by Philip Kerr
Hildebrandt remained silent.
‘Neither did Captain Kuttner,’ I said. ‘Did you know that?’
‘No.’
‘Yes. He told me that himself. It bothered him. A lot. Made him feel disgusting.’
‘There’s no doubt that it’s difficult work,’ said Hildebrandt. ‘Not everyone is suitable for this kind of duty. However, there’s no shame in that, I think. No shame for you anyway, Commissar.’
‘Thank you, sir. I’ll try to bear that in mind.’
I had about thirty minutes before my next appointment in the Morning Room so I went upstairs to search Kuttner’s room. I wanted to do this without anyone else looking over my shoulder just in case I found something interesting that I had to show Ploetz or Heydrich or whoever else took it upon themselves to scrutinize my work.
But Kuttner’s bed had already been stripped. The sheets and blankets lay in a heap on the floor. The window had been opened wider than before and the room was full of the scent of freshly cut grass. The gardener at Jungfern-Breschan was forever tending the lawns. Outside the window the motorized lawnmowers were already at work.
Seated on the end of Kuttner’s bed was a girl of about twenty-five. She had blond hair and a handkerchief in her hand and was wearing a sleeveless grey pinafore and a regulation SS black dress – the one with the big floppy collar trimmed with white piping. She was an SS Helferin: a helper and, in this case, a maid.
I watched her silently from the doorway for several minutes. And not noticing me she didn’t move except, now and then, to press the handkerchief to her nose as if she had a head cold. Finally my curiosity could no longer be contained and, clearing my throat, I advanced into the dead man’s room.
Abruptly the Helper stood up and looked the other way – at least she did until I caught hold of her arm.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean any harm coming in here. Mister Kritzinger sent me to strip the bed and I was just overcome for a moment, at the thought of that poor man being murdered.’
She was older than I had first supposed and not particularly good-looking – too thin and highly strung for my taste. Her skin was clear as tissue paper and you could see the little blue veins at the side of her forehead like the maker’s mark on good porcelain. The mouth was wider and sadder than it ought to have been perhaps, but it was her big eyes I was really interested in because they were red and full of tears.
‘I’m Commissar Gunther.’
‘Yes sir. I know who you are. I saw you when you arrived here, yesterday.’
She gave a little curtsy.
‘I’m investigating Captain Kuttner’s murder.’
She nodded. She knew that, too.
‘Did you know him?’
‘Not really, sir. We talked a few times. He was kind to me.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘Nothing really, sir. Nothing important. It was just incidental talk, you might say. Idle conversation about nothing very much.’
‘It’s all right. I’m not going to tell anyone. I’m just trying to get the handle on what kind of a fellow he was. Maybe when I’ve done that I’ll have a better grip on why someone killed him.’ I pointed at the bed where she’d been sitting. ‘Can we sit down and talk? Just for a minute.’
‘All right.’
She sat down and I sat beside her.
‘Albert was a very sweet, gentle man. Well, he was more of a boy, really. Such a handsome boy. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt him. Let alone kill him. He was thoughtful and considerate, and very sensitive.’
‘You liked him then.’
‘Oh, yes. Much more than some of these other officers. He was different.’
‘He certainly was.’
Thinking I might have sounded insincere, I added, ‘I liked him, too.’ Even as I said this I realized for the first time since hearing about Kuttner’s death that I really had liked him. Probably it was mostly the fact we had both shared a terrible experience in the East; but more than that, I had also liked his wit and candour, which bordered on the indiscreet.
To that extent at least Kuttner reminded me of me, and I wondered if I had started to take his murder a little more personally than seemed appropriate.
‘Go on.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to get in any trouble.’
‘I can promise you that you won’t. But if there’s anything you know that sheds any light on what happened here last night then I think I need to know about it, don’t you? General Heydrich is very determined that I find out who murdered the Captain. And the only way that is going to happen is if I persuade people like you to have confidence enough in me to tell the truth.’
‘All right, sir.’
‘Good. What’s your name?’
‘Steffel. Rosa Steffel.’
‘Well, Rosa, why don’t you tell me what happened?’
‘Last night,’ she said, ‘when all of the officers started to go to bed, he insisted on helping me collect up the glasses, even though I could see he was dead tired.’
‘That was kind of him,’ I said. ‘What time was that?’
