The Defeated Aristocrat (28 page)

‘My son-in-law, Kriminalobersekretar Plewe …’

Klein opened the door and addressed the man on duty. ‘Baucher, you’re needed to relieve Plewe and Henz in Helmut Norde’s room.’

The reassurance wasn’t enough for Georg. ‘Peter’s unharmed?’ he checked as soon as Baucher left.

‘He is, sir.’

‘Kappel’s been murdered and mutilated like the other victims?’ Wolf demanded.

Klein was surprised. ‘How did you know it was Kappel, sir?’

Frustrated, Georg didn’t give Wolf time to answer. ‘What the hell’s going on?’

‘The kriminalrat arrived shortly after Kappel’s body was discovered by a nurse, sir.’

‘Branks – same mutilations?’ Wolf asked.

‘No branks and it looked as though his throat had been cut as well as his body mutilated. From what we’ve gathered, he seems to have been killed in the space of ten minutes. Kriminalrat Dorfman took charge of the crime scene. Kappel’s body is already in the mortuary and the room being cleaned.’

‘After a doctor examined the body and Otto recorded the scene I hope.’

Klein heard footsteps echoing behind the door and lowered his voice. ‘No, sir. The kriminalrat insisted there was no time to make a record. Not if we were to avoid panic in the hospital.’

‘Where were the other officers when Kappel was murdered?’

Dorfman opened the door. Assuming the kriminalrat was about to leave the building, Klein stepped down to street level.

‘We have to return to our meeting, Kriminaldirektor.’ Wolf deliberately spoke loud enough for Dorfman to hear.

‘Kriminaldirektor, a moment of your time.’ Ignoring Wolf, Dorfman led Georg out of earshot. He returned a few seconds later – alone. ‘Keep the door closed, Klein, and not a word to anyone, whoever they are.’

‘If anyone asks for information, sir?’

‘I said not a word, Klein. Not even to the Kaiser should he appear. Not if you value your position.’ Dorfman entered the building and closed the door behind him.

Wolf returned to the carriage. Georg was already inside. ‘Are we returning to the Green Stork, sir?’

‘As civilians, Mau. The kriminalrat has removed me from my post.’

Konigsberg, Morning of Sunday January 12th 1919

Wolf closed the door of the carriage and sat back in the seat. He heard the sound of paper crinkling in his pocket, reached in, and discovered the letter the girl with green eyes had given him – had it really only been yesterday?

He opened it. There were two scrawled lines.

Warn the soldiers. If they don’t leave Konigsberg they will all be murdered.

A friend.

He glanced at Georg who was sunk deep in thought and handed him the note. ‘A girl in the Green Stork gave me this yesterday.’

Georg read it. ‘Only now you’re giving it to me?’

‘The envelope was sealed. I assumed it was a begging letter from a discharged soldier. I forgot about it until now.’

‘Why did you think it was a begging letter?’

‘Because a veteran was looking at me through the window of the Stork when she approached me.’

‘All veterans look at you. You were their colonel, Mau. You did the unthinkable. You led them well enough for them to survive the war so they’re hoping you can solve their current problems.’

‘I only wish I could.’

‘What happened in France?’ Georg asked.

‘I was hoping someone would enlighten us as to that in the Stork.’

‘You still think Dorfman is involved?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘Given the high-handed way Dorfman’s behaving, my suspicions could be no more than wishful thinking. I grant you, he’s behaving oddly …’

‘Oddly!’ Wolf interrupted. ‘Cleaning up a crime scene without making a record. Arresting an innocent woman on evidence that will never bear the scrutiny of a court. Sending money to a convent in France when his old comrades and their families are starving in Konigsberg. Firing you …’

‘He doesn’t work the way I would,’ Georg agreed. ‘But his mistakes – if they are mistakes and only time will prove that – could be down to inexperience. I looked into his background when he was appointed Kriminalrat. Aside from a few months as colonel towards the end of the war, he has no experience of command and no qualifications. He didn’t finish his law course in the Albertina. Damn! Dorfman relieving me of my command put everything else from my mind. I meant to ask Klein if Lilli Richter is still in Headquarters. I need to contact Rudi Momberg …’

‘You need to rest, sir,’ Wolf advised. ‘Pippi will be worried about Peter, especially if she’s heard about the murder of another veteran. Go home, tell her he’s safe and get some sleep.’

‘Leaving Dorfman in charge of the police?’

