The Defeated Aristocrat (26 page)

Engels’s House, Hoker Strasse, Konigsberg, Morning of Sunday January 12th 1919

‘Colonel von Mau, it’s an honour to have you in our home.’ Frau Engels joined the maid in the hall of their apartment as soon as she heard Wolf announce himself. ‘Please, take off your coat. Won’t you breakfast with us?’ She opened the door to the dining room. ‘We’re eating earlier than usual, but then you would know why with all the horrible things happening in the stables. Sit next to Dolf. I’ll get a place setting.’

‘Please, don’t trouble yourself, Frau Engels; I only called to have a quick word with Dolf.’

‘But you will have coffee with us?’

‘It smells so good, I can’t resist.’

‘If you don’t want to speak to me, Herr von Mau, I’ll be off to the brewery,’ said Herr Engels. ‘We’re going to be in a right mess if the police insist on spending all day crawling around the waggon house. It might be the Lord’s Day but we have deliveries to make.’

‘I think the police had almost finished their search when I left, sir.’

‘Not before they upset the horses, I’ll be bound, and they all have a full day ahead.’ Herr Engels looked at his son. ‘I’ll see you as soon as you’ve finished speaking to the colonel, Dolf.’

‘Have you forgotten the meeting, Father? In the Green Stork. The one Kriminaldirektor Hafen called for the comrades of the murdered men.’

Herr Engels gave a non-committal grunt and left. Shortly afterwards the front door banged shut behind him.

‘Your coffee, Colonel von Mau.’

‘Thank you, Frau Engels.’

‘I’ll leave you and Dolf to chat. Our maid needs constant supervision.’

‘Thank you for the coffee and warm welcome, Frau Engels.’

‘It’s the least we can do for the officer who took such good care of our boy.’ She smoothed her son’s hair back from his forehead, and much to his disgust, kissed his cheek. ‘Close the door behind me to keep the warmth from the stove in, Dolf.’ She picked up a tray of dirty dishes and carried them out. Dolf opened and closed the door for her and returned to his seat.

Wolf sipped his coffee.

‘What did you want to ask me, Colonel?’ Dolf asked.

‘I would like you to tell me exactly what happened in France after I, along with five other officers from our regiment, was taken prisoner and Colonel Dorfman was appointed senior officer.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

City Hospital, Hinterrossgarten, Konigsberg, Sunday morning January 12th 1919

‘I told you to sit in that corner and not move.’ The middle-aged nursing sister glared at Peter.

Peter retreated from the window and sat down. ‘This chair is uncomfortable.’

‘A real police officer would be tough enough to shrug off discomfort without complaint.’

‘Real nursing sisters are kind and gentle, not trainee sergeant majors, Sister.’

‘The war and the sergeant major were hard on you?’

‘No harder than they were on anyone else.’ Peter nodded to Helmut. ‘The doctor who treated him in the carriage house said he would recover. Will he?’

‘Who do you think I am to contradict a doctor?’

‘He was a student doctor.’

‘In that case I will venture an opinion. Time will tell.’ She took Helmut’s pulse and lifted the blankets, exposing his buttocks so she could take his temperature. When she finished she noted the results on a chart before dropping the thermometer into a bath of alcohol. ‘I suppose the next thing you’ll be asking for is a cup of coffee.’

‘One of my colleagues is fetching some.’

‘You police officers have an easy life. Three great big strapping men to guard one man who can’t rise from a hospital bed. You afraid he’s going to crawl out and lick your boots? Because that’s all he’ll be able to reach after the injections he’s been given. A man in his condition could be guarded by a child with a bow and arrow. What’s he done that makes him so dangerous?’

Peter didn’t correct the assumption she’d made that Helmut was being guarded because he was a criminal. ‘I’m only an obersekretar, they don’t tell men of my rank anything.’

‘You didn’t ask why three of you have to guard him?’

‘I didn’t have to. I know the answer. The kriminalrat likes to keep us busy.’

Henz knocked the door, opened it and brought in three cups of coffee. He handed one to Peter and stared at Kappel who was asleep on a chair behind the door.

Peter shook Kappel awake. He grunted and took the coffee.

‘There’s no cake or sandwiches,’ Henz declared.

‘Just where have you three princes been living to expect cakes and sandwiches in this city? I can’t remember the last time I had enough sugar and butter to make a cake. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I saw butter, sugar, or a cake.’

