clever guy you are.’
‘You sound sceptical, Herr Wolff.’
‘Do I? Why would that be, do you think?’
‘Anyway, I am here to advise you that I have been assigned to the murder team on a permanent deployment, as your partner. Herr Meisinger has recognised my skills as a detective and has decided they are best employed here. I trust you will be very happy with this new arrangement.’
That was it, then. His drunken decision to quit the force had been the right one after all. At breakfast, drinking coffee with Hexie, he had begun to have doubts. This new development had cleared them away.
But first he had a couple of jobs to do: most importantly, he wanted to know more about this maidservant who had seen Friedlander and destroyed his already weak alibi.
‘Well, Winter, I am delighted for you. Congratulations and may you solve many more murders.’
The BPP man smirked. ‘And may you enjoy your undeserved moment of glory, Herr Wolff. For it will not last long.’ He stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray. ‘I look forward to putting out my smokes on your face. I am told it is very satisfying.’
*
Seb climbed the steps to the fifth floor. The secretary rose from her desk. ‘I will see if Herr Ruff can speak with you.’ Half a minute later she emerged from his office. ‘He has an important meeting coming up, but he can give you one minute, no more.’
‘That will be enough.’
As always, Ruff looked uneasy. It was his natural state but this morning, perhaps, he had more cause than usual for his discomfort.
‘How can I help you, Wolff?’
‘I need the name and address of this new witness, the maidservant who identified Karl Friedlander.’
‘I’ll have my secretary give you the details. Why do wish to know?’
Wasn’t that obvious? ‘Well, sir, I am the lead officer in this case and as such I will be required by the prosecution to help them prepare the case against Friedlander and give evidence at the trial. This maidservant’s testimony will be crucial.’
‘Of course, of course. Is that all?’
No, it wasn’t. He was about to tell the chief of his decision to resign, but something stopped him. There was unfinished business and for that he needed to keep his badge. More than that, there was the indignation at having Hans Winter foisted on him. They knew he wasn’t a Nazi and they wanted him to quit, to remove him from the protection of the police. Or, if not that, then discover some secret to condemn him. Well, that was as good a reason as any to stay. Sod Winter, sod Meisinger, sod all of them. ‘Yes, Herr Ruff,’ he said with a brief, respectful bow of the head. ‘That is all.’
‘Good. And once again, well done. You are a credit to the force.’
Guerrilla tactics were needed to avoid Winter and the ghastly prospect of him attaching himself to Seb, so he made his way down the back staircase from the fifth floor and exited the Presidium without signing out.
*
The maid’s name was Marlene Popp, but she was known as Lena, and her address was towards Stadelheim in the less desirable area of Perlach, south-east of the city centre. Seb checked his watch. He would go to her later. First he had to meet Rosie Palmer’s brother, though he doubted what value it could be.
Viscount Braybury was already in the cafe bar at the Vier Jahreszeiten, sipping coffee with Unity Mitford who immediately sprang up with an exaggerated heil and an arm thrust that might have put out the eye of a passing waitress had the poor young woman not swerved out of its upwards trajectory.
Seb returned the greeting in kind, then took Braybury’s hand.
‘Coffee, Inspector?’
‘Thank you, yes.’
Braybury snapped his fingers and ordered another pot in good German, then turned back to Seb. ‘English or German today?’
‘English would be fine.’
‘Well, what I wanted to talk about was our experience of the vile Friedlander when he was in England. You will doubtless have heard stories from him, a suggestion that he was somehow a victim of class discrimination or anti-Semitism, but nothing could be further from the truth. In short, he was the problem: he was a leech who attached himself to my sister and attempted to suck out her lifeblood.’
‘He said you and one of your comrades gave him a beating.’
‘Of course we did. So would you have if some creep was hounding and harassing your sister. Do you have a sister, Wolff?’
He shook his head.
‘But you have loved ones, so I’m sure you know what I mean. There’s only one thing these sort of people understand, and that’s a damned good thrashing.’
‘In what way did he harass your sister, Captain? It would be useful if you could give me detailed instances.’
‘He wouldn’t leave her alone. Wrote to her constantly, even turned up at her school and had to be escorted off the premises.’
‘Do you have dates for these incidents?’
‘Off the top of my head, no.’
‘And the letters he wrote?’
‘Burnt with the autumn leaves. I did it myself. They were disgusting.’
‘In what way?’
‘In the way he tried to inveigle his way into her affections. Promising kisses and what have you. Simply ghastly stuff.’
‘Any details you have would be an asset. Perhaps you could write your recollections down and sign an affidavit which I could produce in court. Friedlander is our only suspect to date and there are inconsistencies in his story, but actual evidence is thin on the ground.’
