The Silent Death

by volker Kutscher

  ‘If you’re here about the flat – you can forget it!’

  Rath sighed and showed his badge. ‘Rath, CID,’ he said. ‘I have a few questions about one of your tenants.’

  ‘What’s all this about?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. A little incident at Ford, we’re looking for witnesses, and…’

  ‘Ford, you say? Then you’ll be wanting Schmieder.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Afraid you’re out of luck there, Superintendent…’

  ‘Inspector…’

  ‘…Schmieder spends his weekends with his fiancée.’

  ‘That’s a pity. It’s quite urgent.’

  ‘Should I ask him to get in touch?’

  ‘When’s he back?’

  ‘Oh, Sunday usually, and generally pretty late. It depends what shift he’s on.’ She leaned a little closer to him, as if the dog wasn’t supposed to hear what she was saying: ‘He’s head over heels, I’m telling you. The whole week, he can barely wait to see his Gertie! Even went on Thursday this time.’

  ‘Love’s a funny thing. How do you know so much anyway?’

  ‘Please! You have to keep an eye on your tenants.’

  ‘Then no doubt you can give me her address too, Schmieder’s girlfriend…’

  ‘Fiancée…’

  ‘…fiancée then. Does she live in Moabit as well?’

  ‘No idea.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘All I know is Frau Hagedorn must live somewhere near Stettiner Bahnhof. That’s where he always heads.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Rath said, and tipped his hat. He wrote down the name as soon as he returned to the car: Hagedorn (Gertrud?) and underneath: Stettiner Bahnhof. He thought about heading back to the Castle to check the address with the passport office, but then his gaze alighted on Kirie. Until now the dog had coped with his driving, but Rath was in no mood to tempt fate.

  ‘Shall we?’ he said and started the engine.

  He made a quick stop in Spenerstrasse but neither Charly nor Greta were home on a Saturday afternoon. ‘Well, Kirie,’ he said, as they descended the steps, ‘you’ll just have to meet her tomorrow.’

  The journey from Moabit to Kreuzberg passed without incident. Before allowing the dog inside the flat Rath took her for a walk through the gardens of the filled canal basin towards the Engelbecken, the expanse of water that had been retained so that the dome of Sankt Michael could be reflected in it. Kirie enjoyed the exercise, pulling on the lead as if she were a fully grown husky.

  Back at the flat, Rath gave the hungry dog something to eat, along with a bowl of water. He had asked Erika Voss to get him some dog food from Wertheim in Königstrasse, which she seemed to like. While the dog ate its way through the contents of the bowl, Rath looked for something that might be suitable as a bed. He found an old woollen blanket and used it to line the dirty laundry basket which Frau Lennartz came by to collect once a week. Kirie looked at him quizzically when he entered the kitchen with the basket, whose contents he had tipped on the bedroom floor.

  Rath placed it in the corner. ‘Come on, off to bed with you!’ Kirie preferred to curl into a ball beneath the kitchen table. ‘As you wish,’ he said, ‘but don’t go complaining I didn’t offer you a bed.’

  He closed the kitchen door and went into the living room. Straightaway the dog started scratching at the door.

  He sighed and opened the door to find Kirie wagging her tail and barking at him. ‘I know you’ve had a bad experience of being left alone. Don’t worry, that won’t happen here, but you do have to stay in the kitchen. The rest of the flat is off-limits.’

  He left the door ajar and went back to the living room, leaving the dog to gaze after him through the crack. He had just put on a record and sat in his chair when he heard a pitter-pattering in the hall. Kirie came in and made herself comfortable under the living room table.

  ‘Stay here then,’ he said. ‘There’s no point in training you anyway, that’s your mistress’s responsibility. If we find her, that is.’

  The dog curled up and fell asleep.

  When the record came to an end, Rath took the telephone back to his chair. His mother answered. ‘Son! Fancy that! How are you?’

  ‘Fine. Is Father there?’