‘The only way to live, is in hope, Sister.’ Peter returned to his chair.

‘After five years of a war you men have lost for Germany, I haven’t enough hope left to even dream of cake.’

‘Tell you what, the next time I see a cake at a price I can afford I’ll buy it for you.’

‘You’re no different to the rest of the men in my life. All I get from your sex is empty promises. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to check the patient’s vital signs again. Any change in the meantime come and get me.’

‘Are you expecting a change?’ Peter asked.

‘If he wakes, his eyes will open and his tongue will wag. That’s the only change I’m expecting.’ She went out.

‘She’s a bundle of fun.’ Peter left the chair and carried his coffee to the window. ‘I’m almost too tired to put one foot in front of the other. I’d give a week’s pay for a night’s sleep and I’ve only been back a day.’

‘This coffee should help keep us awake.’ Kappel moved from his chair on to the one Peter had vacated. ‘Henz, take first corridor guard duty.’

‘It’s draughty out there.’

‘All the better to keep you awake.’

Kappel lowered his voice after Henz left. ‘Do you think the murderer will kill another one of us?’

‘Probably, if we don’t stop him.’

‘He didn’t kill Helmut.’

‘Lucky Helmut.’

‘Why do you think he only injured him?’

‘He could have been disturbed before he had time to kill him.’

‘Some of the boys said Helmut told a senior officer the killer was after someone else.’

Peter eyed Kappel. His face was as white as Helmut’s and his hands shook as he lifted the cup to his lips. ‘Are you worried, Kappel?’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘I have you and Henz to protect me.’

‘Always the joker, Plewe. But you could be next. Like the three dead men, you were in the regiment  and like them you’ve returned and joined the police. Whoever’s doing this could have it in for all of us.’

‘Which is why we have to stick together, as we did at the front. We have guns. We know how to use them. I suggest we do just that the moment the killer appears.’

‘How do we recognise him?’

‘It’s only a guess but I doubt he’ll be wearing an Australian or British uniform.’

‘You lot and your damn jokes.’

‘What lot?’ Peter was confused.

‘You lot that were taken prisoner. Some of the boys said you gave yourself up because you were too cowardly to keep fighting.’

‘You believed them, after fighting with us for four years?’

‘Just telling you what they said.’

‘Who the hell is “they”?’

Taken aback by the vehemence in Peter’s voice, Kappel mumbled, ‘The boys.’

‘What boys?’ Peter demanded.

‘I don’t know what or who to believe any more.’ Kappel finished his coffee and held out his hand for Peter’s cup. ‘But what I do know is we had it harder than ever after you and the others were captured.’

‘Because of Colonel Dorfman?’

Kappel glanced around as though he expected Dorfman to materialize. ‘Dorfman was no von Mau.’

‘I agree. He’s six inches shorter.’ Peter leaned against the wall. ‘What happened after we were captured?’

‘In what way?’

‘There are only two ways in war, the front and off duty.’

‘Did you know we went into battle again the day after you were captured? We weren’t stood down for a month. It was hell.’

‘If we weren’t with you it wasn’t by choice and it wasn’t exactly a picnic where we were. So what happened?’

‘Active service until our nerves were shredded. The guns never stopped. All Dorfman was interested in was snap inspections and God help any man who had anything Dorfman considered unmilitary in his pockets. Photographs, letters, religious keepsakes, all personal items had to be left in kit bags. Anyone caught with what Dorfman called “contraband” in his battledress was put on a charge which meant loss of free time when we were stood down.’

‘No wonder you regretted the loss of von Mau.’

‘He could be strict but unlike Dorfman he was always fair. Want another coffee?’

‘As Dorfman made you senior officer I’ll get it.’ Peter flicked his watch open. ‘It’s almost six. With luck the cooks will be in the kitchen. If they are I’ll try to scrounge us something to eat.’

Engels’s House, Hoker Strasse, Konigsberg, Morning of Sunday January 12th 1919

‘I keep telling you, Colonel, we hardly ever left the front …’

‘But when you did?’ Wolf broke in.

‘We were too exhausted to do more than eat and sleep.’

‘So, you can’t think of any incident involving von Braunsch, Gluck, Dresdner, or yourself that might have given someone a reason to want any or all of you dead?’

Dolf paled. ‘You really think whoever attacked Helmut thought he was me?’

