She found the shift commander in the Schreibzimmer, frowning at one of the Berliner Modell computers. She explained her mission, and he asked her to wait while he organized an interview. ‘We shouldn’t really have her here,’ he grumbled. ‘She should have gone straight to KriPo, but since it happened on our doorstep, they told us to hang on to her.’

‘It is only for twenty-four hours max,’ Petra pointed out.

‘That’s about twenty-three too many for me. She’s been bleating since she arrived. She wants a lawyer, she wants to use the toilet, she wants a drink. She seems to think this is a hotel, not a detention centre. She acts like we should be treating her like a hero instead of a criminal.’ He pushed himself to his feet and made for the door. ‘I’ll send someone for you in a few minutes. You can take a look at the paperwork – it’s in the tray over there.’ He gestured with his thumb to a pile of files stacked high above the edges of a filing tray.

He was as good as his word. Within ten minutes, she was sitting in the Anwaltsraum, facing Marlene Krebs across a table bolted to the floor. Krebs could have been any age between thirty and forty, though Petra knew from the report she’d read that the woman was only twenty-eight. Her hair was dyed a harsh black, tousled from a night in the cells. Her make-up was smudged, presumably from the same cause. Krebs had the puffy face and hands of a drinker, and the whites of her pale green eyes were tinged with yellow. However, she also possessed the sleepy sensuality of a woman who is attractive to men and who knows it.

‘Marlene, I’m Petra Becker from Criminal Intelligence.’ Petra sat back and let the words sink in. Krebs’ face revealed nothing. ‘Have you got any cigarettes?’ she asked.

Petra took a half-empty pack from her pocket and pushed it towards Krebs. She snatched at it and thrust a cigarette between full lips. ‘What about a light, then?’ she demanded.

‘The cigarette was free. The light will cost you.’

Krebs scowled. ‘Bitch,’ she said.

Petra shook her head. ‘Not a good start.’

‘What’s this about, anyway? What have I got to do with Criminal Intelligence?’

‘It’s a bit late to be asking that, Marlene. That really should have been your first question.’

Krebs took the cigarette from her mouth and flicked the tip as if there was ash to be deposited. ‘Look, I admit I shot that dope-dealing bastard Kamal.’

‘It’s not like there’s much room for doubt.’

‘But I had good reason. He sold my Danni the junk that killed him. What can I say? I was crazy with grief.’