Perfect Payback, page 6
My torn knuckles dripped blood. I used my handkerchief to stop the flow. I pointed at the two men. “Who’s next?”
Both backed away.
I dragged Heinrich by his tie to the urinal to clear the doorway. Then I left the lavatory and headed out of the bar.
“Halt.” A voice came from behind me
The chilling command startled me, and I slowly turned.
Two guns were pointed at my chest.
Chapter 14
der 18. Januar 1937
Augsburg, Germany
I spent Friday night through Sunday afternoon in Augsburg’s city jail. The bier vomit and strong smell of urine—I am sorry to say I added to the pungent puddles on the floor—were almost more than I could take.
Several fights broke out. The guards never bothered to show up, even when one man was beaten so badly I thought he might die. And the food—if you could call the mold-speckled dried pumpernickel and cold, watered-down oxtail soup served once a day food—made me gag. I did not know inhumanity like this existed…
Monday morning Messerschmitt called me to his office.
Slow and ponderous, each step down the painted concrete hall was painful. My gut twisted like fresh-baked pretzels. At best, I expected to be sent back to Stuttgart. At worst, fired. Adjusting my coat, I entered his large wood-paneled office. “Danke for posting my bail. I—”
Messerschmitt held up a hand, cutting me off with a look that said spare me the details, and gestured to the green leather chair across from his paperless desk. A stark contrast from the clutter that had been there before.
As I sat, he interlocked his fingers and stared at me.
I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared back, focusing on his bushy, black eyebrows.
After too many loud ticks of his antique Junghans wall clock, he dropped his hands and angled his head. “I know why you were arrested.”
“Herr Messerschmitt—”
“You made a colossal mistake.” His tone was as dry as an ancient riverbed. “Don’t mess with the Gestapo. In order to free you, I had to assure them many times over that you are vital to the defense of Germany. They will be watching every move you make. You step out of line again, and I won’t be able to help you.”
“Do you want to know—?”
“The less I know the better.”
“May I ask how you found out I was in jail?”
Messerschmitt leaned back, resting his forearms on his chair. “A lady by the name of Anna Beck called me. Is this young lady special?” His eyebrows twitched. He propped one elbow on his desk to set a hand on his cheek, as though he was perturbed with the entire matter.
“She is.” The catch in my throat attested to that truth.
“Was she with you the night of the incident?”
“Yes.”
Messerschmitt scratched his temple. “I know the brutaler you knocked out. He deserved it, I’m sure.” He slouched in his chair, interlocking his fingers and resting them on his stomach.
I gave him a casual nod. “Anything else?” I wanted out of his sight before he changed his mind and actually did send me back to Stuttgart.
“There is one more thing.”
I held my breath. He was going to fire me. How could I talk him out of it?
“If you receive a dental bill from the dummkoph, bring it to me.” He gestured to the door in dismissal.
I inhaled and relaxed. Nodding, I got up from the chair and went to my office.
As soon as 5:00 p.m. arrived, I caught the train to the Hotel Bauer hoping to see Anna before she left work.
She wasn’t in the bar or her office, so I hurried to my room to get her phone number. I went to the lobby pay phone and called her apartment.
“Anna Beck, guten tag.”
“Anna, this is Hans.” My high-pitched voice gave away that I was a little too excited.
“Hans.” Her soft tone peaked with emotion.
“I tried to catch you at the hotel. I wanted to thank you for calling Messerschmitt to get me out of jail.”
“Of course.” Music was playing in the background. “I felt it was my fault you were arrested in the first place.”
“Nonsense, you weren’t to blame for anything.” I paused, nervously fingering the phone cord. “Would you like to have dinner after work tomorrow?”
She cleared her throat. “I would like that very much.”
“Gut. Gut.” If words could dance, mine would be doing the polka.
Thinking about our dinner, I didn’t sleep much. The next morning while shaving, I was humming the American song One O’Clock Jump when a loud knock interrupted me. After wiping the shaving cream off with a towel, I slipped on my trousers and went to the door.
