She laughed and batted his hand away.
‘Come on, Lolachen,’ he said. ‘I mean a real bad guy, a traitor cop.’
‘Send him to me,’ said Lola. ‘I like bad guys.’
The lieutenant gave a sort of whinnying laugh.
‘Hey, Lieutenant,’ said one of his SS companions. ‘You’re giving away confidensher … confidensher … Shit, man, I can’t even say it!’ He guffawed too and slapped the Obersturmführer’s shoulder.
The Obersturmführer whinnied again. ‘Confidenshal,’ he said.
‘He means a shecret,’ said a third SS man to Lola, as he picked up the bottle in front of him and drank from it. ‘A big, fat shecret.’
Lola smiled at them and removed the empties from the bar – this was their fourth bottle of French champagne. As she turned away she heard one of them say the name ‘Geismeier.’ She couldn’t hear what else they were saying, but then she heard ‘Geismeier’ again.
‘Shhhh!’ said the Obersturmführer with his finger against his lips. ‘Confidensher!’ and the three of them laughed all over again.
That night Lola visited her parents. It was late and her visit was unexpected, but they were pleased to see her. Her mother served her Gulaschsuppe, then poppyseed dumplings with plum sauce for dessert. ‘Have you seen or heard anything about Willi Geismeier?’ Lola asked.
‘Why do you ask?’ her father said.
‘Is he still with the police?’ said Lola.
‘I don’t think so,’ her father said. ‘But it’s funny you should ask. He stopped by this week.’
‘Really?’ said Lola.
‘Somehow he heard I was sick. He came to visit me. It was a complete surprise. It was really nice of him.’
‘That’s the way Willi is,’ said her mother.
Lola managed to piece together enough information from her parents to find Willi’s old precinct. When she went there and inquired after Willi Geismeier, the desk sergeant took her to see Detective Sergeant Gruber, the head of the detective squad.
Gruber stood up as she came into his office. He bowed slightly and gave her his hand. ‘How can I help you, Frau …?’
‘Zeff. Lola Zeff. I’m looking for Willi Geismeier.’
Gruber was surprised. He hadn’t heard Willi’s name for a long time either. ‘Really?’ he said, sounding a little too interested. ‘May I ask why?’ Just the mention of Willi’s name got Gruber’s back up. He despised Willi. Willi had outsmarted Gruber again and again and had thwarted him at every turn. Gruber was nominally in charge of the squad, but while Willi had been there, Gruber often found himself doing what Willi wanted instead of the other way around. Which made Gruber all the more eager to get his hands on Willi and put him away.
‘We were neighbors when we were young,’ said Lola. ‘We were friends back then.’
Gruber found it hard to believe that anyone had ever been friends with Willi Geismeier. ‘He’s no longer with the Munich police,’ he said.
‘Did he retire?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t help you with that, Frau Zeff. But do you know where we might find him?’
‘No, I don’t. That’s why I’m asking.’
‘Nothing at all?’
‘No. Nothing’
‘I’ll tell you what. Leave your information with the desk sergeant, Frau Zeff. And if we hear anything at all from Herr Geismeier, we’ll let you know.’
‘I will,’ she said. She stopped at the front desk on her way out.
Gruber stepped out of his office. ‘Bergemann,’ he said, ‘did you hear any of that?’
‘Yes, Sergeant, I did. Do you want me to follow her?’
Bergemann caught up to Lola as she boarded a streetcar and got on behind her. He got off when she did and stopped her as she was about to go into the Kaiserkrone. He explained that he was a detective and had once been a friend of Willi’s.
‘Can you take me to him?’ she said.
‘Willi Geismeier is a wanted man, Frau Zeff. Why are you interested in his whereabouts?’
‘Do you know where he is?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Could you give him greetings from Lola Zeff?’
‘Because you’re old friends?’ said Bergemann.
‘I thought it might be nice to see him after all this time, that’s all.’
‘And he would remember you?’
‘Yes, I think he would.’ Lola wondered at Bergemann’s reticence, and he wondered at hers. But this was the kind of cat-and-mouse game one had to play these days. Lola could not trust Bergemann to be who he claimed to be. But neither could Bergemann trust Lola; who could say what her interest might be? So whatever arrangements could be made would necessarily be convoluted. Lola regretted now having left her information with the desk sergeant.
Bergemann was now walking a thin and dangerous line. Long ago he had joined the Nazi Party, but more for social than political reasons. He had liked the singing and the folklorish aspects of it. He was smart but intellectually lazy, going along to get along. And he might have remained the detective he was – lazy and ineffectual – if Willi Geismeier had not gotten hold of him and shown him what it meant to be a good and conscientious policeman. These days it meant that Bergemann solved cases and, at the same time, did what he could to help and protect Willi, his mentor and friend.
Bergemann had adopted some aspects of Willi’s methodology, and more importantly he had adopted his rigor. He was not as brilliant as Willi, but he made up for it in persistence. And, to his credit, he was not as uncompromising as Willi. He had remained in the Party and in the SA, not out of conviction, but as a useful cover. His storm trooper uniform, which he put on when it was helpful, got him in doors and loosened tongues that might otherwise not have been available to him. He now found satisfaction in his work, and in his double life too.
Bergemann’s wife Louise was as grateful to Willi as Hans was, maybe more so, because Willi had given her a new husband. The new Bergemann, a sincere
