The Colonel's Wife

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Then there was the fact Griese was likely killed by someone at the party or the Konrad residence. His money had been on the son, Joachim, but once he had checked the distances, he realized there was no way a boy, on foot, could have murdered Griese, stripped him, taken the uniform kilometers away, found another victim, dressed him, then returned to hide in a tree in a park near his home.

  It was impossible.

  That ruled the boy out.

  His money was now on the father, Colonel Konrad. Konrad would have a vehicle, his rank would give him free access anywhere in the city, and Joachim had said there was some secret surrounding a girl named Frida, and when confronted, Konrad had insisted on meeting Vogel alone.

  Which angered him to no end.

  How the hell was he supposed to learn how to do his job if he kept being excluded? And he didn’t trust Vogel. The man seemed more concerned with doing what was right according to the old code, rather than what was best for the Reich. His ways of thinking were out of date, and had no place in Hitler’s Germany.

  In fact, he was so concerned, he was keeping a file. At home. He wouldn’t dare keep it here at the office in case someone stumbled upon it. So far, he didn’t have anything damning enough to report to his superiors, but one day he was convinced he would, and with every other little thing the man had done that was suspicious or contrary to the new norm documented, it would all add up to enough to have the man’s career ended.

  He glanced at his partner’s desk, a picture of his wife and children perched on the corner. If Vogel lost his job, they’d be destroyed. But that wasn’t his problem as a loyal citizen of the Third Reich. That was Vogel’s fault for not embracing the new ways as most had. He wasn’t naïve enough to think everyone agreed with the way things were now run, but he was certain it was the vast majority, and with each new victory, those few slow to the fold were coming around.

  And those that remained unconvinced? They’d be found out by the Gestapo.

  And people like him.

  He stared at the map. If Colonel Konrad was indeed involved, it could prove problematic. It all depended on how well connected the man was, and how far those connections would go to protect him. If they accused him of murdering Griese, and the ranks closed in to protect the colonel, it could mean a visit from the Gestapo for him and Vogel.

  And those never ended well.

  His career would be over before it started, and his life might even be at risk.

  He sighed. No matter how convinced he was that Konrad had to be involved, he couldn’t voice it. It was simply too risky.

  Yet he was dying to hear what Vogel had found out.

  He just wondered if he’d be told the truth by the man.

  Vogel entered the room, greetings exchanged with some of the older men, then a coffee poured before he dropped into his chair. He nodded at the map. “What have you got there?”

  “Just working on a theory.”

  “What’s that?”

  He debated how much to say, though he also needed to impress his senior partner if he had any hope of gaining the man’s respect. He pointed at the location where Griese was discovered, then the second body. “Look at the distance between these two points. Given the timeframe, I think someone had to use a vehicle, which rules out Joachim.”

  Vogel agreed. “Unfortunately, there were scores of vehicles in the area doing bomb assessment damage, searching for Griese, delivering goods. But you’re right, it does, I believe, rule out Joachim.”

  Stadler sat at his desk opposite Vogel. “So, what did the colonel have to say?”

  “Not a lot, though what he did say was important and should help us at least narrow things down a bit.”

  “Who’s this Frida girl?”

  “His daughter.”

  “Huh?”

  “His daughter. She died about six years ago in a car accident.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why is that such a big secret?”

  “They tried to protect the boys from being traumatized by the death, so they told them she had gone away. The boys eventually forgot her, then when Joachim saw the family photo, all the memories came flooding back and he panicked. He was already upset about what Griese had done, so when Griese told him he knew their secret, he snapped and fired the shot.”

  “What had Griese done?”

  “He allowed General Graf to exit his vehicle early and step on his lady friend’s dress. I guess it was a little embarrassing, and the general wasn’t too pleased. He ordered Griese transferred to the Eastern Front.”

  “Sheesh, remind me never to cross him.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “So, this was all over the fact they kept it secret that they had a daughter who died?”

  “From Joachim’s standpoint, yes. He thought they were going to lose everything for some reason, then thought he had killed Griese when he fired blindly. When he was found, he was in a panic, probably thought the only way he could salvage his future was to turn his parents in, so insisted on talking to Himmler himself.”

  “Are you going to report it?”

  “Report what? That a family lost a daughter to a car accident years ago, and lied to their children about it to save them the pain of losing a sister? I hardly think that warrants being reported.”

  Stadler frowned. “I suppose not.” He folded his arms. “Then where do we stand? I mean, are we any closer to figuring out who killed Griese?”

  “Beyond knowing that Joachim couldn’t be involved, not really.”

  He took a chance. “What about the colonel?”

  “What about him?”

  “Well, he would have access to a car. Couldn’t he be the shooter?”

  “He could, though what would be his motive to cover it up? As far as everyone was concerned, Griese had taken a shot at the party, and would likely be executed minutes after being captured. He could just shoot him, claim he had delivered justice, and then been congratulated on a job well done. No, I think the colonel is the least likely suspect here.”

  “So, we’re no closer than we were last night.”