Two men—one tall and skinny, the other short and plump—showed their Gestapo badges. “Are you Hans Pepperman?”
I flipped the towel over my bare shoulder. “Yes. What’s this about?” My voice gave away my anxiety.
One of the men wore a smirk. He cocked his head to one side. “We want to talk to you about the murder of Heinrich Adler.”
I felt my jaw drop. I took the towel from my shoulder and patted my face. My pulse raced. I looked at the condescending agent, the one with the twisted smile. “What? Murder? Why do you want to talk with me? Am I under arrest?”
He raised his head, looking at me over his long, pointed nose. “Nein.”
Because of Messerschmitt’s warning, I dressed and went with them to their headquarters on the second floor of the hotel. Three full hotel rooms had been made into one big office, desks jammed close to each other. The smell of stale coffee and spent cigarette smoke made me cough.
We passed a desk with Heinrich Adler’s name plate. He actually had a framed picture of a stripper performing a dance in full sight. Half-filled paper coffee cups with cigarette butts floating in them littered the rest of the desk. Why hadn’t anyone cleaned up his mess?
The creep was a blockhead, but I didn’t want him dead. And now I wished I hadn’t beaten him up.
The men took me to Fritz Schiffter, a portly, squat man who wore tiny round glasses that were too small for his large head. His square jawline and little, straight mouth reminded me of a boar hog.
He pointed to a chair in front of his metal desk. “Did you know Heinrich Adler?” He already knew the answer. But the question was part of a game I wasn’t sure I’d be any good at playing.
“We had a fight. I knocked out his front teeth. Then it was over.” I smiled and tried to loosen up. “Come on, people.”
Adjusting his glasses, the hog-jowled agent leaned over his desk. “Do not make light with your answers.” His tone was butcher-knife sharp.
I needed to be careful and not antagonize these people.
Schiffter leaned back in his chair. He picked up a file, opened it, and began to read. “Heinrich Rudolph Adler was found in the Lach River, Monday, der 18 Januar, at 8:42 a.m., nude with his throat slashed. He had been castrated.”
Mouth dry, I leaned back in my chair. I blinked several times. Was I dreaming? Surely the Gestapo didn’t believe I could do such a thing.
Schiffter slowly closed the file. “Are you familiar with the brothel located two miles from the city limits on the Lach River?”
I shook my head. “Nein.” I wanted to point out that if Adler had been found nude near a brothel, wouldn’t that be the place to look for the killer? But I gripped the arms of the chair and kept quiet.
Schiffter removed his glasses and tapped them on Adler’s file. “Do not leave Augsburg. You are not a suspect yet, but you are a person of interest. We are looking very closely at you—very closely.” Like he was shooing me from his presence, he motioned for me to leave with the back of his hand
Happy to go, I pushed away from his desk.
Chapter 15
der 22. Januar 1937
Augsburg, Germany
The Gestapo has nothing on me concerning Adler’s death because there is nothing. So, why am I a person of interest? That question annoys me more than it puzzles me. I would rather focus on Anna. She called me at work Tuesday and changed our dinner date to Friday, tonight. I cannot wait…
It was easier to catch the trolley from the Bauer Hotel and go directly to Fuggerei Public Housing. Besides, driving my old car was an embarrassment.
Arriving at Anna’s apartment at 6:05 p.m., I quickly found number 11 and knocked. My knuckles stung against the cold, heavy door. I heard footsteps.
The latch clanked, and Anna opened the door. She wore a long-sleeved gold blouse with a large bow that settled just under her chin. The blouse was tucked neatly into a tight, straight black skirt emphasizing her small waist. Wavy brown hair framed her rosy cheeks.
I stepped inside, mesmerized. “You look beautiful.”
She curtsied. “Dankeschön, kind sir.” Handing me her beige wool coat, she turned her back. “Will you help me?”
