More Beer

5

It was half past six. I passed through the foyer and crunched across the wet gravel to my car. The road was lit by yellow fluorescent lights. Fifty meters to the left stood the firm’s refreshment kiosk. Its red neon lottery sign flickered restlessly. I walked over and knocked on the window. Through the rain-splattered pane I saw a small figure approaching with a limp, like an old boat in rough seas. She squinted hesitantly through the window before she slid it aside.

“What is it?”

This female Hunchback of Notre-Dame was only a little taller than the counter. It occurred to me that people might set their beers down on her head, by mistake. Her nose was running, and her chin and upper lip were covered with an unruly, goatlike beard. She had a hard time looking up at me. I put a twenty-mark note in the tray.

“Two packs of Luckies and an Asbach.”

Her crooked fingers took the money and shoved it under the counter. Then she limped over to the cigarette shelf and then to the other, the cookie and alcohol shelf. It took a while, but she found everything. She rummaged in the cash box and pushed my change across the counter. Through the open door in the back I caught a glimpse of an old iron bedstead.

“Do you live here?”

“None of your business.”

“It was just a question. Maybe you heard something, the night of the attack.”

“I heard the big bang. Like everybody else.”

“No gunshots?”

“Oh yes.”

“When did you hear those?”

“Before the bang.”

“Before the bang?”

“Yes. So?”

“How much time passed between the shots and the big bang?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have a watch.”

“Five minutes, half an hour, an hour?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Is that all you want? I closed up quite a while ago.”

She started sliding the window shut.

“Did you know Mr. Bollig?”

The window had a couple of centimeters to go. She hesitated. “Yes. You could say I did.”

The window closed. Her shadow receded slowly through the door in the rear. I lit a cigarette, sipped some Asbach, and trotted back to Riebl’s Rabbit. A Renault Five was parked right behind it. I got into the Rabbit and drove down to the main road. Just before the entry ramp to the freeway, I noticed the Renault right behind me. I slowed down to take a look. The driver was alone in the car. On the freeway, I passed four trucks, swooped back into the right lane, and slowed down to eighty. The Renault zoomed past me on the left. I speeded up and caught up with it. It was crawling along at seventy. I had hardly passed when it picked up speed again and stayed on my tail. I changed tactics and tested the Rabbit’s top speed. At a hundred and seventy, I visualized Riebl’s face if I brought his car back minus its doors. I slowed down to a hundred and thirty and tried to ignore the headlights of the Renault.

At the Frankfurt West Exit, I turned toward the trade fair buildings. I knew of a dead-end street near there. The Renault stayed with me as unobtrusively as a police escort. The driver was either a pro who wanted to scare me, or else an amateur. I charged down the street at seventy, slowed down at the corner, and made a sharp left turn. When I saw the Renault come around with similar bravado, I accelerated briefly and then braked to a complete stop. The pavement was wet and covered with slippery leaves. I skidded to the right and stopped at right angles to the street. My pursuer slammed on the brakes and came to a screeching halt, banging into the driver’s side door. I scrambled over the passenger seat and out into the street, ran around the Renault, and yanked the driver’s door open.

“Hey, what a surprise!”

Carla Reedermann stared at her knees. I grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the car.

“Now let’s hear what you have to say.”

She tried to wriggle out of my grip, and when I didn’t let go, she started yelling.

“Let me go, you asshole! Take your paws off me, you …”

I slapped her.

“Calm down. Not everybody knows how to play detective … You were doing that this morning, at the courthouse! You knew that Anastas wanted to hire me. Then there was all that playacting in the wine bar … your moon-faced friend thought he was being clever, faking surprise-‘What, you two know each other?’ I don’t mind if people feel like acting like idiots. But I do get bothered having the same set of headlights in my mirror.”

I let her go and lit a cigarette. She rubbed her wrists. After a while she opened her mouth.

“I-all right, you’re right, but-”

“But?”

She raised her head.

“You have no idea what’s at stake in this case!”

“No? I don’t?”

“No! If you had an idea, you wouldn’t have acted so cool this morning. Do you know how many people were pleased that Bollig was killed by Greens? Not because he was a competitor-his little firm is quite insignificant-but because the chemical industry had found its martyr. And it needed one. Lately people have become altogether too interested in the environment. There are increasingly massive demands for measures to protect it-just think about the Rhein Main plant. Everybody was against its relocation in Vogelsberg. Now, after Bollig, it can be built there. And do you know who’s a shareholder in Rhein Main Farben? The Mayor of Frankfurt. That’s news to you, isn’t it?”

“And how. They don’t write about stuff like that in the sports pages.”

For a moment she looked confused.

“So you see who is interested in having those four convicted without any more ifs and buts! We wanted to know if we could trust you. I have no experience with private investigators. We need someone who is on our side. For all we knew, you might have been in cahoots with the police. Checking us out for them. That would have been the end, for us. What do we know about you? True, you once got three police officers thrown into jail, but that may not mean all that much. I’m helping Anastas with the case, and it was my idea to test you first.”

“By totaling my car?”

“I’m sorry. I never tailed anyone before. And you didn’t have to slam on the brakes.”

“I see. And what results did you expect?”

“Maybe you would have driven directly to the police … or something. And besides …”

“Yes?”

“All right, I wanted to find out more about you. We hardly know one another, and yet we’re supposed to collaborate in such an important case. You haven’t told me anything about yourself. I’d like to know where you live, what else you do. And you’re a Turk. That’s a different culture, and we may not be able to communicate … Perhaps it was foolish, but I didn’t want any surprises. For instance-whether you would accept a woman as a co-worker. I mean, that’s unusual where you come from, isn’t it? Do you see what I mean?”

I stared down the wet street and considered dropping the case.

“I don’t have the faintest idea.”

She looked lost. I walked slowly to my car.

“My job is to get four people out of jail. If the murderer is still at large, I’ll find him. Maybe I’ll ask you to brew me a cup of coffee one of these days. Maybe not. I’ll just do my job. I’ll see you at eight, at Anastas’s place.”

I slid across the passenger seat, started the engine, and steered the car slowly past the Renault. I stopped briefly next to Carla Reedermann and leaned out of the window.

“Besides, it isn’t the mayor who holds those shares. It’s his wife.” I drove off. I could still see her in the rearview mirror. Her dark hair shimmered under the streetlights.

Riebl gazed sadly at the dent.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Riebl. It was slick. Someone skidded into me.”

I gave him Anastas’s address, telling him to collect there.

“Anytime you lend anything to anybody …”

He ran his fingers gently over the dent. I walked over to my Opel. Once again, Riebl had managed to fix it. Two blocks down the street I parked and went into a restaurant. It was ten minutes to eight. Three large guys sat in a comer, playing skat.

The proprietor brought me a plate of ribs with sauerkraut. One of the skat players went to the jukebox and played “Ninety-nine Balloons.” I have never been able to figure out the words. The proprietor coughed and hummed along.

A short while later I got up and paid.

“Say, Fritz, since when do you serve guys like him?”

One of the drunken cardplayers gave me a challenging stare.

“No politics,” growled the proprietor.

I turned and went out. Maybe I should have tossed his glass of schnapps in his face.