‘Inspector, we are not on German soil here.’
Fritz straightened. Finally, they had come to the violence he expected. Or the intimation of violence.
‘And since we are not,’ Hess said, noting Fritz’s change in posture, ‘I shall speak freely and then deny anything I have said if others ask.’
Fritz felt a chill run down his back.
‘Geli’s death has come at an opportune time for Herr Hitler’s enemies, and in the perfect location.’
‘Are you saying she was murdered?’
‘If she were – and I am not saying that she was – the time and place of her death would have created problems for Herr Hitler.’
‘Who would need to set him up?’ Fritz asked.
Hess’s smile was small, cold. ‘Talk with Gregor Strasser. Ask what would happen to him if Herr Hitler were no longer leading the party.’
‘You tell me,’ Fritz said.
Hess lowered his chin, the look both condescending and cold. ‘You really should follow politics more, Detective Inspector.’
He would. He would follow the lead. It was more than he expected from Hess. ‘If she were murdered by one of Hitler’s enemies, isn’t it better to reveal that?’
‘Come now, Inspector. Not even you are so naïve. This is our year. We may never get another chance. Better to close the case than to run a campaign during an on-going police investigation.’
‘Better to let a murderer go, to let a threat to Hitler continue than to risk a few weeks bad publicity.’
This time, Hess’s smile was broad. He brought his head forward once, not fast enough to be a nod, not slow enough to be anything else. ‘You are as quick as they say.’ The tone was mocking.
‘Perhaps not,’ Fritz said. ‘I revel in difficult cases.’
Hess crossed his arms over his broad chest. ‘Geli Raubal committed suicide. That is a fact you should remember, Inspector.’
Fritz clenched his fists, energy running through his arms. He hated the smugness on Hess’s square face. ‘Are you threatening me?’
‘I have no need to, Inspector,’ Hess said. ‘You threaten yourself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am to speak to the family.’
He walked away, his stride long and athletic. Fritz watched him go. Fritz had known the NSDAP since its inception years before. He had not thought of the party as particularlypowerful. Perhaps he would have to rethink his impressions.
Hess continued his walk to the open grave. Fritz watched him mingle with the Raubal family. They greeted him like an old friend which, in truth, he probably was.
‘Why didn’t you speak with the family?’ the girl says.
‘You get ahead of me,’ Fritz replies. He shifts in his chair. The spring is digging into his back. ‘I spoke to them after Hess left. They did not know anything of Geli’s life in Munich. The sister, Friedl, obviously looked up to Geli, and envied her abilities with men. The brother was protective, but dismissive. He had not spent much time with her since she was a girl. And he did say that she had always been Hitler’s favourite, even as a child.’
‘And what about her mother?’ the girl asks.
Fritz takes a cigarette from his pack, taps the end on the table, and then puts the cigarette in his mouth. ‘She said nothing.’
‘This didn’t bother you?’
‘Of course it bothered me,’ Fritz says, ‘but not in the way you think. Angela Raubal was the one who let her daughter live in Munich without supervision. She had to have known Hitler’s feeling for Geli. She had to have known the dangerous people her brother associated with. She had to have known that her daughter was flighty and flirtatious, and still she allowed Geli to live away from her.’
‘Geli was a grown woman, for all you call her a girl.’
‘Yes, but it was customary in good Catholic families to keep the unmarried daughters at home.’
‘Even after 1923?’
So the American does have some inkling of history. Fritz picks up his lighter, flicks the end, and watches the butane flame flare. Hetouches the
Fritz straightened. Finally, they had come to the violence he expected. Or the intimation of violence.
‘And since we are not,’ Hess said, noting Fritz’s change in posture, ‘I shall speak freely and then deny anything I have said if others ask.’
Fritz felt a chill run down his back.
‘Geli’s death has come at an opportune time for Herr Hitler’s enemies, and in the perfect location.’
‘Are you saying she was murdered?’
‘If she were – and I am not saying that she was – the time and place of her death would have created problems for Herr Hitler.’
‘Who would need to set him up?’ Fritz asked.
Hess’s smile was small, cold. ‘Talk with Gregor Strasser. Ask what would happen to him if Herr Hitler were no longer leading the party.’
‘You tell me,’ Fritz said.
Hess lowered his chin, the look both condescending and cold. ‘You really should follow politics more, Detective Inspector.’
He would. He would follow the lead. It was more than he expected from Hess. ‘If she were murdered by one of Hitler’s enemies, isn’t it better to reveal that?’
‘Come now, Inspector. Not even you are so naïve. This is our year. We may never get another chance. Better to close the case than to run a campaign during an on-going police investigation.’
‘Better to let a murderer go, to let a threat to Hitler continue than to risk a few weeks bad publicity.’
This time, Hess’s smile was broad. He brought his head forward once, not fast enough to be a nod, not slow enough to be anything else. ‘You are as quick as they say.’ The tone was mocking.
‘Perhaps not,’ Fritz said. ‘I revel in difficult cases.’
Hess crossed his arms over his broad chest. ‘Geli Raubal committed suicide. That is a fact you should remember, Inspector.’
Fritz clenched his fists, energy running through his arms. He hated the smugness on Hess’s square face. ‘Are you threatening me?’
‘I have no need to, Inspector,’ Hess said. ‘You threaten yourself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am to speak to the family.’
He walked away, his stride long and athletic. Fritz watched him go. Fritz had known the NSDAP since its inception years before. He had not thought of the party as particularlypowerful. Perhaps he would have to rethink his impressions.
Hess continued his walk to the open grave. Fritz watched him mingle with the Raubal family. They greeted him like an old friend which, in truth, he probably was.
‘Why didn’t you speak with the family?’ the girl says.
‘You get ahead of me,’ Fritz replies. He shifts in his chair. The spring is digging into his back. ‘I spoke to them after Hess left. They did not know anything of Geli’s life in Munich. The sister, Friedl, obviously looked up to Geli, and envied her abilities with men. The brother was protective, but dismissive. He had not spent much time with her since she was a girl. And he did say that she had always been Hitler’s favourite, even as a child.’
‘And what about her mother?’ the girl asks.
Fritz takes a cigarette from his pack, taps the end on the table, and then puts the cigarette in his mouth. ‘She said nothing.’
‘This didn’t bother you?’
‘Of course it bothered me,’ Fritz says, ‘but not in the way you think. Angela Raubal was the one who let her daughter live in Munich without supervision. She had to have known Hitler’s feeling for Geli. She had to have known the dangerous people her brother associated with. She had to have known that her daughter was flighty and flirtatious, and still she allowed Geli to live away from her.’
‘Geli was a grown woman, for all you call her a girl.’
‘Yes, but it was customary in good Catholic families to keep the unmarried daughters at home.’
‘Even after 1923?’
So the American does have some inkling of history. Fritz picks up his lighter, flicks the end, and watches the butane flame flare. Hetouches the
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