At length he snapped the folder shut and crossed to the post office, but his mind was still racing as he waited to be connected with Berlin. The library! The district library. What had Rammoser said about the books that had been stolen at regular intervals, and then returned? An idea started to form as the operator returned him to the present. ‘Caller. Your connection with Berlin.’
‘Thank you.’
A switch flicked and the Berlin exchange came on the line. He asked for Reinhold Gräf’s extension. The connection was astonishingly good. Too good, as it proved.
‘Homicide, Detective Chief Inspector Böhm,’ a voice barked down the receiver.
Rath was so taken aback that, for once, he forgot to identify himself. ‘Isn’t that Detective Gräf’s extension?’
‘Who’s speaking, please?’
‘Rath here, Inspector Rath.’
‘Our man in Masuria.’
‘I was hoping to speak with Detective Gräf. Or someone else from the Vaterland team.’
‘If it’s work-related, and I hope very much that it is, then you’ll have to make do with me.’
‘It’s about the Vaterland case, and I…’
‘Talk to me. I’m leading the investigation.’
‘I’m sorry, you’re what?’
‘Superintendent Gennat asked me to take over. The Bellevue team has been dissolved, and you requested reinforcements.’
He couldn’t believe it. Gennat had parachuted Böhm in again. Böhm, of all people! If this was punishment for spilling ink over Dettmann, he’d sooner have taken his chances with a disciplinary hearing. ‘I’m sorry, Sir, I’m just a little surprised.’
‘You only have yourself to blame, Inspector. If you’d made contact sooner, you’d have been in the picture long ago. But for Chief Constable Grigat’s telephone call, we wouldn’t even have known you’d arrived safely.’
‘With respect, Sir, I didn’t see any reason to make contact until there’d been a breakthrough.’
‘I’m all ears.’
Switchboard cut in. ‘Caller? Your conversation will be terminated in thirty seconds. If you wish to continue, please insert ten pfennigs.’
He wedged the receiver against his shoulder and rummaged in his wallet for change, cursing inwardly. On top of everything else he had to fritter his money away on Böhm.
‘Are you in a public telephone booth?’ Böhm asked.
‘Yes, Sir.’ At last he’d found a few coins.
‘Didn’t Chief Constable Grigat provide you with an office?’
‘He did, Sir, but I’m out in the field. Do you want to hear this or not?’ He knew he was being bold, but didn’t care. Böhm could shove it up his arse.
‘Tell me,’ Böhm said simply.
So Rath told him, in as few words as possible, everything he’d learned about Lamkau and his dead, bootlegging goons. He finished by listing possible murder motives, and saying which theory he thought most likely.
‘What was the man’s name again?’ the Bulldog barked. No doubt he had forgotten his notepad.
‘Radlewski. Artur Radlewski.’
‘Residence?’
‘No fixed abode.’
‘A tramp?’
‘More like a wood sprite. An Indian. Here, they call him the Kaubuk.’
‘An Indian? What do you mean?’
‘Apparently this Radlewski lives like an Indian out in the forest. He’s read just about every book going on Native Americans.’
‘Hmm.’ Böhm seemed pensive. ‘Is it possible that he’s read somewhere how to manufacture tubocurarine? It’s an Indian poison, after all.’
‘Perfectly possible, Sir.’
‘It looks as if the poison is home-grown. We’ve canvassed all sites in Berlin where it can be obtained. There’s none reported missing, nor has any been procured illegally.’
‘Then we need to find out how to make it.’
‘You don’t say, Inspector. Detective Gräf is currently speaking with a university expert on that very subject.’
‘Either way we should put out a warrant for the man…’
‘Inspector,’ Böhm thundered. ‘I’m the one leading this investigation, not you.’
‘Does that mean you’re not going to put out a warrant?’
‘Of course I am. Stop twisting my words. Have you a photo of the man?’
‘Just a description.’ He relayed what Adamek had told him.
‘You think there’s more?’
‘That’s all I have.’
‘I mean, is there anyone else Radlewski could hold responsible for his mother’s death?’
‘Not according to the file.’
‘What about this Luisenbrand business? Could it be that Radlewski has it in for the principal there too?’
‘Director Wengler?’
‘Or others who worked at the distillery in ’24. Get a list together, and listen for rumours connecting anyone else to the scandal. If we know where these people live, we might be able to predict where the killer will strike next.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
Rath hung up before having to insert more coins. What the hell was going on? Here he was more than eight hundred kilometres away from Berlin, and Böhm was still ordering him about.
He sifted through his remaining change and asked to be put through to Berlin on two further occasions, once to Carmerstrasse, and once to Spenerstrasse. No one picked up, which was hardly surprising since it was not yet midday. Still, his conscience was eating away at him. Despite meaning to call, something unexpected had come up on both evenings so far. If, that is, you could define ‘something unexpected’ as getting drunk with a village schoolmaster who was on summer holidays and had nothing better to do. Perhaps it was better Charly didn’t find out; at the very least he owed her a decent excuse.
When the time came, he’d have an exciting tale about roaming the forest in search of a Masurian Indian. It might not sound entirely plausible, but the truth rarely did.
Remembering how Charly furrowed her brow when listening, he realised how much he missed her. Yet here he was, holed up in a one-horse town at the arse-end of nowhere; the fringes of civilisation. That was how it was starting to feel, anyway, and not just when people here spoke of their forest, that expanse of woodland that was said to stretch all the way into Russia and beyond.
It was time to clear out. He just had to take care of Böhm’s list and see that he boarded the next train to Berlin.
44
The Oletzko District Library occupied two rooms in the district administrative office: a large room with the bookshelves, and a small room in which a woman of perhaps forty sat behind a desk.
Exactly Rath’s idea of a provincial librarian, she wore glasses and her favourite colour was apparently grey. When she turned her head, he saw that even her dark-blonde hair, combed severely back, was tied in a tight bun. The view from her office window was spoiled by the presence of two massive tenement blocks located on the shore. Rath’s police badge induced a frenzy of activity.
‘Yes, the books… though it’s by no means certain it was Artur who took them…’
‘I’m assuming he did,’ Rath said. ‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t plan to charge Artur Radlewski with larceny. Nor am I interested in why nothing was reported. I just want to know what he’s been reading recently.’
She gave a shrug. ‘Well, recently… nothing.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘That he… That for around half a year no books… have gone missing.’