Philip Kerr - Berlin Noir

‘Thank you for coming, Herr Gunther. And I’m sorry about yesterday. It was rude of me. You were only trying to help, were you not?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Last night I couldn’t sleep for thinking about what you said about -’ and here she hesitated for a moment. ‘About Eva.’

‘Paul Pfarr’s mistress?’ She nodded. ‘Is she a friend of yours?’

‘Not close friends, you understand, but friends, yes. And so early this morning I decided to put my trust in you. I asked you to meet me here because I’m sure I’m being watched. That’s why I’m late too. I had to make sure I gave them the slip.’

‘The Gestapo?’

‘Well, I certainly don’t mean the International Olympic Committee, Herr Gunther.’ I smiled at that, and so did she.

‘No, of course not,’ I said, quietly appreciating the way in which modesty giving way to impatience made her the more attractive. Beneath the terracotta-coloured raincoat she was unbuttoning at the neck, she wore a dress of dark blue cotton, with a neckline that allowed me a view of the first few centimetres of a deep and well-sunburnt cleavage. She started to fumble inside her capacious brown-leather handbag.

‘So then,’ she said nervously. ‘About Paul. After his death I had to answer a great many questions, you know.’

‘What about?’ It was a stupid question, but she didn’t say so.

‘Everything. I think that at one stage they even got round to suggesting that I might be his mistress.’ From out of the bag she produced a dark-green desk diary and handed it to me. ‘But this I kept back. It’s Paul’s desk diary, or, rather, the one he kept himself, his private one, and not the official one that I kept for him: the one that I gave to the Gestapo.’ I turned the diary over in my hands, not presuming to open it. Six, and now Marlene, it was odd the way people held things back from the police. Or maybe it wasn’t. It all depended on how well you knew the police.

‘Why?’ I said.

‘To protect Eva.’

‘Then why didn’t you simply destroy it? Safer for her and for you too I would have thought.’

She frowned as she struggled to explain something she perhaps only half understood herself. ‘I suppose I thought that in the proper hands, there might be something in it that would identify the murderer.’

‘And what if it should turn out that your friend Eva had something to do with it?’

Her eyes flashed and she spoke angrily. ‘I don’t believe it for a second,’ she said. ‘She wasn’t capable of harming anyone.’

Pursing my lips, I nodded circumspectly. ‘Tell me about her.’

‘All in good time, Herr Gunther,’ she said, her mouth becoming compressed. I didn’t think Marlene Sahm was the type ever to be carried away by her passion or her tastes, and I wondered whether the Gestapo preferred to recruit this kind of woman, or simply affected them that way.

‘First of all, I’d like to make something clear to you.’

‘Be my guest.’

‘After Paul’s death I myself made a few discreet inquiries as to Eva’s whereabouts, but without success. But I shall come to that too. Before I tell you anything I want your word that if you manage to find her you will try to persuade her to give herself up. If she is arrested by the Gestapo it will go very badly for her. This isn’t a favour I’m asking, you understand. This is my price for providing you with the information to help your own investigation.’

‘You have my word. I’ll give her every chance I can. But I have to tell you: right now it looks as though she is in it up to her hatband. I believe that she’s planning to go abroad tonight, so you’d better start talking. There’s not much time.’

For a moment Marlene chewed her lip thoughtfully, her eyes gazing emptily at the hurdlers as they came up to the starting line. She remained oblivious of the buzz of excitement in the crowd that gave way to silence as the starter raised his pistol. As he fired she began to tell me what she knew.

‘Well, for a start there’s her name: it’s not Eva. That was Paul’s name for her. He was always doing that, giving people new names. He liked Aryan names, like Siegfried, and Brünhilde. Eva’s real name was Hannah, Hannah Roedl, but Paul said that Hannah was a Jewish name, and that he would always call her Eva.’

The crowd gave a great roar as the American won the first heat of the hurdles.

‘Paul was unhappy with his wife, but he never told me why. He and I were good friends, and he confided in me a great deal, but I never heard him speak about his wife. One night he took me to a gaming club, and it was there that I ran across Eva. She was working there as a croupier. I hadn’t seen her in months. We first met working for the Revenue. She was very good with figures. I suppose that’s why she became a croupier in the first place. Twice the pay, and the chance to meet some interesting people.’

I raised my eyebrows at that one: I, for one, have never found the people who gamble in casinos to be anything less than dull; but I said nothing, not wishing to cut her thread.

‘Anyway, I introduced her to Paul, and you could see they were attracted. Paul was a handsome man, and Eva was just as good-looking, a real beauty. A month later I met her again and she told me that she and Paul were having an affair. At first I was shocked; and then I thought it was really none of my business. For a while – maybe as long as six months – they were seeing quite a lot of each other. And then Paul was killed. The diary should provide you with dates and all that sort of thing.’

I opened the diary and turned to the date of Paul’s murder. I read the entries written on the page.

‘According to this he had an appointment with her on the night of his death.’ Marlene said nothing. I started to turn back the pages. ‘And here’s another name I recognize,’ I said. ‘Gerhard Von Greis. What do you know about him?’ I lit a cigarette and added: ‘It’s time you told me all about your little department in the Gestapo, don’t you think?’

‘Paul’s department. He was so proud of it, you know.’ She sighed profoundly. ‘A man of great integrity.’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘All the time he was with this other woman, what he really wanted was to be back home with the wife.’

‘In a funny way that’s absolutely true, Herr Gunther. That’s exactly what he wanted. I don’t think he ever stopped loving Grete. But for some reason he started hating her as well.’

I shrugged. ‘Well, it takes all sorts. Maybe he just liked to wag his tail.’ She stayed silent for a few minutes after that one, and they ran the next heat of the hurdles. Much to the delight of the crowd, the German runner, Nottbruch, won the race. The matron got very excited at that, standing up in her seat and waving her programme.

Marlene rummaged in her bag again, and took out an envelope.

‘This is a copy of a letter originally empowering Paul to set up his department,’ she said, handing it to me. ‘I thought you might like to see it. It helps to put things in perspective, to explain why Paul did what he did.’

I read the letter. It went as follows:

The ReichsFührer SS and

Chief of the German Police in the Reich Ministry of the

Interior

o-KdS g2(o/RV) No. 22 11/35

Berlin NW7

6 November 1935

Unter den Linden, 74

Local Tel. 120 034

Trunk Call 120 037

Express letter to HauptSturmführer Doktor Paul Pfarr

I write to you on a very serious matter. I mean corruption amongst the servants of the Reich. One principle must apply: public servants must be honest, decent, loyal and comradely to members of our own blood. Those individuals who offend against this principle – who take so much as one mark – will be punished without mercy. I shall not stand idly by and watch the rot develop.