‘It’s fine, Fräulein Bikowski. Let me see to the inspector. Why not go for your lunch? If you need anything, I’ll be in the Salzburger Hof.’
The secretary nodded and left, but not before throwing Rath a hostile glance. ‘I think it’s in your interests that this conversation remain confidential,’ he said, closing the door.
‘I can’t see what there is to discuss, Inspector. You’ve told me nothing of your movements so far, and your Berlin colleagues clearly likewise. Your superior was in touch on several occasions. Unfortunately there was nothing I could say to him.’
‘No?’ Rath looked at Grigat’s twitching moustache. ‘You couldn’t have let Berlin know where I’ve spent the last few days?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘What did you say to old Adamek? Did you threaten him? Say you’d no longer turn a blind eye to his poaching? What about your beloved venison loin?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘We ran into you on our way to Adamek’s. You’d just come from there, hadn’t you?’
‘Stop speaking in riddles.’
‘Granted, you didn’t mean to kill me. You probably just wanted to run me out of your pretty little town. Well, too bad!’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Or were you acting on someone else’s behalf, instructing old Adamek to abandon me in the forest like that?’
‘Are you implying the Treuburg Police can be bought?’
‘Depends what you mean by “bought”? Perhaps you were just doing someone a favour. In Cologne we call it Klüngel. Cabal.’
‘And here we call it calumny. I’m warning you, stop making baseless accusations!’ It felt as if Grigat might challenge him to a duel.
‘Need I remind you…’ Rath placed the letter from Bernhard Weiss on the desk. ‘That the deputy commissioner of the Berlin Police has expressly requested that you provide me with support. Therefore, I advise you to lay your cards on the table. Tell me who wanted rid of me and I won’t lodge a complaint. Otherwise, your conduct could be interpreted as insubordination. No doubt you’re aware of Dr Weiss’s connections in the Interior Ministry?’
Grigat lifted the official letter. ‘As far as I’m concerned the only thing that paper’s good for is wiping your arse.’
‘Pardon me?’
‘You heard me!’
‘Do you realise what you’re saying? This is a letter from Berlin Deputy Police Commissioner Bernhard Weiss…’
‘Your Isidore has no authority here! The Berlin Police commissioner’s name is Kurt Melcher, and your Dr Weiss can count himself lucky he hasn’t had his Jewish arse spanked.’ For a moment Rath thought Grigat had gone mad. He fetched a communication from on top of his filing tray. ‘Came over the ticker this morning. Grzesinski, Weiss and Heimannsberg have all been removed from office. About time someone cleaned up this Social Democrat pigsty.’
‘No, Severing would never allow it!’
‘The Interior Minister has also been removed, the entire Prussian government in fact, bunch of red bastards. Hindenburg has appointed the Reich chancellor as Reich commissioner for Prussia.’
‘Show me!’
Grigat handed Rath the teleprinter message informing all Prussian police and gendarmerie stations that the Prussian minority government had been removed from office, along with the Berlin Police executive. Until further notice Prussia would be governed by a Reich commissioner.
‘This… can’t be. It’s a… putsch,’ Rath stammered.
‘I’d choose your words carefully if I were you,’ Grigat said, now holding the upper hand. ‘Otherwise I might find myself compelled to make a complaint against you! My patience with you and your bizarre code of ethics is at an end!’ He grasped the document and waved towards the door. ‘Now, be so kind as to leave my office, otherwise I’ll have you removed by force.’
Rath thought better of answering back. Silently he folded Bernhard Weiss’s letter and stowed it in his pocket, before leaving Grigat and the district administrative office behind. Damn it, he thought, a hell of a lot has happened in the days you’ve been gone.
There was a telephone booth outside the district court. He took out his wallet and counted his change, knowing it was only a matter of time before Treuburg’s chief of police declared him persona non grata.
Robert Naujoks was reliable. The Lyck train got in at half past two. Rath met him on the platform. Naujoks opened his leather bag and removed a thick lever arch file: the Mathée case. ‘Pretty old hat, this,’ he said. ‘You think you can find something in here that implicates Gustav Wengler? The victim was his fiancée.’
‘We’ll see. All I’ll say is things are about to get seriously hot for our distillery-owning friend.’
Naujoks took the file from his bag. ‘The Mathée case was closed when I took up office here, the killer long since in jail. It was still talked about though.’
‘It’s still talked about today. Only thing is, they got the wrong man – and I think lots of people knew it, too. Gustav Wengler included.’
Naujoks looked around as if someone might be listening. ‘We shouldn’t speak so openly.’
Rath gestured towards the station restaurant. ‘Can I buy you a coffee?’
‘That’s kind, but no. Too many people here still know me. It’s better we’re not seen together.’
‘Perhaps you’re right.’
‘Look after yourself. If there’s one thing Treuburgers don’t like it’s nosy police officers.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘I’ll be on the next train back out to Lyck.’ Naujoks looked at his watch. ‘Leaves in half an hour. I’ll take my coffee alone. You should find yourself someplace quiet, too.’
Rath took his leave of the retired constable, thanking him once more. Naujoks waved and vanished inside the restaurant.
Exiting the station building, file tucked under his arm, he wondered where he could go. Nowhere sprang to mind. Even prior to Naujoks’s warning, he felt as if his every move were being monitored, as if the whole town was conspiring against him.
Then, all at once, the solution presented itself. The light railway that ran from Mierunsken to Schwentainen was only a stone’s throw distant. Perfect: the next train departed in ten minutes. Rath purchased his ticket.
The line didn’t just have a narrower gauge than the Reichsbahn, its cars were smaller too. The train to Schwentainen, which called to mind a toy locomotive, stood at the platform, engine steaming away. He found an empty compartment, and bagged a window seat.
According to the timetable the train stopped at every milk churn, but that was just fine. The first station, shortly after Treuburg, was Luisenhöhe, where he could see the brick chimneys of the distillery. A few people got off, no one got on, and the train continued. Now certain that no subsequent passenger would recognise him, he opened the file and began to read.
The train needed a good half-hour to reach Schwentainen. After almost a dozen additional stops, he had acquired a basic working knowledge of the Mathée homicide from July 1920.
He was surprised by how many names he recognised. Sergeant Siegbert Wengler had found Anna von Mathée dead on Sunday, 11th July 1920, at around three thirty, in the shallows of a small, unnamed lake in the forest behind Markowsken. Wengler had apparently discovered a man crouched over the corpse, whom, upon violently resisting arrest, he had neutralised with the butt of his rifle and led away from the forest in handcuffs as a prime suspect in the murder of Anna von Mathée. The man’s name: Jakub Polakowski.