He raised his glass to Newman, took a sip and set the glass down on a table.
`I'm getting to be a regular toper on this trip,' he remarked. `Are you thinking what I'm thinking9'
`Tell me what's inside your sceptical mind and we'll see.'
`Kuhlmann correctly placed us in the locations of both these ghastly murders. He doesn't know there is a third possible suspect to add to his list. Hugh Grey. He was in Frankfurt — that was the night he spilt whisky over my best suit. And when he came to see us at the Four Seasons in Hamburg over breakfast the topic of that murder in Frankfurt came into the conversation. I mentioned it myself.'
`The same thought crossed my mind. It could be worse than you realize. Mind you, it's a very long shot. I was there for a conference of the four newly-appointed sector chiefs. Not only was Hugh in Frankfurt. Harry Masterson and Guy Dalby attended the same meeting along with Erich Lindemann..
`But you spoke to Masterson on the phone from the ,Hauptbahnhof here at midday. That was when Masterson warned you about The Cripple heading this way. And,' Newman reminded him, `Masterson was speaking from Vienna...'
`But it didn't sound like it. I told you it sounded far more like a local call.'
`Then there's Erich Lindemann.' Newman paused while he sipped at his cognac. `We only have his word he climbed aboard the express at Puttgarden. Supposing he did board the train at Lübeck just before it left?'
`Go on.'
`We didn't actually see Lindemann leave on the express when it rolled on to the train ferry prior to crossing the Baltic to Denmark. It was still in the station when I looked back as we walked out of sight of it along that country road...'
`Your scepticism is reaching unprecedented heights. Flights of fancy, Bob. To change the subject, I think tomorrow we might spy out the land at Travemünde before we attend Dr Berlin's party the day after.'
`It would be an ideal moment,' Newman replied.
`Ideal? I'm not with you...'
`That's because you're not a newspaper reporter. Think of the atmosphere out at Travemünde. A brutal, motiveless murder has occurred. Kuhlmann himself made a reference to the boat people battening down the hatches. They'll all be jumpy — but ready to talk their heads off about the murder to almost anyone. In daylight at any rate. There's a ghoulish element in human nature. I predict we'll get to know more people in a day than we would normally in a month.'
`You could be right. Well, we'll see...' Tweed's thoughts seemed to be miles away and he gave the impression of replying automatically.
`What's the matter?' Newman asked.
`Your flights of fancy. They're crazy, of course, but I find them disturbing. If by a million-to-one chance you were right it opens up vistas infinitely more horrific than the murder itself …'
`It was the same bastard — the Frankfurt maniac.'
Kuhlmann made the statement as he walked with Tweed and Newman past the crooked gate towers towards the station the following morning. He had caught them leaving the Jensen on their way to Travemünde.
`How do you know for certain?' Newman asked, shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun.
`Two things. The Frankfurt pathologist's report came in over the teletype. The local pathologist checked his own findings against it. We were up all night while he did his job on that Swedish girl. His report checks with the one from Frankfurt.
It looks like the same weapon was used to carve her up.' `What kind of weapon?' Tweed asked.
`Wrong word, really. Comes to the same thing. A chef's knife is the opinion of both pathologists. The kind of knife you find in any reasonably well-equipped housewife's kitchen.'
`Not much help,' Tweed suggested.
`No bloody help at all.'
No one said anything more until they were entering the booking hall. Tweed went to the window to buy the tickets to Travemünde, leaving the other two outside a bookshop.
`What do you expect to find at Travemünde?' Kuhlmann asked.
`I'll know when
`I'm getting to be a regular toper on this trip,' he remarked. `Are you thinking what I'm thinking9'
`Tell me what's inside your sceptical mind and we'll see.'
`Kuhlmann correctly placed us in the locations of both these ghastly murders. He doesn't know there is a third possible suspect to add to his list. Hugh Grey. He was in Frankfurt — that was the night he spilt whisky over my best suit. And when he came to see us at the Four Seasons in Hamburg over breakfast the topic of that murder in Frankfurt came into the conversation. I mentioned it myself.'
`The same thought crossed my mind. It could be worse than you realize. Mind you, it's a very long shot. I was there for a conference of the four newly-appointed sector chiefs. Not only was Hugh in Frankfurt. Harry Masterson and Guy Dalby attended the same meeting along with Erich Lindemann..
`But you spoke to Masterson on the phone from the ,Hauptbahnhof here at midday. That was when Masterson warned you about The Cripple heading this way. And,' Newman reminded him, `Masterson was speaking from Vienna...'
`But it didn't sound like it. I told you it sounded far more like a local call.'
`Then there's Erich Lindemann.' Newman paused while he sipped at his cognac. `We only have his word he climbed aboard the express at Puttgarden. Supposing he did board the train at Lübeck just before it left?'
`Go on.'
`We didn't actually see Lindemann leave on the express when it rolled on to the train ferry prior to crossing the Baltic to Denmark. It was still in the station when I looked back as we walked out of sight of it along that country road...'
`Your scepticism is reaching unprecedented heights. Flights of fancy, Bob. To change the subject, I think tomorrow we might spy out the land at Travemünde before we attend Dr Berlin's party the day after.'
`It would be an ideal moment,' Newman replied.
`Ideal? I'm not with you...'
`That's because you're not a newspaper reporter. Think of the atmosphere out at Travemünde. A brutal, motiveless murder has occurred. Kuhlmann himself made a reference to the boat people battening down the hatches. They'll all be jumpy — but ready to talk their heads off about the murder to almost anyone. In daylight at any rate. There's a ghoulish element in human nature. I predict we'll get to know more people in a day than we would normally in a month.'
`You could be right. Well, we'll see...' Tweed's thoughts seemed to be miles away and he gave the impression of replying automatically.
`What's the matter?' Newman asked.
`Your flights of fancy. They're crazy, of course, but I find them disturbing. If by a million-to-one chance you were right it opens up vistas infinitely more horrific than the murder itself …'
`It was the same bastard — the Frankfurt maniac.'
Kuhlmann made the statement as he walked with Tweed and Newman past the crooked gate towers towards the station the following morning. He had caught them leaving the Jensen on their way to Travemünde.
`How do you know for certain?' Newman asked, shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun.
`Two things. The Frankfurt pathologist's report came in over the teletype. The local pathologist checked his own findings against it. We were up all night while he did his job on that Swedish girl. His report checks with the one from Frankfurt.
It looks like the same weapon was used to carve her up.' `What kind of weapon?' Tweed asked.
`Wrong word, really. Comes to the same thing. A chef's knife is the opinion of both pathologists. The kind of knife you find in any reasonably well-equipped housewife's kitchen.'
`Not much help,' Tweed suggested.
`No bloody help at all.'
No one said anything more until they were entering the booking hall. Tweed went to the window to buy the tickets to Travemünde, leaving the other two outside a bookshop.
`What do you expect to find at Travemünde?' Kuhlmann asked.
`I'll know when
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