“Shit. God damn it all.”

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I told you, Gunther. The chief is never going to authorize me to investigate the death of a Jew. Damn it all. I thought this might have been a chance to prove myself. To lead a proper murder investigation, you know?”

I said nothing. It wasn’t that I was speechless, but I certainly didn’t feel like making a speech. What would be the point?

“I don’t make police policy, Gunther,” said Bömer. “Even Liebermann von Sonnenberg doesn’t do that. If you really want to know, the policy comes down from the Ministry of the Interior. From Frick. And Frick gets it from Goering, who probably gets it from—”

“The devil himself. I know.”

Suddenly I badly wanted to be away from Richard Bömer and his vaulting forensic ambition. And it was now obvious in a way it hadn’t been obvious before that being a policeman had changed a lot more than I had supposed. I couldn’t ever go back to the Alex even if I had wanted to.

“I expect there will be other murders, Richard. In fact, I’m sure of it. In that respect at least, you can rely on the Nazis.”

“You don’t understand. I want to be a detective, like in the stories. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. A proper detective, like you were, Gunther. But police states are bad for crime and bad for criminals. Because everyone’s a policeman in Germany now. And if they’re not yet, they soon will be.” He kicked the laboratory workbench and swore again.

“Richard. You almost make me feel sorry for you.” I picked up the dead man’s file and handed it back. “Well, I can’t say it’s not been fun. I’ve missed the job. I’ve even missed the customers. Can you believe that? But from now on I’m going to miss the job the way I miss the Lustgarten. Which is to say, not at all. Because it’s not the same. It’s not like it used to be. When someone gets murdered—it doesn’t matter who it is—you investigate. You investigate, because that’s what you do when you live in a decent society. And when you don’t, when you say that someone’s death isn’t worth the candle, then the job’s not worth having anyway. Not anymore.”

I held the file out to him. But he stared at it as if it wasn’t there.

“Go ahead,” I said. “Take this. It’s yours.”

But we both knew it wasn’t.

Ignoring the file, he turned and walked out of the laboratory, and although I wasn’t there to see it, the Pathological Institute, as well.

A few months later Erich Liebermann von Sonnenberg told me that Richard Bömer had left KRIPO and joined the SS. At the time it looked like the better career move.

12

THE TWO OFFICERS FROM KRIPO were very polite,” Georg Behlert told me. “Frau Adlon couldn’t have been more grateful for the way you’ve handled this whole affair. Excellent. Well done.”