Read The Defeated Aristocrat Online

Authors: Katherine John

Tags: #Amateur Sleuths, #Crime, #Fiction, #Historical, #Murder, #Mystery, #Suspense, #Thriller

The Defeated Aristocrat (17 page)

BOOK: The Defeated Aristocrat
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He might find an old comrade who could help him find work, or a share of a room – or even if there was no one he knew, a kitchen that offered free food so he could hang on to his last few marks. Tomorrow he’d go to the public baths, wash and shave in warm water, clean his clothes as best he could, and start looking for work. There had to be something …

‘Hey, Norde, isn’t it?’

Helmut looked up at the driver of the brewery cart.

‘Can I take you anywhere, Norde?’

The man looked vaguely familiar. Helmut didn’t stop to think how he knew him. ‘You going near the cathedral?’

‘I can drive that way.’ The man extended his arm. Helmut took it and climbed on to the cart.

 

The Green Stork, Wasser Strasse, Konigsberg, Saturday January 11th 1919

Wolf and Ralf returned to their table on the mezzanine. Adele had set a tray of cheese, bread, sausage, gherkins, and salt fish on their table along with a fresh jug of beer. Wolf was hungry, but he knew if he tried to eat he’d feel as though he were taking food from the mouths of the children in the stable. Recalling why he was in the Green Stork, he said, ‘Have you heard about the murders?’

‘It’s difficult to avoid hearing about them.’ Ralf filled their steins. ‘The city’s talking about nothing else.’

‘The victims were in our regiment.’

‘All three enlisted on the same day as us.’

‘You know about the third?’ Wolf was surprised.

‘I know Dedleff Gluck was found dead and mutilated in a hotel room this morning. But given that all three were police officers and I’ve no intention of joining that august body, I hope to avoid their fate.’

‘How do you know the identity of the last victim? I’ve not long left the kriminaldirektor and he ordered that the name shouldn’t be released until the family had been informed.’

‘It would appear the kriminaldirektor didn’t tell everyone that Dedleff’s name wasn’t to be released.’

‘You heard the news from a police officer?’

‘Obviously an indiscreet one. I can’t remember his name.’

‘I’ve never known a man to have such a convenient memory as you,’ Wolf helped himself to schnapps.

‘One of my many virtues.’

‘The kriminaldirektor wants to talk to everyone in the city who was in the regiment.’

‘To warn us? Doesn’t he think it’s a bit late after three of us have been murdered?’

‘Hopefully not for the next victim.’

Ralf whistled. ‘So the police have reason to believe there are going to be more killings?’

Wolf produced his notebook and showed Ralf the copies he’d made of the messages that had been delivered to Lilli Richter. ‘There’s reference to a potential fourth victim in the last communication.’

‘Lilli Richter’s married to Gluck, isn’t she?’

‘The notes were sent to her as editor of the
Konigsberg Zeit
.’

‘A coincidence?’ Ralf raised his eyebrows.

‘The kriminaldirektor is looking into it. How many men have you invited for the reunion next Saturday?’

‘You, me, the other three POWs, but I’ve let it be known that I’ll welcome anyone from the regiment, especially survivors of the original volunteers.’

‘Of the surviving dozen officers from Konigsberg three have been murdered. That leaves nine, four apart from us POWs. Luther Kappel, Emil Grunman, Reiner Schult, and Dolf Engels. I know Kappel’s a police officer. Do you know where the others are?’

‘Reiner’s captaining one of his father’s fishing boats. I bought herring from him yesterday. I haven’t seen Grunman but I believe his father owns an estate near Lowenhagen. Dolf Engels was in here this morning delivering beer. He’s working in his father’s brewery. Do you think all nine of us are targets?’

‘Don’t you?’ Wolf refilled both their schnapps glasses.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Konigsberg, Saturday January 11th 1919

‘When the colonel disappeared after that battle in Flanders, we assumed he and all those with him had all been killed.’ Dolf Engels handed Helmut a flask. ‘I didn’t know any of you had survived until I walked into the Green Stork this morning and saw Ralf. I punched him to make sure he wasn’t a ghost.’

‘That must have pleased him.’ Helmut’s jaw was stiff with cold.

‘You know Ralf. He can take a joke.’