‘Before he passed out Helmut told me that they – whoever “they” are – said “he’s not the  one”. That suggests they were after someone else. You said you’d been sleeping in the office for a week. Anyone who’d been watching the premises might have assumed you’d be there last night.’

‘Helmut’s nothing like me. He’s taller, thinner, his hair is darker …’

‘Which would explain why someone looking at him would say, “He’s not the right one.” I don’t give a spent bullet what you and the others did. But I want to help the kriminaldirektor arrest the bastard that’s killing men from our regiment.’

‘You think I don’t want to stop them?’ Dolf challenged.

‘Them? – You know who they are.’

‘I wouldn’t be sitting here if I knew who was killing our comrades. I’d be in police headquarters talking to the kriminaldirektor. I have no idea who’s killing our comrades, sir. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the office to speak to my father.’ Dolf left his chair.

‘You’ll be in the Green Stork at seven?’ Wolf asked.

‘I’ll be there, sir.’

Wolf was convinced Dolf knew more than he was telling him but, whatever it was, he was no closer to getting it out of him.

Hoker Strasse, Konigsberg, Morning of Sunday January 12th 1919

Like Wasser Strasse the day before, Hoker Strasse was crawling with police who were conducting a lamplight search around the brewery. Klein was watching from the doorway of the carriage house.

Wolf approached. ‘Is the kriminaldirektor still here?’

‘Inside, sir.’

‘The kriminalrat?’

‘Has returned to police headquarters, sir.’

‘Do you know if the kriminaldirektor still intends to hold a meeting in the Green Stork this morning?’

‘Ask him yourself, sir. He’s interviewing the boy who brought food to Mr Engels and Mr Norde yesterday evening.’

‘Thank you, Klein.’ Wolf undid his coat and reached for his watch. He opened it. Almost six o’clock. He felt as though a million small insects were crawling over his skin. His eyes were gritty and stinging as if sand had blown into them. Symptoms, he knew from experience, that were down to a lack of sleep. He knocked the office door.

Georg shouted, ‘Come in.’

The kriminaldirektor was sitting behind the desk. A young boy who looked about twelve was perched on the edge of the sofa. He was painfully thin and his hands and face were covered with flea bites.

‘Thank you, Lutz.’ Georg rose and shook the boy’s hand. ‘You’ve been very helpful. If you think of anything else that happened yesterday evening, no matter how insignificant, ask Herr Engels to allow you to use the telephone to contact me.’

‘Yes, Kriminaldirektor.’ The boy bowed and clicked his heels, first to Georg then Wolf.

‘Was he helpful?’ Wolf closed the door after the boy left.

‘In confirming the times Dolf gave us, yes.’

‘Is the Green Stork still on for this morning?’

‘Seven o’clock. You’re coming?’

‘I’ll be there but I want to see Johanna first.’

Georg smiled.

Wolf shook his head. ‘Not for the reasons that are going through your mind.’

‘How do you know what’s going through my mind?’

‘I can see it in your face. I’ve just left Dolf. I’m certain he knows more than he’s telling us but whatever it is I couldn’t get it out of him. Yesterday morning I saw Dorfman in Johanna’s …’ Wolf hesitated, uncertain whether or not to voice his suspicions because he suspected they would sound ridiculous. ‘Dorfman was donating what Johanna Behn intimated was a large sum of money to a French convent. A man’s entitled to do what he wants with his money. It would make sense for Dorfman to send a gift to the convent, if his story proved true, and the nuns had nursed him and other officers from the battalion back to health.’

‘But?’ Georg looked expectantly at Wolf.

‘Before I say more I need to talk to Johanna Behn.’

‘If Dorfman’s her client, she won’t give you any information. If she did, she’d risk losing her licence to practise. Dorfman is a man with powerful friends. I’m not telling you to stay away from Johanna, but I warn you to tread carefully.’

‘I will.’

‘I don’t suppose you remember any more about seeing that note appear in Richter’s letterbox?’

‘Can we talk about that later?’

‘Lilli said you’d warned her not to say anything in Police Headquarters without her lawyer being present.’

‘That’s common sense,’ Wolf moved to the door.

‘Nothing to do with coal smears on Gluck’s corpse?’

‘Nothing to do with coal smears,’ Wolf repeated.

‘Or Ernst Nagel’s brother being a coalman who lives on Kohlmarkt?’