The Pfaus family lived in a third-floor apartment just fifteen minutes’ walk from the headquarters of the Kriminalpolizei. Swallow formed the impression that Berlin was not a big city like London, but perhaps closer in scale to Dublin. The streets were busy with carriages and tramcars. And the coffee houses they passed, well-lit in the gloom of the January evening, seemed full. But there was none of the surging crowdedness he had experienced in London during his visit to New Scotland Yard the previous year.
The apartment was spacious, with wooden block flooring, high ceilings and tall windows giving out onto a quiet street. A delicious aroma of cooking had greeted them as Pfaus led him through the main door into a small vestibule or entrance hallway.
‘Elena, my love,’ Pfaus laughed as he greeted his wife, kissing her on the forehead. ‘This is Detective Inspector Swallow. I have told him about your wonderful cooking, and I promise you he is very hungry.’
Elena was small and dark, with a happy smile. Her well-rounded proportions suggested that she did not just like cooking for the sake of it, but also enjoyed the fruits of her endeavours. She held out a hand in welcome.
‘It’s very nice to meet you, Mr Swallow. You are an honoured guest in our home.’
Her English had a distinctive American pronunciation.
‘I understand from Johann that you are here on police business, so I hope that this evening may be a pleasant distraction for you. Come, sit and have a glass of wine and tell me what it is that brings you to Berlin.’
There was a hint of reprimand in Johann Pfaus’s tone.
‘Oh, Mr Swallow is investigating a brutal murder case. You have no need to be upset by any details.’
Elena smiled knowingly, but did not answer. Swallow sensed that there were two strong spirits in the Pfaus household.
Three places were set for dinner at a circular table by the window, with good china and heavy crystal glassware, set on a lace-trimmed tablecloth. Pfaus poured them a dry Riesling.
‘You have a very nice home, Mrs Pfaus,’ Swallow said.
Elena smiled contentedly.
‘Thank you, Mr Swallow. We don’t have many guests because Johann works so hard. For me it is a very special evening when we have a visitor from England.’
Swallow was not going to bother explaining that he was not from England. But Pfaus anticipated the point.
‘Inspector Swallow is not from England but from Ireland, my dear. From Dublin. He has reminded me more than once since we met that the Irish and the English are not the same race. You remember there were many Irish people in New York?’
Swallow thought he detected something close to momentary disappointment in Elena Pfaus’s expression.
Before she could respond, two small voices came in unison from behind him.
‘Good night, Papa. Good night, Mama.’
He turned to see two little girls, dark-haired like their mother, in their night attire standing in the doorway. Swallow guessed the slightly taller child might be seven, with her sister perhaps two years younger.
‘Ah,’ Pfaus beamed. ‘Meet our two precious jewels, Anna and Louise. They are just on their way to bed.’
He stood from the table and took them, one in each hand, to meet the visitor. They shook hands gravely and said something in German that Swallow could not understand, so he nodded and smiled.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ he said as warmly as he could. He realised how little he knew about dealing with young children. He had hardly ever spoken to one since his own childhood, other than on special occasions when he brought sweets or perhaps chocolate to Pat Mossop’s brood. He nodded and smiled again and tried to summon the few words of German that he knew.
‘Danke schön . . . danke schön.’
The children first giggled, then nodded solemnly and smiled as they backed towards the door to go to their beds.
‘Do you have children, Mr Swallow?’ Elena Pfaus asked.
‘Regrettably, no, Mrs Pfaus. I married rather late in life. Just very recently in fact. But I am happy to say that my wife, Maria, is due to be delivered of our first child later this year.’
‘Oh, that is exciting news,’ Elena clapped her hands. ‘The joy of children is a gift like no other. I am sure you will be an excellent father, Mr Swallow. Your wife is keeping well, I trust?’
‘Yes, thank you. She is in good health, and everything appears to be going well. Her doctor is very happy about that.’
Pfaus poured more of the Riesling.
‘I recall reading somewhere that Dublin has one of the most advanced maternity hospitals in the world,’ Pfaus observed. ‘Our maternity services here in Berlin are good, but I believe that Dublin’s reputation is unmatched. Curious in a relatively small city.’
‘That’s true,’ Swallow acknowledged. ‘The Rotunda Lying-In Hospital is perhaps 150 years old. I’m told that women who give birth there are more likely to be healthy along with their babies than in any other institution in the United Kingdom. Dublin is, as you say, a small city, but it has a strong tradition in medical discovery. I studied medicine myself for a number of years before becoming a policeman.’
His thoughts went momentarily to Maria. Grant’s would be starting to get busy with its night-time trade by now. He hoped that she was being prudent, as she promised, resting at this time in the parlour or in the bedroom rather than spending long hours supervising in the bar downstairs.
‘That’s a rather unusual career path,’ Pfaus said. ‘Why did you not complete your studies?’
‘It’s a long story,’ Swallow said ruefully. ‘Let’s just say that I didn’t concentrate on them as I should have.’
