can’t say that it is.”
“Do you have any suspects?”
“We’re questioning a number of different people in connection with the murder. I’m afraid that’s all I can say at the moment.”
“Have you explored the possibility that his death was somehow linked to his teaching at the university? A disgruntled student, for example?”
The detective managed a smile, but it was clear his patience was being put to the test. “Your brother was much beloved. His students worshiped him. He was also on sabbatical this term.” The detective paused and studied Gabriel a moment. “You were aware of that, weren’t you, Herr Landau?”
Gabriel decided it was best not to lie. “No, I’m afraid I wasn’t. We haven’t spoken in some time. Why was he on sabbatical?”
“The chairman of his department told us he was working on a new book.” The detective swallowed the last of his coffee. “Shall we have a look at the apartment now?”
“I just have one more question.”
“What’s that, Herr Landau?”
“How did the killer get into his building?”
“That’s one I can answer,” Weiss said. “Despite the fact that your brother received regular death threats, he lived in a very insecure building. The tenants are very casual about who they let in. If someone presses the intercom and says ‘advertisements,’ they’re routinely buzzed in. A student who lives one floor above Professor Stern is fairly certain she was the one who let the killer into the building. She’s still very upset. Apparently, she was very fond of him.”
THEY WALKED back to the apartment building through a steady rain. The detective pressed a button on the intercom panel. Gabriel took note of the corresponding name. LILLIAN RATZINGER — CARETAKER . A moment later, a small, fierce-looking woman with hunted brown eyes peered at them around the edge of the door. She recognized Weiss and opened the door to them.
“Good afternoon, Frau Ratzinger,” the detective said. “This is Benjamin’s brother, Ehud Landau. He’s here to put Benjamin’s affairs in order.”
The old woman glanced at Gabriel and nodded. Then she turned away, as if the sight of him made her uneasy.
An acidic odor greeted Gabriel in the lobby. It reminded him of the solvents he used to strip dirty varnish from a canvas. He peered around a corner and saw the kosmetik . A fat woman in the midst of a pedicure looked up at him over a glossy German fashion magazine. Gabriel turned away. Benjamin the eternal student, he thought. Benjamin would be comfortable in a place like this.
On the wall adjacent to the door was a row of metal postboxes. The one corresponding to Benjamin’s flat still bore his name. Through the tiny window, Gabriel could see it was empty.
The old woman led them up the dimly lit staircase, a ring of passkeys tinkling in her hand. She paused outside Benjamin’s apartment. Tattered remnants of crime-scene tape hung from the doorjamb, and a mound of dead roses lay on the floor. Taped to the wall was a sign, scrawled in a desperate hand: liebe ist stärker als ha ß— Love is stronger than hate. Something about the idealistic naïveté of the slogan angered Gabriel. Then he remembered it was the same thing Leah had said to him before he left for Europe to kill Palestinians for Shamron.
“Love is stronger than hate, Gabriel. Whatever you do, don’t hate them. If you hate them, you’ll become just like Shamron.”
The old woman unlocked the door and left without looking at Gabriel. He wondered about the source of her anxiety. Perhaps it was her age. Perhaps she was of a generation still uncomfortable in the presence of Jews.
Weiss led Gabriel into the front room overlooking the Adalbertstrasse. The afternoon shadows were heavy. The detective illuminated the room by turning on the lamp on Benjamin’s desk. Gabriel glanced down, then quickly took a step back. The floor was coated with Benjamin’s blood. He looked up at the wall and saw the
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