me like a dog,' Kürten said.
'Who did?'
He didn't hear me. 'No, worse than a dog. With their fettering and their solitary and their work details.' He tapped a forefinger on the table, as though rehearsing his day in court. 'Well, you beat a dog often enough, eventually you get bitten.' He turned to the door. He yelled, 'Bitten! You feel it? You feel it now?'
This wasn't going anywhere. I rubbed my left eye, forgetting it was bruised. Pain flooded that side of my face and I had to blink back tears.
'You wanted to see me?' I said.
'I wanted to see you?' His face blanked. Then he smiled. 'Ah, Thomas. My friend. After all we've shared. Your eyes look terrible. You want to try a bit of meat on that. Raw meat, you know. Does wonders for a bad eye.'
'Why did you ask for me?'
'These people don't get it. But they haven't endured loss, not like us. They don't know what it's all about. Well maybe they know now.'
Like us? My thoughts flashed on Lilli. How could he know about that? I was stroking my belly scar. I pulled my hand away, realised he meant Christine Klein.
'How did it feel when your father raped your sister?' I wanted to snap him out of his thoughts, direct his rambling. Wanted to snap out of my thoughts of Lilli, too. Keep the focus, keep to the job. Keep on going. The file said Kürten senior had served seven sentences in his time for assault and the like. Also eighteen months for incest with Kürten's eldest sister in 1897.
He frowned at me. I repeated the question. He shrugged.
'Rape is a strong word, wouldn't you say?' he said.
'What would you call it?'
'What is one supposed to feel about it, anyway?' He waved his hands through the air.
'You were there, weren't you? When it happened? And all of what? Twelve? Thirteen years old? How did it feel to watch him do that to your sister?'
He blew air through loosened lips, like a horse. 'She was a whore.' He dismissed the sister with another wave at nothing in particular. 'Even tried to sleep with me once. More than once.'
'I need to ask you – '
He spoke over me. 'What, detective? What do you need to ask me? What they tell you to? Those fools out there who hadn't even the insight to put you on the case?'
I stared at him and played out the moves I could make next. I lit myself a cigar and offered one to Kürten. He shook his head. I was tempted to offer one to the stenographer, but that was just the sadist in me. Poor bugger looked ill enough already.
'How did you know that?' I said.
'How long have I been in here?' Kürten asked.
I pulled my watch from my waistcoat.
'No, don't answer that,' he said. 'It was rhetorical. I've been in this little box a long time now. Many hours. You're the man who brought me in, yet in all that time you haven't been back once. Why?'
He leaned back and crossed his arms, then he leaned forward and said, 'More than this, if I think back to yesterday afternoon, and you coming to bring me in with no back-up...'
'What do you think all the blue coats outside were about?' I said.
'They weren't yours. You were surprised when they turned up. And they opened fire even though you were there, in the way. Why?' He held a finger in the air to forestall any idiot questions I might have asked. Staying seated, he reached across for the dressing on my cheek. I lurched to my feet before he could land a finger on me. My chair toppled.
'There is only one answer that makes sense.' Kürten stood and pointed at me. 'And now here you are, at my behest. Where you should be.'
I blushed. I'd allowed this man to derail my line of questioning and he'd driven me out of my chair with some words and a prying finger. I felt like a muschi , a goddamned rookie. I covered myself with a few puffs on the cigar, filling the space between us with smoke. The stenographer sat poised over his pad, pencil in hand ready to go on.
'Sit down,' I said, pointing to Kürten's chair.
Kürten laughed and did as I asked. I retook my seat, pulling it back from the table so
'Who did?'
He didn't hear me. 'No, worse than a dog. With their fettering and their solitary and their work details.' He tapped a forefinger on the table, as though rehearsing his day in court. 'Well, you beat a dog often enough, eventually you get bitten.' He turned to the door. He yelled, 'Bitten! You feel it? You feel it now?'
This wasn't going anywhere. I rubbed my left eye, forgetting it was bruised. Pain flooded that side of my face and I had to blink back tears.
'You wanted to see me?' I said.
'I wanted to see you?' His face blanked. Then he smiled. 'Ah, Thomas. My friend. After all we've shared. Your eyes look terrible. You want to try a bit of meat on that. Raw meat, you know. Does wonders for a bad eye.'
'Why did you ask for me?'
'These people don't get it. But they haven't endured loss, not like us. They don't know what it's all about. Well maybe they know now.'
Like us? My thoughts flashed on Lilli. How could he know about that? I was stroking my belly scar. I pulled my hand away, realised he meant Christine Klein.
'How did it feel when your father raped your sister?' I wanted to snap him out of his thoughts, direct his rambling. Wanted to snap out of my thoughts of Lilli, too. Keep the focus, keep to the job. Keep on going. The file said Kürten senior had served seven sentences in his time for assault and the like. Also eighteen months for incest with Kürten's eldest sister in 1897.
He frowned at me. I repeated the question. He shrugged.
'Rape is a strong word, wouldn't you say?' he said.
'What would you call it?'
'What is one supposed to feel about it, anyway?' He waved his hands through the air.
'You were there, weren't you? When it happened? And all of what? Twelve? Thirteen years old? How did it feel to watch him do that to your sister?'
He blew air through loosened lips, like a horse. 'She was a whore.' He dismissed the sister with another wave at nothing in particular. 'Even tried to sleep with me once. More than once.'
'I need to ask you – '
He spoke over me. 'What, detective? What do you need to ask me? What they tell you to? Those fools out there who hadn't even the insight to put you on the case?'
I stared at him and played out the moves I could make next. I lit myself a cigar and offered one to Kürten. He shook his head. I was tempted to offer one to the stenographer, but that was just the sadist in me. Poor bugger looked ill enough already.
'How did you know that?' I said.
'How long have I been in here?' Kürten asked.
I pulled my watch from my waistcoat.
'No, don't answer that,' he said. 'It was rhetorical. I've been in this little box a long time now. Many hours. You're the man who brought me in, yet in all that time you haven't been back once. Why?'
He leaned back and crossed his arms, then he leaned forward and said, 'More than this, if I think back to yesterday afternoon, and you coming to bring me in with no back-up...'
'What do you think all the blue coats outside were about?' I said.
'They weren't yours. You were surprised when they turned up. And they opened fire even though you were there, in the way. Why?' He held a finger in the air to forestall any idiot questions I might have asked. Staying seated, he reached across for the dressing on my cheek. I lurched to my feet before he could land a finger on me. My chair toppled.
'There is only one answer that makes sense.' Kürten stood and pointed at me. 'And now here you are, at my behest. Where you should be.'
I blushed. I'd allowed this man to derail my line of questioning and he'd driven me out of my chair with some words and a prying finger. I felt like a muschi , a goddamned rookie. I covered myself with a few puffs on the cigar, filling the space between us with smoke. The stenographer sat poised over his pad, pencil in hand ready to go on.
'Sit down,' I said, pointing to Kürten's chair.
Kürten laughed and did as I asked. I retook my seat, pulling it back from the table so
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