‘You have no choice, Herr Hafen.’ Wolf deliberately addressed Georg as a civilian to remind him of his change of status. ‘He’s relieved you of your post. There’s nothing you can do at present but if you remain out of sight for a few hours, you’ll minimise the risk of annoying him more than you already have.’

‘What do you intend to do?’

‘Return to the Stork. Someone must know what happened in France.’

‘But will that someone tell you?’

‘If they do, you’ll be the first to know.’

‘You’ll contact me?’

‘The moment I have something that will help track down the killer, sir. You have my word.’

The Green Stork, Wasser Strasse, Konigsberg, Morning of Sunday January 12th 1919

Wolf walked into the kitchen to find the staff preparing for the midday dinner trade but he couldn’t see the girl who’d given him the envelope.

‘If you want Herr Frank, sir, he’s in his office.’ An assistant chef who was gutting fish looked up from his table. Wolf left the kitchen and walked in on Ralf and Emil Grunman. A tray of coffee was on the desk between them.

‘Peter and Kappel?’ Ralf asked urgently.

‘Kappel’s dead.’ Wolf sat next to Emil and poured himself a coffee.

‘Murdered?’

Wolf studied Emil. He was knotting his fingers and plucking at the cloth on his sweater. The result of shellshock or something more recent? ‘I didn’t see his corpse but was told he’d been murdered and mutilated like the others.’

‘Peter?’ Ralf asked.

‘Fine according to one of his fellow officers.’

‘You didn’t see him either?’

‘The kriminalrat’s locked down the hospital. No one’s allowed in or out.’ Wolf saw no sense in announcing Georg Hafen had been removed from his post before the news became known throughout the city. ‘This is turning out to be quite a reunion. All three of us. Where are the others?’

‘Josef needed to return to the store to oversee stocktaking because his father’s away. They can only do it when the store’s closed so Sunday, as it’s not the Jewish Sabbath, is the obvious choice. Dolf’s father hauled him out after reminding him beer barrels don’t drive themselves. So, no day of rest for Engels’s brewery, and Reiner said it was his turn to clean the boat ready for tomorrow’s fishing.’ Ralf pushed the sugar bowl and cream jug towards Wolf. ‘As Peter and Kappel hadn’t turned up and you’d left we thought it best to move the meeting to this evening.’

Wolf spooned sugar into his coffee. ‘So, Emil,’ he spoke quietly, conversationally. ‘What happened in France after Ralf, Peter, Josef, Helmut, and me were captured?’

Emil answered quickly. Too quickly. ‘The same as happened before you were taken, sir. War.’

‘By war you mean fighting?’

‘We spent most of our time in the front line, sir.’

‘But you had some leave?’

‘Some, not much,’ Emil squirmed under Wolf’s steady gaze.

‘Where did you spend it?’

‘Usual places.’

The silence was palpable, oppressive.

Wolf continued to watch Emil. ‘Such as?’

‘Cowshed bars – villages – towns – when we could get to one.’

‘Anywhere special?’

‘Like where, sir?

‘Like a convent.’

Emil’s hand shook when he attempted to spoon more sugar into his coffee. The bowl tipped and he spilled the cubes on the desk.

Ralf returned the cubes to a bowl, opened a drawer, removed a cloth, and brushed the crumbs into a waste paper basket.

‘Why would we go to a convent, sir?’

‘I heard that some of you were injured, and nuns nursed you,’ Wolf revealed.

‘The Schmidt brothers were killed, outright. A shell exploded on top of them.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. They were good men. However, if they died instantly no amount of nursing, even by nuns, would have helped them.’

‘A dozen or so of us were wounded.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Vogel took a bullet in his lung, he died three days later.’

‘He was also a good man. Did the nuns take care of him – and you?’ Wolf asked.

‘No nun took care of me, sir. But I went through the entire war without picking up a scratch.’

‘What about the others?’

‘What others, sir?’

‘Vogel – the rest of the wounded – Colonel Dorfman?’

‘Colonel Dorfman!’ Emil mocked. ‘When did you ever hear of a colonel getting injured?’ He remembered Wolf’s leg wound and added, ‘Yourself excepted, sir.’

‘Colonel Dorfman wasn’t injured?’

‘Not that I knew about, sir.’

‘What about Nils Dresdner, Anton von Braunsch, Dedleff Gluck, and Luther Kappel?’

‘Anton von Braunsch was seriously wounded, but as you and Peter Plewe were in the hospital tent with him, you know about that, sir. Nils was in for a few days with a bullet in his arm.’

‘In the convent?’

‘Why do you keep on about a convent, sir?’ Emil demanded. ‘The wounded were treated in the hospital tents.’

