Inspector Weigel’s face had turned a rose color and her voice shook as she said, “Be that as it may, sir, I’ve had a witness brought in for questioning.”
“A witness?” Dietrich said, taken aback. “A witness to what?”
“Sir, if you’ll come with me, he’s in interrogation room B. I thought you’d want to observe.”
“Observe?”
“My interrogation, sir.”
Mattie watched the entire scene from behind the two-way mirror before finding her way to a similar room and similar two-way mirror across the hall. A man in a beard and workman’s clothes sat alone at the table, staring at his hands and picking at his calluses in frustration.
The door to the observation booth opened and High Commissar Dietrich entered. When he saw Mattie, his entire body tightened. “You. What are you doing here? Who gave you permission to be here?”
“Inspector Weigel,” Mattie replied calmly.
“Weigel?” Dietrich cried as the door opened behind him. “She has no authority. She—”
“She has my authority, Hans,” said the tall bald man behind him. His name was Carl Gottschalk. He was the high commissar’s supervisor.
“Yours, Carl? You can’t be serious,” Dietrich said.
“I’m always serious about murder, Hans,” Gottschalk said. “Let’s see where your young protégé takes us.”
On the other side of the two-way mirror, Inspector Weigel had entered the interrogation room and was moving toward the table and the man waiting.
The high commissar seemed to notice him for the first time. He craned his head toward Mattie. “What nonsen
se have you been feeding Weigel? Who is that man in there?”
Mattie gazed evenly at Dietrich and said, “He goes by several names, none of them correct.”
CHAPTER 105
“CAN YOU TELL me your name for the record?” Inspector Weigel asked.
“Am I under arrest?” the man across the table from her demanded.
“We don’t think you’ve done anything wrong. You were brought in for questioning. Your name?”
“Gerhardt Krainer,” he replied.
“Occupation?”
“I own a construction business. We rehab apartment buildings.”
“How long have you been at this business, Herr Krainer?”
“Fifteen years. Look, I don’t understand what I’m being—”
“In due time, Herr Krainer,” Inspector Weigel said, cutting him off. “You’ve changed your name four times in your life.”
Krainer’s chin retreated toward his throat. “So? It was done legally. Every time, I wanted a new start. A completely new start.”
“You were once known as Kiefer Braun?”
He hesitated, but then nodded. “A long time ago.”
“You grew up in an orphanage, did you not? Waisenhaus 44?”