“Of course.” I held the coat, and she slipped her arms into the sleeves. Her rose fragrance engulfed me. The temptation to kiss her neck pulled me closer, but I resisted. A bit too much, too early. But maybe later. For now, I was proud to be her escort for the evening.
As we left the Fuggerei, large flakes of snow floated past the streetlights, and Anna stuck out her hand. The ice crystals piled up like bits of confectionery sugar and melted in the warmth of her palm. She looked up at me—a strong woman with the eyes of an innocent young girl.
The complex contradictions that were Anna never ceased to amaze me.
As the trolley pulled up, she locked her arm around mine. “I have a special place tonight. The Ratskeller in the basement of Augsburg’s town hall is my favorite restaurant. The Bavarian cuisine is excellent. Does that sound good to you?”
We could eat dried beef in the basement of a bier hall, and I wouldn’t care, but all I said was, “I’m fond of Bavarian food.”
The short trip to the restaurant gave us little time to talk. Weekend crowds filled the busy area. Women clutched the collars of their coats to keep the snow out, and the men sank their hands into their pockets.
Anna still had her arm linked with mine. “I’m glad I made reservations. You can thank me later.” Her soft laughter had a hint of playfulness.
I loved that laughter most about her. I was falling for this woman too fast.
A concierge dressed in a heavy blue overcoat and military hat opened the door for us, and we walked down a short flight of stairs to the restaurant.
Anna unbuttoned her jacket and flicked a few of the snowflakes off the sleeve before we checked our coats.
Heavy ornate wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling accentuated the Gothic style interior. The room had the ambiance of a medieval banquet hall.
“Guten abend.” A man in a black tuxedo greeted us. “Do you have a reservation, Miss Beck?”
The host knew her name. She must come here often. I hoped it wasn’t with other men. My heart sank.
“Herr Pepperman, party of two,” Anna said.
The tall, blond host flipped the pages of the reservation book. “Ah, yes. 6:45. Please follow me. We have your favorite table ready.” He took us to a table covered with a white linen cloth in the back corner near a fireplace. One lighted candle flicked a shadow on the wall.
The host pulled out the high-backed mahogany chair with a plush red velvet cushion and seated Anna, fluffed her napkin, and gestured to my seat. He nodded to another man standing quietly behind him. “This is Frederick, your waiter.”
Frederick was at least 6’ 3” with broad shoulders. The smile he gave us was genuine—unlike the smiles some waiters flashed that quickly faded.
“How’s your wife?” Anna touched his forearm. “And your lovely little girls?”
“They’re fine, Miss Beck. Thank you for asking.” He bent at the waist, then straightened and handed us menus.
Anna ordered a glass of Liebfraumilch. I didn’t have a taste for the tannic red wine, but my usual bier didn’t seem right for tonight. Schnapps was my next choice.
When the waiter brought our drinks, Anna leaned over her menu. “Hans, do you mind if I order for us?”
“Go ahead.” Her request caught me off guard, but with Anna that seemed to happen a lot. Most women would let the man order, but she was not a typical woman. And I liked that about her.
“For an appetizer, we’d like one pretzel, not too much salt. One white sausage and sweet mustard. For the main course, pork tenderloin with wine sauce, spaetzle dumplings and shallots for each of us.”
Frederick wrote down our order. “Anything else, Madam.”
“Nein.”
I noticed his gigantic hands with long fingers when we handed him the menus.
I took a sip of my drink.
Anna’s eyes narrowed, and her head tipped to one side. “What happened to that knuckle on your right hand? It’s huge.”
I set the drink down and rubbed the joint. “I broke my hand during a training session. I’m a boxer.” I chuckled. “I was a boxer.”
“You boxed professionally?”
“Nein. The Olympic team. The break happened a week before the games started in August. My replacement won the gold medal.”
“Which could have been yours?” She studied my hand.
“Perhaps.”
Anna tipped her glass, then lowered it. “That’s a shame. I’m so sorry. I’m a downhill racer who also had Olympic dreams. I broke my ankle during the first run in Garmish last February.”
