By the time Tilsner had finished ploughing through all the files, he started to wonder where Müller was. Their strange relationship had become even weirder. Müller would summon him for sex at the drop of a hat, and then virtually ignore him the next second – as though she was ashamed of her own needs. Men were much simpler beasts. For Tilsner, sex was a necessity – and he’d always fancied her. Mind you, the years were starting to take their toll now – but they were on him too. It was said that men over fifty became virtually invisible. He was lucky that in his early fifties, he could pass for early forties – perhaps younger. It meant he still got the come on from waitresses in cafés – especially in the provinces, where they regarded Berliners as some sort of special exotic breed. The trick didn’t work quite as well here. Dresden women seemed to have too high an opinion of themselves for Tilsner’s liking.

It was his roving eye, of course, which had caused all the problems with his ex-wife, Koletta. That was all in the past now, she’d found a new man. A new man and a new life, and she’d taken their children with her. Not just to another city, but across the bloody state border. Still, he had a plan for that. One that – thanks to his childhood friend Manfred – ought to be far-advanced by now. He’d need to catch up with him soon and find out how things were going.

Tilsner slammed the last file shut. A thankless task. About four people of the right age to follow up – but none of them matched all the characteristics of Concrete Man. In any case, as he’d insisted to Müller, if that punk girl was correct and the victim was a foreigner, most likely he wouldn’t appear in the Republic’s missing persons files.

The story was the same in the teleprinter room. They’d sent out a bulletin to other forces to see if anyone had a likely fit for their victim. So far – as the headshake from the pretty teleprinter operator made clear – no one had responded positively.

He tracked down Schmidt in the forensic lab.

‘Any sign of Müller?’ he asked.

‘No, Comrade Oberleutnant. I’ve not seen her since earlier this afternoon.’

Tilsner frowned and checked his watch again. ‘She was chasing up on that bus and train ticket you found, wasn’t she? Do you still have the details of them? Times, dates, starting and destination stops and stations?’

Schmidt moved over to a grey metal filing cabinet and pulled out a folder. Then, as Tilsner made a careful note, he listed all the information from the tickets.

*