The Killing of Emma Gross Read Online Free Page A
cared just as much as I did, he left the room. I smoked my cigarette. I tried to take my time over it but it was all I had to occupy me and it was gone before I knew it.
This time when the door opened I did turn around. Ritter stood smirking at me with his buck teeth, his arms full of items bearing evidence tags.
'Has Kürten said anything about the Albermann girl?' I said.
Ritter came and sat down. The overhead light lengthened the bags under his eyes and lightened the blue of his irises. It also made his top lip twinkle. I couldn't stop looking at his moustache. He noticed me looking, pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. He took his time wiping it. There was a lot of silver in his five o'clock shadow.
The blond detective had followed him in and now stood in the corner by the window. His arms, I noticed, were empty. I hadn't expected him to bring me anything – it made more sense to make that conditional on the answers they wanted me to give – but that didn't do much to dampen my disappointment. My mouth felt drier than ever, to the point where I doubted I'd be able to talk for long. The plaster behind the blond detective was crumbling and spotted with black marks. More mould. Seemed like someone had blown the building's maintenance budget on the horses.
On the table Ritter laid out two plain brown envelopes, my notebook, and Kürten's bloody scissors. I didn't bother to read the labels on the envelopes. I knew what they would say.
'So how long exactly were you intending to hang on to this evidence before you recorded it and handed it in?' Ritter said.
'How long are you intending to torture me before you charge me or let me go?'
Ritter rubbed at the corner of his right eye and flicked the results in the direction of the window. He leaned back in the chair and put his feet up on the table. It wobbled and he put his arms out to steady himself like some tightrope walker. Guess that meant the short leg wasn't deliberate.
'You know that the possible political nature of your crime outweighs all other considerations,' he said.
So that's how he wanted to play this: the political angle. I looked at his moustache again to try and throw him off. He took his feet off the table, sat up straight and blew his nose on the same handkerchief. Again he took his time with the wiping.
'Look, Ritter, we can't spend all night playing silly buggers while a child is out there somewhere needing our help.'
He stared me into silence. 'You talk to me about playing silly buggers, Tommy-Boy? You? After all this?' He indicated the items on the table with a sweep of his hand.
'Just tell me. Do we know where she is? Whether she's alive? Did he say anything to confirm that he's the Ripper?'
'You finished?'
'She could be dying out there while you sit here getting your stupid goddamned revenge on me!'
'Finished?' He was smiling, the bastard. Well, let him. If Albermann died because of his time wasting, I'd make him pay.
Meanwhile, I was going to have to play along, so I sat back. 'What are you going to charge me with?'
Ritter watched the blond detective take notes. He chuckled. 'We'll start with obstruction. But that depends on your ongoing links with the Red Front.'
The old blame-the-leftists game. Never mind being a mass murderer or child abductor, if you really wanted a hard time in this town you had to join the Communist Party. Or, as in my case, just be suspected of having done so. I hated the goddamned Commies, but that hadn't stopped Ritter pretending I was one of them.
'I have no links with the Red Front,' I said. 'Never did.'
'Well what about your friend at the Volksstimme propaganda sheet?'
'It's a newspaper.'
'A Commie newspaper. Sounds like one of those paradigms, right Vogel?'
'Paradoxes,' Blondie – Vogel – said. That made me warm to him a little. Anyone who challenged Ritter was worth the benefit of the doubt.
'Why don't we split the difference and call it a contradiction?' I said, which got me a smile from
This time when the door opened I did turn around. Ritter stood smirking at me with his buck teeth, his arms full of items bearing evidence tags.
'Has Kürten said anything about the Albermann girl?' I said.
Ritter came and sat down. The overhead light lengthened the bags under his eyes and lightened the blue of his irises. It also made his top lip twinkle. I couldn't stop looking at his moustache. He noticed me looking, pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. He took his time wiping it. There was a lot of silver in his five o'clock shadow.
The blond detective had followed him in and now stood in the corner by the window. His arms, I noticed, were empty. I hadn't expected him to bring me anything – it made more sense to make that conditional on the answers they wanted me to give – but that didn't do much to dampen my disappointment. My mouth felt drier than ever, to the point where I doubted I'd be able to talk for long. The plaster behind the blond detective was crumbling and spotted with black marks. More mould. Seemed like someone had blown the building's maintenance budget on the horses.
On the table Ritter laid out two plain brown envelopes, my notebook, and Kürten's bloody scissors. I didn't bother to read the labels on the envelopes. I knew what they would say.
'So how long exactly were you intending to hang on to this evidence before you recorded it and handed it in?' Ritter said.
'How long are you intending to torture me before you charge me or let me go?'
Ritter rubbed at the corner of his right eye and flicked the results in the direction of the window. He leaned back in the chair and put his feet up on the table. It wobbled and he put his arms out to steady himself like some tightrope walker. Guess that meant the short leg wasn't deliberate.
'You know that the possible political nature of your crime outweighs all other considerations,' he said.
So that's how he wanted to play this: the political angle. I looked at his moustache again to try and throw him off. He took his feet off the table, sat up straight and blew his nose on the same handkerchief. Again he took his time with the wiping.
'Look, Ritter, we can't spend all night playing silly buggers while a child is out there somewhere needing our help.'
He stared me into silence. 'You talk to me about playing silly buggers, Tommy-Boy? You? After all this?' He indicated the items on the table with a sweep of his hand.
'Just tell me. Do we know where she is? Whether she's alive? Did he say anything to confirm that he's the Ripper?'
'You finished?'
'She could be dying out there while you sit here getting your stupid goddamned revenge on me!'
'Finished?' He was smiling, the bastard. Well, let him. If Albermann died because of his time wasting, I'd make him pay.
Meanwhile, I was going to have to play along, so I sat back. 'What are you going to charge me with?'
Ritter watched the blond detective take notes. He chuckled. 'We'll start with obstruction. But that depends on your ongoing links with the Red Front.'
The old blame-the-leftists game. Never mind being a mass murderer or child abductor, if you really wanted a hard time in this town you had to join the Communist Party. Or, as in my case, just be suspected of having done so. I hated the goddamned Commies, but that hadn't stopped Ritter pretending I was one of them.
'I have no links with the Red Front,' I said. 'Never did.'
'Well what about your friend at the Volksstimme propaganda sheet?'
'It's a newspaper.'
'A Commie newspaper. Sounds like one of those paradigms, right Vogel?'
'Paradoxes,' Blondie – Vogel – said. That made me warm to him a little. Anyone who challenged Ritter was worth the benefit of the doubt.
'Why don't we split the difference and call it a contradiction?' I said, which got me a smile from
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