‘Roddeck describes your husband as cold and calculating, with a penchant for sadism. Todesengel, his unit called him.’
‘That doesn’t sound like the Benjamin I knew.’
‘Be that as it may…’ Rath sensed he wasn’t getting anywhere. He stood and handed the woman his card. ‘If your husband should be alive and contact you, please inform me immediately.’
‘Why would I do that? If I’ve understood correctly, you believe he’s a killer.’
‘Perhaps you’d do it to prove his innocence. If you’re so convinced of it.’
‘I’m convinced that a dead man can’t kill, Inspector. I would advise you to pursue other leads.’
He said his goodbyes and made for the door where Jakobus was waiting to see him out. Before Rath got into his car he looked up. Eva Heinen stood at the window watching him. She didn’t flinch as their eyes met, nor did she draw the curtain. She looked as if she meant to hypnotise him, or place him under a curse.
51
Charly’s first port of call on Monday morning was Registry. On the way she ran into Detective Kellermann from H Division, with whom she’d dealt regularly when she was still allowed to work for Gennat. ‘Charly,’ he said. ‘Long time no see. Here to inhale some dust?’
‘Looks that way. I see you’ve had your dose.’ A yellowing batch of files was wedged under his arm.
‘Thanks,’ he said, feigning a sneeze. She had always liked him.
‘What’s new in Warrants?’ she asked.
‘I’ve never chased so many Communists in my life. I’ll be surprised if they have the numbers for a revolution.’
‘Forget the Communists. What about the national revolution?’
Kellermann changed the subject. ‘You’re interested in this fugitive arsonist, aren’t you? The one who escaped from Dalldorf?’ Perhaps he was worried about being overheard. Germany had become a nation of cowards.
‘Hannah Singer. Have you found her?’
‘No, but she was seen last week, on Thursday or Friday I think. At Bahnhof Zoo.’
‘Seen by whom?’
‘A witness recognised her and tried to detain her, but she got away. By the time police officers moved in she was long gone.’
‘What kind of witness?’
‘Take a look at the report.’ He winked. ‘It’s on Inspector Rath’s desk.’
Not for the first time she realised her impending marriage to Gereon was an open secret. ‘Thanks for the heads-up.’
She hadn’t stopped thinking about Hannah Singer since her visit to Dalldorf, and had collected any information she could find on the girl. According to the files, Hannah was nine years old when her mother died, and things had gone downhill soon after. Within six months, she and her father, a rag-and-bone man who had lost the use of his legs during the war, were evicted from their flat. It wasn’t clear when they had wound up in the Crow’s Nest, but Hannah was first arrested for begging on the Weidendammer Bridge in autumn 1929. On that occasion she had been spared being committed to a home because her father appeared at the police station accompanied by Heinrich Wosniak, who pledged that he would look after the helpless father and his half-grown daughter.
Charly had circled the name Wosniak where it appeared in the files. Hannah was starting to take shape. Even if the details were hard to verify, it was increasingly clear that she had endured a slave’s existence in the Crow’s Nest. An eleven-year-old girl living with thirty- to fifty-year-old men! It must have been hell. Selling matches in all weathers was probably the least of it. Setting fire to the shack on Bülowplatz had been a desperate attempt at freedom, but two of her tormentors had survived while her father perished. What must she have felt on seeing the image of the dead Heinrich Wosniak, and that of her father from a time when all this was still ahead? Charly was no psychologist, but the photos must have brought any number of memories to the surface, and triggered Hannah’s episode soon after.
She felt infinitely sympathetic towards this girl with eight lives on her conscience, and certainly didn’t view her as a killer. Perhaps she wasn’t even mad, just damaged at her very core.
The thought stayed with her in Registry as she searched half-heartedly for the files that were next on her and Karin’s list. More gangs of youths… It was almost as if, buoyed by her success with the Red Rats, Friederike Wieking intended to wipe out every wild posse going.
Having joked about it moments before, the odour of dust now made Charly sick for real. Returning to her office with the files, she didn’t even have to put on a show.
‘Charly, what’s wrong?’ Karin van Almsick asked.
‘What do you mean?
‘You look terrible. Do you not feel well?’
‘I just threw up.’
‘Perhaps you’d better go home.’
‘I was off work just recently.’
‘There isn’t much to do right now. The Rats are behind bars. The worst is over.’
Charly set the pile of files on Karin’s desk. ‘But off work, again… what will Wieking say?’
‘Well, I have my suspicions there… but don’t worry, my lips are sealed!’
‘What suspicions?’
Karin grinned. ‘Ever thought you might be… I mean, have you… could you be… ah… in the family way?’
‘God forbid!’ She didn’t mean to sound so appalled.
‘I know you two aren’t married yet, but…’ Karin looked to the side in embarrassment. ‘Well, you’re not that strict, are you?’
‘Pregnant…’ Charly shook her head. ‘That’s all I need.’
‘There’s no point torturing yourself here. Maybe you should go to the doctor.’
A quarter of an hour later, Charly waited for the S-Bahn at Alexanderplatz with Kirie on her lead, a pile of files under her arm, and a satisfied smile on her face. She had struggled to hold it together inside. Pregnant! If only Karin van Almsick knew what measures she was taking to prevent it, that in Paris she’d even had an abortion… which was something Gereon could never know about.
Kirie had wagged her tail when she realised they were heading out again. Usually she didn’t get a walk until lunchtime. Despite looking sceptical when Charly mentioned taking documents home for Inspector Rath, Erika Voss had handed everything over, even the file Gereon hadn’t requested yesterday evening. Either he knew nothing about the recent sighting of Hannah Singer, or he still wasn’t interested.
Leaving the S-Bahn at Savignyplatz Charly made for Carmerstrasse, where she put on coffee and started leafing through the file from Warrants. Right now that was the one that counted, not Gereon’s dossier on Achim von Roddeck.
The name of the witness who had sighted Hannah at Bahnhof Zoo wasn’t noted anywhere. He had disappeared before the cops on the ground could take his particulars. Even so, it seemed clear that it was, indeed, Hannah he had seen. Her clothes were more or less a match for those stolen from the Jonass Department Store, where she’d left behind her nightshirt and cleaning overalls, both of which she’d worn since Dalldorf. The dark blue coat was more of a mystery, and hadn’t been reported missing from either Jonass or the asylum. From Bahnhof Zoo she had apparently taken a tram to Wilmersdorf, where the trail was lost.
Charly wrote the names of the cops in her notebook, along with the description of the witness, helped herself to one of the police photos of Hannah, and went on her way. She felt certain that Wilmersdorf was a red herring; Hannah’s life had centred around northern and eastern Berlin, and the area around Bülowplatz. No, Charly’s starting point would be Bahnhof Zoo. Clearly Hannah had business there, perhaps selling her body to make ends meet.