contact with Magisterstrasse until I have spoken to you. RSVP. Obsequiously ,
Hanno Stiffeniis, Magistrate .
‘Shall I run to the post for you, sir?’
I turned around with a start. The boy was looking over my shoulder. I had been so involved in what I was doing, I had forgotten that he was still in the room.
‘The post? At this time of night? Aren’t you afraid to go out after dark?’ I asked.
‘Oh no, sir!’ the boy replied with vigour. ‘I’ll do anything your Excellency may ask of me.’
‘You’re a brave little fellow,’ I said, pulling a coin from my waistcoat pocket, ‘but a foolish one. There’s murder on the streets of Königsberg at night. You’ll be safer indoors.’
He cast a furtive glance towards the door, then picked the coin from my hand like a thieving magpie. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that, sir,’ he whispered. ‘There’s more danger in this here tavern than on the streets. The water’s ready for you.’
I hardly gave a thought to what the boy had said, dismissing it as infantile braggadocio, as I slipped off my jacket and waistcoat, rolling up my shirtsleeves with a smile.
‘Don’t you believe me, sir?’ he said, stepping closer.
‘Why should I not believe you, Morik?’ I replied, paying little attention to the conversation, my mind on the evening that lay ahead.
‘There are strange things going on in this house, sir,’ he whispered in an even lower voice than before. ‘That’s why you’re here, is it not?’
‘Of course,’ I joked, splashing my face with warm water. ‘What sort of things are you talking about?’
‘A man who was murdered passed his last night here. Jan Konnen…’
A sharp knock at the door interrupted him.
Without waiting to be called, Herr Totz walked in, as I was drying my face.
‘If you’ve finished with the lad, sir,’ the innkeeper said with an air of tight-lipped anger, ‘I need him down in the kitchen. Now!’
Before I could say a word, the boy had skipped around his master, and ducked artfully out of the door.
‘That lad!’ Totz said with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head. ‘He’s a lying little scamp. An’ workshy with it. With your permission, sir?’
‘He was telling me that Jan Konnen was in your inn the night he was murdered, Totz,’ I said. ‘Is it true?’
Ulrich Totz did not respond immediately. Then, a thin smile appeared, and the reply flowed like warm milk and melted honey. ‘That’s right, sir,’ he said. ‘I have already told the police everything I know. Under oath. Konnen was here one minute, gone the next. I cannot tell you more than that, sir. May I be excused now? We’re very busy downstairs at the moment.’
I nodded, and out he went, closing the door quietly behind him. Had I been drawn into some sort of bizarre labyrinth, or was it mere coincidence that I had been roomed in the inn where the first victim of the murderer had spent his last hours? I decided to search out Ulrich Totz’s statement to the police at the first opportunity. Clearly, there was more documentation regarding the murders than the scant evidence that I had been shown by Koch in the coach.
Down in the saloon Sergeant Koch was seated before the fire, two tall glasses of rum toddy set out on a small table beside him. The inn was busier than before, all animated – two women in loose, red skirts and low-cut blouses were the centre of attention – except for the Russian officer in his extravagant uniform who had fallen sound asleep at his table, his head propped up against the wall, a glass of grog upturned and dripping onto the floor.
‘Koch,’ I said, tapping him on the shoulder.
The sergeant jumped to his feet and slammed his hat on his head, as if I had caught him in a desperate state of undress. ‘The coach is…’
‘Jan Konnen was murdered here,’ I interrupted. ‘Did you know that?’
Koch paused long enough for me to wonder whether he was prevaricating once again. ‘I had no idea, sir. None
Hanno Stiffeniis, Magistrate .
‘Shall I run to the post for you, sir?’
I turned around with a start. The boy was looking over my shoulder. I had been so involved in what I was doing, I had forgotten that he was still in the room.
‘The post? At this time of night? Aren’t you afraid to go out after dark?’ I asked.
‘Oh no, sir!’ the boy replied with vigour. ‘I’ll do anything your Excellency may ask of me.’
‘You’re a brave little fellow,’ I said, pulling a coin from my waistcoat pocket, ‘but a foolish one. There’s murder on the streets of Königsberg at night. You’ll be safer indoors.’
He cast a furtive glance towards the door, then picked the coin from my hand like a thieving magpie. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that, sir,’ he whispered. ‘There’s more danger in this here tavern than on the streets. The water’s ready for you.’
I hardly gave a thought to what the boy had said, dismissing it as infantile braggadocio, as I slipped off my jacket and waistcoat, rolling up my shirtsleeves with a smile.
‘Don’t you believe me, sir?’ he said, stepping closer.
‘Why should I not believe you, Morik?’ I replied, paying little attention to the conversation, my mind on the evening that lay ahead.
‘There are strange things going on in this house, sir,’ he whispered in an even lower voice than before. ‘That’s why you’re here, is it not?’
‘Of course,’ I joked, splashing my face with warm water. ‘What sort of things are you talking about?’
‘A man who was murdered passed his last night here. Jan Konnen…’
A sharp knock at the door interrupted him.
Without waiting to be called, Herr Totz walked in, as I was drying my face.
‘If you’ve finished with the lad, sir,’ the innkeeper said with an air of tight-lipped anger, ‘I need him down in the kitchen. Now!’
Before I could say a word, the boy had skipped around his master, and ducked artfully out of the door.
‘That lad!’ Totz said with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head. ‘He’s a lying little scamp. An’ workshy with it. With your permission, sir?’
‘He was telling me that Jan Konnen was in your inn the night he was murdered, Totz,’ I said. ‘Is it true?’
Ulrich Totz did not respond immediately. Then, a thin smile appeared, and the reply flowed like warm milk and melted honey. ‘That’s right, sir,’ he said. ‘I have already told the police everything I know. Under oath. Konnen was here one minute, gone the next. I cannot tell you more than that, sir. May I be excused now? We’re very busy downstairs at the moment.’
I nodded, and out he went, closing the door quietly behind him. Had I been drawn into some sort of bizarre labyrinth, or was it mere coincidence that I had been roomed in the inn where the first victim of the murderer had spent his last hours? I decided to search out Ulrich Totz’s statement to the police at the first opportunity. Clearly, there was more documentation regarding the murders than the scant evidence that I had been shown by Koch in the coach.
Down in the saloon Sergeant Koch was seated before the fire, two tall glasses of rum toddy set out on a small table beside him. The inn was busier than before, all animated – two women in loose, red skirts and low-cut blouses were the centre of attention – except for the Russian officer in his extravagant uniform who had fallen sound asleep at his table, his head propped up against the wall, a glass of grog upturned and dripping onto the floor.
‘Koch,’ I said, tapping him on the shoulder.
The sergeant jumped to his feet and slammed his hat on his head, as if I had caught him in a desperate state of undress. ‘The coach is…’
‘Jan Konnen was murdered here,’ I interrupted. ‘Did you know that?’
Koch paused long enough for me to wonder whether he was prevaricating once again. ‘I had no idea, sir. None
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