Фолькер Кучер - The Silent Death

Paul was first to finish. He ordered another round of wine and asked for the bill. The wine came when Rath and Charly were also finished. The waiter placed the bill on the table. ‘Allow me,’ Paul said. ‘A little thank-you for the invitation and the lovely afternoon.’

‘Absolutely not,’ Rath protested. ‘You paid for last night as well.’

‘If I want to pay then surely you can let me.’

‘Would the gentlemen care to duel – or do I get my money today?’ the waiter asked.

Rath pressed thirty marks into his hand, and Paul added a five-mark note. The waiter bowed. ‘Good day, gentlemen.’

They took the bus back to Bahnhof Wannsee, where Paul was suddenly in a hurry to get away. ‘You’ll forgive me if I leave now,’ he said. ‘But I think I would like to take a little wander round Berlin after all. It isn’t every day you’re in the imperial capital.’ They said their goodbyes on the platform. ‘It was nice to meet you,’ he said to Charly. ‘Thanks for this afternoon.’

‘It was only half an afternoon,’ she said.

The train was already rolling into the station as he said goodbye to Rath. ‘You won’t find another like her,’ he whispered as the two men briefly embraced. ‘Make sure you hold onto her!’

Paul jumped on-board the train to Potsdamer Platz. ‘Perhaps we’ll see each other again!’ he shouted before the doors closed.

Kirie barked after the departing train and Rath looked at Charly. It was a rather hasty goodbye. She seemed to think so too. ‘That’s Paul,’ he said. ‘Not always easy to understand.’

‘Says you! I think he just wanted to be discreet and leave us alone.’

‘What now? Should we head back and go to the Pfaueninsel?’

‘Another time.’ She gestured towards the station clock. ‘It’s almost four. Let’s go back to your car.’

‘What should we do with the rest of the afternoon?’

‘I could think of something,’ she said, nestling up to him.

‘Your place or mine?’

‘Yours,’ she said, her lips drawing closer to his mouth. He closed his eyes and kissed her, but at precisely that moment the dog started barking. Their train was coming in.

He had hoped the day might end in Luisenufer, and so had cleaned beforehand. Not wanting it to look too much like a bachelor flat he had taken the empty beer bottles down to the cellar, washed the dirty dishes and, above all, placed the bottle of cognac next to the other bottles in the cupboard. He fetched it now, along with two glasses, placed an empty ashtray on the table and put on a record.

‘What a treat to be waited on by a man!’

‘All part of the Sunday service.’

‘Just the Sunday service?’

‘Try it.’

They clinked glasses.

Kirie had curled into a ball under the living room table, ignoring the basket Rath had so lovingly prepared. She ought really to have been in the kitchen after demolishing a whole bowl of food in record time, but no sooner had he closed the door than she began barking, scratching and whimpering. He had no choice but to open it again.

‘Are you training the dog or is she training you?’

‘Kirie belongs to a diva, so she can afford to have bad manners.’

Rath put on something slow, a languid blues: Bessie Smith accompanied by Louis Armstrong on trumpet, and they sat for a while, listening.

‘Is dancing permitted here?’ Charly asked.

Rath stood up, held out his right hand and pulled her from her chair. Nestled closely together, they moved to the gentle, rhythmical beat. He waited for the final chord to take her chin in his hands and kiss her long and hard, until fierce barking interrupted them. An indignant Kirie stood before them.

‘This can’t be happening,’ he said. ‘Whenever we kiss, the dog barks. Come on, Kirie, out!’

Kirie lay back down.

Charly laughed. ‘I think she’s jealous. She objects to you kissing me.’

‘Then she needs to go to her basket.’

‘You know how much fuss she makes when you shut her in.’

‘As far as I’m concerned the whole flat can be hers, but the bedroom is ours.’

Kirie seemed content with her fate. There was no more barking to be heard, no sound of furniture being overturned or vases being smashed and, at last, they could kiss one another.

The feel of Charly’s body, the redolence of her scent, was hugely arousing. They undressed each other while kissing only to lose balance and fall onto the bed. He kissed her slender throat, the nape of her neck, slowly working his way down… Then the telephone rang and Kirie started barking again, and neither would stop. Charly couldn’t help but laugh.

‘What have I done to deserve this?’ he said, making for the living room in his underwear.

Kirie was standing in front of the telephone table barking at the machine. Rath picked up, and the dog fell silent as soon as the ringing ceased. It was Lange. ‘Boss, finally!’

‘What is it?’

‘You were right!’

‘Pardon me?’

‘About the cinemas! We have a corpse! The Kosmos in Weissensee. Probably Fastré.’

‘Is someone already out there?’

‘You’re the only one missing. I thought I’d let you know. It was your idea after all…’

‘I’m on my way.’

Kirie followed him into the bedroom.

‘And?’ Charly asked.

Rath reached for his trousers. ‘The Castle.’

He didn’t have to say anything else. She got dressed too. ‘Should I come with you?’

‘Best not. If people see us together, there’ll be talk.’

‘Especially now that I don’t work at the Castle.’

‘Why don’t you stay here? You can take Kirie for a walk. It would be nice if you could look after her.’ He paused. ‘It’s probably her mistress we’ve found.’

‘Oh my, poor dog.’

‘I’ll be back as soon as soon as I can. You can sleep here too.’

When Kirie tilted her head to one side Charly could hardly refuse.

At Antonplatz the ED car was parked behind the murder wagon. The cream-coloured Horch standing last in line looked like that of Dr Karthaus, the younger colleague of Dr Schwartz’s. There was no uniformed officer guarding the main entrance, which was anyway protected by a rolling grille.

The Kosmos was one of several cinemas near Antonplatz, but the only one whose neon lights no longer burned. Andreas Lange was waiting for him under the dark letters, looking like someone who refused to acknowledge that he had been stood up, even after the cinema had closed. ‘Evening, Sir,’ he said. ‘We have to go in via the courtyard.’

They didn’t encounter a uniformed officer until they reached the concrete stairs at the rear entrance. A metal gate shielded the courtyard from the world outside.

Only inside the auditorium did the extent of the police operation become clear. There were ED men everywhere looking for clues. Meanwhile, the officers from the 271st precinct, who had found the body, were standing idly by.

This time the body was actually on the stage, right in front of the screen: a blonde angel in a sparkling, silvery-white evening dress. There was a flash, and Rath recognised Reinhold Gräf behind the camera. He gave his former partner a brief wave. Bulldog Böhm was speaking to one of the officers as well as a civilian, momentarily interrupting himself when he caught sight of Rath. He didn’t seem too pleased that a search he had turned down had led to this success. Next to the corpse stood the pathologist, bobbing impatiently up and down on the balls of his feet.

‘If you don’t want any trouble with Böhm,’ Rath said to Lange, ‘tell him you couldn’t get hold of me yesterday evening. You don’t know anything about my telephone call to the search unit.’