‘What’s this got to do with me?’
‘Police continue to investigate,’ Rath repeated. ‘Lamkau, Simoneit and Wawerka were under investigation in the spring of 1924, and I have to get it from the papers!’
‘Why the fuss? The most important thing is you know now.’
The greedy constable’s composure riled Rath even more than the missing police file. With some effort, he controlled himself.
‘For two days you have known that the Berlin Police is trying to establish a link between these three men,’ he said. ‘You give me a paper-thin file that contains little more than their names and have Kowalski here plough through any number of case files, all of which are irrelevant. But the decisive file concerning the Luisenbrand scandal…’ – He beat down on the paper again. – ‘…is strangely nowhere to be found.’ He took a deep breath and smiled. ‘That’s why the fuss.’
‘I’m sure there’s an explanation,’ Grigat said, dabbing at his mouth with a serviette. ‘Assistant Detective Kowalski requested all case files from the year 1924, and I had them sent over.’
‘Except clearly you didn’t…’ Rath took a deep breath. ‘You’re in charge of the police here…’
‘In the whole Oletzko district!’
‘Which means you ought to be able to supply case files in their entirety!’ Rath shook his head. ‘What a fucking mess!’
‘Moderate your tone, Inspector!’ Grigat placed his serviette on the table and stood up. His moustache twitched. ‘You’re forgetting yourself, and who you’re speaking to. The Oletzko District Police will not stand for it, you are not my superior!’
‘No, you’re right there.’ Rath rummaged for the letter he hadn’t wanted to use. ‘Dr Bernhard Weiss in Berlin is my superior. He’s counting on me to solve a murder, and he’s counting on you to assist me in my inquiries.’
‘What more do you want? I’ve done exactly as your Dr Weiss requested. I had a file put together on the men in question, granted you and your colleague access to our records and prepared a workstation for you complete with telephone. I’ve given you every possible assistance, and even raised the prospect of additional support. It’s you who hasn’t taken advantage of it!’
‘I don’t need support. What I need is a better organised regional police authority and district court.’
‘Now, listen here, Inspector!’ Grigat turned red. ‘We don’t have many police officers in Treuburg and the Oletzko district. Here in town I have a handful at my disposal, as well as two secretarial staff. Outside of Treuburg there are a dozen gendarmerie posts and the Border Commissariat in Gross-Czymochen, and that’s it. When things get tight – if someone’s sick or on holiday – then we call in reinforcements from Goldap or Lyck. We can’t always go by the book, as you can in Berlin. We have to take things as they come: to identify unroadworthy vehicles and conmen alike; attend to registry tasks as well as criminal records. Files relating to an age-old case are the least of our worries. Apart from that, the archiving of case files is the responsibility of the district court and public prosecutor’s office, not the regional police authority.’
Rath decided to backpedal. Warring with the local authorities was no help to anyone. ‘You’re right, Constable. My apologies. I’ve no intention of arguing with you. You cannot be held responsible for every foul-up that occurs in Treuburg. In all likelihood, as you say, the error lies with the court.’
‘I’m glad you see it that way, Inspector.’ The man’s moustache ceased twitching.
‘Now,’ Rath said, managing a smile, ‘let’s find out why that moonshining file was never delivered.’
‘Now?’ Grigat made the sort of horrified face that was the trademark of dyed-in-the-wool public officials everywhere. ‘On a Friday afternoon?’
The district court building was located next to the district office, and most employees seemed to have finished for the weekend. Only the porter remained when Rath looked in with Grigat and Kowalski.
‘Afternoon, Feibler,’ Grigat said.
The dishevelled old man in the porter’s lodge stood to attention. ‘Sir!’
‘Anyone in Registry?’
‘No one, Sir!’
‘We need to look inside. It’s urgent. You have a key, don’t you?’
The porter’s gaze flitted suspiciously between them. As a good Prussian, he was loyal to Grigat, but unsure of his companions.
‘I’m afraid I’m not authorised to give out files, Sir.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Rath interrupted. ‘We are concerned about the whereabouts of a particular document. Once we establish that, we’ll proceed through the proper channels.’
The porter eyed him suspiciously but lifted the wooden barrier and exited his lodge. He led them into a chilly, windowless room secured by a steel door. ‘Year?’ he asked.
‘Twenty-four,’ Rath said.
‘I see. Then we’ll have to check the archive. Right at the back.’
Once inside, the porter switched on the light. ‘Inventory’s here,’ he said, gesturing towards a thick tome, but they didn’t need the inventory to locate the shelf. Two racks above floor level had been cleared. Rath crouched to look. Nothing: neither on nor behind the shelves.
‘Like I told you,’ Grigat said. ‘I had everything sent over.’
‘Then the file must be somewhere else.’ Rath went over to the inventory and traced down the index of cases from 1924 to find: Lamkau. Infringement Against Reich Alcohol Legislation. He took out his notebook and recorded the docket number and archive shelf mark. Soon he was back in front of the empty shelf. ‘The file must have been here,’ he said, looking at Kowalski. ‘Are you sure you haven’t overlooked something?’
‘Believe me, Sir, I looked through everything, page by page.’
Rath turned to the porter. ‘There must be some index documenting which files have been removed?’
‘Of course, but the inventory won’t help you. The withdrawal register’s back the way we came.’
‘Let’s take a look inside then.’
‘I don’t know if I’m authorised…’ the porter began, but Rath cut him off.
‘Listen, I’m not sure if you’ve realised, but the three of us, we’re the good guys. We’re not here to make your life difficult.’
The porter looked at Grigat inquiringly.
‘He’s right, Feibler. Let us look inside.’
No one could accuse the registry office of being disorganised. Under today’s date was a record of one hundred and seven case files, complete with docket number and archive shelf mark. Grigat wasn’t lying. Rath compared the sequences against his notebook but found no match.
‘Someone must have taken the file.’
He leafed back through the withdrawal register, paying attention only to the final two numbers. Most dated from 1930 or later, but then, little by little, older cases began to appear. Rath had already gone back a few pages when his finger alighted on a sequence ending in ‘24’. He checked his notebook. A match!
Case file II Gs 117/24 had been withdrawn almost three years ago.