Prague Fatale by Philip Kerr Page A

that it was dark, see? If I drew you a picture he’d look exactly like your shadow.’
     
    ‘Is that all you can remember about him?’
     
    ‘Come to think of it he had nice fruity breath. Like he’d been eating Haribos.’
     
    ‘It’s not much to go on.’
     
    ‘That all depends on where you were thinking of going.’
     
    ‘The man was trying to rape you.’
     
    ‘Was he? I guess he was.’
     
    I shrugged. ‘Maybe you should report it. I don’t know.’
     
    ‘To the police?’
     
    ‘I certainly didn’t mean the newspapers.’
     
    ‘Women in this city get attacked all the time, Parsifal. Why do you think the police would be interested in one more?’
     
    ‘He had a knife, that’s why. He might have used it on you.’
     
    ‘Listen, mister, thanks for helping me. Don’t think I’m not grateful because I am. But I don’t much like the police.’
     
    I shrugged. ‘They’re just people.’
     
    ‘Where did you get that idea? All right, Parsifal, I’ll spell it out for you. I work at the Golden Horseshoe. And sometimes the New World, when they’re not closed for lack of beer. I make an honest living but that won’t stop the cops from thinking otherwise. I can hear their patter now. Like it was a movie. You left the Horseshoe with a man, didn’t you? He’d paid you to have sex with him. Only you took his money and tried to dodge him in the dark. Isn’t that what really happened, Fräulein Tauber? Get out of here. You’re lucky we don’t throw you in Ravensbrück for being on the sledge.’
     
    I had to admit she had a point. Berlin cops had stopped being people when they married into the Reich Main SecurityOffice – the RSHA – and joined a Gothic-looking family that included the Gestapo, the SS and the SD.
     
    ‘Anyway,’ she added, ‘you don’t want the police buzzing in your ears any more than me. Not with your American cigarettes and all those cans in that bag of yours. No, I should think they might ask you some very awkward questions, which you don’t look able to answer.’
     
    ‘I guess you do have a point there, at that.’
     
    ‘Especially not wearing a suit like that.’
     
    Her visible eye was giving me the up and down.
     
    ‘What’s wrong with it?’
     
    ‘Nothing. It’s a nice suit. And that’s the point. It doesn’t look like you’ve been wearing it very much lately. Which is unusual in Berlin for a man with your accent. Which makes me think you must have been wearing something else. Most likely a uniform. That would explain the cigarettes and your quaint opinions about the police. And the tin cans, for all I know. I’ll bet you you’re in the Army. And you’ve been in Paris, if that tie is what I think it is: silk. It matches your pre-war manners, Parsifal. Manners are something else you can’t get in Berlin any more. But every German officer gets to behave like a real gentleman when he’s stationed in Paris. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway. So, you’re not a professional blackie. Just an amateur blackie, making a little money on the side while you’re home on leave. This is the only reason you’re naïvely talking about the police and reporting what happened to me this evening.’
     
    ‘You should have been a cop yourself.’ I grinned.
     
    ‘No. Not me. I like to sleep at night. But the way things are going, before very long we’re all going to be cops whether we like it or not, spying on each other, informing.’ She nodded meaningfully at the door. ‘If you know what I mean.’
     
    I didn’t say anything as Frau Lippert came back carrying a tray with two cups of tea.
     
    ‘That’s what I mean,’ added Fräulein Tauber in case I was too dumb to understand her the first time.
     
    ‘Drink your tea,’ I said. ‘It’ll help keep that eye down.’
     
    ‘I don’t see how.’
     
    ‘This is good tea,’ I told Frau Lippert.
     
    ‘Thank you, Herr—?’
     
    ‘That is, I don’t see how it can help a blue eye.’
     
    I