‘…carry out said undertaking immediately subsequent to the conclusion of this briefing,’ the joker suggested, this time earning a reproachful glance from Gennat.
‘Excellent work, Lange,’ Gennat said. ‘We look forward to your results. Are there any duplicates? Keys that were not returned? If you should find anything else today, please let me know immediately.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
Lange sat down, having grown at least three inches taller.
Next Czerwinski stood up. The last time that fatso had contributed anything meaningful to an investigation the Prussian police must still have been wearing spiked helmets.
Czerwinski cleared his throat before beginning. He seemed very pleased with himself. ‘We researched the history of both cinemas, Sir. The question is why he, the killer, that is, chose to plant the corpses in such dilapidated hovels?’
‘And? Did you make any progress?’
‘I think so!’ Czerwinski puffed out his chest. ‘We found a connection.’ He made a dramatic pause before continuing, to ensure that everyone was listening. ‘It is this: the Luxor was, or is, the cinema in which Vivian Franck’s first film had its premiere. That was November twenty-eight. And Kosmos screened Jeanette Fastré’s first film in twenty-seven. The two women are…or, I should say, were in their premiere cinemas.’
‘That might be significant.’ Gennat gave a nod of appreciation, and Czerwinski sat down, grinning happily. ‘Perhaps that’s one of the messages the perpetrator is trying to send us with his staging of the corpses.’
‘Maybe we should also check where Betty Winter’s first film had its premiere,’ Rath said. ‘I can’t shake the feeling that she has something to do with the other two actresses.’
‘You believe too much of what’s in the papers,’ Böhm said. ‘Isn’t the Chinese gooseberry fiasco enough for you?’
Rath was already regretting having aired his thoughts when Gennat spoke. ‘It isn’t such a bad idea.’ He looked at Czerwinski. ‘Could you take care of that? Let me know when you have traced the cinema in question.’
Then Gennat allocated their tasks.
‘The Winter case has priority,’ he said. ‘It’s possible we are on the verge of a breakthrough. At any rate, we have a closed circle of suspects, and must apply more pressure.’
This closed circle of suspects was still big enough. All those who knew the production schedule and had access to the lighting bridges – that is, almost all La Belle employees in Marienfelde. As a lone outsider, Manfred Oppenberg might have known about everything through Felix Krempin.
For the time being only a small cast of officers was investigating the cinema killer, as he was now known, since Gennat needed every officer available to seek out possible motives amongst Bellmann’s staff. Böhm was to take care of Oppenberg, Gräf would take Cora Bellmann, and Rath was tasked with reinterviewing Victor Meisner. It was Gennat’s way of showing the three former lead investigators that he had read the interrogation records and found them wanting. He was providing an opportunity for all three to revisit anything they had previously overlooked.
Rath returned to his office without exchanging a word with anyone.
Meisner, of all people, that snivelling little wretch! This was going to be some day.
Erika Voss was on the telephone again, and Kirie lay asleep under the desk.
‘He’s just coming now,’ she said. ‘One minute, Police Director, I’ll put you through.’
She pressed a button and hung up. In the next room Rath’s telephone started to ring.
‘Who is it?’ he asked. ‘Not Scholz surely?’ The head of CID was the only police director he had dealings with at Alex.
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!’
47
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 on
e 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.
The director rolled his eyes. ‘You as well,’ he said. ‘I hope that’s it for today. Your people have been in and out all afternoon. How are we supposed to get any work done?’
‘You must have experience of working in difficult conditions by now,’ said Rath.
Dressler gave a forced smile. ‘Who are you after then?’
‘Victor Meisner.’
‘In his dressing room; he’s finished filming for the day.’
Rath nodded. ‘Don’t mind me, I know the way.’
‘You can’t just go bursting in there,’ Dressler called, but Rath continued backstage as if he hadn’t heard, towards the door with Meisner’s name on.
He knocked and entered.
Victor Meisner sat in front of a large mirror, wiping make-up from his brow. He was scarcely recognisable. The pale face that gazed at Rath from the mirror, still partly smeared with greasepaint, had nothing to do with the heroes Victor Meisner embodied on-screen. There was something else that fitted even less with the image of the glorious hero, however, a discovery that instantly put Rath on high alert. The electric bulbs above the dressing table were reflected by a receding hairline.
The actor was clearly embarrassed at being seen like this. He made a grab for his hairpiece and hastily arranged it on his head. Only then did he sport the hairstyle Rath was familiar with. He still didn’t look like a hero though, nor did he sound like one.
