Фолькер Кучер - The Silent Death

‘Ah, Inspector,’ Franziska Voss said, as he passed her the book. Either she had looked at the photo in his personal file, or her sister had provided a good description. ‘That’s very kind of you. Did you enjoy it?’

‘Very exciting,’ he said.

‘Wait a moment,’ she said. ‘I’ve got something else for you.’ She fetched her bag and began rummaging inside. ‘It must be here somewhere,’ she said as she gradually emptied and repacked the contents. Rath cast his eye over the file that lay open on the desk, at the top of which was a medical form attesting that Detective Inspector Frank Brenner had sustained a number of serious injuries. The doctor had diagnosed a fractured ulna, in addition to a concussion of the brain, two missing teeth and a broken nose.

‘There it is!’ Franziska Voss closed her bag noisily. Rath made a mental note of the doctor’s name and address, somewhere out in Reinickendorf, and gave her a friendly smile. She pressed something into his hand.

‘Lipstick?’ he said. ‘What am I supposed to do with that?’

Even the office dragon looked sourly up from her typewriter.

Franziska Voss laughed. ‘Not for you! For Erika.’

Rath took his leave. It was the first time he’d brought lipstick back to the office for his secretary. ‘There were a couple of calls for you just now,’ she said. ‘A man and a woman.’

‘What did they want?’

‘They didn’t say. They’ll call back. I said you’d be here in a few minutes.’

Rath sat down at his desk, lit a cigarette and immersed himself in his thoughts. Who could it be? More well-wishers?

His trip to Personnel had been worth it. As he had suspected, Brenner had really gone to town. The doctor must owe Frank Brenner a favour. He skimmed his report for Dr Weiss once more. He could make a fair copy now he no longer needed to be careful what he said; soon it would be Brenner who had some explaining to do. He typed it himself as communications with superiors were none of Erika Voss’s concern. He proceeded as carefully as possible, checking each key twice before striking down, and finished after about half an hour. It read pretty well, without a single typing error.

Putting the duplicates to one side, he folded the sheets and sealed them in an envelope. He lit another cigarette, and sent Erika Voss upstairs with the letter. No sooner had she left than the telephone rang.

‘Congratulations, Inspector,’ a female voice said. Rath almost choked on cigarette smoke.

‘Forgive me for not singing,’ the voice said, ‘but that was never one of my strong points.’

He still didn’t know how to respond. Fortunately, she carried on speaking. ‘Had a look in your desk yet? A little hint: bottom drawer.’

Rath wedged the receiver against his shoulder and looked inside at a delightfully wrapped package, flat and square-shaped with a bow on top.

‘Speechless?’

He had to clear his throat before he could say anything. ‘I really wasn’t expecting that. You were in my office?’

‘At lunchtime when you were out. Have you opened it?’

‘One minute.’ He loosened the bow to reveal a record. An American import, cut only half a year before.

‘I don’t believe it. How did you get hold of it?’

‘There are lots of things you can get hold of in Berlin.’

‘I didn’t realise you knew my taste in music so well.’

‘I know a lot about you. We used to listen to music together from time to time. Or had you forgotten?’

Or course not. He hadn’t forgotten anything, not a single thing. No matter how hard he tried.

‘We haven’t seen each other for ages,’ he said, realising in the same instant how uninspired that was. And that it was a lie.

‘We just about managed it Sonnabend in the Resi.’

‘Pardon me?’

‘It was you who sent Brenner to the floor, wasn’t it?’

‘Word’s got around to you too?’

‘I just saw Brenner lying there and heard later that you were the one who did it. Could it be that you were wearing a captain’s uniform? Then I might even have seen you.’

‘Guilty on all counts, your Honour. Even in the matter of the captain’s uniform.’

‘I didn’t think you were the sort who got into fights at Fasching parties.’

‘Neither did I, but I’d have given Brenner a good clout at a Christmas party or a funeral too if necessary.’

Suddenly her voice sounded more serious than before. ‘Why in God’s name did you do it? Did he insult you? Offend your male pride or some rubbish like that?’

I’d rather die than tell you the truth, Charly.

‘I can’t explain,’ he said. ‘Just that the arsehole was positively begging for it.’

‘There are few people more deserving of a punch in the face than Frank Brenner,’ she said, ‘but you can’t just go around beating up your colleagues.’

‘That’s what Gennat and Weiss said too.’

‘It’s gone to the Vipoprä already?’

‘Zörgiebel might have been more understanding, but he’s away on holiday.’

‘You need to keep your anger under control, Gereon.’

‘There’s just too much of it.’ It was supposed to be a joke but the words betrayed his state of mind.

‘How are you?’ he asked quickly, to distract from himself, and as he uttered the harmless cliché he realised just how much she still affected him. He was anything but indifferent to how she was.

Charly began telling him about herself, and there was a lot to tell: her exams, long hours spent in the library, the envy and lack of understanding on the part of her male colleagues. ‘I’m afraid the legal faculty is overrun with reactionary idiots,’ she said. ‘And these are the same fools who will be representing our constitutional state in future. Goodnight, Germany! I’d like to know how many of my classmates are Nazis.’

‘It’s fashionable to be a Nazi,’ Rath said. ‘But so what? – fashions come and go.’

‘Only that politics is a little more important than a new pattern on the catwalk.’ She paused. ‘I’d like to see you again, Gereon,’ she said at last. It sounded almost affectionate, but perhaps he was just hearing what he wanted to hear. There was a little puppy dog inside him that came running, tail wagging, at the sound of her voice, at even the slightest kindness she showed; a little puppy dog ready to fulfil her every desire, and abase itself completely. He hated this little puppy dog and shooed it away by recalling their final fight, which had been fierce. She had been ready to belt him one, but instead she had simply beaten her little fist on the table and walked out. That was a long time ago, a few weeks before Christmas. He hadn’t seen her since, until the Fasching ball at the Resi.

He tried a casual laugh but only partially succeeded. ‘Only if you can guarantee it won’t end up in a fight.’

‘You know what, Gereon? Fighting with you is still my favourite pastime.’

He was barely responsive after hanging up, hardly noticing that Erika Voss had returned or taking in what she said. She closed the door and left him in peace. He couldn’t think straight; his mind kept returning to Charly. He had been ready for anything, but not for her getting back in touch. Now they even had a date. The telephone interrupted his thoughts. ‘Rath, CID.’

‘Likewise.’ Only one man answered the telephone like that. ‘Congratulations, my boy,’ said Engelbert Rath. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing.’

‘Only slightly.’

‘I just wanted to offer my congratulations, on behalf of your mother too. You know how she doesn’t like speaking on the telephone.’

‘Thank you.’

‘How are things in Berlin? Karl tells me the Communists are making trouble again?’