  “No, though questions are slowly getting answered. The next step is to get a list of everyone who was on the grounds last night, and start to eliminate them one by one. The colonel is supposed to get it to me today.”

  “Are we sure it was someone from the household?”

  “Not completely, but remember, we still have the matter of the small-caliber weapon. Joachim shot Griese in the ear, dropped it, and now it’s missing. Griese was then grazed by a small-caliber bullet, and the neighbors heard the shot. It’s likely the same weapon. That means it has to be someone from the residence. It’s simply not believable that an unrelated party came to the residence, picked up the weapon, then found Griese, shot him, then decided he had to make everyone think another person was Griese.”

  Stadler shook his head. “That part still makes no sense to me. Are we still working under the assumption that the reason the killer did this was because he needed the body found? A body found?”

  Vogel nodded. “I am unless you can think of a better reason.”

  He frowned. “This is giving me a headache.”

  Vogel chuckled. “Me too. Now, I’m going to put together my notes while they’re still fresh, then I’m going home. My wife will kill me if I miss my dinner tonight. I suggest you get some rest and stay close to your phone in case there’s a break in the case.”

  “I think I’ll sleep here, just in case that list comes in.”

  “Suit yourself, just don’t do anything with it. We don’t want to piss off the wrong person with indelicate questions.”

  Stadler regarded his partner.

  No, you wouldn’t, would you?

  44 |

  Central Records Berlin, Nazi Germany

  Hoffman entered the main lobby of Central Records, tucking his hat under his arm as he strode toward reception, his crisp black uniform sending any civilians in his path scurrying out of his way, sending a s
urge of energy through his system.

  He loved the fear in their eyes.

  It meant power.

  And power was intoxicating. Addicting. And every chance he had to exercise it, it left him craving more. With each promotion, with each rung of the ladder he managed to climb, he gained more of what he sought, and realized why those in command had created the system they had.

  They were drunk on the power.

  And he wanted in.

  Someday, he would be a colonel like Konrad, perhaps even a general like Graf. Dare he dream of being a Reichsführer like Himmler himself?

  The power would be godlike. Men like the Führer, like Himmler, like Göring, like Goebbels. They were demigods that walked the face of the earth, the power they wielded unlike anything before seen by mankind.

  It had to go to one’s head.

  Every morning when he put on his uniform and stared at himself in the mirror, he felt the adrenaline rush, he felt the pride surge. He could accomplish anything with this uniform, with the SS emblazoned on his collar, a symbol so misunderstood by so many, for they weren’t the letter S at all, but Armanen Runes, the single lightning bolt representing the letter S in the 18 character alphabet handed down by the Norse God Odin, and the symbol for Victory. Their use now was so tied to the SS, so ingrained in German society, that even modern typewriters had been modified to add a key for the double lightning bolts so the proper honor could be afforded them, rather than the incorrect letter S being typed twice.

  He loved his life.

  He loved his Reich.

  And he loved to serve.

  Loyalty was everything, whether to the Party, the SS, the Reich, or to his commanding officer. Colonel Konrad was a fine commander, and he would do his utmost to serve him and serve him well.

  That was why he was here, now, wasting his time picking up something that should be delivered, for he didn’t trust anyone here to treat the matter with the attention it was due.

  “Can I help you, Captain?”

  “Hoffman. Here to see Zimmer.”

  “Is he expecting you?”

  “He better be.”

  The woman blanched slightly. “One moment, please.” She picked up her phone and after a few moments of whispering, she hung up. She pointed to a set of stairs to her left. “Top of the stairs, your first left. Room two-oh-four.”

  He bowed his head crisply and snapped his heels together, then headed up the stairs. He found 204 and opened the door without knocking, startling the man inside, his eyes widening with fear at the sight of the Hugo Boss produced uniform.

  “Are you Zimmer?”

  “Y-yes. You must be Captain Hoffman.” The portly, sweaty man rose, wiping his brow with his hand then extending it for a handshake. Hoffman eyed it with disdain, the hand slowly retreating for a wipe against a pantleg. “I’m sorry.” He grabbed two files from his desk. “I had copies made for you.” He handed them over. “These are the two individuals in question. We’re still trying to figure out what’s going on.”

  Hoffman flipped through the pages of both files. “It would appear one was identified through fingerprints provided by a medical examiner, and the other by identity papers found on the body of a victim from the air raid last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then isn’t it obvious which one is the real Corporal Griese?”

  Zimmer’s eyes widened. “Oh, of course! It’s obviously the one with the matching fingerprints.”

  “Then why the delay in officially notifying his commanding officer?”

  Zimmer paled. “I’m sorry about that. Policy states situations like this must be resolved before any notification is made.”

  Hoffman frowned. “Then your policy is flawed.”

  “Of-of course it is.” Zimmer paused. “Umm, will you be notifying his commanding officer, or should we?”

  Hoffman shook his head in disgust. “I will be notifying Colonel Konrad, however you must properly notify the chain of command immediately that Corporal Griese is deceased. As to the other man, I couldn’t care less about him.”