  ‘It’s so nice to hear your voice again! Father says that you…that there’s a woman… Aren’t you going to introduce us? Does she cook for you too?’

  ‘There’s no woman anymore.’

  A brief silence at the other end of the line. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘There’s no need for you to be.’

  ‘I had been hoping you’d get engaged again. You’re not getting any younger, Gereon, and a family is…’

  ‘I know, Mama.’

  ‘I’m only saying. Are you eating well?’

  ‘Mama, the station in Berlin has a canteen. Besides, there are more than enough restaurants.’

  ‘Still, there’s nothing like a good, home-cooked meal!’

  ‘I’m doing just fine. Can I please speak to Father now? This is a long-distance call!’

  He heard her place the receiver to one side. It took a moment or two before Engelbert Rath came on the line.

  ‘Son! Nice of you to telephone your mother. You wouldn’t believe how happy it makes her.’

  ‘My pleasure. I have a request. It’s about Adenauer’s list. It only contains men.’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘Can you please ask Adenauer, along with his friends at the bank, if they know a Fräulein or Frau Hagedorn? First name probably Gertrud.’

  ‘Do you have a lead?’

  ‘If the name means anything to Adenauer and his friends, then yes.’

  ‘I’ll take care of it right away, my boy. How are things otherwise?’

  ‘Busy.’

  ‘Your fian…girlfriend… Mother said she had…’

  ‘I left her. It can happen that way too.’

  ‘How many women is that now? Take care that you don’t become an old bachelor. You should think about getting married soon if you want to make a career for yourself.’

  ‘Gennat is a confirmed bachelor as well as Prussia’s best criminal investigator.’

  ‘Well, they say he wasn’t so successful in Düsseldorf, the infallible one. And he’s never made it past superintendent.’

  ‘Yes, Police Director, Sir!’

  ‘Listen, my boy, I know how highly you regard Gennat. Nothing against the man, but I’m not sure he’s the best role model for you. Someone of your capabilities should be aiming for Scholz’s position.’

  Police Director Hans Scholz was head of the Berlin CID.

  ‘You don’t get posts like that unless you belong to the right party.’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been telling you, my boy.’

  ‘Papa, leave it. You won’t catch me in your beloved Centre Party. And there’s no way I’m joining the Sozis either. I’m not a politician. In fact, I despise politics.’

  ‘Politics is the order of the day, my boy.’

  ‘Politics is making our neighbours kill one another. Turning our streets into a battleground.’

  ‘You’re talking about its excesses. Nazis and Communists might call each other politicians but that’s not what they are.’

  ‘It’s what they want to be.’

  ‘It won’t come to that.’

  ‘Let’s leave it there, Papa. You know conversations like this don’t lead anywhere. Call me if you find something about Gertrud Hagedorn.’

  He hung up, turned the record over and poured himself a cognac. He tried to think: about Jeanette Fastré, whose disappearance was ominously reminiscent of Vivian Franck’s, even if Böhm wouldn’t admit it; about Felix Krempin and his unhappy death; but his thoughts kept coming back to Charly. Should he call her? Control yourself, he thought. Bad enough that you almost ambushed her at her house earlier. You’re seeing her tomorrow, and that will have to do.

  Just don’t show any weakness, don’t lay
yourself open – was that something he had from his father, Police Director Engelbert Rath, the man who always knew how to save face? He was pouring another cognac when the doorbell rang.

  Rath looked at the time – almost nine. A little late for a visit. He stood up and opened to find a telegram boy in leather gear, motorcycle goggles pushed onto his forehead.

  ‘Telegram for Gereon Rath.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He fished two ten-pfennig pieces out of his trouser pocket and gave the boy a tip. As soon as he had closed the door he tore open the envelope and read. Sent from Cologne Hauptbahnhof barely four hours ago:

  arrive tonight 22.35 potsdamer bahnhof STOP staying at hotel excelsior STOP time for a beer STOP look forward to facing your (w)rath STOP paul

  He hadn’t seen Paul since his birthday last year and now here he was coming pell-mell to Berlin. He still had an hour and a half in which he searched out a fresh suit, quickly showered and changed. He had hoped to leave Kirie in the flat, but the dog kicked up such a fuss that he had to take her with him.