‘Would you have been happy as a doctor?’
‘The best answer I can give you is that I don’t know,’ Swallow said. ‘I sometimes regret that I didn’t qualify.’
Pfaus did not press the issue. Swallow sensed his understanding that it was best not to probe further.
Elena Pfaus’s Wiener Schnitzel was as good as her husband had promised it would be. The veal was thick and tender and the breadcrumb coating was crisp and golden.
‘And so, Mr Swallow,’ Elena asked, ‘what are the fashions in Dublin this year? It must be an elegant city. I am always interested to know about other cities and other countries. Berlin is rather a dull place, you know, especially after New York. And the wife of a police captain is rather constrained in her social life.’
‘I’m afraid you’re asking the wrong man about fashion,’ Swallow laughed. ‘As I told you, I’m only recently married myself, so I haven’t had much experience with that kind of thing. And the social life of a police inspector in Dublin isn’t exactly adventurous either.’
‘Dublin is a troubled city, is it not, Inspector?’ Pfaus said, slicing into his veal.
‘Ireland is a troubled country, Johann,’ Swallow answered. ‘And the countryside is more troubled than the city. A struggle continues between rich landowners and small tenant farmers who want to have the security of ownership of their farms. And the country’s political fate is in the balance. You may know of the Irish parliamentary leader, Charles Stewart Parnell. He is trying to secure Home Rule for Ireland, to give it an independent parliament rather than having it simply represented at Westminster as a region of the United Kingdom.’
Pfaus laughed quietly.
‘That’s an ironic contrast with Germany. Almost twenty years ago the peoples of these states of central Europe united to form the German Empire, centred here in Prussia. Our great statesman Prince Otto Von Bismarck saw that the future lies in unity. And of course, the United States is the great example of strength through unity. How curious that your Mr Parnell sees a future in separateness. So where do you stand on that issue, Joseph?’
‘Policemen are not allowed to take part in politics in my country, Johann,’ Swallow said cautiously. ‘We enforce the law as best we can.’
Pfaus grinned.
‘Ah, yes. It’s the same in Germany. But it doesn’t prevent one having views, does it?’
‘No,’ Swallow admitted. ‘I don’t mind saying that I would like to see Parnell succeed in his objective. Ireland is a different country from England. It has a different culture, a different language, even though I must confess I don’t speak the Irish language. And I believe if Mr Parnell doesn’t succeed, people who are prepared to resort to violence will take over the argument. I’d also like to see the land of Ireland belong to the ordinary farming people, not to landowners who live in another country on the rents they extract from their tenants.’
‘I know that women are not supposed to be involved in political issues,’ Elena said quietly, laying her knife and fork on her plate, ‘but if the Irish are a different race from the English I think it makes perfect sense for them to be allowed to have their own parliament and to own the land their ancestors held.’
‘That is an argument, my dear, that appeals to emotions,’ Pfaus said.
Swallow detected a hint of irritation in his voice.
‘Prince Bismarck’s vision is based on reason, and it has been proven,’ Pfaus went on. ‘There is strength and prosperity in unity. Look at the great advantages that the people of Germany have now compared to how it was in their parents’ day. There is universal education, good hospitals for all, pensions for the elderly, support for the infirm and even legal protections for those who suffer injury in the course of employment.’
Elena shrugged.
‘Yes, I understand that people now are much better off. But there are other things that make people happy too.’
‘Consider the conditions in which we live here,’ Pfaus resumed enthusiastically. ‘You see no fire in this apartment, Joseph, yet it is beautifully warm, is it not, on this cold January night?’
Swallow had been aware of the pleasant, even temperature of the apartment from the moment he had arrived.
‘Yes, indeed.’
‘Central heating,’ Pfaus said. ‘Many of the new buildings in the city have it. Coal from the Ruhr is burned in the basement furnace, driving heated water through the whole system.’
When they had finished their Wiener Schnitzel, Elena served a fruit tart with a warm raspberry syrup. Then she excused herself from the table.
‘I’m going to retire to allow you gentlemen to converse. Good night, Mr Swallow. It’s been a great pleasure to meet you.’
Swallow noted that as the evening had progressed, Elena Pfaus’s American pronunciation had become more accentuated. He had the sense that she was more than a little happy to connect to things that brought her back to the life she had left behind in the United States.
He stood and shook her hand politely.
‘Thank you, Mrs Pfaus, for a fine dinner and lovely company. Good night.’
Pfaus poured a peach brandy for each of them when Elena had gone. Then he opened a small wooden box, decorated with images of fierce-looking military men in helmets with impressive moustaches. Swallow declined the offered cigar.
‘So,’ Pfaus said, striking a match and drawing deeply on his own cigar, ‘tell me what progress you made with our young Mr Carmody.’
Swallow sipped at the peach brandy. It was sticky and too sweet for his taste.
‘He says he had nothing to do with the murder. And I’m inclined to believe him. He’d have liked to develop some romantic interest with the girl, but she rejected him, he says. I think he could be a helpful witness about the circumstances leading to the death, and he wants to do a deal with me.’