Remarkable. Two athletes who lost out on Olympic dreams. Fate had brought us together. I just knew it. “Sorry for your misfortune. I know the disappointment.” I nodded, lifted my glass, and we toasted.
Not being used to strong alcohol, I quickly felt the effects of the clear liqueur. But it relaxed me enough to savor the special evening even more with this extraordinary lady.
A man at another table across the room next to the wine rack looked our way. I’d never seen him before, but there was something about him. Maybe he was looking at Anna. Men seemed to appreciate her, and I didn’t blame them.
When Frederick set the large pretzel and the thick, white sausage between us, the meat was more round than long.
Anna pinched off a piece of bread and grinned. “Germans do it with big sausages.”
I almost choked and had to set down my drink.
Her expression never changed as she tore off another piece of pretzel and dipped the bread into the sweet mustard. However, she did let out the tiniest hint of a chuckle as if she knew exactly what she was doing.
I followed with a laugh that drew the attention of those sitting around us.
The smell of the pork tenderloin reminded me of a meal served at an Olympic banquet, but the wine sauce added to the flavor.
Anna sipped on her fourth glass of wine. “Ah, I almost forgot. The Bee Sting Cake is the best. You must try it.”
I puffed my cheeks and patted my stomach. “Nein, I’m too full, even though it’s my favorite. I couldn’t possibly…”
“Then we will share a slice.” Her soft whisper sealed the request.
I motioned to Frederick. “One slice of Bee Sting Cake, a small slice, and two forks.”
Occasionally Anna’s eyes locked with mine as we ate. This had been an enjoyable night, and I hoped it wouldn’t end too soon. When the food and drink were gone, I paid Frederick. Anna and I gathered our coats, and we headed back up the stairs. I pushed open the door.
Several inches of snow covered the sidewalk. The flakes were big and gently cascaded back and forth to the ground, bringing a clean freshness to the night air.
The trolley arrived. Our timing was perfect. The evening had passed quickly, and the Schnapps still buzzed in my head. I felt good as we clasped hands and walked to Anna’s apartment. The fresh fallen snow crunched under our feet. Neither of us talked as she opened her purse and pulled out her key to unlock the door.
Anna paused, pushed the door, and stepped inside. She turned. Her eyes caught and held mine. There were no words, just a long, deep stare. Then she grabbed my tie, slowly pulled me inside, and closed the door.
She’d taken charge at the restaurant. The rest of the night was no different.
Chapter 16
der 23. Januar 1937
Augsburg, Germany
Last night with Anna? Remarkable. What is it about her that just seems to shift something inside me every time we are together? Not sure whether it is her soft giggle, her strong character, or her unwavering self-confidence that does me in, but I am sure all of her leaves me spellbound. Anna is everything I have ever wanted in a woman…
Closing my journal, I glanced at my watch. 2:20 p.m. Time for Bavarian Volksmusik in the hotel bar. I put on my sweater and adjusted the collar of my shirt. Before I could pull open the door, someone knocked.
Anna perhaps? A little excitement kicked up in my chest, but quickly disappeared when I opened the door to two men. Standing shoulder to shoulder, both wore black overcoats and Wyeth wool hats in a way that was reminiscent of gangsters in American movies.
“Hans Pepperman?” The man on the left had a bulbous nose. His nostrils flexed with each word.
I nodded.
“Come with us.” The other man, smaller with jug-handled ears, stepped forward as if to grab my arm. “We have questions.”
I felt another kick in my chest, and there was nothing exciting about it. I didn’t care for his threatening tone or the way his dark eyes locked on mine. I cleared my throat. “Questions about what?” I swallowed hard, my pulse ticking up several notches.
Large Nose pulled the other man back. “Herr Pepperman. We’re with the Abwehr Military Intelligence.”
If he was trying to calm me with his slow, deep voice, it wasn’t working. “We just want to ask you a few questions,” he said. “Please come with us.”