  ‘They should call you Clingy, not Kirie,’ he said, once the dog had taken its place on the passenger seat, panting away happily. ‘It’s much too late for little things like you.’

  This time he was in luck, finding a parking space directly in front of the station, despite the chaos at Potsdamer Platz. By twenty past ten, Rath was already at the barrier showing the conductor his platform ticket. He had no idea which car Paul was in, so stayed at the start of the platform.

  ‘Sit,’ he said to the dog and, contrary to expectations, she obeyed. One cigarette and the train would be here. Rath picked an Overstolz out of his case and immersed himself in his thoughts.

  It was on this very platform that he had stepped from a train a year ago himself. No one met him at the station. Scarcely anyone knew he was in Berlin. He felt lonely, but freed of a burden as he made his way down the platform, everything around him as unreal as a dream. The station spat him into the cold night and, gazing at the lights, the cars and the people on Potsdamer Platz, he understood that this was the start of his new life. Now, for the first time, someone from his old life was coming to visit him in the new.

  The train rolled in a few minutes early and came hissing to a stop. What a welcoming committee, Rath thought, as he caught sight of his reflection: an exhausted inspector and an abandoned dog.

  He trod the cigarette out. The doors opened and between one moment and the next the platform contained twice as many people. He scanned the milling mass pushing towards the exit and eventually found Paul, who looked the same as he always had: blond hair that resisted any effort at grooming and was kept in check by a hat, a nose that was slightly too big, and an impudent grin.

  Paul had long since spotted his welcoming committee, and his grin grew wider as he approached. They stood looking at each other as the crowd pushed and shoved around them, surveying one another, as if neither wanted to be the first to grow sentimental.

  ‘No flowers?’ Paul said.

  ‘The dog ate them,’ Rath replied.

  They embraced a little awkwardly and clapped each other on the shoulder a little too hard.

  39

  Sunday 9th March 1930

  It is pitch-black in the yard, but he has no intention of striking a light. If it remains dark, no one will see him. He switched his headlights off on the road outside. No one saw him open the gate and drive the car into the courtyard. Now the gate is closed again, and he has switched off the engine. He is safe here, no one can wander in or see inside. There might still be a few night owls passing the main entrance, but they won’t see what is happening behind the billboards.

  He finds the keys even in the dark. The company has so many he simply took the ones that looked right and sorted them out before coming. He hasn’t used them in a long time, there have been no films shown here since Christmas.

  The moon, his friend, finally appears from behind the clouds, sketching pale contours in the night. The lock is a little stiff, but the key turns. Slowly and carefully, so that the hinges don’t creak, he moves one leaf of the heavy steel door, which once served as an emergency exit, into the auditorium. Only now does he open the van. There she is, lying between empty film cans, peaceful in the moonlight that falls upon her face. It’s a shame he can’t film this moment.

  He feels very close to her as he carries her up the six steps to the auditorium. Only once he has closed the door again does he switch on the flashlight. He has already assigned her a space, and it is there that he now carries her.

  He doesn’t just lay her down. No, he makes a bed for her so that she looks more beautiful than ever. He pulls a little at her dress to arrange the folds, takes a step back and looks upon his work with satisfaction. That is what she is now: his work.

  They needed too long to find the first. How long will they need this time?

  He must tear himself away. He wants to be at home when the early risers emerge from their houses. He locks the door carefully as he leaves, and goes straight to the gate, checking the road before steering the car out. All is quiet. Not a soul nearby. He is satisfied with his work. In the car he removes his leather gloves.

  Before he goes to bed he will open a bottle of wine and watch her films over again.

  40

  Something warm and damp slobbered on Rath’s cheek, rousing him from a deep, dreamless sleep. Kirie was crouched next to the pillow, smiling at him with her tongue out. He started when he saw the black, shaggy hair and held his head in his hands. A throbbing pain protested the speed with which he had sat up.