‘You missed us after we were captured?’ It had taken Helmut a few minutes to recall Dolf, but, when he did, it rekindled memories of evenings spent carousing in the estaminets or ‘cowshed bars’ the locals cobbled together whenever troops came down from the front line. He recalled one evening in particular when he and another officer had been drunk and indiscreet and Dolf had witnessed their transgression. Was that the reason he’d offered him a ride?

Dolf interrupted his thoughts. ‘We missed von Mau. Dorfman was a brass-buttoned lunatic. Ordered men over the top on a whim. Never gave a thought as to whether they’d survive. He sent more men to hell in one day than von Mau did in a year.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Helmut unscrewed the top of Dolf’s flask and drank. The schnapps was good. It was more warming than tea and had the added advantage of making him lightheaded. The city suddenly seemed brighter and blurred at the edges, as if the snow was melting into the buildings.

‘Not as sorry as those you left behind. You took your time getting home.’

‘I’d like to have seen you get here quicker from Wiltshire.’

‘So, what are you doing now?’ Dolf flicked the reins to hurry the horses.

‘I only got back last night,’ Helmut answered defensively.

‘Your family live in the city?’

‘They left for America in 1916.’

‘My uncle went in ’15. So where are you staying?’ When Helmut didn’t answer Dolf remembered he’d asked to be dropped at the cathedral. ‘Got your job back?’

‘I haven’t had time to ask for it. I told you, I came in late last night, and went to see an aunt today.’

‘You staying with her.’

‘She died of flu.’

‘It’s tough for every returning soldier. Doubly so if they have no family.’

‘I don’t want your pity,’ Helmut snapped.

‘I’m not offering. If you’re looking for somewhere to stay for a couple of nights, there’s an office in the stables where we keep the brewery waggons and horses. It has a stove and a fairly comfortable couch. I know because I’ve slept on it when I’ve been drunk enough to want to hide from my mother. I guarantee it’s lice-free, which is more than can be said for the cathedral.’

‘I don’t take charity.’

‘Not charity, a helping hand,’ Dolf corrected. ‘We don’t need any workers in the stables, but I’ll ask my father if there’s anything going in the brewery. I know you can be trusted. That counts for a lot in a worker these days. What do you say?’ When Helmut didn’t answer, Dolf continued. ‘We old soldiers have to stick together. You’d do the same for me.’

‘I’m not in a position to do anything for you.’

‘But you would if you could. I have nothing planned this evening. How about I send to the Green Stork for some food and beer and we eat in the office, just the two of us after I’ve stabled the horse. I won’t leave him out longer than I have to in this temperature.’ He glanced across at Helmut.

Helmut had been about to accept until Dolf said: ‘just the two of us’. Did Dolf remember what he’d seen him doing that night after the regiment had been stood down? He trembled from more than cold.

‘The sooner we get to the stable, the sooner we can get into the warm. We don’t even have to stop off at the Stork. I’ll send one of the street urchins to fetch our supper.’

Again it was the prospect of warmth that was the deciding factor. Helmut found himself nodding. ‘Sounds good.’

The Green Stork, Wasser Strasse, Konigsberg, Saturday January 11th 1919

Ralf raised his glass, ‘To every returning soldier from the regiment. May they survive until Saturday and may news of the reunion reach all.’

Wolf touched his stein to Ralf’s. ‘I can’t help feeling we’re being blasé?’

‘In what way?’

‘Don’t you think we should be doing more to warn our old comrades about the killer?’

‘After five years of war do you really expect us to be anything other than blasé?’ Ralf asked. ‘We’ve just returned from facing entire armies trained to shoot Germans on sight. Is it any wonder we regard three murders as inconsequential?’

‘The killing that went on in the trenches wasn’t personal. After seeing one of this particular murderer’s victims and photographs of his other handiwork, I’d say these killings are very personal,’ Wolf declared.

‘Impersonal death is as deadly as personal,’ Ralf observed.

‘Dead is dead. The last thing I feel like doing is arguing semantics with you.’

‘You saw Gluck?’ Ralf was curious.

‘I saw a dead man who’d been murdered. Unlike you I have a good memory. Kriminaldirektor Hafen ordered me not to divulge the victim’s name.’

‘Let’s talk about something more interesting.’ Ralf helped himself to more beer and sausage. ‘What are you going to do with yourself now your brother is ensconced in your castle with your wife?’

‘Ex-wife as soon as our marriage is annulled and he – and she – won’t be ensconced for much longer.’ Wolf refilled his stein. ‘You’re well informed considering we only returned last night.’

