the senior chef, with his Forster Bischofsgarten Spätlese that finished us off? Or the rain and the rheumatism? The links between cause and effect and guilt went on and on.
Schneider in his white lab coat was often in my thoughts in the days that followed. I didn’t have much to do. Goedecke wanted a further, more detailed report on the disloyal branch manager, and another client came to me not realizing he could have got the same information from the town clerk’s office.
On Wednesday my arm was on the mend and I could finally collect my car from the RCW parking lot. The chlorine had eaten into the paint. I’d add that to the bill. The guard greeted me and asked whether the cake had been good. I had left it in the taxi on Monday.
12
Among screech owls
While playing Doppelkopf with my friends, I presented them with the links between cause and effect and guilt. A couple of times a year we meet on a Wednesday in the Badische Weinstuben, to play cards: Eberhard, the chess grandmaster; Willy, the ornithologist and an emeritus of the University of Heidelberg; Philipp, surgeon at the city hospital; and myself.
At fifty-seven Philipp is our Benjamin, and Eberhard our Nestor at seventy-two. Willy is half a year younger than me. We never get particularly far with our Doppelkopf, we like talking too much.
I told them about Schneider’s background, his passion for gambling, and how I’d cast suspicion on him that I didn’t really believe in myself but nonetheless had used to take him harshly to task.
‘Two hours later the man hangs himself. Not, I think, because of my suspicion, but because he could foresee the uncovering of his continued gambling addition. Am I to blame for his death?’
‘You’re the lawyer,’ said Philipp. ‘Don’t you have any criteria for this sort of thing?’
‘Legally I’m not guilty. But it’s the moral aspect that interests me.’
The three of them looked at a complete loss. Eberhard ruminated. ‘Then I wouldn’t be allowed to win at chess any more because my opponent might be sensitive and might take a defeat so to heart that he kills himself over it.’
‘So, if you know that defeat is the drop that will make the glass of depression overflow, leave him alone and look for another opponent,’ Philipp suggested.
Eberhard wasn’t satisfied with Philipp’s hypothesis. ‘What do I do at a tournament where I can’t select my opponent?’
‘Well, among screech owls . . .’ Willy began. ‘It gets clearer by the day why I love screech owls so much. They catch their mice and sparrows, take care of their young, live in their tree-hollows and cavities in the earth, don’t need any company, nor a state, are courageous and sharp, true to their family. There’s real wisdom in their eyes, and I’ve never heard any such snivelling outpourings about guilt and expiation from them. Besides, if it’s not the legal but the moral side that interests you, all people are guilty of all things.’
‘Put yourself under my knife. If it slips from my grasp because a nurse is turning me on, is everyone here guilty?’ Philipp made a sweeping hand gesture. The waiter understood it as the ordering of another round and brought a pils, a Laufen Gutedel, an Ihring Vulkanfelsen, and a grog for Willy, who was suffering from a cold.
‘Well, you’ll have us to deal with if you hack up Willy.’ I raised my glass to Willy. He couldn’t drink back to me, his grog was still too hot.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not stupid. If I do something to Willy, we won’t be able to play Doppelkopf any more.’
‘Exactly, let’s play another round,’ said Eberhard. But before we could start he folded his cards together pensively and laid the little pile on the table. ‘Although, seriously, I’m the eldest so it’s easiest for me to broach the subject, what’s to become of us if one of us . . . if . . . you know what I mean.’
‘If there are only three of us left?’ Philipp said with a grin. ‘Then
Schneider in his white lab coat was often in my thoughts in the days that followed. I didn’t have much to do. Goedecke wanted a further, more detailed report on the disloyal branch manager, and another client came to me not realizing he could have got the same information from the town clerk’s office.
On Wednesday my arm was on the mend and I could finally collect my car from the RCW parking lot. The chlorine had eaten into the paint. I’d add that to the bill. The guard greeted me and asked whether the cake had been good. I had left it in the taxi on Monday.
12
Among screech owls
While playing Doppelkopf with my friends, I presented them with the links between cause and effect and guilt. A couple of times a year we meet on a Wednesday in the Badische Weinstuben, to play cards: Eberhard, the chess grandmaster; Willy, the ornithologist and an emeritus of the University of Heidelberg; Philipp, surgeon at the city hospital; and myself.
At fifty-seven Philipp is our Benjamin, and Eberhard our Nestor at seventy-two. Willy is half a year younger than me. We never get particularly far with our Doppelkopf, we like talking too much.
I told them about Schneider’s background, his passion for gambling, and how I’d cast suspicion on him that I didn’t really believe in myself but nonetheless had used to take him harshly to task.
‘Two hours later the man hangs himself. Not, I think, because of my suspicion, but because he could foresee the uncovering of his continued gambling addition. Am I to blame for his death?’
‘You’re the lawyer,’ said Philipp. ‘Don’t you have any criteria for this sort of thing?’
‘Legally I’m not guilty. But it’s the moral aspect that interests me.’
The three of them looked at a complete loss. Eberhard ruminated. ‘Then I wouldn’t be allowed to win at chess any more because my opponent might be sensitive and might take a defeat so to heart that he kills himself over it.’
‘So, if you know that defeat is the drop that will make the glass of depression overflow, leave him alone and look for another opponent,’ Philipp suggested.
Eberhard wasn’t satisfied with Philipp’s hypothesis. ‘What do I do at a tournament where I can’t select my opponent?’
‘Well, among screech owls . . .’ Willy began. ‘It gets clearer by the day why I love screech owls so much. They catch their mice and sparrows, take care of their young, live in their tree-hollows and cavities in the earth, don’t need any company, nor a state, are courageous and sharp, true to their family. There’s real wisdom in their eyes, and I’ve never heard any such snivelling outpourings about guilt and expiation from them. Besides, if it’s not the legal but the moral side that interests you, all people are guilty of all things.’
‘Put yourself under my knife. If it slips from my grasp because a nurse is turning me on, is everyone here guilty?’ Philipp made a sweeping hand gesture. The waiter understood it as the ordering of another round and brought a pils, a Laufen Gutedel, an Ihring Vulkanfelsen, and a grog for Willy, who was suffering from a cold.
‘Well, you’ll have us to deal with if you hack up Willy.’ I raised my glass to Willy. He couldn’t drink back to me, his grog was still too hot.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not stupid. If I do something to Willy, we won’t be able to play Doppelkopf any more.’
‘Exactly, let’s play another round,’ said Eberhard. But before we could start he folded his cards together pensively and laid the little pile on the table. ‘Although, seriously, I’m the eldest so it’s easiest for me to broach the subject, what’s to become of us if one of us . . . if . . . you know what I mean.’
‘If there are only three of us left?’ Philipp said with a grin. ‘Then
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