A Man Without Breath (Bernie Gunther Mystery 9) by Philip Kerr Read Free Book Online

compliment.’ I glanced at the silver tray on the table between them. ‘And some of that coffee, perhaps.’
    Goldsche grinned. ‘Of course. Please. Sit down.’
    I sat down and Goldsche helped me to some coffee.
    ‘I don’t know where the
Putzer
got this,’ said Goldsche, ‘but it’s actually very good. As a lawyer I should probably have my suspicions about his being a blackie.’
    ‘Yes, you probably should,’ I remarked. The coffee was delicious. ‘At two hundred marks for a half-kilo that’s quite an orderly you have there. I’d hang on to him if I were you and learn to look the other way like everyone else does in this city.’
    ‘Oh dear.’ Von Dohnanyi smiled very faintly. ‘I suppose I should confess that the coffee came from me,’ he said. ‘My father gets it whenever he plays a concert in Budapest or Vienna. I was going to mention it before, but I hardly wanted to diminish your good opinion of the
Putzer
, Johannes. Nowit seems I might get him into trouble. The coffee was a gift from me.’
    ‘My dear fellow, you’re too kind.’ Goldsche glanced my way. ‘Von Dohnanyi’s father is the great conductor and composer, Ernst von Dohnanyi.’ Goldsche was a tremendous snob about classical music.
    ‘Do you like music, Captain Gunther?’
    Dohnanyi’s enquiry was scrupulously polite. Behind his round, frameless glasses the eyes didn’t care if I liked music or not; but then neither did I, and without the von in front of my name I certainly wasn’t nearly as scrupulous as he was about what I used to fill my ears.
    ‘I like a good melody if it’s sung by a pretty girl with a good pair of lungs, especially when the lyric is a vulgar one and the lungs are really noticeable. And I can’t tell an arpeggio from an archipelago. But life’s too short for Wagner, I do know that much.’
    Goldsche grinned enthusiastically. He always seemed to take a vicarious delight in my capacity for blunt talking, which I enjoyed playing up to. ‘What else do you know?’ he enquired.
    ‘I whistle when I’m in the bath, which isn’t as often as I’d like,’ I added, lighting a cigarette. That was the other good thing about working for the OKW – there was always a plentiful supply of quite decent cigarettes. ‘Talking of which, it seems the Russians are here already.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ asked von Dohnanyi, momentarily alarmed.
    ‘Those fellows whistling in the corridor outside the door,’ I said. ‘The skilled German craftsmen from the local glazier’s guild who are repairing the flower-house windows. They’re Russians.’
    ‘Good Lord,’ said Goldsche. ‘Here? In the OKW? That hardly seems like a good idea. What about security?’
    ‘Someone’s got to repair the windows,’ I said. ‘It’s cold outside. There’s no secret about that. I just hope the glass is more durable than the Luftwaffe, because I’ve got the feeling the RAF is planning a return visit.’
    Von Dohnanyi allowed himself a thin smile and then an even thinner puff of his cigarette. I’d seen children smoke with more gusto.
    ‘How are you feeling, anyway?’ Goldsche looked at the other lawyer and explained. ‘Gunther was in a house in Lutzow that was bombed while he was taking a deposition from a potential witness. He’s lucky to be here at all.’
    ‘That’s certainly the way I feel about it.’ I tapped my chest. ‘And I’m much better, thanks.’
    ‘Fit for work?’
    ‘Chest is still a bit tight, but otherwise I’m more or less back to normal.’
    ‘And the witness? Herr Meyer?’
    ‘He’s alive, but I’m afraid the only evidence he’s going to give any time soon is in the court of heaven.’
    ‘You’ve seen him?’ asked von Dohnanyi. ‘In the Jewish Hospital?’
    ‘Yes, poor fellow. A large part of his brain seems to have gone missing. Not that anyone notices that kind of thing very much nowadays. But he’s no use to us now, I’m afraid.’
    ‘Pity,’ said Goldsche. ‘He was going to be an