Lynda Plante - Entwined

"Yes, I heard you and Rieckert have free tickets!"

"I'm going on business, I'll be using the patrol car, contact me directly if need be. Have you got someone to take over from you?"

"We've got three candidates, but this is a very old board, you have to have experience..."

"I want someone on that switchboard day and night, is that understood?"

The receiver was slammed down and Torsen stared at his phone; he hadn't had any lunch and it was already two o'clock. He picked up the rabbi's bill; he would use it as an excuse to talk to Ruda Kellerman, and then ask if he could take the boots. If he waited around for a search warrant, it could take hours.

Grimaldi was looking for Ruda, he'd not seen her since breakfast. She was late for feeding time; since she always fed the cats herself, he was worried that something had happened to her. When he saw the inspector making his way around the puddles, he hurried toward him. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, I was just coming to see you, or your wife. I have the bill for Kellerman's funeral costs; you recall she said she would pay it."

Grimaldi shrugged. "I don't know where she is, but come on inside."

Torsen stepped into the trailer, wiping his feet on the grid, noticing the boots weren't there. He sat on the bench turning his cap around and around, as Grimaldi opened the rabbi's envelope. He examined the bill briefly, and delved into his pockets. "I'll pay you — cash all right?"

The inspector nodded. Grimaldi counted the notes, folded them, and handed them over. "Not much for a life, huh?"

Torsen opened his top pocket, asked if Grimaldi required a receipt. He shook his head, and then crossed to the window, lifting up the blind. "This isn't like her, she's never late for feeding, I wonder where the hell she has gone."

Torsen tried to sound nonchalant, but he flushed. "Perhaps she went to Mama Magda's funeral."

Grimaldi stared. "Who the hell is she?"

Torsen explained, embarrassed at his attempt to be a sly investigator. "She was a famous West Berlin madam; she died last night at her club, Mama's... I believe your wife was there."

"What are you talking about?"

"She was at Mama Magda's — I was told about nine, nine-thirty."

"Bullshit! She was in the ring, we had a dress rehearsal. You got the wrong girl!"

Torsen pointed to the newspaper on the table. "It was in the papers this morning, Mama Magda... photograph."

Grimaldi snatched the paper and opened it. "I've never heard of her, and why do you think Ruda was there?"

Grimaldi looked at the paper, but the article had been cut out. He said nothing, tossed the paper back onto the table.

Torsen was extremely nervous, the big man scared the life out of him. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? I'm sorry to inconvenience you."

Grimaldi sniffed, and rubbed his nose. "She's never late!"

"Do you have a leather trilby, or a similar hat — a shiny black hat?"

Grimaldi turned. "Do I have a what?"

Torsen stuttered slightly as he repeated his question. Grimaldi shook his head. "No, I never wear a hat."

"Does your wife?"

"What? Wear a hat? No, no."

Torsen explained why he had asked, that the suspect in the Kellerman murder wore a shiny black hat. Possibly it was Keller-man's own hat, worn as a disguise.

Grimaldi sat on the opposite bunk, his legs so long they almost touched Torsen's feet. "So you think I had something to do with Kellerman's death? Is that why you're here?"

Torsen swallowed, wished he'd brought someone with him. "I am just following a line of inquiry... an unidentified man was seen leaving Kellerman's hotel."

Grimaldi nodded, his dark eyes boring into Torsen. "So why do you want to know if Ruda's got a trilby?"

Torsen tugged at his tie. "Our witness could be mistaken. Perhaps the person leaving, er, the man with the hat, was in fact a woman."

Grimaldi leaned forward and reached out to hold Torsen's knee, His huge hand covered the entire knee, and he gripped tightly.

"You suspect Ruda? I told you, she was here with me all night, I told you that, and I don't like these insinuations."

Torsen waited until Grimaldi released his kneecap.

"We also have a good impression of a boot, or the heel of a boot. Would it be possible for me to... to check the... if I could look at your boots, and your wife's boots?"

Grimaldi stood up, towering above Torsen. "The only boot you will see is mine — as it kicks your ass out of my trailer, understand? Get out! Out! Fuck off out of here! "

Torsen stood up, closed his notebook and stuffed it into his pocket. "I just need to check your boots for elimination purposes. If I am required to return with a warrant, then I shall do so."

Grimaldi loomed closer, his voice quiet. "Get out... come back with your warrant and you'll fucking eat it — get out."

Torsen slipped down the steps as the door slammed shut so fast behind him it pushed him forward. He returned to his patrol car, his legs like jelly. Next time he would get a warrant, but he'd send Rieckert in for the boots.

Grimaldi went over to the meat trailer. All the trays were ready, Mike and the other young hands were finishing the preparation of the meat. Grimaldi leaned against the chopping board. "She still not shown up?"

Mike said nobody had seen her, but the cats were getting hungry. Grimaldi glanced at his watch, said to leave it another half hour. Then he looked at Mike.

"Eh, where did you say you put my hat?"

Mike chopped away, not looking up. "Mrs. Grimaldi took it from me, I dunno know where it is."

Grimaldi stood at the open door, cracked his knuckles. "You ever meet that little dwarf, the one that got murdered?"

Mike flushed slightly, because he knew that Mrs. Grimaldi had been married to that dwarf. He covered his embarrassment by carrying the trays out to the waiting trolley. "No, I never saw him."

"I think I did," said another voice.

Mike jumped down, not hearing the other young hand who was running water into buckets. Grimaldi turned, easing the door half closed.

"What did you say?"

The boy turned off the taps. "Day we arrived, I think it was him, I dunno, but he came in here, well, came to the steps, asked for Ruda, she was out by the cages."

Grimaldi leaned on the chopping table. "You told anyone this?"

The boy started to fill another bucket. "Nope, nobody's asked me!" He turned back to Grimaldi.

"I saw him later talking to Ruda, so I presumed she must have said he was hanging around here. Have they caught the bloke that did it, then?"

Grimaldi rubbed the boy's shoulder with his hand. "Yeah, they got the bloke, so don't open your mouth, we don't want those fuckers nosing around here any more than they need to... okay?"

The boy nodded, and Grimaldi went out. "I'll see if I can find that bloody woman."

Grimaldi walked through the alley between the cages, and then he stopped. She had lied, Kellerman had not only been to the circus, but he had talked to her! He shrugged it off; maybe she just didn't want anyone to know she had been married to him. He thought about the hat, and then his heart began to pound. He remembered seeing her in the meat trailer, the night of Kellerman's murder... she had been covered in blood, it was all over her shirt and trousers. Shit! He remembered asking why she wasn't wearing one of the rubber aprons... He stopped again, dear God, he had been so drunk that night he wouldn't have known if she was in the trailer or not!

Grimaldi ran back, slammed the door behind him, and went into Ruda's bedroom. He opened the wardrobe, searching for the shirt, trying to remember what clothes she had worn that night, but gave up, he couldn't remember. He rubbed his head. What did that little prick want to check their boots for?