‘Can’t you wait until you are invited to enter?’ he asked.
‘You wear a wig,’ Rath said, trying to sound casual. ‘I never knew that.’
‘Not a wig, just a hairpiece,’ Meisner said. ‘Nobody knows. I’m warning you, if I should read about it in the press I’ll hold you responsible.’
‘Don’t worry, I can keep quiet.’
‘But that’s not why you’re here.’
‘No.’ Rath moved a chair so that he could see Meisner’s face in the mirror, and tied Kirie’s lead round one of the legs. ‘You don’t have anything against me sitting down,’ he said, fetching a notebook and pencil from his coat. ‘I have a few more questions for you.’
‘Shouldn’t you have asked them last week? Then we’d be through with all this.’
‘The police are always asking new questions, Herr Meisner, as well as repeating old ones. We know that we annoy people like you in the process, but it’s our job.’
‘Some job.’
‘You’re shooting a new film,’ Rath said. ‘With Eva Kröger, I see. You seem to have coped rather well with the death of your wife.’
‘The world keeps turning, Inspector. The show must go on, as the English would say. Eventually you have to get back on an even keel. Betty’s funeral is on Thursday and, believe you me, that will be hard enough.’ He tapped his index finger against his breast. ‘Do you have any idea what things look like in here?’
‘No, but I’d like to.’
Meisner looked at him suspiciously. ‘What do you want? Ask your questions and leave me in peace!’
‘Did your wife leave you much?’
Meisner let out a brief, jerky laugh. ‘Why don’t you just say you’re after a motive. Well, the inheritance isn’t one! Betty left me very little. Feel free to speak to the notary. If you thought that was a motive for murder, then Bellmann would have more reason. He had Betty insured for a lot of money; her death really pays off for him.’
Rath sketched a stick man in his notebook.
‘Another question,’ he said, still drawing, ‘how was your wife familiar with yangtao?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Yangtao.’ Rath left the stick man unfinished for the time being and looked up. ‘Chinese gooseberry. An exotic fruit.’
‘No idea. What makes you think Betty was familiar with it?’
‘We found it in her stomach,’ he said, and continued with his drawing.
Meisner made a disgusted face. ‘Don’t you think you’re being excessively tactless? You could show a little more consideration. Just because I have myself under control doesn’t mean I’m not mourning the loss of my wife. We were married almost five years.’
‘You weren’t quite so close in recent times, were you?’
‘How dare you…?’
‘You quarrelled with her.
On the morning of the twenty-eighth of February, the day of her death.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘That’s beside the point. Did you or did you not?’
‘Who doesn’t quarrel in their marriage? It’s no reason to kill someone.’
‘She wanted to leave La Belle and stop making films with you.’
‘And that’s why I killed her, so that she might make films with me again? Where’s the logic in that?’
‘I never said you killed your wife.’
‘You know that I killed my wife, and I know it too, but it was a mistake. You ought to find the one who’s responsible for the spotlight.’
Rath drew the stick man a little dog, dark and woolly, with a smiling face.
‘That’s why I’m here,’ he said, adding a lead, ‘and it’s why I need to ask you something else. Where were you…?’
‘You know that! I was standing next to her when she died. I had to witness the whole thing with my own eyes.’
‘I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the morning of the twenty-eighth of February. Can you tell me what you did that day?’
‘I was filming, you know that.’
‘When did you set off from home, arrive at the studio, film your first scene. Which scenes? Can you give me times?’
‘Not off the top of my head. I’d need to think about that. Betty’s death overshadowed everything else that day.’
Rath took his pencil and waited eagerly.
‘We set off from home about half past eight as usual,’ he said. ‘We must have arrived at the studio just before nine.’
‘You went together?’
‘Yes. I have a car, and usually gave her a ride.’
‘What did you do when you arrived at the studio?’
‘The usual. Said hello to everyone first, chatted a little. We had a look at the schedule and went through the scenes we’d be filming that day with Dressler.’
‘You started filming straight after?’
‘Yes. That is, first we had to go into make-up. The actors, I mean.’
This time Rath really had made notes. ‘Thank you, Herr Meisner.’ He snapped the book shut. ‘That’s it for today from my end.’ He stood up and took Kirie’s lead. ‘I must ask you, however, to come to the station tomorrow at ten. Superintendent Gennat would like to speak to you.’
The Silent Death Page 40