Philip Kerr - Berlin Noir

This time the huge wrought-iron gates to Six’s property were locked. A length of chain had been wrapped and padlocked around the centre bars; and the small ‘Keep Out’ sign had been replaced with one that read: ‘Keep Out. No Trespassers’. It was as if Six had suddenly grown more nervous about his own security. I parked close to the wall and, having put the gun from my bedside-drawer in my pocket, I got out of the car and climbed onto the roof. The top of the wall was easily reached, and I pulled myself up to sit astride the parapet. An elm tree provided an easy climb down to ground level.

There was little or no growl that I could recall, and I hardly heard the sound of the dogs’ paws as they galloped across the fallen leaves. At the last second I heard a heavy, panting breath which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up on end. The dog was already leaping at my throat as I fired. The shot sounded small beneath the trees, almost too small to kill something as fierce as the Dobermann. Even as it fell dead at my feet the wind was already bearing the noise away, and in the opposite direction from the house. I let out the breath that unconsciously I had held while firing, and with my heart beating like a fork in a bowlful of egg-white, I turned instinctively, remembering that there had been not one, but two dogs. For a second or two, the leaves rustling in the trees overhead camouflaged the other’s low growl. The dog came forward uncertainly, appearing in the clearing between the trees and keeping its distance from me. I stepped back as slowly it approached its dead brother, and when it dipped its head to sniff at the other’s open wound, I raised my gun once more. In a sudden gust of wind, I fired. The dog yelped as the bullet kicked it off its feet. For a moment or two it continued breathing, and then it lay still.

Pocketing the gun, I moved into the trees and walked down the long slope in the direction of the house. Somewhere the peacock was calling, and I had half a mind to shoot that too if it were unlucky enough to be stumbled upon. Killing was very much on my mind. It is quite common in a homicide for the murderer to get warmed up for the main event by disposing of a few innocent victims, such as the family pets, along the way.

Detection is all about chain-making, manufacturing links: with Paul Pfarr, Von Greis, Bock, Mutschmann, Red Dieter Helfferich and Hermann Six, I had a length of something strong enough to put my weight on. Paul Pfarr, Eva, Haupthandler and Jeschonnek was shorter, and altogether different.

It wasn’t that I intended killing Six. It was just that if I was unsuccessful in obtaining a few straight answers then I hadn’t ruled it out as a possibility. So it was with some embarrassment then that, with these thoughts passing through my mind, I came across the millionaire himself, standing under a great fir tree, smoking a cigar and humming quietly.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said, quite unperturbed to see me turn up on his property with a gun in my hand. ‘I thought it was the groundsman. You’ll want some money, I suppose.’

For a brief moment I didn’t know what to say to him. Then I said: ‘I shot the dogs.’ I put the gun back into my pocket.

‘Did you? Yes, I thought I heard a couple of shots.’ If he felt any fear or irritation at this piece of information, he did not show it.

‘You’d better come up to the house,’ he said, and began to walk slowly towards the house, with me following a short way behind.

When we got within sight of the house I saw Lise Rudel’s blue BMW parked outside, and I wondered if I would see her. But it was the presence on the lawn of a large marquee that prompted me to break the silence between us.

‘Planning a party?’

‘Er, yes, a party. It’s my wife’s birthday. Just a few friends, you know.’

‘So soon after the funeral?’ My tone was bitter, and I saw that Six had noticed it too. As he walked along he searched first the sky and then the ground for an explanation.

‘Well, I’m not -’ he began. And then: ‘One can’t – one cannot mourn one’s loss indefinitely. Life must go on.’ Recovering some of his composure he added: ‘I thought that it would be unfair to my wife to cancel her plans. And of course, we both have a position in society.’

‘We mustn’t forget that, must we?’ I said. Leading us up to the front door, he said nothing, and I wondered if he was going to call for help. He pushed it open, and we stepped into the hall.

‘No butler today?’ I observed.

‘It’s his day off,’ said Six, hardly daring to catch my eye. ‘But there is a maid if you would like some refreshment. You must be quite warm after your little excitement.’

‘Which one?’ I said. ‘Thanks to you I’ve had several “little ex-citements”.’

He smiled thinly. ‘The dogs, I mean.’

‘Oh yes, the dogs. Yes, I am quite warm as it happens. They were big dogs. But I’m quite a shot, even though I say so myself.’ We went in to the library.

‘I enjoy shooting myself. But only for sport. I don’t suppose I’ve ever shot anything bigger than a pheasant.’

‘Yesterday, I shot a man,’ I said. ‘That’s my second one in as many weeks. Since I started to work for you, Herr Six, it’s become a bit of a habit with me, you know.’ He stood awkwardly in front of me, his hands clasped behind his neck. He cleared his throat and threw the cigar butt into the cold fireplace. When eventually he spoke, he sounded embarrassed, as though he were about to dismiss an old and faithful servant who had been caught stealing.

‘You know, I’m glad you came,’ he said. ‘As it happens I was going to speak to Schemm, my lawyer, this afternoon, and arrange for you to be paid. But since you are here I can write you a cheque.’ And so saying he went over to his desk with such alacrity that I thought he might have a gun in the drawer.

‘I’d prefer cash, if you don’t mind.’ He glanced up at my face, and then down at my hand holding the butt of the automatic in my jacket pocket.

‘Yes, of course you would.’ The drawer stayed shut. He sat down in his chair and rolled back a corner of the rug to reveal a small safe sunk in the floor.

‘Now that’s a handy little nut. You can’t be too careful these days,’ I said, relishing my own lack of tact. ‘You can’t even trust the banks, can you?’ I peered innocently across the desk. ‘Fireproof, is it?’ Six’s eyes narrowed.

‘You’ll forgive me, but I seem to have lost my sense of humour.’ He opened the safe, and withdrew several packets of banknotes. ‘I believe we said five per cent. Would 40,000 close our account?’

‘You could try it,’ I said, as he placed eight of the packets on the desk. Then he closed the safe, rolled back the carpet, and pushed the money towards me.

‘They’re all hundreds, I’m afraid.’

I picked up one of the bundles and tore the paper wrapping off. ‘Just as long as they’ve got Herr Liebig’s picture on them,’ I said.

Smiling thinly, Six stood up. ‘I don’t think we need ever meet again, Herr Gunther.’

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’

He began to look impatient. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said testily.

‘Oh, but I’m sure you are.’ I put a cigarette in my mouth and struck a match. Bending my head towards the flame I took a couple of quick puffs and then dropped the match into the ashtray. ‘The necklace.’ Six remained silent. ‘But then, you already have it back, don’t you?’ I said. ‘Or at least you know where it is, and who has got it.’

His nose wrinkled with distaste, as if it detected a bad smell. ‘You’re not going to be tiresome about this are you, Herr Gunther? I do hope not.’

‘And what about those papers? The evidence of your involvement with organized crime that Von Greis gave to your son-in-law. Or do you imagine that Red Dieter and his associates are going to persuade the Teichmüllers to tell them where they are? Is that it?’