The man’s head snapped around in Stone’s direction.
“We know about your German accent,” Stone said. “There’s no reason not to speak.”
The man thought about that for a moment. “Ach,” he said softly.
53
T HEY ALL SAT STILL, SAYING NOTHING FOR a long moment. Then Dino seemed to realize that the man was speaking, and that, moreover, he was talking.
Stone got out the first question. “Herr Mitteldorfer?” he said.
The man looked at him and laughed. “Nein,” he replied. “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?”
“Not really,” Stone said. “Your name is Mitteldorfer, though, isn’t it?”
“No,” the man replied.
“Then what is your name?”
“You are not needing to know,” he said. His accent was thickly German.
“But you are his son, aren’t you?”
The man smiled but said nothing.
Dino took charge; he shoved the pad back to the suspect. “Write down the names of the people you killed.”
“I am not knowing all these names.”
“Write down the ones you know.”
The man began writing, then stopped and read aloud from the pad. “The secretary—I am not knowing the name; the Hirsch lady, naked with the machine—ah, the cleaner.”
“The vacuum cleaner,” Dino said.
“Ja. Yes.” He continued. “Fräulein Enzberg; the man of the door on Fifth Avenue and the policeman; and the lawyer, Herr Goldschmidt.”
“Goldsmith.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you kill Fraulein Enzberg?”
The man shrugged.
“Surely, she was Mitteldorfer’s friend; why would he want her dead?”
“Who is this Mitteldorfer you keep saying?” the man asked, smiling a little.
“You know perfectly well who he is,” Dino said.
“He’s your father,” Stone interjected.
“I am orphan,” the man said, smiling.
There was another German name Stone could try, but he couldn’t remember it.
Andy Anderson spoke up. “Why did you kill Susan Bean?” he asked.