Филип Керр - Metropolis

‘I wouldn’t worry about it, love,’ I said, keen to avoid any kind of role in their transaction. ‘There’s been a shooting outside the station on Friedrichstrasse that should keep the bastards busy for hours. That’s what all the commotion is about.’

‘I’m not worried. It’s my friend here who’s worried. Just blow that whistle if a bull turns up, right? One blast, that’s all. Got that?’

‘How long will you be?’

The whore looked at her client, whose blushing face told us both he was young and inexperienced, and grinned.

‘We’d better ask him, hadn’t we?’ She looked at the boy and smiled. ‘How about it, Fritz. How long will it take to get you off?’

The boy blushed a deeper shade of red, at which point the whore looked at me and said: ‘Ten minutes, tops.’

But as things turned out they were gone for a lot less than ten minutes. I didn’t see where the two Greenies came from who arrested them, but as they marched the pair out from behind the theatre and around the corner to the police station, the whore shot me a look every bit as homicidal as the one I’d seen on the face of the man in the yellow Dixi.

‘What, are you blind as well as stupid, you legless prick?’ she yelled. ‘Christ, I hope you’re a better beggar than you’re a lookout. Did you actually lose those legs, or just forget where you left them?’

‘Sorry.’ I shrugged an apology but thought no more about it until half an hour later, when I was awoken from a light sleep and a dream of summer rain by something wet and the sound of a woman’s laughter. I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was a woman’s genitals close to my face; it was another few seconds before I realized that the whore who’d been arrested by the Greenies had come back to the Trianon to hoist her dress up, plant one foot on the wall above my head and then piss on me like a dog. By the time I realized what she’d done, she’d dropped her skirt and run off, shrieking with laughter, leaving me soaked in her stinking urine.

‘That’ll teach you, dumbhead,’ she yelled back at me. ‘Next time someone asks you to keep a lookout, try opening your fucking eyes.’

It’s hard to describe the shame I felt at this latest turn of events. I told myself it was no less than what Anita Berber used to do at the White Mouse on Jägerstrasse, until the place had closed. But the fact was, I felt curiously emasculated by what had happened. So much so that when I returned to the Schiffbauerdamm Theater and saw Brigitte again, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her exactly what had happened and instead chose to make a joke out of it; at least, that’s how I explained it to myself.

‘A dog pissed on me,’ I said, removing my reeking army tunic. ‘I must have dozed off in the sunshine and when I woke up a damn dog was pissing on me. I guess it mistook my field-grey uniform for a street corner. If I wasn’t so disgusted with myself I’d be laughing, so go right ahead, be my guest. Because it is kind of funny. Some detective, huh? If the boys at the Alex find out about this I’ll never hear the end of it.’

‘You worry about me. Not them. My sense of humour is every bit as cruel as any man I ever met.’

‘I can believe that.’

‘What kind of a dog was it, anyway?’ she asked, restraining a smile.

‘A big one. With lots of teeth.’

‘That’s not much of a description.’

‘I don’t know about breeds. Next time I’ll pat it on the head, ask if it has a name, and get it to go and fetch me a stick to beat it with.’

‘The poor thing was just marking out its territory.’ Brigitte fetched a bottle of cologne from her bag and sprayed the air with it. ‘Really, you should feel flattered.’

‘That’s just what I’ve been telling myself on the way back here. But that’s a little hard; now that the sun’s dried it off and I smell you, I realize I stink like a schnapper .’

I draped the tunic on a hanger, hung it out the window, slipped off the army pants and washed my hands and face. Brigitte lit a black cigarette, which helped with the smell, and then threaded it in my mouth. I sucked the smoke down like it had come from an altar boy’s thurible.

‘I can get that uniform cleaned if you like. Overnight. The cleaners we use here are very reliable.’

‘If they’re anything like the overnight service I got from you then they must be the best in Berlin.’

Brigitte smiled. ‘I’m very glad to hear it. But that wasn’t a service. That was an errand of mercy.’

‘So you’re an angel as well.’

‘There are a lot of angels in the theatre. Someone has to pay for these shows. My dad, mostly.’ She shook her head. ‘You know, talking of angels, I thought of you today. As a matter of fact, for a while back there I got quite worried. There was a murder on Friedrichstrasse and I thought it might be you who was playing a harp.’

‘What persuaded you it wasn’t, angel?’

‘As soon as I heard about it I walked down to Friedrichstrasse and asked a cop.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Said it was a gang thing. But by then I knew it wasn’t you. The dead guy’s hand was sticking out from under the sheet. You didn’t have a girl’s name tattooed on the base of your thumb when you left here. Or pants with a cuff. And I wasn’t sure you had that amount of blood in you. No one does.’

‘You were worried about me? I’m touched.’

‘Don’t make a big thing about it. Besides, I needed the exercise and the fresh air.’

‘And when you knew it wasn’t me who was dead?’

‘I came back here.’

‘Is that all?’

‘No, I lit a candle in St John’s, went down on my knees and gave thanks to the Almighty.’

‘You on your knees. I’d like to see that.’

‘Your memory stinks worse than your army uniform, copper.’

‘As a matter of fact, I was a witness to that murder. I saw the whole thing. I even recognized the killer.’

‘What does that make you? An innocent bystander?’

‘Kind of. Except that I wasn’t standing. And unless it’s a blue moon or a Sunday, I’m not so innocent.’

‘After last night’s errand of mercy I can testify to that. But it is handy that it should be you who happened to see the whole thing. You being a cop ’n’ all. You think the defence lawyers will believe you? When it goes to court? I just happened to be sitting in a klutz wagon on another case when your client shot the dead man . Meanwhile, maybe the police commissioner will give you a promotion. Or a medal. Or a new magnifying glass. Whatever he does when you hand him the murderer’s head on a plate.’

‘As soon as I get my own clothes on I’m going to telephone the Alex to make a report.’

‘What’s your hurry? I like you just fine with your pants off.’ She kicked off her shoes and showed me her toes. ‘Besides, the victim looked as though he would keep for a while.’

‘You’re forgetting the killer. He might get away.’

‘I very much doubt that. You look like the kind of cop who always gets his man. Not to mention his woman. And if not his woman then someone else’s. Maybe anyone else’s.’

‘Now, what makes you say a thing like that?’

‘You’ve got a way with women, Gunther. A nice way, but a way nonetheless. The same way a professional gambler knows the way to count cards. Or a good jockey knows how to handle racehorses.’

‘You make me sound very cynical.’

‘No. That’s not it. I’ll work out a name for it the next time I have a thesaurus in front of me. Anyway, now that I know you’re all right I was thinking of celebrating by locking the door again.’

‘Just as long as I’m on the inside.’

‘I can’t think of a better place for you to be.’