‘All of Konigsberg passes through the Green Stork and everyone is interested in the doings of our aristocrats. I take it you’re reclaiming your castle, if not your wife.’

‘I’m meeting my lawyer this evening to discuss the future of Waldschloss and the Lichtenhagen estate but I’ve no desire to return to the castle.’ Wolf took his pipe and tobacco tin from his jacket pocket. He took a plug of tobacco and pushed the tin in front of Ralf so he could help himself.

‘So, the life of a country gentleman is too dull for you after the excitement of the trenches and a Wiltshire prison camp.’

‘I can cope with dull and boring after the last few years, but not dull and boring in Lichtenhagen.

‘Too many memories?’

‘More like not enough novelty. I’m not sure what I want to do other than spend time with my son and earn enough to keep both of us. As for returning to the castle, whenever I think of my pre-war life, I feel as though it was lived by someone else.’

‘We all feel like that,’ Ralf sympathised.

‘You’ve found your niche,’ Wolf looked around. ‘Your own bar, enough money to spare a few marks for those in need. Pretty girls to serve you drinks and anything else you fancy. And, if I was to hazard a guess, high-stakes card games in the back rooms.’

‘Looks like I’ve found Utopia, doesn’t it?’

‘To an outsider.’

Ralf fell serious. ‘Do you think any of us will settle down after what we’ve been through?’

‘I think we’re about to find out.’

‘You know what’s the worst? When we were in the trenches, there was a point to life. To fight for the next five minutes of breath – the next big push – the next show – or at least until supper because someone had organised a supply of schnapps.’

‘You’re complaining because you can be fairly certain of surviving the next five minutes and have all the schnapps you can drink?’

‘Precisely,’ Ralf agreed. ‘Life’s lost its edge.’

‘If it’s edge you want, go look for whoever’s carving up our old comrades. That should sharpen your sense of purpose. If you survive the meeting. As for a point to life, I have a son and family who need me, and you, my friend, have a bar full of girls waiting for a kind word.’

‘Every one of them after a wedding ring and a meal ticket,’ Ralf complained.

‘In exchange for love, care, and devotion.’

‘You can say that after your wife married your brother?’

‘With so many younger and prettier girls to choose from she did me a favour.’ Wolf glanced at Adele who was clearing a table close to theirs. She stopped what she was doing, stared at him and licked her lips with the point of her small, very pink tongue. He thought of the rooms upstairs and wavered, but not for long. He pushed his chair back from the table. ‘I have shopping to do.’

‘What kind of shopping,’ Ralf asked.

‘Clothes. My brother Martin told me I look as though I’m wearing hand-me-downs from a fat uncle.’

‘You going to Baumgarten’s?’

‘Where else?’

‘Remind Josef about …’

‘Saturday. I will.’ Wolf winked at Adele as he walked to the door.

‘You were right,’ Ralf called after him.

‘About what?’

‘Your brother doing you a favour when he married your wife. I saw that wink. Don’t concern yourself. I’ll keep Adele warm for you.’

A girl in a kitchen maid’s apron opened the door for Wolf. She handed him an envelope. ‘You dropped this, sir.’

Before he had time to register more than a pair of mesmerizing green eyes, she dropped a curtsey and ran. He looked up and saw one of the homeless veterans staring at him through the window. He looked away from the man who was warming himself on a brazier outside the door and back at the letter.
Colonel von Mau
was written on the outside. Assuming it was a plea for help he was no position to give, he pocketed it, and turned up his collar in preparation for the outside.

Baumgarten’s Store, Saturday January 11th 1919

‘Wolf, I didn’t expect to see you in here today.’ Josef rushed to meet Wolf as soon as he entered the menswear department of Baumgarten’s.

‘Your father set you to work already?’ Wolf asked.

‘No, I’ve just finished a fitting for a new suit.’

‘We all need one of those after five years of army rations.’

Josef steered him towards the back of the store. ‘Would you like something? Coffee? Tea? We could go to the in-store Konditorei. They’re serving an exceptionally good cheesecake today.’

‘I’ve just eaten and drunk more than was good for me in the Green Stork, but thank you.’

Josef showed Wolf into a Spartan office and closed the door. ‘I’m getting married.’

‘Married! I didn’t know you had a girl.’

‘My parents found her. She’s beautiful, Wolf, and charming, and kind … so kind, we’re marrying next month. I’d like to ask you to be my best man but …’

BOOK: The Defeated Aristocrat
7.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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