ugly. I didnât suppose for a minute that I was going to get a juicy one, but then I wasnât about to settle for any cobra either. I opened the door.
âHerr Gunther?â She stood up, and I gave her the once-over: well, she wasnât as young as Gruber had led me to believe (I guessed her to be about forty-five) but not bad, I thought. A bit warm and cosy maybe (she had a substantial backside), but I happen to prefer them like that. Her hair was red with a touch of grey at the sides and on the crown, and tied back in a knot. She wore a suit of plain grey cloth, a white high-necked blouse and a black hat with a Breton brim turned up all around the head.
âGood morning,â I said, as affably as I could manage on top of the mewling tomcat that was my hangover. âYou must be my temporary secretary.â Lucky to get a woman at all, and this one looked half-reasonable.
âFrau Protze,â she declared, and shook my hand. âIâm a widow.â
âSorry,â I said, unlocking the door to my office. âWhat part of Bavaria are you from?â The accent was unmistakable.
âRegensburg.â
âThatâs a nice town.â
âYou must have found buried treasure there.â Witty too, I thought; that was good: sheâd need a sense of humour to work for me.
I told her all about my business. She said it all sounded very exciting. I showed her into the adjoining cubicle where she was to sit on that backside.
âActually, itâs not so bad if you leave the door to the waiting room open,â I explained. Then I showed her the washroom along the corridor and apologized for the shards of soap and the dirty towels. âI pay seventy-five marks a month and I get a tip like this,â I said. âDamn it, Iâm going to complain to that son-of-a-bitch of a landlord.â But even as I said it I knew I never would.
Back in my office I flipped open my diary and saw that the dayâs only appointment was Frau Heine, at eleven oâclock.
âIâve an appointment in twenty minutes,â I said. âWoman wants to know if Iâve managed to trace her missing son. Heâs a Jewish U-Boat.â
âA what?â
âA Jew in hiding.â
âWhat did he do that he has to hide?â she said.
âYou mean apart from being a Jew?â I said. Already I could see that she had led quite a sheltered life, even for a Regensburger, and it seemed a shame to expose the poor woman to the potentially distressing sight of her countryâs evil-smelling arse. Still, she was all grown-up now, and I didnât have the time to worry about it.
âHe just helped an old man who was being beaten up by some thugs. He killed one of them.â
âBut surely if he was helping the old man -â
âAh, but the old man was Jewish,â I explained. âAnd the two thugs belonged to the SA. Strange how that changes everything, isnât it? His mother asked me to find out if he was still alive and still at liberty. You see, when a man is arrested and beheaded or sent to a KZ, the authorities donât always bother to inform his family. There are a lot of MPs â missing persons - from Jewish families these days. Trying to find them is a large part of my business.â Frau Protze looked worried.
âYou help Jews?â she said.
âDonât worry,â I said. âItâs perfectly legal. And their money is as good as anyoneâs.â
âI suppose so.â
âListen, Frau Protze,â I said. âJews, gypsies, Red Indians, itâs all the same to me. Iâve got no reason to like them, but I donât have any reason to hate them either. When he walks through that door, a Jew gets the same deal as anyone else. Same as if he were the Kaiserâs cousin. But it doesnât mean Iâm dedicated to their welfare. Business is business.â
âCertainly,â said Frau Protze,
Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright