‘It looks like they’re prepared to waive my probationary year.’
‘A thank-you for the Alberich case? Congratulations.’
Gräf looked at the floor, as if embarrassed. ‘I was lucky, Gereon, that’s all. That Engel’s corpse turned up, I mean.’
‘You don’t know how he was killed yet?’
‘Probably self-defence. Despite numerous appeals, Wosniak still hasn’t made contact.’
‘Perhaps he doesn’t read the newspapers. Is there really no sign though? At the start of the investigation you spent some time scouring the homeless shelters in Berlin.’
Gräf shook his head. ‘That’s the thing. All that looking in Berlin, but he skipped town after the fire, and returned home. We’ve had word from the homeless shelter in Barmen. Our colleagues there are taking up the search.’
‘Barmen?’
‘You know, the suspension monorail. It’s called Wuppertal now.’
‘I know.’
Rath’s mind was awash with thoughts he couldn’t quite grasp. A flat in Elberfeld, the rumble of the suspension monorail outside the window, people sitting on board and looking inside the flat. The face of Friedrich Grimberg as he recounted his story.
‘Anyway,’ Gräf continued, ‘the Alberich file is closed. This morning was my last time in front of Gennat and the rest.’
Though relieved at no longer having to explain why their friendship had waned, a melancholy feeling rose when Rath remembered the years they had spent in this office, when things between them were good. Gräf’s departure meant the start of a new era here in the Castle too. Still, Homicide would be Homicide for as long as coffee and cake were served on the worn green of Gennat’s upholstered suite. Even without Gräf. Even without Böhm. Even without Charly.
‘The Politicals,’ Rath said. ‘I’d never have thought…’
‘Gereon, it’s not like it used to be. There are more opportunities now. We can really achieve something.’
‘In 1A? The only place police work could be less meaningful is Women’s CID.’
‘We’re helping to build a new Germany. Don’t you see? A country you can be proud of. A country worth living for.’
‘Worth dying for, too?’
‘Let’s not talk politics, Gereon. It never leads anywhere.’
‘Which is precisely why I wouldn’t want to work for your new colleagues. One week with Detective Zientek was enough.’
‘Each to their own.’ Gräf closed the cardboard box which he had by now filled.
‘Where are you going? Back to Bülowplatz, or are you staying in the Castle?’
‘The Castle is too small for the State Police. We’re moving into new offices. They’ve cleared the School of Applied Arts for us.’
‘The School of Applied Arts?’
‘On Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse.’ Gräf had stopped at the outer office. ‘What were you doing in the Dreieck last week?’
It seemed like Reinhold was a perfect fit for the Politicals. ‘I was in the neighbourhood,’ Rath said, ‘and I thought, why not pop in on Schorsch. I was in a bit of a rush, otherwise I might have come past.’
‘You were through the door as soon as I arrived. Who were you speaking to?’
‘Someone I know from before. I forget the name. It was just a quick beer.’ Rath looked at Gräf. ‘How about you? You seem to be out with your neighbour an awful lot these days.’
Gräf looked as if he might turn red, but he was no Andreas Lange. ‘If you’re not going to stop by…’ he said at length. ‘I have to drink with someone.’
Even if it’s a queer Nazi, Rath thought.
‘What would you have done,’ he asked his former colleague, in a final, weary attempt, ‘if the dead man from the Spree hadn’t been Engel?’
‘Thank God it was,’ Gräf said with a shrug, and heaved his box out the door.
101
They didn’t meet in one of the usual places by Alex, but in the Tietz department store restaurant.
‘A few weeks ago we’d have been threatened by the SA for setting foot in here,’ Rath said.
‘Everything’s back to normal,’ said Weinert. ‘You don’t seriously think Berliners will let their department stores be taken away, no matter how much the Nazis might rail against…’ Weinert broke off as the waiter approached.
‘My shout,’ Rath said.
‘Which means you want something from me,’ said Weinert.
‘What I really want is information.’
‘There’s a turn up for the books.’
‘What’s the latest on your article?’
‘What article?’
‘What article? The Alberich case.’
‘I see. I thought you were doing me a favour, when really it’s the other way round.’
‘Wasn’t it ever thus?’ The waiter arrived, and they ordered. ‘Anyway, I hope you can make something of the information I gave you.’
‘It isn’t as easy as all that, Gereon, not these days.’ Weinert lowered his voice. ‘Once upon a time an article like that might have forced the commissioner to resign. Now it creates life-threatening problems for its author.’
‘I don’t care about the commissioner if it creates problems for Achim von Roddeck.’
‘The commissioner is still going to look foolish. Even if I don’t have any evidence, just you as my source.’
‘You keep me out of it. I thought that was clear. We’re talking about confidential information!’
‘Then who do I credit as my source?’
‘What about “well-informed circles”?’
‘Believe me, Gereon, if your commissioner wants to know my source he’ll find out. A troop of SA auxiliaries will take me into custody and won’t stop until I tell them what they want to hear.’
The waiter came with the drinks, and they were silent for a time.
‘Give them Gräf,’ Rath said, when the waiter was out of earshot. ‘He was in the Dreieck that night.’
‘So were you. We were standing together at the bar.’
‘So what? How am I supposed to know anything? It’s far more likely that Gräf does. He was there at the beginning, when Böhm was still investigating. It’s more his case than mine.’
Weinert looked wary. ‘You’re quick to shop your colleagues.’
‘I want the truth to come out.’
‘Then you should vouch for it yourself.’
‘You still owe me one!’
‘That business with Charly and the pigeon shit? That’s done and dusted, or have you forgotten my article on the murdering Jewish captain? The one that got you re-assigned to the case in the first place? It isn’t my fault the commissioner took you off it again.’
‘That stuff about a wicked, murdering Jew was a pack of lies. Don’t you want to set things straight?’
‘You’ve some nerve, Gereon. First you tell me a pack of lies, then you blame me for believing it!’
‘I believed it myself then,’ Rath lied, ‘but things have changed, and it’s for us to set the record straight.’
‘It’s not that I don’t want to write it. It’s just that the story will die a death before the public get anywhere near it.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Hefner wants me to pin the blame on Isidor Weiss, which I could do, at a pinch, if Weiss hadn’t been out for almost a year. So, what’s my angle?’
The waiter served the food. Rath had chosen not to follow Weinert’s lead, and ordered rump steak with chips and a glass of white wine. Straight away he ordered another glass. Returning to his office three glasses of wine and forty-five minutes later, he found Erika Voss already seated behind her desk.
‘Someone to see you, Sir,’ she said, nodding to the side.