  “V-very well.”

  Hoffman headed for the door when Zimmer cleared his throat. “You said Colonel Konrad was his commanding officer?”

  “Yes.”

  “It-it could be just a coincidence, but we had a request come in just a short while ago from the Kripo.”

  Hoffman turned. “What sort of request?”

  “They wanted us to run the names Frida Konrad and Frida Baum.”

  “Baum?”

  “Apparently Colonel Konrad’s wife’s maiden name.”

  Hoffman kept his expression emotionless. “And the Kripo requested this?”

  “Yes. Urgently.”

  “Have you found anything yet?”

  “No, but we’re working on it.”

  “Keep me informed.” He stared at Zimmer. “And tell no one that you told me.”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  45 |

  Konrad Residence Berlin, Nazi Germany

  “I heard a car leave, is he gone?”

  Konrad nodded at his wife as he closed the inner doors to their bedchambers. He undid his collar and removed his jacket before sitting in his chair. “He is.”

  “And?”

  He could see from her pale cheeks she must have been going through hell the entire time he was downstairs. He smiled. “It went well.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “What did he ask you?”

  “As expected, he asked about Frida.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “In the end, the truth.”

  Her eyes shot wide. “You’re not serious!”

  “There was little choice. If I hadn’t, I think he would have kept digging. By telling him who she was, and how she was special, he no longer has to dig for answers. After all, who would make up a story like that, a story that could get us all in serious trouble?”

  “But can you trust him?”

  Konrad nodded. “I think so. I sense he’s an honorable man. He’s just a police officer doing his duty, and a father who would do anything to protect his children, as I did.”

  “And what about Joachim? Did he ask about him?”

  “I told him the truth there, as well. I told him Joachim saw a photo of his late sister, it triggered childhood memories that had him fearing for his future, he panicked, stole your weapon, wounded Griese, then ran away. I also told him about how I made it appear that Griese had been killed in the bombings, far enough from our home so no one could suspect Joachim had finished the job.”

  Her head sank to her chest as it shook. “You’ve told him too much!”

  “Perhaps, but everything I told him was true, and he knows it. He won’t be looking at us anymore. You know the dangers there if he does. If Graf caught wind of any of this, we’d be done for.”

  “Graf! Oh, how I hate that man. Is he still after us? How much time do we have left?”

  Konrad checked his watch. “At least six hours. Hoffman should be at Central Records getting the files I need to prove Griese is dead. I’ll take them to the general the moment I have them. He should be off our backs with time to spare.”

  “I’ll breathe a little easier then, I suppose. With Joachim back and calming down, and with Graf satisfied with Griese’s death, and that police officer perhaps leaving us alone now that you’ve explained our involvement, perhaps we might just make it through.”

  He smiled at her, trying to convey the confidence he lacked. “I believe we will.”

  She fidgeted for a moment. “I, umm, also took care of another matter that I…”

  His eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

  “I found something in the fireplace. When I was burning…things.”

  “What did you find?”

  She stared at him, her eyes portraying the fear she had for both the question and the answer it might merit. “I found a piece of a uniform in there.”

  His head jerked back. “Uniform? What kind?”

/>   “SS.”

  “Why would someone be burning an SS uniform?”

  She paled slightly. “I was thinking it was Griese’s. You said he was stripped naked. That means someone in this house—”

  He smiled slightly, interrupting her. “Darling, I must confess something.”

  “What?”

  “You know how I told you I found Griese’s papers in his quarters?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s not true. I found his body when I went searching for Joachim the first time. I feared Joachim had shot him, so I hid the body. When I went out to find someone to plant his papers on, I actually retrieved them off his body. I realized that I couldn’t just put the papers on some random corpse. It had to be someone with a matching uniform, or there’d be too many questions asked. And the likelihood of another SS corporal being killed was next to nothing, so I took his uniform. I’m sorry, I should have told you, but you had so much on your mind, and I didn’t want to burden you with anything else.”

  Her eyes were wide and the relief on her face was clear. “Oh, thank God! I thought we had a spy in our midst!”

  He chuckled. “Well, we probably do, though none involved in this, I assure you.” He paused. “Though I do wonder why an SS uniform was burned. And in our own fireplace, nonetheless. Very odd. I’ll ask Hoffman to look into it. I don’t want my staff burning perfectly good uniforms.”

  “A good idea.” She paused, returning to her fidgeting, something else clearly on her mind. “With all this time on my hands, I’ve been thinking about our previous conversation.”

  “We’ve had many, my darling.”

  She flashed him a quick look and a smile. “About leaving. About going into hiding.”

  He tensed. “Yes?”

  “I’m not saying that’s what we should do, at least not now, but we need to have a plan. A real plan. We need to be able to leave at a moment’s notice and disappear. We can’t risk the lives of our children in the hope that our secret will never be discovered.”

  He sighed. “You’re right, of course. But let’s worry about one crisis at a time. As soon as this is over, I’ll give it some serious thought.”