What did it matter to me who killed Dr. Heckholz? I’d only met him once and I felt quite sure I’d never see Frau Minoux again. She was safe in Vienna, and as soon as she heard that her lawyer was dead, I figured she’d probably stay there for a while, at least until she judged it safe to come and shift her belongings from the warehouse in Lichtenberg. That’s what I would have done if I’d been her. The trouble was that I had liked Dr. Heckholz. How can you not like a man who cooks you pancakes? I liked her, too, but in a different way, of course. What was more, I’d taken their money, and maybe I felt that while I still had a car at my disposal it could hardly matter if I took a drive out to Brandenburg Prison, so long as I was armed with some breakfast. And very earIy the next morning I drove to number 58 Königstrasse, in Wannsee, where Herr Minoux’s driver, Herr Gantner, had told me that he was living with Katrin, who was a maid at the villa. By now I’d formed the strong impression that for all his apparent avarice, Minoux must have been a decent sort of employer to have encouraged such loyalty, which just goes to show that no man is all bad.