‘But he’s been charged.’
‘Yes, that is so. But he hasn’t been tried and we want the case to be watertight before it is presented. Also, I wanted to ask you whether you had heard of a couple of other men who might have had an interest in your sister. One is English, Adam Rock. Does that name mean anything?’
‘Of course it does. We were at school together. Chap talks politics all the time and has a very high opinion of himself, fancies he’ll be prime minister one day, and who knows, one day he might be. He’s good-looking in an Ancient Greek sort of way, but too caught up in himself to be much of a dreamboat for a young filly like my sis. She wanted dancing, romance and pleasure. But he’s probably husband material for someone who fancies herself as a Westminster hostess one day. Why, is he here, too?’
Unity joined the conversation. ‘He’s staying with a good family in Altbogenhausen. Takes his German studies awfully seriously and is a great admirer of the Führer. He may be dull to you, Edward, but he’s sound. One of us. I’m sure he wouldn’t hurt a fly, Inspector.’
Seb made a mental note to seek him out.
‘Anyway,’ Unity continued, ‘we know who the killer was. The despicable Friedlander. He was like a rash. Whenever I was with darling Rosie – and she was my best friend apart from you know who – he somehow always turned up. We’d be enjoying a quiet meal or a drink somewhere and suddenly there he was, ingratiating himself with her.’
‘Did she object to this, tell him to clear off?’
‘Rosie was far too well mannered. She treated him with kindness, which only encouraged the frightful man. But I saw the darkness beneath the smile, the evil worms slithering through his veins. I was terrified something bad would happen – and it did. He intimidated her into acquiescence, and then he killed her because he was a subhuman beast and because he couldn’t have her.’ For a moment, there was almost passion in her flat voice.
‘Miss Mitford, you keep saying this to me, but it would really help our case in court if you could provide some solid facts. Or even better, some other witness to this intimidation.’
It puzzled him how such a bland, expressionless face could carry such a powerful element of cruelty, but in Unity Mitford’s case it did. For some reason he could not have explained, Seb had a vision of her walking past a starving child and kicking it.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, the voice flat again. ‘I have given you the name of the killer and his motive and now you have other evidence – the Jew marks on the body, the lie of the alibi, his attempt to flee – what more could you possibly need?’
‘Will you stand up in court and testify?’
‘Of course I will. Anything to have that man put down like the sick dog he is. You know, Inspector, your colleague does not share your doubts about the strength of the case.’
A cold chill ran down Seb’s neck. ‘My colleague?’
‘Sergeant Winter. He is certain of Friedlander’s guilt. It was he who identified the devilish cuts on the body as Jewish markings, I believe. That will be enough for any court.’
‘When did you speak to Herr Winter, Miss Mitford?’
‘Do you not talk to each other?’
‘We have maximised our efforts by going separate ways.’
‘Oh well, it was my good friend Fritz Mannheim who brought us together. And it was then that I realised what must have happened, which is when we came to you, for Winter said you were the lead detective and had to make the arrest.’
Seb was about to enquire whether Mannheim might have had an interest in Rosie Palmer, but thought better of it. ‘Thank you, Miss Mitford. Perhaps we could arrange a time for you to come to the Police Presidium on Ettstrasse so that you can make your statement.’ For all the good it would do. Unity, or ‘Bobo’, was a tainted witness and her testimony was nothing but malign speculation with no value whatsoever.
The court would love her.
He finished his coffee and took his leave of them. His meeting with Captain Edward Palmer, Viscount Braybury, had produced little of concrete value, but it had spiked his interest in two men: SS junior adjutant Fritz Mannheim and the English student Adam Rock.
*
Marlene ‘Lena’ Popp wasn’t at home, but her mother was. Their small apartment was poor even by the standards of the other slum dwellings in the vicinity. Grease coated the walls of the tiny kitchen and the smell of boiling cabbage was overpowering.
‘She’s at work, Inspector. We need the money, like everyone else.’
‘Of course. And perhaps you could tell me where she works?’
‘At Baroness Laroche’s house, of course. But you know that the other detective has already talked to her and made a full note of her testimony, surely?’
The other detective. Seb groaned inwardly. It was the reptile Winter again. Lena Popp was obviously the maid he had waylaid in the kitchen while Seb was talking with the baroness. An unpleasant thought immediately came to mind. It might not have taken many marks from Winter’s wallet to persuade Fraulein Popp that she had seen Friedlander conveniently close to Karolinenplatz and the house of the Regensdorfs where Rosie Palmer had lodged.
Bribery. Was that possible? The poverty of these surroundings was obvious enough. A few extra coins in Lena Popp’s purse could make all the difference. God, but this case was beginning to stink like a barrel-load of long dead fish.