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you’ve earned a day off.’
    ‘You’re more use to me rested,’ Wolter said. ‘Stay at home today.’
    Rath didn’t object. He hung up and was just about to turn round and get back to sleep when something warm under the bedclothes gave him a start.
    Had he brought a woman back yesterday? For the life of him he couldn’t remember. He remembered the dream and the strange Russian who had smashed his wardrobe, the tea with his landlady… the rum… the toast to friendship… He hadn’t…
    Rath pulled back the covers slowly, expecting the worst. The arm belonged to a set of blonde locks with a silvery tinge. Elisabeth Behnke was lying in his bed.
    The last thing he could remember was the moment she had said to call her Elisabeth, after they had emptied the bottle of rum and started on the Danziger Goldwasser. They had kissed, he knew that. That was the custom when you toasted to friendship. But what had happened afterwards? Questions he couldn’t answer. The only person who could was his landlady, who was currently stretching her ample and naked body beside him. She blinked into the light and pulled the covers over her breasts.
    ‘Good morning,’ he said, making every effort not to sound sarcastic.
    ‘Good morning,’ she said, almost shyly. At least she’s embarrassed too, he thought.
    ‘My God!’ The alarm clock now showed nine o’clock. ‘So late already. I should have made breakfast ages ago. Weinert’s sure to complain.’
    She used the bedclothes to cover herself until she realised that she was exposing Rath’s manhood. She was still somewhere between getting up and sitting back down when there was a knock on the door. Quick as a flash, Elisabeth Behnke jumped back into her tenant’s bed and disappeared under the covers.
    ‘That’s Weinert now,’ she whispered.
    The door opened slowly and Berthold Weinert poked his nosy head into the room.
    ‘Good morning, sleepyhead,’ he said and gave Rath a knowing wink. ‘You couldn’t lend me a few marks could you? There’s been no sign of old Behnke this morning, otherwise I’d have asked her. Seems to be ill, hasn’t even made breakfast, but I need to head into the office…’
    ‘Help yourself.’
    Rath pointed towards his jacket, which was folded neatly over the clothes stand, in sharp contrast to the dressing gown that, along with his pyjamas, formed a confused tangle on the floor somewhere between the door and the bed. Rath only hoped that Weinert wouldn’t notice the blue chemise lying on the other side of the bed.
    ‘Has your girl gone?’ the journalist winked, as he searched the inside pocket for Rath’s wallet. The conspiratorial glances were beginning to get on Rath’s nerves. ‘Behnke’s like a hawk. I always send my girls home in the evening. Better safe than sorry. You were still going long into the night… and then the music! To think what old Behnke said about that Negro racket during the day!’ He looked round, afraid that she might hear. ‘You should tell your girl to be a little quieter. I’ve never heard a dirtier laugh! Not only that…’ He fished a ten mark note from the wallet. ‘Not that I minded, of course, just don’t let her next door hear you!’ He winked for a final time and left the room.
    When he pulled the covers away, Rath saw that Elisabeth Behnke was blushing. ‘I hope that blabbermouth didn’t smell a rat,’ she said.
    ‘Didn’t sound like it,’ he said. ‘Were you really laughing that much, Frau Behnke?’
    ‘Call me Elisabeth.’
    ‘Isn’t that how all this started?’
    ‘We’re both adults, Herr Rath! I mean Gereon,’ she said, more like her old self. ‘I’m as keen to keep last night a secret as you are, but what’s done is done. We don’t have to go back to pretending we don’t know each other.’
    ‘Sorry,’ he said. Her outburst had given him an erection. He pulled the covers tighter.
    She stood up, having obviously decided she could live with his seeing her naked. Her