‘This is urgent,’ he said. ‘I gave this memo to Ortsgruppenleiter Mecklinger three days ago. But since you are here, I don’t see any harm in giving it to you too.’
One SS Mann read through the memo and passed it to the other. They exchanged meaningful glances.
‘When did you last see this Juncker?’
‘The night of the murder. That would be last week, Thursday night.’
‘What do you know about Karl Juncker, beside your suspicions?’
‘Not very much. He’s very secretive and not very friendly.’
‘Can you describe him?’
‘He’s a bit taller than you, wears glasses, has a mustache. He’s arrogant. Thinks he’s better than everybody else.
‘Do you know if he is employed?’
‘I wrote in the memo …’
‘We know what you wrote, Herr Schleiffer. We would like to hear it in your words.’
‘I don’t know if he is employed or not.’
‘Do you know whether he has ever been employed as a policeman?’
‘A policeman?’ said Heinz, astonished.
‘Or a detective?’
‘Are you serious?’ Heinz remembered the rosette in Juncker’s lapel.
‘Please answer the question, Herr Schleiffer.’
‘No, I can’t imagine that he ever was. No, impossible,’ said Schleiffer. ‘Was he?’
‘Herr Schleiffer, we’d like you to come to headquarters with us to look at some photos.’
They allowed Heinz time to change into his uniform. He had never been to Gestapo headquarters in Briennerstraße. There he sat at a wooden table and leafed through a book with pages and pages of photos of men, six photos to a page.
‘This could be him,’ said Heinz.
‘Are you sure?’ said the man standing over him.
‘Pretty sure. It looks like him.’
Heinz was driven home in an official car. He hoped everyone saw him. Frau Schimmel certainly did. That afternoon as he was washing the front windows, she came back from shopping, pulling her grocery cart. ‘Herr Schleiffer, could you help me up the stairs with my cart?’ Heinz was glad to do so. He used the opportunity to warn her about their dangerous neighbor.
‘Herr Juncker? Dangerous?’ said Frau Schimmel. ‘I hardly think so.’
‘Extremely dangerous,’ said Heinz.
‘Come in, Herr Schleiffer. Please. I’ll make us some tea, and we can have some of the strudel I made yesterday. Pear this time. The apples didn’t look especially good.’
‘No, thank you, Frau Schimmel. Really …’ He always refused her invitation and Frau Schimmel never accepted his refusal.
She took him by the arm and walked him into the kitchen. ‘Come in, sit down.’ She cut off a slice of strudel and put it on a plate on the table in front of him. She got a bowl of whipped cream from the ice box. She poured them both tea.
‘I’m serious, Frau Schimmel, Juncker is not what you think.’
‘Oh, he seems like a very nice man.’
‘Frau Schimmel, take it from me, he is a suspect in … a very serious matter.’
‘You must be mistaken, Herr …’
‘No, Frau Schimmel, really. Believe me. I know what I’m talking about.’
‘Would you like another slice of strudel?’
He did not refuse.
‘Frau Schimmel, I’m not supposed to say anything. But I expect him to be arrested very soon. I was briefed on it this morning.’ Before ten more minutes had passed, and with very little prompting on her part, Heinz had told her all about his trip to Gestapo headquarters, how Karl Juncker – not his real name – had once been a police detective, and how he was now the lead suspect in the serial killer case.
The Lion and the Hyenas
Lola had bought that green dress, but Willi would not see it for a very long time. He was now being hunted from several directions at once by Reinhard Pabst and the Gestapo and SS task force he had assembled, as well as by the police in the person of Detective Sergeant Hermann Gruber. Gruber was the only one so far that knew Lola was connected to Willi. The address for Lola Zeff in the logbook led him right to her door.
Both Lola and Willi had been warned by both Bergemann and Frau Schimmel that something was afoot and that Willi should disappear. They didn’t think Lola was in immediate danger, since no matter where his suspicions might have led him, Gruber didn’t know anything for sure of her life with Willi, and neither did the Gestapo or the SS. She might get a visit, but it shouldn’t amount to more than that.
There was some art on the walls of Karl Juncker’s apartment these days, along with a few vases of artificial flowers. But there was no sign that anyone had lived there recently. There was no food in the kitchen closet or in the ice box. There was no clothing in the wardrobe or the entry closet. The SS came to search the place on several occasions. Each time Heinz Schleiffer went with them and unlocked the door. But Karl Juncker had disappeared.
Bergemann knew how to send Willi messages – they had a system of signals and drops around the city – but he kept his messages to a bare minimum. Frau Schimmel could warn Willi too using a code they had agreed upon. Different objects in her window had different meanings. The blue vase on the left side of the window signaling imminent danger now remained in place.
When Lola said she had no idea of Willi Geismeier’s whereabouts, it was not a lie. Detective Sergeant Gruber pressed the issue. ‘Isn’t it true that you and he are close? When did you last see him?’ he asked.
‘Of course we’re not close,’ she said. ‘How could we be? I haven’t seen him since we were children.’ Bergemann had warned her that Gruber would be coming to question her. Though she was nervous about the interview at first, she was prepared now and quite calm. ‘You probably don’t remember, Sergeant, but