Emil’s story was directly at odds with Dorfman’s that he and other German officers had been cared for by nuns. ‘I’ve been told that Dorfman and other wounded officers from our regiment were looked after by nuns in a convent.’

‘If they were, I don’t know about it, sir.’ Emil lifted his chin high, defying Wolf to say otherwise.

‘If colour is an indication of lying, Grunman, I’d say you’ve just told us one the size of Big Fat Bertha. I could fry eggs on your cheeks,’ Ralf observed.

‘I should go …’

‘Your family have an estate outside Konigsberg?’ Wolf moved his chair, so it blocked the door.

‘A farm in Lowenhagen, not an estate. The house is fraction of the size of your castle in Lichtenhagen, sir, and we only have a few fields. I must go …’

Wolf retrieved his pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket and opened it. ‘You have an appointment?’

‘I promised to pick up shoes for my mother from the cobbler in Schmiedes Strasse.’

‘On a Sunday?’ Ralf enquired sceptically.

‘He’s a friend of my mother’s. He told me to knock on the side door to his house.’

‘Schmiedes Strasse is around the corner,’ Wolf said. ‘I’m sure the cobbler will keep the shoes until you get there.’

‘I promised to meet someone for lunch.’

‘You’re thinking of lunch after the breakfast you ate. I’m disappointed, Emil. I thought I’d fed you well,’ Ralf reprimanded him.

‘You have, sir … but I have to go.’ Emil left his chair and hovered in front of Wolf’s chair.

‘You’ll return this evening to meet the others?’ Ralf pressed.

‘I have to return to Lowenhagen.’

‘If you meet the same people as Dresdner, von Braunsch, Gluck, and Kappel, you won’t reach Lowenhagen in one piece,’ Wolf warned.

‘I need to get back before nightfall.’

‘You think you won’t be attacked in daylight?’

‘The others – all the others were attacked at night. Weren’t they, sir?’ Emil asked.

‘No one can be sure. Especially about Gluck,’ Wolf answered.

‘Stay …’

‘No, Ralf. I really can’t tell you anything.’

‘Can’t because you don’t know anything? Or won’t because you know too much and are afraid of someone finding out you’ve talked?’ Wolf didn’t move when Emil tried to squeeze past his chair. ‘Just what did you and the others do in that convent, Emil?’

‘I told you, sir, I know nothing about any convent.’ Emil lunged sideways, intending to push Wolf’s chair away from the door. Wolf jumped to his feet and Emil staggered as he slammed the empty chair into the desk.

Emil closed his hand into a fist. He aimed a punch at Wolf who’d stationed himself in front of the door. Wolf feinted and lashed out. Emil crumpled. He fell and hit his head on the corner of the desk.

Ralf examined him. ‘Out cold,’ he declared. ‘What was all that about Dorfman and a convent?’

‘I wasn’t sure it had any relevance until I saw Emil’s reaction,’ Wolf admitted.

‘So, what happened in France?’

‘I have suspicions, but I need proof. Dorfman’s taken control of the police and removed Georg from his post. You’ve a girl working in your kitchens I need to talk to.’

‘I have a lot of girls working in the kitchens.’

‘This one has the face of an angel.’

‘Dark hair, green eyes, about so high.’ Ralf held out his hand.

‘Sounds like her.’

‘She never leaves the kitchen. How did you meet her?’

‘She opened the door for me as I was leaving the last time I was here.’

‘I’ve never seen her in the restaurant. She rarely says a word more than necessary, and is the one girl who never entertains in her room. I know, I asked her if I could spend the night with her when I returned. She refused. The rest of the girls were queuing up to jump into bed with the boss’s war hero son but not her.’

‘She wasn’t in the kitchen when I came in.’

‘Did you ask about her?’

‘I don’t know her name.’

‘If it’s the girl I’m thinking of, her name’s Cherie. Hardly fitting for a chaste angel but none of us can choose our own names.’ Ralf opened his desk drawer and removed a pair of handcuffs. He fastened one around Emil’s wrist, the other to the massive iron radiator on the wall behind his desk.

He opened the door. ‘Manfred?’ he called to a porter who was hauling a sack of potatoes into the kitchen. ‘Man here has hit his head. Watch him. If he gets worse call a doctor but don’t release him, even if he begs you.’ Ralf pocketed the keys to the cuffs to make sure.

‘Look like Emil isn’t the first customer you’ve locked in your office,’ Wolf said.

‘When the party gets raucous there’s always at least one fool who drinks too much and thinks he’s Attila the Hun.’