The Murderer in Ruins Read Online Free PDF Page B

chair. ‘A little, not much, I’m afraid.’
    ‘Pity,’ said Breuer, then added dismissively: ‘Doesn’t matter, from what I hear your man has excellent German.’
    ‘My man?’
    ‘The British want to second a liaison officer to the investigation.’
    ‘Shit!’ Stave blurted out.
    ‘On account of the particular potential political and psychological influence on the population,’ his boss continued without commenting. ‘It’s an official request. I’m also seconding an officer from the vice squad to work with you, under your command, obviously.’
    ‘From the vice squad?’
    ‘The victim was naked,’ Breuer reminded him.
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Inspector Lothar Maschke. He immediately volunteered.’
    ‘Not exactly my lucky day,’ Stave grumbled.
    Breuer smiled and called to his secretary, ‘Please show the two gentlemen in.’
     
    T he first man was wearing the greenish-brown uniform of a lieutenant in the British army. Stave guessed him to be in his mid-twenties, though his bright, almost rosy countenance and short blond hair made him look even younger. Not very tall, wiry in build, with the sprightly step of a sportsman. Stave wondered what it was about the uniform, perfectly ironed but worn just a bit too casually, and the expression on the man’s face, though friendly and obliging, that gave him the air of being ever so slightly blasé?
    ‘Lieutenant James C. MacDonald of the British administration in Hamburg, Public Safety Branch,’ was how Breuer introduced him.
    The officer saluted briskly in greeting, leaving Stave, who had no idea of a military salute, not knowing what to do with his hand. MacDonald smiled for a second then reached out his right hand to shake Stave’s. ‘Pleased to meet you, Chief Inspector.’
    He spoke German with just a slight British accent, but Stave suspected that the pronunciation was MacDonald’s only weak point in the language. I wouldn’t be surprised if he can write reports in German better than many of my colleagues, he thought. Aloud he just said, ‘Welcome to CID, Lieutenant.’
    The second man followed the Brit into the office rather hesitantly. Stave put him at around 30, tall, lanky, in a rather tatty civilian suit that was far too broad for him. He had reddish-blond hair and a thin little moustache. The second and third fingers of his right hand were yellow with nicotine and his movements were a little twitchy – a chain smoker who couldn’t get his hands on enough cigarettes.
    Stave nodded to him. Inspector Lothar from vice. He already knew him. Maschke was not long out of police academy, and he had already managed to fall out with most of the people in CID although nobody could quite say why. Stave reckoned he had grownthe moustache to try to make himself look older. And he had joked about Maschke in private because he still lived at home with his mother. A policeman! And in the vice squad at that!
    ‘Gentlemen,’ Breuer said, rubbing his hands together. ‘I can’t wait to see your results.’
    ‘Shall we go over to my office?’ Stave suggested.
    He nodded in farewell to his boss and directed the other two men down the corridor. Just what I needed, he thought to himself resignedly, lagging behind as they walked by the dim light of the 15-watt bulb.
     
    S tave’s own office was bright. The window looked out on to the Musikhalle, and the ruins beyond it. Stave’s old wooden desk looked as if it was swept and dusted on a regular basis. He was particular about putting everything away in the desk drawers, and every case file was duly annotated and kept in a huge metal cabinet.
    Erna Berg came in and gave him a large cardboard file with a sheet of paper in it: the new murder report.
    The chief inspector introduced the two men to his secretary. Maschke just nodded but MacDonald reached over to shake her hand.
    ‘Nice to meet you,’ he said.
    Stave was amazed to see his secretary blush.
    ‘I’ll bring in another chair,’ she said, just a touch too