‘Charlotte Ritter, Gennat’s stenographer.’
He had a good memory for people, she thought. ‘I haven’t worked for Gennat in a long time. State examination. Nine months ago now. I’m currently completing my legal preparatory service…’
‘…and evidently at Lichtenberg District Court.’
Charly nodded. ‘Of course, you know already. It’s me you have to thank for all this.’
‘Let’s not go blaming ourselves. This sort of thing can happen to anyone.’
‘If I’d known what she’d done… I just thought she was some jumped-up fare-dodger who’d bust out of reform.’
‘You couldn’t have guessed who you were dealing with. We only made the connection ourselves this morning.’ He was trying to comfort her, and doing a better job than Gereon yesterday.
‘Well, at least I’ve been able to discover her name,’ Charly said.
‘You have?’ Nebe raised his eyebrows in surprise.
‘Alexandra Reinhold: no fixed abode, from Friedrichshain.’
‘Reinhold with a ‘d’ or ‘dt’’?
‘With a ‘d’’.
Nebe’s pencil scratched across the page as he noted the name. Charly felt like a traitor, but it was the least she could do to atone.
‘That’s more than I dared hope for, Fräulein Ritter. It’s something your superior at Lichtenberg was unable to provide.’ Nebe snapped his notebook shut. ‘But that’s not why I summoned you here. We need a personal description.’
‘Wasn’t Special Counsel Weber able to do that?’
‘If I understood him correctly, he has absolutely nothing to do with the case.’
Weber, you coward, Charly thought, trying to wash your hands of this, are you? Perhaps Gereon was right, perhaps she shouldn’t conceal Weber’s complicity. That the man was trying to sweep the matter under the carpet was testament to his guilty conscience.
‘Be that as it may,’ Nebe continued. ‘You, at least, saw the girl… Alexandra Reinhold… yesterday, and can provide a description. I’ve called for a sketch artist.’
A short time later Charly sat in front of a man with a sketch pad, describing Alexandra Reinhold. When the sketch was finished the face that stared out from the pad was exactly as she remembered it. Only the gaze was different; not quite as anxious. On paper Alex looked defiant and provocative, almost intimidating.
She didn’t want to nitpick, perhaps that’s how wanted posters had to look. The sketch artist tore off the page and passed it to Nebe.
‘Many thanks, Fräulein Ritter,’ he said. ‘You’ve been a great help. At last, something we can give to Warrants.’ He handed the sheet to a colleague. ‘Have duplicates made right away and pass it onto J Division along with our appeal. And here…’ He tore a page from his notebook. ‘…is the girl’s name. That ought to make things easier.’
Warrants. Once the department’s machinery was set in motion, it would be tricky for Alexandra Reinhold to go underground. For some reason the thought of Alex falling into the hands of Warrant Officers made Charly uncomfortable. She couldn’t help thinking of the distraught girl sitting in her office with fear in her eyes, and then of the merciless apparatus of the Prussian Police’s Warrants Department.
As she paced the corridors of Homicide shortly afterwards, breathing in that strange but familiar smell of sweat and dusty files, ink and paper, she briefly considered paying Gennat a visit or, at least, Wilhelm Böhm. In the end she simply knocked on the door she had been assigned, not far from Gereon’s little office at the end of the corridor. Today wasn’t a day for chatting with ex-colleagues.
She had never worked directly with Andreas Lange, although she had met him before. Most of what she knew came from Gereon. A conscientious type, he had moved to Berlin from Hannover.
Charly knocked on the door and entered to a reedy ‘Come in’, to find Lange on his own, seated behind his desk, making notes in a file. He wore a serious expression. When he looked up he recognised her straightaway.
‘Fräulein Ritter!’ he said, and promptly turned red. That didn’t seem to have changed.
‘You asked to speak to me?’ Charly gave him a helping hand. ‘Lichtenberg District Court.’
‘You’re working for the District Court?’
‘Legal preparatory service.’
His colour slowly returned to normal. ‘Special Counsel Weber told me he could send someone over who had seen the KaDeWe fugitive.’
‘I’ve spoken with Nebe already. No doubt I’m being passed around the whole Castle.’
‘Inspector Nebe and I are working closely on this. I’m investigating the death in connection with the KaDeWe break-in.’ He sounded almost apologetic.
The boy who had plunged to his death while fleeing police. The headlines from a few days ago. Charly suddenly realised where the fear and horror in Alexandra’s eyes came from. ‘Could it be that the girl was a witness?’ she asked.
‘Just what I was about to ask you, Fräulein Ritter. You spoke to her after all. Before she escaped, I mean.’ There was a hint of red in his face again. He seemed embarrassed to mention her error.
‘That’s true, but she was totally distraught.’
‘Based on my findings, she did, indeed, see the boy fall. He had just turned fifteen.’
‘Dear God,’ Charly said.
‘The girl…’
‘Alexandra,’ Charly interrupted, and this time it didn’t feel like a betrayal. ‘Her name is Alexandra.’
‘…Alexandra is an important witness. She…’
There was a knock so loud it felt as if someone was trying to kick the door down. Wilhelm Böhm stepped into the room. He looked at her in surprise. ‘Charly, what are you doing here?’ He sounded a little offended. As if reproaching her for calling on the assistant detective rather than him.
‘Fräulein Ritter is here on duty, so to speak,’ Lange explained, turning red again. ‘The KaDeWe case. In her role at Lichtenberg District Court she questioned a wit…’
‘The KaDeWe case…’ Böhm blustered, incapable of speaking quietly, ‘…is the reason I’m here. I have an important…’
‘Could you please wait outside, Fräulein Ritter?’ Lange asked.
Wilhelm Böhm looked at him in irritation. He wasn’t used to being interrupted.
Charly stood up.
‘Stay where you are, Charly,’ Böhm said. ‘You’re involved in this case?’
‘If you say so, Sir.’
‘Lichtenberg District Court. Preparatory service, is it? You’ll have to tell me sometime over coffee.’
‘How about I buy you one afterwards in the canteen, and you tell me what you know about the Beckmann case. It was you who dealt with it at the time, wasn’t it?’
Böhm nodded. ‘It’s a cold case. We have a suspect, but he’s probably slipped off to Moscow – still a minor, but already a staunch Communist. Why are you interested?’
‘From a purely legal point of view.’
Böhm turned back to Lange. ‘I have a piece of news that will surprise you,’ he said. ‘As you know, I’m working on the murdered fence from Friedrichshain: Kallweit, Eberhard. The robbery homicide that wasn’t.’
Lange nodded. ‘I’m familiar with it, Sir. I was at briefing this morning.’
‘It looks as if we ought to coordinate our investigations – amalgamate them, even. It concerns the stolen goods found in the deceased’s stockroom.’ Böhm looked pleased with himself. ‘Among other things, our colleagues found a load of high-quality wristwatches. They’re from the KaDeWe break-in at the weekend.’
42
Gräf slammed the phone into the cradle. He’d had enough, sitting here with this crap! Böhm was gadding about with Grabowski, God knows where, while he, Reinhold Gräf, was left to do the dirty work. Fighting running battles with idiots who called the station at minute intervals. Since the abusive Communist almost an hour ago, he hadn’t had a moment’s peace.