March Violets by Philip Kerr Read Free Book Online Page A

earrings that she would have worn.’
    â€˜How do you mean?’
    â€˜These were for pierced ears, and Frau Pfarr only ever wore clips. So I drew my own conclusions, but said nothing. It was none of my business what he got up to. But I reckon she had her suspicions. She wasn’t a stupid woman. Far from it. I believe that’s what drove her to drink as much as she did.’
    â€˜Did she drink?’
    â€˜Like a sponge.’
    â€˜What about him? He worked at the Ministry of the Interior, didn’t he?’
    She shrugged. ‘It was some government place, but I couldn’t tell you what it was called. He was something to do with the law — he had a certificate on the wall of his study. All the same, he was very quiet about his work. And very careful not to leave papers lying around so that I might see them. Not that I would have read them, mind. But he didn’t take the chance.’
    â€˜Did he work at home much?’
    â€˜Sometimes. And I know he used to spend time at that big office building on Bülowplatz — you know, the one that used to be the headquarters for them Bolsheviks.’
    â€˜You mean the DAF building, the headquarters of the German Labour Front. That’s what it is now that the Kozis have been thrown out of it.’
    â€˜That’s right. Now and again Herr Pfarr would give me a lift there, you see. My sister lives in Brunenstrasse and normally I’d catch a Number 99 to Rosenthaler Platz after work. Now and then Herr Pfarr was kind enough to run me as far as Bülowplatz, where I’d see him go in the DAF building.’
    â€˜You saw them last - when?’
    â€˜It’s two weeks yesterday. I’ve been on holiday, see. A Strength Through Joy trip to Rugen Island. I saw her, but not him.’
    â€˜How was she?’
    â€˜She seemed quite happy for a change. Not only that, but she didn’t have a drink in her hand when she spoke to me. She told me that she was planning a little holiday to the spas. She often went there. I think she got dried out.’
    â€˜I see. And so this morning you went to Ferdinandstrasse via the tailors, is that correct, Frau Schmidt?’
    â€˜Yes, that’s right. I often did little errands for Herr Pfarr. He was usually too busy to get to the shops, and so he’d pay me to get things for him. Before I went on holiday there was a note asking me to drop his suit off at his tailors and that they knew all about it.’
    â€˜His suit, you say.’
    â€˜Well, yes, I think so.’ I picked up the box.
    â€˜Mind if I take a look?’
    â€˜I don’t see why not. He’s dead after all, isn’t he?’
    Even before I had removed the lid I had a pretty good idea of what was in the box. I wasn’t wrong. There was no mistaking the midnight black that echoed the old elitist cavalry regiments of the Kaiser’s army, the Wagnerian double-lightning flash on the right collar-patch and the Roman-style eagle and swastika on the left sleeve. The three pips on the left collar-patch denoted the wearer of the uniform as a captain, or whatever the fancy rank that captains were called in the S S was. There was a piece of paper pinned to the right sleeve. It was an invoice from Stechbarth’s, addressed to Hauptsturmführer Pfarr, for twenty-five marks. I whistled.
    â€˜So Paul Pfarr was a black angel.’
    â€˜I’d never have believed it,’ said Frau Schmidt.
    â€˜You mean you never saw him wearing this?’
    She shook her head. ‘I never even saw it hanging in his wardrobe.’
    â€˜Is that so.’ I wasn’t sure whether I believed her or not, but I could think of no reason why she should lie about it. It was not uncommon for lawyers - German lawyers, working for the Reich — to be in the S S: I imagined Pfarr wearing his uniform on ceremonial occasions only.
    It was Frau Schmidt’s turn to look puzzled. ‘I meant to ask you how the fire