Magic Hoffmann by Jakob Arjouni Page A

saying. How old are you? Twenty.’
    He approached Fred and leaned down to him. ‘These are your best years that you’re so determined to just chuck away. And for what? Because you’ve heard of the foolish notion of honour among thieves in some old movie. You’ll shove that honour where the sun don’t shine once you’ve spent a few months behind bars, and for twenty four hours a day, while your so-called mates sit in the sun somewhere, dishing out your share and laughing themselves silly about your foolish loyalty!’
    â€˜I think it’s you that’s seen the old film, superintendent.’
    â€˜You’re ruining your life!’
    â€˜You understand that then? How long have you been hanging around in Dieburg?’
    The superintendent closed his eyes, then he turned away and began pacing up and down the room again.
    â€˜I don’t know why but I like you, Hoffmann . And I would find it a pity to see you spending four years making clothes pegs or some such trash… Just think what you could become.’
    â€˜You mean a grass?’
    The superintendent was raging. ‘I mean a young man who enjoys life. You’d be out in a year, a year and a half at most.’
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    â€˜Besides, you must have noticed yourself that we…have changed.’
    â€˜Yes…’ Fred looked up and smiled distractedly.
    He had to pull himself together. Cursing and screaming didn’t help, it only made things worse. He needed to show Annette who he was. And if everything fell apart, he would go to Canada!
    He got a grip of himself and said, far too loud: ‘Okay. There’s still my money.’
    Annette looked for a minute as though she didn’t know what he was talking about. At a stroke the distraction in Fred’s eyes disappeared. Before Annette could answer he repeated: ‘My money!’ in a tone which made her wince.
    â€˜But you know that Nickel has it.’
    â€˜How am I supposed to know that?’
    â€˜I thought Nickel would have written and told you.’
    Fred thought briefly of Nickel’s how-are-you-I-am-very-well postcards.
    â€˜He wanted to earn interest on it - you know Nickel. He will certainly have got the best deal for you, and he said he would do it in such a way that you could draw it at any time…’ and with a forced smile and a gesture towards the ceiling, ‘Who knows, maybe you’re already a millionaire!’
    Fred opened his mouth as if he wanted to get something off his chest, but he remained silent. He stared grimly at Annette, and for a while they stood opposite each other in silence at different ends of the counter.
    â€˜All right,’ he said finally, ‘that’s that then. Where does Nickel live?’
    Annette watched him, still incredulous. Slowly she detached herself from the counter, went to the desk, stubbed out her cigarette with a sigh and picked up a pencil. While she was writing down Nickel’s address and phone number, Fred went to the bed and rolled up his vomit-stained overalls.
    â€˜Don’t you even want to stay for our party this evening?’
    â€˜No time.’
    â€˜But Fred. We haven’t really seen each other properly and…’ she paused.
    â€˜You can come and visit me in Canada. Now I must rush.’ Fred took the piece of paper with Nickel’s address from her hand, pocketed it and pulled at his shirt. ‘I’ll bring the clothes back before I leave.’
    As he turned for the door, Annette held onto his arm. Fred resisted his first impulse to shake off her hand. Her look was now almost tender, and at the same time, sad. Clearly she didn’t want just to let Fred go - or at least she didn’t want it to seem as if she would simply let him go. Fred let her hold his arm like a piece of wood.
    â€˜Why did you never write anything about Canada,’ she asked.
    â€˜That was agreed as well: not a word about our