‘So you admit they did stop here. Did you mention this to the military police investigators?’

‘No one has asked me before, mister.’

‘Well, you should have volunteered any knowledge you had,’ Heck said. ‘Oh, I forgot, Germans don’t think shooting foreigners is a crime, do they?’

Her eye blazed at this. She spat on the ground. A dirty, brown spit as though she had been chewing tobacco. Then she threw back her head defiantly. ‘You think it’s a good idea to get involved in such things, mister? You think Nazis all bad, Amis all good? You don’t know nothing. Yes, I heard the shots, but I saw nothing and know nothing. The killer didn’t get into their car while they were here buying cigarettes. Whoever he is, I didn’t see him.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ Heck said.

Wilde tried to calm the confrontation. ‘Look, dear lady, there must have been other cars, other people on the road. Think hard. Someone shot my friends.’

‘I saw nothing.’

Wilde exchanged glances with Heck and noted the cold fury in his eyes. He shook his head almost impeceptibly as if to say, No, Heck, don’t reach for your gun, don’t threaten this woman with violence.

‘Let’s take her in. She needs the third degree,’ Heck said.

‘Surely if she was involved, she wouldn’t still be here, would she?’ Wilde replied. He really wanted to defuse this before the situation got out of hand. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed his notepad and pen, then put them on the trestle table among the Nazi memorabilia and the miscellaneous items of food. ‘Write your name and address on that.’

‘Why should I do that?’

‘Because if you don’t, we’ll place you under arrest and find you a nice cold cell in Garmisch while inquiries are being pursued. Your choice.’

She hesitated then, with great reluctance, scratched a name and address on the page, before pushing the small pad back across the table to Wilde. He saw the name Zimmer, Birgit Zimmer. The name of her town or village was Kochel-am-See which, she said, was only two kilometres from the road. ‘It’s not a big place; everyone knows me,’ she said.

‘And you think that’s OK?’ Heck said to Wilde. ‘You think she’s really put her own fucking address there.’

‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

‘Hey,’ the woman said, this time in broken English, her antagonism gone like a summer squall. ‘Give me your names and way to get in touch with you. If I hear anything, I make contact, yes? Perhaps there’s a reward to find this killer . . .’

Heck raised a questioning eyebrow. Wilde nodded, then handed the notepad to his companion. Heck wrote hurriedly, then tore out the sheet and gave it to the woman. ‘Call that number, sister, and ask for us. If we’re not there, leave a message and we’ll get back to you.’

She smiled for the first time. ‘I do that. Good to help Amis. Amis save us from Hitler. Damned crazy teetotal vegetarian.’ She held up a pocket watch and offered it to Heck. ‘This is for you, mister. Fine watch.’