‘It must have been after one o’clock. I heard the clock chime in the hall. Some of the cauliflowers were still up, of course, swigging brandy in the library. And one or two were drunk. One in particular. I wouldn’t like to say who he was but he got a bit too familiar with me, if you know what I mean. You see, there’s something about this uniform. When some of the cauliflowers get drunk they think we’re little better than camp-followers and they take liberties with us. This particular officer touched my breasts, and he tried to put his hand up my dress. I didn’t care for it and told him so; but he’s my senior officer and it’s not easy trying to put a man in his place when he’s a general. It was Captain Kuttner who came to my assistance. Rescued me, if you like. He told the General off, in so many words. The General was furious and swore a lot at the Captain and told him to mind his own effing business. But Captain Kuttner was wonderful, sir. He ignored the General and escorted me back below stairs before the General could touch me again.’
I shook my head. ‘Some of these SS generals are loath-some,’ I said. ‘I’ve just come out of a rather rough meeting with General Hildebrandt. And he really put me back in my shell. Was it he who touched you?’
‘No.’
I sighed. ‘Rosa. Please. I’m in a real spot here. One of these men – yes, maybe even one of these cauliflowers – murdered a man in cold blood. Right here in this room. The room was locked from the inside and the window was bolted, which means that this investigation is already difficult. Don’t make it impossible. You need to tell me who it was who touched you last night.’
‘It was General Henlein.’
‘Thank you.’
‘What happened when Captain Kuttner escorted you below stairs, Rosa?’
‘We talked a bit. Like we usually did. About nothing much, really.’
‘Tell me one of the things you used to talk about, Rosa.’
She shrugged. ‘Prague. We talked about Prague. We both agreed that it’s very beautiful. And we also talked about our home town.’
‘You’re not from Halle-an-der-Saale, too?’
‘Sort of. I’m from Reidesburg, which is just outside Halle.’
‘It seems as though everyone but me is from Halle. General Heydrich is from Halle, do you know that?’
‘Of course. Everyone knows about the Heydrichs in Halle. Someone else here is from Halle, too; at least that’s what Albert told me, but I’m afraid I don’t remember who that is.’
‘What else did he tell you?’
‘That he went to the same school as the General. The Reform Real-gymnasium. My brother Rolf went there, too. It’s the best school in town.’
‘Sounds like they had a lot in common. Albert and the General.’
‘Yes. He said things had been difficult for him, lately. But that the General had been very kind to him.’
The idea of
Heydrich being kind was not something I felt like contemplating. It was like hearing that Hitler liked children, or that Ivan the Terrible had owned a puppy.
‘Did he elaborate on any of that? On why things had been difficult? On exactly how the General had been kind to him?’
Rosa looked at her handkerchief as if the answer lay crushed inside its sodden interior.
‘Albert made me promise not to tell anyone about it. He said that people in the SS were not supposed to talk about such things. And that it might get me into trouble.’
‘So why was he telling you about it?’
‘Because he said he had to tell someone. To get it off his chest.’
‘Well, he’s dead now and so is that promise, I think.’
‘I suppose so. But do you promise not to tell anyone that I spoke about this with you?’
‘Yes. I promise.’
Rosa nodded. And hesitantly, she gave voice to what Kuttner had told her.
‘He said he was in our Latvian provinces during the summer and that Germany had done terrible things there. That lots of people, thousands of people, had been killed for no other reason than that they were Jews. Old men, women and children. Whole villages full of defenceless people who had nothing to do with the war. He said that, at first, he carried out his orders and commanded the firing squads that murdered these people. But after a while, he’d had enough and refused to have anything more to do with these killings himself. Only this landed him in trouble with his superior officers.’ She shook her head. ‘It seemed unbelievable to me, but when he talked about it he started to cry and so I couldn’t help but believe him, at the time. I mean a man – especially an officer – he doesn’t cry for nothing, does he? But now, I don’t know. Do you really think it can be true what he told me, Commissar Gunther? About the killings?’
‘I’m afraid it’s true, Rosa. Every word of it. And not just in Latvia. It’s going on everywhere east of Berlin. For all I know it’s even going on here in Bohemia. But he was wrong about one thing. Within the SS and the SD, it’s an open secret what’s been going on in the eastern territories. And just to put your mind at rest, I’m almost certain it wasn’t his talking about this that got him killed, but something else.’
Rosa nodded gratefully. ‘Thank you, Commissar. I was worried about that.’
‘Tell me something. When Captain Kuttner intervened on your behalf, with General Henlein, you said the General swore at Albert.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Did he threaten him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you remember his exact words?’
‘Perhaps not exactly. As well as a lot of horrible words I don’t want to repeat, the General said something along the lines of “I’ll remember you, Kuttner, you worthless little coward.” And “I’ll make you pay for this, just see if I don’t.”’
‘Did anyone else hear that besides you, Rosa?’
‘Mister Kritzinger. General Heydrich. They must have heard it. And I suppose some of the others too, but I don’t remember their names. In their uniforms they all look the same to me.’
