3
The next morning I got woken by a phone call. It was an ungodly hour and besides, I had only just fallen asleep. The Inspector was on the line. He reminded me of last night and ordered me down to the police station. I was now in very bad mood. I had an egg for breakfast, drank a cup of coffee and then I hit the road.
The inspector's office was smaller than a canary cage. It was just enough space for a desk which was fully stacked with hundreds of files. One stack was weighted down by a smoldering ashtray. The window was closed and the cigarette smoke hung ominously from the ceiling. The fog was so thick that I could barely see my own hand in front of my eyes.
I sat down. The files blocked my view of the inspector. He pushed them a little to the side and between them the inspector showed me his yellow teeth.
»You said it was important, Inspector Hasenzargel,« I said.
»Did I?«
»Yes, on the phone. Because of the raid on Fatty Irish's Casino.«
»Oh, no, that was certainly not important.«
»Then why do you ask me to come?«
»Well, because of you, Mr. Steiner. As a policeman you gotta look out for your fellow citizens. That's a part of the job description.«
»I don't understand. Would you like to know anything else about the raid or not?«
»No, why? The case has been resolved.«
»Resolved?«
»For something simple like that you really don't need to be a genius. I already knew what happened after I heard it on the police radio.«
»Well, it's still a fucking mystery to me.«
»Don't disappoint me, Mr. Steiner. After what I've dug up on you, you shoulda seen it a long time ago.«
»You think Fatty Irish planned all this shit?«
» I don't think it, I know it.«
There was no lack of self-confidence to this guy. He leaned back in his chair and now almost disappeared behind the mountains of files. It was a fun theory that he'd presented. I wasn't really convinced, but he had made me at least somewhat curious.
»If that's true, Irish gave us an Oscar-worthy performance last night.«
»We can suggest him to the Oscar Commission. It couldn't hurt.«
»Okay. Let's say, you're right. Why the hell am I sitting in this chair instead of Irish?«
»First off, because you can't really get a man as big as the Pummerin in here without a crane, and secondly, we have no proof.«
»I thought you said you knew that Irish was behind this?«
The inspector smiled now, took a deep drag and then said: »Knowledge has nothing to do with evidence at all, young man. If I locked up every asshole that I knew did something criminal, then the prisons would be full. But I prefer to talk about our mutual friend. I'm only talking to you 'cause I couldn't watch you getting the runaround from somebody like Fatty Irish. Besides, everybody is in need of money, especially when he's young. Understand me correctly, Mr. Steiner. If it was entirely up to me, Irish can go to hell. I will catch him and if I don't then a colleague of mine will. Like I said, I don't care. Sometimes my hands are tied by the law, especially lately and unfortunately more often than I prefer, but as a simple official I can't chance even one thing about it. I'm just an executive agency for the government. Nevertheless, I am obliged to my fellow citizens, and if I get the chance to take on some bad guys, then I have to take the shot. As a responsible policeman. Within the framework of the law, of course. Don't you misunderstand me.«
»I don't understand you at all.«
»I've already expected that, Mr Steiner. I don't blame you. I think it's best if I start over. Mr. Seidel is in the hospital now. A police patrol picked him up in the morning. He was walking completely naked down the Mariahilfer Straße. Somebody hit him over the head with a club. The poor fellow's gone speechless. Has been relegated with a single blow back into infancy. You know, to where we speak the first word. His was: Gorilla. The two of us know why. Unfortunately that's still no evidence. In court, the lawyers will say he simply wanted to go to the zoo. Can you follow me on that, Mr. Steiner?«
I nodded. The inspector had my full attention.
»Mr. Seidel is close to insolvency. Attachment to the subsistence level. Four children, two ex-wives and a girlfriend. I think that says enough about his motives. Finding something about Irish was a little more difficult. I kept digging, and look what showed up. He's also deep in debt. Only not officially. Russian mob is all I'm saying.«
»I don't understand, Irish is sitting on a gold mine. Why's he got debts?«
»I'm not the good Lord, Mr. Steiner, but if you have enough money, you usually want more. I don't really get it myself, but it's just a law of life. And once you've raked in some cash with a business, it seems you can just do it with every business. The stock market is not necessarily different from a casino. The thing is, Fatty Irish has forgotten that he isn't a player. And then all the money was gone. Silly, that it wasn't his money.«
»It was the Russians' money,« I said.
Inspector Hasenzargel, satisfied, put out his cigarette in the full ashtray and stuck a new one immediately between his lips.
»That's right, Mr. Steiner,« he praised. »Wasn't certainly the smartest move by the Russians to make business with Fatty Irish. Doesn't mean, the Russians have no idea how to get their money back.«
Inspector Hasenzargel gave me a moment to think about all this. Maybe my money wasn't lost after all.
»So, Irish and Seidel were in it together?« I asked.
The inspector shook his head, disappointed.
»No, Mr. Steiner, wrong again. Irish has almost done the perfect crime, without really knowing. No matter who would have left the casino with the million in his pockets. He would have been a millionaire only until he'd reached the parking lot. There, the Gorilla would be waiting for him with a club in his hand. If Fatty Irish had all this planned from the beginning, then he would be a criminal mastermind, and trust me, he isn't,« he said and blew smoke out with a cheeky grin.
»I just thought you might be interested in knowing who stole your money.«
Well, he was right about that. I was burning to know where my sixty thousand was hidden.
»I did a bit of calling around« continued the inspector. »Of course Irish was insured against a robbery. He has already reported the incident to the insurance company. He's a bit too greedy for my taste. That's a serious fraud and I can't let him walk away with this,« said inspector Hasenzargel. He lit a cigarette and stood up from his chair. He squeezed his way around the desk and gave me a hand in farewell.
»What you finally make of all this isn't really my business. Unfortunately, I gotta keep to the law. But this don't keep me from calling Fatty Irish in person, say in exactly one hour, and coming up with some fairytale to gently push him in a certain direction. If you understand what I mean.«
I understood perfectly what he meant and went to the door, but stopped and turned around again. I had one last question: »What did you really dig up about me?«
»Nothing,« he said, and dropped into his chair.
»But you said-«
Inspector Hasenzargel smiled broadly and said: »Nothing means a lot. Believe me, Mr. Steiner. I know what I'm talking about. I've been too long behind this desk to get fooled.«
He pulled out a crumpled business card with coffee stains and offered it between the mountains of files in my direction.
»In case you need help again. Just outta curiosity, Mr. Steiner, how much of the million is yours?«
»A hundred thousand,« I said, pocketing the card. Inspector Hasenzargel nodded as if he knew the answer anyway. I thanked him again for his help and left the police station.