‘When did you last see your father?’ Tornow asked, and Rath was astonished by the sympathy in his voice.
Margot Kohn immediately opened up. ‘Yesterday afternoon,’ she said, skilfully balancing her teacup as she sat. ‘We visited him as a family. We’ve been there almost every day these past few weeks.’
‘And he was fighting fit yesterday afternoon?’
‘We all knew he didn’t have long, my father more than anyone, but he wasn’t afraid of death. He never has been. He is… or was, very devout. The only thing that troubled him was the pain.’
‘Didn’t he mention anything about Abraham; he must have visited a few days ago?’
She shook her head indignantly. ‘Even if he did, he didn’t kill his own grandfather! You don’t really think that, do you?’
Rath was about to respond when the door flew open and a man entered. There was no need for an introduction; this had to be Dr Hermann Kohn. The lawyer was surprised by their presence. ‘Might I ask what you are doing here?’
‘Just routine questioning,’ Rath replied. ‘Your wife is related to a fugitive murder suspect, and…’
‘Pardon me?’
‘Abraham Goldstein,’ Rath said, before Margot Kohn interrupted.
‘Nathan’s son,’ she said. ‘From America. Apparently he’s in Berlin.’ She showed her husband Saturday’s edition of Der Tag, which Rath had brought, containing, as it did, the essential information. Hermann Kohn skimmed the article, the details of which were clearly as unfamiliar to him as to his wife. Journalists at Der Tag weren’t averse to anti-Semitic sentiment.
‘This still doesn’t explain why you’re here. My brother-in-law emigrated to the United States many years ago. The last time Margot saw him she was fourteen…’
‘Fifteen!’ his wife sobbed. ‘Nathan is long since dead, and here you are telling me his son is a gangster and murderer, who might even have killed his own grandfather.’
‘We had your father’s body sent to Pathology precisely to rule out that possibility,’ Rath said, realising at the same moment how tactless he was being – and not just because Margot Kohn started heaving again.
‘Without informing his next of kin,’ the lawyer said.
‘With respect, we did, of course…’
‘You told Flegenheimer! Not me!’
‘Then you must have heard it from your brother-in-law.’
‘I heard it from the hospital. They said you had seized my father-in-law’s corpse.’
‘That’s not how I’d put it. We…’
‘How would you put it? We want to bury our father and, thanks to you, it isn’t possible. You are aware that Jewish tradition dictates that the funeral take place on the day of death?’
‘I wasn’t aware of that, no…’
‘Tell that to my brother-in-law. He’s a good deal less sympathetic than me.’
So… Rath thought. Dr Hermann Kohn regards himself as sympathetic.
‘As far as autopsies go, the Jewish faith is even clearer. They’re forbidden, since they take away the deceased’s dignity. Viewed from the perspective of an orthodox Jew, what you have done is so egregious that it led to my brother-in-law telephoning me for the first time in five years.’
‘Our forensic pathologist Dr Schwartz is Jewish himself and is sure to know…’
Again Kohn interrupted. ‘Magnus Schwartz is many things, but he is certainly not an orthodox Jew.’
‘You know Dr Schwartz?’
‘Magnus and I attended the same school.’ Kohn looked Rath straight in the eye, an expression that made the inspector hope he’d never encounter him in his professional capacity, before shaking his head, as if to satisfy a judge of the prosecution’s incompetence. ‘My father-in-law was terminally ill, and you suspect he was murdered. It’s utterly ridiculous.’
‘As I said, we’re having the corpse examined to eliminate the possibility that he was murdered.’ It was clear that arguing with Kohn was pointless.
‘Then off you go and get eliminating! So that the body can be released.’ Hermann Kohn gestured unequivocally towards the door. ‘And stop harassing me and my family. In case you hadn’t noticed, we are trying to mourn the death of my wife’s father.’
Their second visit was no more successful. Lea Flegenheimer lived with her family in a grand apartment in the Bayerische Viertel, where many other Jews resided, but where the Flegenheimers somehow didn’t fit. Her husband Ariel might have been a successful businessman but, in his black clothing, he was all too reminiscent of the Shtetl Jews who had settled in the Scheunenviertel around Grenadierstrasse. His Jewish neighbours didn’t approve, at least that was Rath’s impression when they entered the building and asked for the Flegenheimer family. The disdain and incomprehension that the liberal Jew Hermann Kohn felt towards his orthodox brother-in-law were much in evidence here too.
Nevertheless, as different as the families that the Goldstein sisters had married into were, they were united in their outrage that their American nephew should be sought in a Berlin murder investigation.
‘It must be a case of mistaken identity,’ Lea Flegenheimer said. ‘I said that to your colleagues at the morgue. My nephew isn’t in Berlin; if he was, he’d have been in touch.’ The woman must have shed a lot of tears in the last few hours. ‘Even so, they refused to release Father.’
Rath was surprised. ‘You’ve visited the morgue?’
‘Of course!’ Ariel Flegenheimer said. ‘Yesterday evening, just after Dr Friedländer informed us that you had had our dead father removed from the hospital.’
Though he looked as if he had just arrived from Grodno, Flegenheimer spoke perfect German, without a trace of Yiddish accent. If his speech was modified by any dialect it was Berlin’s. The beard, sidelocks and black caftan didn’t bespeak his origins, but his religious faith. The mezuzah on the doorpost told visitors they were entering a Jewish apartment where religion played a decisive role. Everywhere Rath looked, there was evidence of their faith. He was reminded of his childhood. Aunt Lisbeth’s house had a similar feel, though she was Catholic, of course, with crucifixes, sacred images and rosary beads everywhere. He had always hated visiting his aunt, and he felt as uncomfortable now. It didn’t help that Ariel Flegenheimer made no effort to put him at his ease.
‘The way you’re treating my father-in-law: violating the dignity of his body. We should have buried him yesterday evening!’
‘If you could just be patient for a little longer.’
‘This isn’t about my patience, but your lack of respect. The soul remains present until the body is buried. Only then does it leave this world.’ He seemed, genuinely, to believe this. ‘That’s why Joseph is holding Shmira with him.’
‘Pardon me?’
‘My son. He’s been keeping watch over his grandfather’s body overnight.’
‘In the morgue?’
‘It was you who had our father sent there. If it was up to us, we’d have buried him by now. Or at least kept watch over him here. I don’t understand why you did it in the first place.’
‘That’s exactly what we’re here to talk about.’ Rath no longer made any effort to conceal his impatience. ‘We’re hoping to rule out the possibility that Jakob Goldstein died an unnatural death. That’s why we’re having the corpse examined.’
Flegenheimer jumped to his feet. ‘That is simply outrageous!’
‘Take it easy. There will be no autopsy. I’ve spoken with Pathology to ensure that blood is taken only for the purposes of examination.’