‘What sort of deal?’
‘I didn’t want to start negotiations with him tonight. Better to let him sweat for a bit. But I imagine he’ll want to be freed from any charges here and allowed to go free in return for his assistance.’
Pfaus shrugged.
‘That’s not a problem as far as the Kriminalpolizei are concerned, Joseph. We don’t want him here. He’s costing the German Empire money, so you’re welcome to have him if you think he can be of help to you.’
Swallow sipped again at the peach brandy. It was definitely too sweet for his taste, but he felt he might give offence if he left it unfinished.
‘I think he can, Johann. You mentioned something earlier that might actually have a bearing on this case. Tell me more about the law here in Germany about compensation for people who are injured at work.’
Pfaus tilted his head to blow cigar smoke towards the ceiling and smiled. Swallow saw something between smugness and pride in his host’s expression.
‘Ah, yes. It is a very advanced measure, one of many that reflect the personal thinking of Chancellor Prince Von Bismarck. He devised this particular piece of legislation himself for Prussia, and now it applies across the empire. Essentially, it means that if anyone is injured in the course of their employment, and if it can be shown that this is due to some neglect or failure to provide safe conditions, then the employer is obliged to compensate them.’
‘Are there many cases in which this has happened?’ Swallow asked.
Pfaus rapped on the table to emphasise his point.
‘That is the very success of the measure. Because employers know that they can face financial penalties, factories and other places of employment are now much safer. The numbers of accidents have come down, even in dangerous work like mining and heavy industry. It means work for the city police forces, of course: they have to inspect factories and other premises to ensure that there are safety measure in place.’
He threw back the last of his peach brandy. Swallow did likewise. He was grateful that Pfaus did not offer a refill.
‘In fact,’ Pfaus said, ‘I read in the newspaper recently that the increases in our industrial output have more than met the additional costs of policing and inspection. So the exchequer and the empire are actually better off as a result.’
He blew more smoke to the ceiling and smiled again. Definitely smugness this time, Swallow reckoned.
‘I understand the concept may be difficult for you to grasp, Joseph. Industry in England does not think progressively as it does here.’
Swallow resisted the temptation of yet again explaining that Ireland was not England. But it would have been beside the point. No such provisions had even been thought of in Ireland or England, as far as he knew.
‘Perhaps you are right, Johann. But what I’m interested to know is if this compensation scheme would apply to someone who is injured while working in a restaurant?’
‘Of course. One or two of the earliest cases involved accidents in hotels and restaurants here in Berlin. A kitchen worker lost an arm in a machine used for grinding meat at one of Berlin’s finest hotels. There should have been a protective shield, but it had been removed for some reason. He was unable to work again. So the hotel had to pay his medical costs and give him a lot of money. I think it was the equivalent of a year’s wages.’
Swallow felt the surge of energy that he always experienced when the elements of a mystery started to come together to form a coherent picture. The evasive arrogance of Stefan Werner on the two occasions when he had questioned him at the New Vienna now started to make sense. What Pfaus had just told him fitted in with what he had learned earlier in the cell from Michael James Carmody. His every instinct as a detective, developed over more than twenty years probing the criminal mind, was telling him that Werner was the man who had ended Alice Flannery’s life.
‘I think perhaps, Johann,’ he said cautiously, ‘that even though we don’t have these laws in Ireland or England, Mr Werner didn’t realise that. When Alice Flannery was injured in the kitchens of the New Vienna he may have seen himself facing an action for damages.’
Pfaus frowned.
‘Are you saying this man murdered the young woman, or had somebody murder her, simply to avoid an injury claim?’
‘Murders have been committed with much less compelling motives, Johann. You know that as a policeman.’
Pfaus shook his head in disbelief.
‘Most of my work has been on political crime. My experience with criminal investigation of this kind has been very limited. I have difficulty with the idea that a young woman’s life can be taken so lightly. But I defer to your knowledge.’
‘There is some information that might make my theory stronger,’ Swallow said. ‘Could I ask you to have someone make an inquiry for me?’
Pfaus nodded.
‘If it relates to this crime in any way, it is perfectly in order for the Kriminalpolizei to inquire into any matter. What do you need to know?’
‘I need to know about this man, Stefan Werner, who owns the New Vienna restaurant. He is a native of Berlin, or so he says. He claims that his family is well known in the restaurant business here. And he says he worked as a restaurant manager in London. He knows his business, and I imagine that he would have been well established in it here before he went to Dublin. I want to know what he did here, where he worked and when. And anything else that might be significant about his past.’
Pfaus had taken a small notebook from his pocket, and scribbled the details as Swallow spoke.
‘Werner. Stefan Werner. The name does not mean anything to me. On a police captain’s pay I am not a frequent patron of Berlin’s expensive restaurants or hotels. But by tomorrow afternoon, Joseph, you will know everything that is known to the Berlin police about this Mr Werner.’