He needed time to think, to reflect on what Carmody had told him. He had got far more in this preliminary questioning than he had expected. And he was tired after the journey. Suddenly the idea of a hot meal at Pfaus’s home seemed especially attractive. And he needed a good night’s sleep. Michael Joseph Carmody would still be here in the morning, when he would be back to question him again.

Carmody spread his hands in a gesture of openness.

‘Look, mister Swalla’, I don’t know what way your mind is goin’ here. But I can tell ye again, I got nuthin’ to do with Alice Flannery’s killin’. Now, if I figure you right, you think that Werner might have done it or got someone to do it for him. I can give you a lot of evidence on the trouble between them. I’ll go into the witness box, no bother. But I’ll want somethin’ in return.’

It was the psychological moment to break off, Swallow reckoned. Carmody had showed his hand. Best now to make no response and to let him sweat.

He stood and banged on the cell door.

‘Kapitän Pfaus, can you open the door please? I’m sure it’s past your supper time and I’m done here.’

He turned back to Carmody.

‘Get a good night’s sleep, Michael. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do for you. But I’ll come back tomorrow, very likely. If I don’t, sure I might see you back in Dublin in a few years after they let you out of here.’

Chapter 33

The Pfaus family lived in a third-floor apartment just fifteen minutes’ walk from the headquarters of the Kriminalpolizei. Swallow formed the impression that Berlin was not a big city like London, but perhaps closer in scale to Dublin. The streets were busy with carriages and tramcars. And the coffee houses they passed, well-lit in the gloom of the January evening, seemed full. But there was none of the surging crowdedness he had experienced in London during his visit to New Scotland Yard the previous year.

The apartment was spacious, with wooden block flooring, high ceilings and tall windows giving out onto a quiet street. A delicious aroma of cooking had greeted them as Pfaus led him through the main door into a small vestibule or entrance hallway.

‘Elena, my love,’ Pfaus laughed as he greeted his wife, kissing her on the forehead. ‘This is Detective Inspector Swallow. I have told him about your wonderful cooking, and I promise you he is very hungry.’

Elena was small and dark, with a happy smile. Her well-rounded proportions suggested that she did not just like cooking for the sake of it, but also enjoyed the fruits of her endeavours. She held out a hand in welcome.

‘It’s very nice to meet you, Mr Swallow. You are an honoured guest in our home.’