  He didn’t have the energy to chase the dog out of bed, but Kirie jumped out of her own accord, wagging her tail and barking at him gamely. ‘Not so loud,’ he said. The dog gave a short bark before pitter-pattering out of the room.

  He tried to recall but there was nothing. He must have left the door open when he came to bed, but where had the dog slept? Hopefully not in bed with him! His alarm clock showed half past eight.

  In the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face and washed an aspirin down with half a litre of water. He hadn’t been this bad for a long time, but it was no use; he had to take Kirie out. There was no time for coffee. He threw on yesterday’s clothes without taking a shower and put her on the lead.

  He wasn’t the only Sunday stroller on Luisenufer, but he was the only unshaven one. The morning sun had already enticed a few people out, above all dog owners. He had arranged to meet Charly at eleven, and needed to be on top form by then. His head was still pounding, but it was set to be a fine day.

  What on earth had happened last night? He must have been drinking the wrong stuff, and far too much of it. Yet they had started with beer in the Europa-Pavillon, right next to Paul’s hotel. They had stayed there, precisely because he didn’t want to run the risk of coming a cropper somewhere after touring the local pubs. That much he could still remember.

  As they strolled northwards through the gardens the memories rose to the surface. Yes, they had started with beer, which ought to have told Rath where the night was heading. It probably had, too, only he had deliberately ignored the signs. Perhaps because he was in the mood to get drunk as they listened to the sounds of the Manhattan-Band playing pretty decent American jazz. At some point, Paul ordered the first cognac.

  They hadn’t seen each other for over a year and had a lot to talk about. Only that’s not what they did. They chatted, of course, but only about trivial matters, about the band onstage, about the new records Rath had received from New York, all the new talkies he hadn’t seen – even if he did know a few actresses who wouldn’t be signing any more autographs. Paul had talked about his work too, the wine dealership he was proposing to expand into the imperial capital. He had a meeting on Monday with buyers from Kempinski.

  ‘You should look in on the Kaiserhof as well, they could use a few good wines.’

  ‘I’ve reserved two days to go door-to-door canvassing,’ Paul had said. ‘Who knows, perhaps Wittkamp will op
en a branch in Berlin.’

  Apart from chatting about work they hadn’t talked about themselves. Everything was exactly as it always was whenever he saw Paul. Perhaps because of that, Rath felt as bound to this blond, unassuming and frivolous man as he did to anyone on earth. Excepting Charly perhaps, but that was different. They were the only two who allowed him to forget his loneliness. They made the knowledge that life was a journey you travelled alone seem, however briefly, like a lie.

  By the end of the night he was, more or less, incapable of standing. Paul – perhaps not entirely jokingly – had offered him a share of his double bed back at the hotel, but Rath had asked the barman to call for a taxi. He remembered that he had almost left Kirie behind, but the dog had come barking after him and jumped in alongside. How had he managed the stairs at home? Now, that he couldn’t say; the dog had probably led him up.

  Blast, his car was still at Anhalter Bahnhof!

  They stopped, and Kirie took the opportunity to use of one of the many shrubs to perform her business. Time was getting on; if he had to pick up the car then he ought to get home now, feed the dog and make himself presentable.

  An hour later, emerging from the elevated railway on Möckern Bridge, he was already feeling better. His headache had evaporated along with his fatigue, and the sun was shining. Kirie seemed to be enjoying her second walk just as much as the first. Somehow it was a nice feeling strolling through the morning with a smiling dog on its lead. Yes, it was going to be a beautiful day.

  41

  Charly was enthusiastic. ‘Isn’t he sweet?’ she said.

  Kirie crouched on the rear shelf behind the seats where Rath had tied her, panting curiously at the new passenger. ‘He’s a she,’ he said.

  Charly got in facing backwards and, instead of sitting, knelt on the passenger seat and stroked the dog. ‘What’s your name then, little man?’