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Back The One from the Other Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. Praise
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EIGHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. SIXTEEN
  22. SEVENTEEN
  23. EIGHTEEN
  24. NINETEEN
  25. TWENTY
  26. TWENTY-ONE
  27. TWENTY-TWO
  28. TWENTY-THREE
  29. TWENTY-FOUR
  30. TWENTY-FIVE
  31. TWENTY-SIX
  32. TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. TWENTY-NINE
  35. THIRTY
  36. THIRTY-ONE
  37. THIRTY-TWO
  38. THIRTY-THREE
  39. THIRTY-FOUR
  40. THIRTY-FIVE
  41. THIRTY-SIX
  42. THIRTY-SEVEN
  43. THIRTY-EIGHT
  44. THIRTY-NINE
  45. FORTY
  46. FORTY-ONE
  47. FORTY-TWO
  48. EPILOGUE
  49. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  50. Teaser chapter

Gruen let out a sigh. “Maybe you’re right,” he said.

I shrugged back at him. “What the hell do I know? I’m just a detective.”

“Come now,” he said with a smile. “Aren’t you supposed to know who did it? Who committed the crime? You have to be right about that, don’t you?”

“People don’t want cops to be right,” I said. “They want a priest to be right. Or a government. Even a lawyer, on occasion. But never a cop. It’s only in books that people want cops to be right. Most of the time they much prefer us to be wrong about nearly everything. That makes them feel superior, I suppose. Besides, Germany’s all through with people who were always right. What we need now are a few honest mistakes.”

Gruen was looking miserable. I smiled at him and said: “Hell, Eric, you said you wanted to have some real conversation. It looks like you got it.”

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-THREE

We got along pretty well, Gruen and I. After a while I even liked him. Quite a few years had passed since I’d had any kind of a friend. That was one of the things I missed most about Kirsten. For a while she had been my best friend as well as my wife and lover. I didn’t appreciate how much I missed having a friend until I started talking to Gruen. There was something about the man that got to me, in a good way. Maybe it was the fact that he was in a wheelchair and yet somehow managed to be cheerful. More cheerful than me, anyway, which wasn’t saying much. Maybe it was the fact that he stayed in good spirits even though his general health was not good—some days he was too ill to get out of bed, which left me alone with Engelbertina. Occasionally, when he was feeling well enough, he went with Henkell to the laboratory in Partenkirchen. Before the war he had also been a doctor and he enjoyed helping Henkell with some of the lab work. That also left me alone with Engelbertina.

When I started to feel a little better myself I would take Gruen outside for a walk, which is to say I rolled him up and down the garden for a while. Henkell had been right. Mönch was a great place for improving your health. The air was as fresh as morning dew on gentian, and there is always something about a view of a mountain or a valley that eventually penetrates the hard membrane of one’s own view of things in general. Life looks better in an Alpine meadow, especially when the accommodation is Pullman class.

One day I was wheeling Gruen along a path cut into the mountain side, when I noticed him staring at my hand on the handle of his wheelchair.

“I’ve only just noticed,” he said.