‘I have the same problem. And that’s partly why I took mine off. Sometimes, when I’m playing detective, it’s necessary to put myself apart from everyone else. But frankly I hope I never have to put the uniform on again.’
‘You’re beginning to sound a lot like Albert.’
‘I suppose that’s why I liked him.’
‘You’re a strange one, too, Commissar. For a policeman.’
‘I get a lot of that. Remember that wild kid they found walking around Nuremberg during the last century? The one who claimed he’d spent his early life alone in a darkened cell?’
‘Kaspar Hauser. Yes, I remember. He ended his days in Ansbach, didn’t he? Everyone knows that old story.’
‘The only difference between me and Kaspar is that I have a terrible feeling I’m going to end my days in a darkened cell. So, for that reason alone, it might be best if you made me a promise not to tell anyone that we’ve had this conversation.’
‘I promise.’
‘All right, you can run along now. I’m going to search Albert’s room.’
‘I thought you already did.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that the other two adjutants, Captains Kluckholn and Pomme, were here already when I came in to strip the bed. They’d emptied the drawers into some cardboard boxes and took them away.’
‘No, that was nothing to do with me. However, they probably wanted to collect Albert’s personal effects to send back home to his parents. The way your pals do when you catch the last bus home.’
‘Yes, I expect so.’
But Rosa Steffel didn’t sound any more convinced of this than I was.
On the way back to the Morning Room I found Kritzinger winding the long-case clock. I looked at it and checked my wristwatch but the butler was shaking his head.
‘I wouldn’t ever set your watch by this clock, sir,’ he said. ‘It’s running very slow.’
‘Is that well-known in the house?’ I was thinking of the approximate times that had been given to me in Heydrich’s study earlier on.
‘Generally, yes. The clock urgently needs to see a clock-maker.’
‘There must be plenty of those in Prague. This city’s got more clocks than Salvador Dali.’
‘You would think so, sir. But so far my own inquiries have revealed that all of them seem to be Jews.’
‘A Jew can’t fix a clock?’
‘Not in this house, sir.’
‘No, I suppose not. That was naïve of me, wasn’t it? This is an interesting time we live in, wouldn’t you say? Even if it is always the wrong one.’
I glanced at the gold pocket watch in Kritzinger’s hand.
‘How about your watch, Herr Kritzinger? Can that be relied upon?’
‘Yes sir. It’s a Glashütte and belonged to my late father. He was a station master, on the railways in Posen. A good watch is essential for a railwayman in Prussia, if the trains are to run on time.’
‘And did he? Get the trains to run on time?’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Me, I always thought it was the Leader who did that.’
Kritzinger regarded me with polite patience. ‘Was there something I could help you with, sir?’
‘According to that Glashütte of yours, Kritzinger, what time did the party in the library fold last night?’
‘The last gentlemen went up to bed just before two, sir.’
‘And they were?’
‘I believe it was General Henlein and Colonel Bohme.’
‘I believe General Henlein made himself a late-night snack out of Captain Kuttner. Is that right?’
‘I’m not sure what you mean, sir.’
‘Sure you do. The General cut the Captain off at the tops of his boots, didn’t he?’
‘I believe the General might have said something to the Captain, yes sir.’
‘Didn’t he threaten him?’
‘I wouldn’t like to say, sir.’
Kritzinger snapped the lid shut on the gold pocket watch and dropped the timepiece into his vest pocket. It was an impatient action, quite at odds with his general demeanour, which was always to be of service even when it was in the face of the provocation I offered, like asking him apparently frivolous or trivial questions that bordered on the impertinent or the unpatriotic.
‘I can understand that. Nobody likes a Petzer. Especially when the Petzer is the butler. In relation to their employers and perhaps their guests, too, good butlers are expected to behave like the three wise monkeys, right?’
Kritzinger’s head bowed almost imperceptibly. ‘That describes my position vis à vis my superiors, only up to a point, sir. As you suggest, I am obliged always to observe. But I never judge. One must always guard against such unnecessary distractions in service.’
‘Particularly now, I’d have thought. Working for General Heydrich.’
‘I rea
lly couldn’t say, sir.’
‘Herr Kritzinger? I respect you. And I wouldn’t ever try to bully a man who wears an Iron Cross ribbon in his lapel. The way I figure it, you probably won yours the same way I won mine: in hell. Fighting a real war against real soldiers who fought back, most of them. So you’ll know that I’m not likely to be a man who makes idle threats. But this is a murder inquiry, Kritzinger, and that means I’m supposed to behave like a very nosy fellow and take a peep between the pots on everyone’s window ledge. I don’t like doing it any more than you do, but I will do it even if I have to throw every fucking pot through your window. Now what did General Henlein say?’
