Фолькер Кучер - The Silent Death

Erika Voss laughed. ‘No. Way off. Try a little further west.’

‘What is this? Some sort of guessing game?’

‘My, we’re in a good mood today,’ she grumbled as Rath stormed into his office.

‘Inspector Rath, A Division!’

‘You’re a difficult man to get hold of, boy!’

Rath cast Erika Voss a grimly apologetic look, which she countered with a smile and a shrug. He closed the door. ‘Father!’

‘You were right, my boy!’

‘Pardon me?’

It was rare that Engelbert Rath admitted his son was right.

‘The name, Hagedorn. Bullseye! A Gertrud Hagedorn worked as a secretary for the Deutsche Bank board of directors in Cologne between nineteen-twenty-seven and twenty-nine, and was present at all board meetings where Konrad spoke about these matters with Chairman Brüning. And then this Fräulein Hagedorn…’

‘…moved to Berlin half a year ago.’

‘You already know?’

‘I’ve taken action. You can tell the mayor the matter has been resolved.’

‘Did you trace the letters’ sender?’

‘As a matter of fact, I silenced him.’

‘Sometimes you really do surprise me, boy. For days nothing happens, and I ask myself whether it was a mistake entrusting the matter to you, and then, somehow, you manage after all.’

‘I didn’t just manage. I resolved a serious problem and did both you and the mayor a huge favour.’

‘Who was it then? Hagedorn herself?’

‘Her fiancé. A Ford worker. The name isn’t important.’

‘Are you sure he’ll stop harassing the mayor?’

‘Quite sure.’

‘We don’t want him to go running to the press now.’

‘The mayor needn’t worry about his good name.’

‘Then I hope you’re right.’

‘Do you have to call everything I do into question? Can’t you just believe me for once? Trust me when I say the matter is resolved?’

‘Don’t be so sensitive. I just wonder how you can be so certain with a matter as delicate as this.’

‘Let me worry about how I dealt with everything. Just know that everything has been dealt with!’

‘Good. We’ll take care of Fräulein Hagedorn. Or rather: Deutsche Bank.’

‘Best leave her alone. If the bank puts her out on the street she’ll only seek revenge. It’s enough for the woman to no longer take part in confidential meetings.’

‘We let her off scot-free?’

‘Fear of unemployment is more effective than unemployment itself. As long as Gertrud Hagedorn has her job, the mayor can sleep easy. I just hope he keeps his word regarding my promotion.’

‘Of course, my boy!’

What filthy weather! Rath had to turn on the windscreen wipers. At lunchtime the sun had been shining, now it was coming down in buckets. To cap it all, soft hail was drumming on the roof of the car. Some pedestrians had been caught out and, without an umbrella, pulled their hats down or held their briefcases above their heads.

He didn’t even know if there was any point in this journey, but the secretary at La Belle Film Production had left him no other choice. No sooner did she realise she was talking to the police than her voice had taken on a layer of ice.

‘I’m afraid I must disappoint you there,’ she said, sounding anything but apologetic, ‘but I have no idea where you can reach Herr Meisner today.’

‘Isn’t he filming?’

‘Our production schedule is with you at Alexanderplatz. Why don’t you have a look there?’

Rath had chosen to do something else. He had grabbed Kirie and headed for the car.

‘Where are you off to?’ Erika Voss asked.

‘To look for an actor.’

‘Then you’ve got the right search dog.’

Where to start? Meisner’s private address or the studio in Marienfelde? Rath decided on the man’s private apartment.

Victor Meisner lived in Lietzensee, a nice residential area near Kantstrasse, which was nevertheless right on the lake with a direct view of the park and the swans. The house even had an elevator.

The door still said Meisner/Zima . He pressed the button and there was a shrill ring behind the door, but no one answered.

He rang again and waited. Even in the stairwell there was a nice view of the lake and the Funkturm, its steel struts glistening wet in the sun that was just beginning to peer through the grey clouds.

When no one had answered by the third ring, he went back downstairs. There was still the caretaker, or concierge as the sign on his lodge described him.

The man even wore a uniform. Remembering Vivian Franck’s apartment building, he thought actors probably needed that sort of thing. He knocked on the glass.

The man opened the sliding window. ‘What can I do for you, Inspector?’

‘I’m looking for Victor Meisner.’

‘Herr Meisner isn’t at home.’

‘I’ve realised that.’

‘If you had asked me just now, instead of waving your badge, I could have spared you the trip.’

‘My dog likes to take the elevator,’ Rath said. ‘Perhaps you can tell me where I might find Herr Meisner?’

‘Herr Meisner is working.’

‘He’s only just completed a film.’

‘Herr Meisner is always working. Probably best for him, after the tragedy with his wife.’

‘How is he coping?’

‘With dignity. In those first few days he was inconsolable. Luckily Fräulein Bellmann was there to look after him. He seems to have a hold of himself again. Still, even with all his acting gifts he can’t hide the fact that this quirk of fate has made a broken man of him.’

‘A broken man…’

That wasn’t Rath’s impression, but he didn’t want to destroy the image the concierge had of his most celebrated resident.

‘He no longer needs Frau Bellmann’s support then?’

‘She hasn’t been here for a long time, if that’s what you mean.’

‘And has he been there?’

‘I’m a concierge, not a private detective.’

‘What would you say, did he love his wife?’

‘You do ask indiscreet questions!’

‘It’s one of the things I love about my job. So?’

‘Of course, he loved her. Even if recently…’

‘What?’

‘Well, Frau Winter… I don’t think she loved him. At least not latterly.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘She was always a little cold, thought she was above people, never greeted yours truly. And it seems she wanted to leave him…’

‘She wanted a divorce?’

‘I’m not talking about that. She wanted to make other films. Without him, with another producer.’

‘How do you know that?’

The concierge shrugged. ‘I overheard it. They had a fight right outside my lodge. She wouldn’t lend her good name to it, she said, he could forget about that.’

‘What did she mean?’

‘No idea. I’m just telling you what I heard that morning by chance.’

‘Which morning?’

‘You know, that morning. He came back in the evening looking a picture of misery. Must have been reproaching himself for having fought with her on the day she died. Yet the whole thing was her fault.’

‘A huge fight on the day Betty Winter died… Why didn’t you tell us before?’

‘Because no one asked. Your colleagues went into the flat last week, and came straight back out. Nobody was interested in what I had to say.’

They were still working in the studio at Marienfelde and Rath had to wait before the guard let him in. It looked like an adventure film, at any rate a set with windows that had been shot to pieces. Eva Kröger was there again. Had she found a stage name in the meantime? She gave him a brief smile when she recognised him, in contrast to Jo Dressler, whose gaze had followed her smile.