The Berlin Connection by Johannes Mario Simmel Page A

you want for the scrapbooks?"
    "Five hundred marks." She said it too quickly and coughed, holding both hands to her mouth. After calming down she said weakly, "Well, all right, three hundred. But I need three hundred. My rent alone .. ."
    "I'll give you five hundred."
    She clutched my hand and kissed it. "I knew it! I didn't pray in vain!"
    "When did you see your son-in-law the last time?" I had to be careful now. Luckily the money had diverted her attention.
    "See him. Whom? Oh. Before the funeral. I went to see him to become reconciled."
    "Where did you go?"
    "To an old house near the harbor. There it stinks of fish and dirt and, sin. He lives there wfth a blonde. I'm sure she is a whore. You know what he did? He threw me out!" Her voice rose. "Get out of here! I don't want to

    ever see you again!" Her voice broke. 'That's how it ended. And she could have had a general."
    She had drunk a lot of beer. I had to find out. "And he still lives at Mottenburger Street?"
    "Mottengurger Street, why?"
    "Number thirty-four; you just said so.**
    "I never said that!"
    "But—"
    "Why should I say that? He lives near the slaughterhouse. Number four. Right near the fish market. With this painted whore. Gehzuweit is her name."
    It had worked at the first try.
    6
    "Mrs. Gehzuweit?"
    "Are you from the police?" Her voice was husky as if she had a cold.
    "No."
    "Then what is it?" She was big and indeed heavily made up. Violet eyeshadow, a black beauty mark, mascara and darkly penciled eyebrows. Her mouth was a slash of red.
    "I would like to speak to Dr. Schauberg," I said.
    "He doesn't live here any more." Mrs. Gottesdiener's description of the house had been accurate: stinking of dirt and sin. The green-gray paint was peeling off the wooden hall and stairs. Bare lightbulbs hung from the damp ceiling. Waterpipes were exposed in the hallways. Bathrooms were there too.
    "Could you give me his new address?"
    "No." And hurriedly she wanted to slam the dirty door with the chipped enamel sign:

    E. GEHZUWEIT. ARTISTE
    But I already had my foot inside.
    "Are you crazy? Get lost!"
    Behind me water was flushed and an old, emaciated man shuffled closer, stopped, stared. Very loudly I said, "I guess then I'll have to go to the police!"
    The dreaded word did the trick. Mrs. Gehzuweit shrank visibly. On my right and left, behind me doors were opened. People looked out, curious and greedy.
    "Is he from the cops?"
    "Now what happened?"
    I pressed a fifty-mark bill in Mrs. Gehzuweit's hand. She sneezed thunderously. "Come in." At the curious in the hall she yelled "Why don't you mind your own business!" and slammed her door. Outside they began to whisper.
    The apartment was small. Everywhere were suitcases and trunks, boxes and rolled-up carpets. A single bulb in a pink glass shade was giving a weak light.
    Mrs. Gehzuweit stood there, breathless. She seemed close to tears and despair. Her dark red robe had opened and I could see youthful breasts and smooth white skin. She wore trousers, the suspenders hanging, and a pair of man's shoes.
    "Where did you get my address?"
    "From Dr. Schauberg's mother-in-law. She spoke of a Mrs. Gehzuweit."
    "The old woman was me in costume."
    "You are—"
    "Eric Gehzuweit, female impersonator," he introduced himself with a short, military bow. He even clicked his heels. With a feminine gesture he pushed his blond wig into place. A door to my left opened and Isaw a very pretty girl in a pale blue silk dress. She looked at me with curiosity and said affectedly, "Can I help you, Erika?"

    "The gentleman only wants some information."
    "Oh, what a pity!" Giggling, she disappeared.
    "My partner," said Gehzuweit. He first looked at the fifty marks in his hand, then at me and sighed. "Not a cop. Then you surely need—"
    "No."
    "No what?"
    "No drugs."
    "Sh . .." Frightened he pointed to the door. "Miserable bums," he yelled. Someone ran away outside. "Everybody here thinks us very peculiar."
    "I must find the doctor. That's all."
    "But