‘That’s the thing about Karneval – you can let go a little.’ She stood up decisively. ‘I’m going to take a shower. Help yourself to breakfast.’

‘I’m fine,’ said Fabel. ‘I’d better get on my way soon. I thought I’d buy something for my daughter. A souvenir from Cologne.’

‘You married?’ said Tansu in a way that suggested it didn’t matter to her one way or the other.

‘Divorced.’

‘You’ll be lucky to find a store open. There might be a couple on Hohestrasse.’

The daylight was cold and bright and turned the throbbing in Fabel’s head up a notch or two. When he got back to the hotel, he found the reception staff were all wearing bright red wigs and false noses. He allowed himself the curmudgeonly thought that these people never knew when to stop. He wanted to be home. Back in Hamburg. He wanted to talk to Susanne and put everything behind him. Including Tansu. But first he had to find Maria and bring her home too.

He showered and changed into a fresh cashmere roll-neck and cord trousers. His sports jacket smelled of cigarette smoke and he hung it up outside his wardrobe to air, pulling his coat on before going out again. He tried phoning Susanne at her office but, when he got her voicemail, he decided not to leave a message. He rang Scholz on his mobile: Scholz told Fabel they should meet at the Presidium and have lunch in the canteen. Taxis would be difficult so Scholz would send a patrol car to pick Fabel up.

When Fabel arrived at the Presidium he was guided by security to the car pool, where a vast wheeled structure was in the process of being decorated. Scholz was involved in a heated debate with a tall lean uniformed officer. At least, the debate was heated on Scholz’s side: the uniformed officer leaned against the float and nodded wearily.

‘Bloody Karneval,’ muttered Scholz as he greeted Fabel. ‘Enjoy yourself last night?’

Fabel studied Scholz’s expression for any hint of sarcasm. There was none and Fabel couldn’t help feeling grateful that Scholz had disappeared earlier and had not known what had transpired between Fabel and Tansu.

‘Great. I think we all deserved to celebrate a bit. Are you ready to reinterview Andrea Sandow?’

‘Let’s grab some lunch first.’

As they walked towards the lift, Fabel turned back to look at the float. ‘It looks like some medieval war machine. You could hide an army under that. Maybe you should have made your theme “The Trojan Horse”.’

Scholz’s grim smile revealed that the police Karneval float was not a subject for humour. ‘We’re still getting nothing from Sandow. Prepare yourself for a fruitless afternoon. I’ve actually managed to get a shrink to come in later to do a psych assessment.’