Jakob Arjouni: More Beer

“You don’t know those allotment holders …”

“They only wanted to destroy one of Bollig’s waste pipes. Material damage, nothing else.”

“What kind of waste did the pipes dispose of?”

“Chemical waste products, just like everywhere else. But some kids in the region developed strange skin problems, and the matter had been taken up with the Bollig firm. These children had been bathing in the lake into which those waste products were discharged. There were all kinds of initiatives, but none of them led to any change. My clients wanted to do something to get the debate going again.”

“And they were successful.”

“Yes … But it seems like they themselves don’t really know what to think about the whole thing.” He chewed pensively on a tomato slice. “It must be a strange feeling. You go and blow up a concrete pipe, and the next day’s papers tell you that someone has been shot and killed.”

“Did they find the gun?”

“No.”

“Let me see if I got this straight. In the middle of the night, four people detonate a waste pipe belonging to the Bollig plant, and a few steps away, and at the same time, the head of that enterprise is shot and killed. And just because your clients look so pitiful when you visit them in their cells, you can’t see a connection … But how to convince the court of that? Good luck, is all I can say. What do you need me for?”

“The fifth man is missing. According to witnesses, five people participated in the action.”

“Witnesses?”

“A fellow was camping by the lakeshore, not far from the plant. With his girlfriend. The explosion woke him up, and as he rushed out of his tent, he saw five people running away.”

“What do your clients have to say about that?”

“Nothing. They don’t want to betray their comrade. But I believe that he is the key to this case, and that is why I want to hire you. Today I asked for a postponement of the trial date, to give you time to find the man. One week, exactly.”

I ground my cigarette into the ashtray.

“So you need a private investigator. Why me? I’m a Turk.”

His stubby fingers scratched the back of his other hand. “I read about your last case. I think you’re pretty incorruptible.”

“Depends on the size of the bribe …”

“What I mean is that you’re not easily swayed by public opinion. If you take this on, you have to be incorruptible in that sense.”

Pause. It took him at least three minutes to come out with his next question.

“How did you end up in this profession? Being a Turk, I mean …”

“I’m a citizen of the Federal Republic.”

“Oh, I see.”

He nodded, and as he leaned forward, there was a glint of solidarity in his eyes.

“Not so easy to acquire, that damn citizenship, is it?”

“No problem. I mow my lawn, I laugh a lot during the carnival season, and I manage to drink beer and play skat at the same time. Somewhere past Munich lies Africa, that’s where the Negroes live. I hate interruptions during sportscasts. My living-room set has been paid for. And I’m really a dancing Silesian at heart.”

For a moment he seemed on the verge of the inevitable “You must be kidding,” but he restrained himself and only gave an affected laugh.

“Seriously, Mr. Kayankaya-how long have you been living in Germany?”

“My mother died after she gave birth to me. My father took me to Germany. He didn’t last very long, and I was adopted by a German family. I’ve lived in this country for as long as I can remember.”

He nodded.

“Forgive me. That’s quite a story.”

I lit a cigarette.

“It is?”

I took a drag.

“You should have heard the one I told my last client.”

I blew smoke rings.

“How did they find your defendants?”

“That is one of many dubious aspects in the case.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that the police simply stormed their apartment three days after the explosion. There had been no search to speak of.”

“Maybe someone squealed.”

“Yes …”

“Could have been that fifth man.”

“Maybe …”

“The police didn’t say how they managed to find the suspects so quickly?”

“The man in charge, Detective Superintendent Kessler, was quite reticent about it. He merely said that the suspects had been arrested at the end of a quickly organized investigation.”

“Not a word about the fifth man?”

“Not a word.”

“Are they looking for him now?”

“I assume they are.”

“On what grounds?”

“Well, he’s just as suspect as my clients are.”

“What if he made a little deal with the cops? His freedom for the address of your clients?”

“I don’t think so. Not in a case that has attracted so much political attention. The police can’t afford it.”

“All right. So the cops are after him-but you think you need a P.I. to chase him too. Who do you think I am? If the guy has half a brain, he’s made tracks, and not just from Sachsenhausen to the North End or the other way round, but much farther. If you like, I’ll take your money and drive around. But it’s a bit out of my league.”

“In my opinion, a discreet loner may be more effective. Naturally I’ll take care of your expenses …”

He hesitated.

“If I didn’t think you were a good detective-I would have got up and left long ago.”

“I’ve been sitting around in these wet rags for three hours. I can’t stand it when people smack their lips while eating. And I would have preferred to meet your friend alone, on a night with a full moon.”

“You were none too kind to Miss Reedermann.”

“There was no full moon, either.”

“Furthermore, in this case … I don’t know your political views, but …”

“I’m just supposed to find this guy, right?”

“Yes, of course, but political views do come into play. People want to see my clients convicted. So-called Green terrorists are grist to the mill for the Right. They’re the best thing that could have happened, from the Rightists’ point of view. Considering the business with the Rhein Main Farben plant, and …”

“All right. To set your mind at rest, I really believe that hand-knitted socks, free-range chickens, and argumentative women are terrific. I don’t look good in seal fur. But don’t ask me for the next paper recycling date.”

“Well, then.” He sighed. “So you accept?”

“Two hundred marks a day plus expenses.”

“No reduced rates for a good cause?”

“It’s included. I am the good cause.”

He nodded, looking a little sour. “How do you intend to start?”

“First I’ll have a word with your clients. Then I’ll drive to Doppenburg.”

“My clients? But that’s out of the question. They refuse to talk to anyone but me.”

“In that case, I need official reports, background information, and so on.” I considered this for a moment.

“The Bollig plant doesn’t employ a night watchman?”

“He was knocked out.”

“And?”

“He saw the person. At a lineup, he didn’t recognize a single one of my clients.”

“The fifth man?”

I stood up and pocketed my pack of cigarettes. “When can I see you in your office?”

“Tonight.”

“Around eight, then. Where is Doppenburg?”

“On the Frankfurt-Heidelberg freeway, past Darmstadt. It has its own exit.”

“I’ll see you tonight. See if you can make that lakeside camper be there too.”

I left. The sky had lightened and the rain had slackened to a drizzle. A couple of small clouds stuck to the tall downtown buildings like dirty cottonballs. I turned up my coat collar and hurried to the nearest subway station.