‘So you had the impression that he hadn’t yet taken them?’
Kritzinger paused and thought about this. ‘Yes. But as I say, he certainly didn’t look like a man who needed sleeping pills.’
‘Because he looked so tired already?’
‘That’s right, sir.’
‘Did you see him drink very much last night?’
‘No. He hardly drank at all. He had a glass of beer in his hand before he went to bed, but now I come to think of it that was all I saw him drink the whole evening. He seemed to be a most abstemious sort of person, if I’m honest.’
‘Thank you. By the way I should like to have a plan of the house, with an indication of who was in each of the bedrooms. Is that possible?’
‘Yes, sir. I’ll see to it.’
‘All right, Kritzinger. That’ll be all for now.’
‘Thank you, sir. Will you be lunching with everyone, sir?’
‘I really hadn’t thought about it. But I missed breakfast and now I find I’m ravenously hungry, so yes, I will.’
SS Obergruppenführer Karl von Eberstein was chatting with Kurt Kahlo when I came into the Morning Room. He was a genial type for an aristocrat.
‘Ah, Commissar Gunther, there you are. We were beginning to think you’d forgotten me.’
He was early and he knew it, but he was also a general and I wasn’t yet ready to start contradicting him.
‘I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for long, sir.’
‘No, no. I was just admiring General Heydrich’s grand piano. It’s a Blüthner. Very fine.’
He was standing right in front of the instrument – which was as big and black as a Venetian gondola – and touching the keys, experimentally, like a curious child.
‘Do you play, sir?’
‘Very badly. Heydrich is the musical one. But of course it runs in that family. His father, Bruno, was something of a star at the Halle Conservatory. He was a great man and of course a great Wagnerian.’
‘You sound as if you knew him, sir.’
‘Bruno? Oh, I did. I did. I’m from Halle-an-der-Saale myself.’
‘Someone else from Halle. That’s a coincidence.’
‘Not really. My mother was Heydrich’s godmother. It was me who introduced the General to Himmler and set him on his way.’
‘Then you must feel very proud of him, sir.’
‘I do, Commissar. Very much so. He’s a credit to his country and to the whole National Socialist movement.’
‘I had no idea that you and he were so close.’
Von Eberstein came away from the piano and stood beside me in front of the fire, warming his backside with conspicuous enjoyment.
He was in his late forties. On his grey tunic was an Iron Cross first and second class, indicating he’d been given it twice, no small feat, even for an aristocrat. Still, there was a pious air about him – a bit like a hypocritical priest.
‘I like to think of him as my protégé. I’m certain he wouldn’t mind me saying that.’
The way he said this made me think that Heydrich just might mind him saying that.
‘How about Captain Kuttner?’ I asked. ‘He was from Halle, too. Did you know him well?’
‘Well enough. His father I know rather better. We were in the Army together. During the last war. Pastor Kuttner was our regimental chaplain. But for him I’m not sure I’d have fared as well as I did. He was a tremendous comfort to us all.’
‘I’m sure.’
Von Eberstein shook his head. ‘It’s a great pity that this happened. A great pity.’
‘Yes. It is, sir.’
‘And you’re quite certain it was murder and not suicide?’
‘Of course we’ll have to wait for the autopsy this afternoon to be completely sure. But I’m more or less certain, yes.’
‘Well, you know your business, I suppose.’
‘Why do you mention suicide?’
‘Only because of what happened to Albert in Latvia. He tried to kill himself there. Or at least threatened to kill himself.’
‘Exactly what did happen? I’m still a little unclear about that.’
‘I believe he suffered a nervous breakdown brought on by the difficulty of his war assignments. I mean, of course, the evacuation of the Jews in the eastern territories. Not everyone is equal to the tasks that have been set before us as a people.’
‘I wonder if you might be a little more specific, sir. Under the circumstances I think I should know all there is to know.’
‘Yes, I agree with you, Commissar. Perhaps you should.’
Von Eberstein proceeded to explain, using words and phrases that made the whole filthy business of murdering thousands of people sound like an engineering job, or perhaps an exercise in crowd control after a large game of football. It was typical of the Nazis that they should call a spade an agrarian implement; and as I listened to one weasel word after another, I felt I wanted to slap him.
