Read The Man from Berlin for Free Online Page B

Padelin inched his bulk onto a wickerwork sofa strewn with cushions. It groaned under his weight, shifting and squeaking. Padelin looked straight at the old lady, his face carefully blank. Reinhardt hid a smile and took a chair to the left of Frau Hofler. She looked between the two of them, a broad smile deepening the wrinkles around twinkling eyes.
    â€˜ Well! ’ she exclaimed, beaming proprietorially at them. ‘ What can I do to help two such fine-looking servants, one of our dear Fatherland, and the other of our dear Poglavnik? But no !’ she said, holding up her hand as if to stop any questions. ‘My manners.’ She put her chin down, eyes up, then called out in a ringing voice, ‘Gordana! Gordanaaaa! Ah, there you are, child. I was calling you for an age. Bring some of the coffee you just made, for the two officers. And perhaps a little something stronger on the side,’ she added, with a conspiratorial wink at Padelin. Reinhardt hid another smile, the old woman already figuring Padelin for the burly, honest policeman not averse to the odd tipple. ‘Chop-chop, dear,’ said Hofler as she dismissed the maid. The lapdog glared at Reinhardt with its round, wet eyes while Hofler smiled genially at them.
    â€˜You are Austrian, Frau Hofler?’ said Padelin, filling the silence.
    â€˜From Vienna. My husband is the general manager at the tobacco factory,’ she replied.
    â€˜And have you been here long?’
    â€˜My dear , sometimes it feels like forever. Not that there’s anything wrong with the city, or the wonderful country,’ she hastened to add, bringing Reinhardt into her confidence with wide eyes. ‘But, it’s not Vienna . You understand, of course , Captain.’
    â€˜Quite,’ said Reinhardt.
    â€˜Do you know Vienna, Captain?’
    â€˜I do. I lived there for a year. In 1938.’
    â€˜Ah, what a year,’ enthused Hofler. ‘A great year.’ Reinhardt only smiled. That year, for him, for Carolin, had been anything but great.
    â€˜Frau Hofler,’ said Padelin, clearing his throat and pulling out a notebook. ‘We are investigating the murder of Miss Vukić, who was your neighbour, and were wondering if we might ask you a few questions about the statement you gave earlier?’
    A lace handkerchief appeared suddenly in Hofler’s hand, and she dabbed delicately at the corner of one eye. ‘Yes. Yes, the poor child. Please, ask me anything ,’ she said with a decisive sigh, drawing herself up even straighter.
    â€˜You told the police you saw a strange car on Saturday night. Please can you tell us more?’
    Frau Hofler sighed again and stroked the back of the little dog, which thumped its tail once, then put its head down. ‘I was walking my little Foxi as I often do at night, as I’m something of a late sleeper. It was around nine o’clock at night. I can’t be more exact, I’m sorry. And then, as we were approaching poor Miss Vukić’s house, Foxi began getting all restless , like he never usually does. I wondered what was happening, and then I smelled this horrible smell, terribly acrid, and I saw smoke coming from a car parked just in front of Miss Vukić’s. Well , Foxi was growling – he’s terribly sensitive to smells, you know – and I picked him up before he began making a fuss and walked by the car. I looked in and saw a man inside smoking a cigarette, and that was what was making the smell. And such a smell! When I came back, perhaps half an hour later, he was just driving away. He came past me and honestly I could still smell that beastly smoke.’
    â€˜Can you describe the man, Frau Hofler?’ asked Padelin, pencil poised over hispad.
    â€˜I’m sorry, I don’t think so. It was dark , you see. But he was wearing a cap. Like a chauffeur’s cap.’ Reinhardt and Padelin exchanged a glance, and the detective made to ask another