Read March Violets for Free Online

ugly. I didn’t suppose for a minute that I was going to get a juicy one, but then I wasn’t about to settle for any cobra either. I opened the door.
    â€˜Herr Gunther?’ She stood up, and I gave her the once-over: well, she wasn’t as young as Gruber had led me to believe (I guessed her to be about forty-five) but not bad, I thought. A bit warm and cosy maybe (she had a substantial backside), but I happen to prefer them like that. Her hair was red with a touch of grey at the sides and on the crown, and tied back in a knot. She wore a suit of plain grey cloth, a white high-necked blouse and a black hat with a Breton brim turned up all around the head.
    â€˜Good morning,’ I said, as affably as I could manage on top of the mewling tomcat that was my hangover. ‘You must be my temporary secretary.’ Lucky to get a woman at all, and this one looked half-reasonable.
    â€˜Frau Protze,’ she declared, and shook my hand. ‘I’m a widow.’
    â€˜Sorry,’ I said, unlocking the door to my office. ‘What part of Bavaria are you from?’ The accent was unmistakable.
    â€˜Regensburg.’
    â€˜That’s a nice town.’
    â€˜You must have found buried treasure there.’ Witty too, I thought; that was good: she’d need a sense of humour to work for me.
    I told her all about my business. She said it all sounded very exciting. I showed her into the adjoining cubicle where she was to sit on that backside.
    â€˜Actually, it’s not so bad if you leave the door to the waiting room open,’ I explained. Then I showed her the washroom along the corridor and apologized for the shards of soap and the dirty towels. ‘I pay seventy-five marks a month and I get a tip like this,’ I said. ‘Damn it, I’m going to complain to that son-of-a-bitch of a landlord.’ But even as I said it I knew I never would.
    Back in my office I flipped open my diary and saw that the day’s only appointment was Frau Heine, at eleven o’clock.
    â€˜I’ve an appointment in twenty minutes,’ I said. ‘Woman wants to know if I’ve managed to trace her missing son. He’s a Jewish U-Boat.’
    â€˜A what?’
    â€˜A Jew in hiding.’
    â€˜What did he do that he has to hide?’ she said.
    â€˜You mean apart from being a Jew?’ I said. Already I could see that she had led quite a sheltered life, even for a Regensburger, and it seemed a shame to expose the poor woman to the potentially distressing sight of her country’s evil-smelling arse. Still, she was all grown-up now, and I didn’t have the time to worry about it.
    â€˜He just helped an old man who was being beaten up by some thugs. He killed one of them.’
    â€˜But surely if he was helping the old man -’
    â€˜Ah, but the old man was Jewish,’ I explained. ‘And the two thugs belonged to the SA. Strange how that changes everything, isn’t it? His mother asked me to find out if he was still alive and still at liberty. You see, when a man is arrested and beheaded or sent to a KZ, the authorities don’t always bother to inform his family. There are a lot of MPs — missing persons - from Jewish families these days. Trying to find them is a large part of my business.’ Frau Protze looked worried.
    â€˜You help Jews?’ she said.
    â€˜Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘It’s perfectly legal. And their money is as good as anyone’s.’
    â€˜I suppose so.’
    â€˜Listen, Frau Protze,’ I said. ‘Jews, gypsies, Red Indians, it’s all the same to me. I’ve got no reason to like them, but I don’t have any reason to hate them either. When he walks through that door, a Jew gets the same deal as anyone else. Same as if he were the Kaiser’s cousin. But it doesn’t mean I’m dedicated to their welfare. Business is business.’
    â€˜Certainly,’ said Frau Protze,