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That seemed to amuse Trudi. She gave a small chirp of a laugh, but there was no warmth to it. ‘Poor you,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me, although I’m certainly not your grandmother, if that’s what you think. Ingrid is my only child.’

‘Why wouldn’t it surprise you?’ Jean asked.

Trudi turned sharply to Jean, as though she’d forgotten Jean was there. She sighed. ‘I suppose we have to talk about this, don’t we? Volker wasn’t exactly what you would call a faithful husband. He had a penchant for a particular kind of intercourse. His love-making, if you could call it that, was often violent, and I endured it, both before and after we were married. I suppose the novelty with me wore off, thank goodness, because after a while Volker took to seeing prostitutes—women he could pay to smile through their sufferings as if they were enjoying it.’

Trudi paused, closing her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them again, she said, ‘I remember the first time. We had been to a restaurant here in Munich called the Osteria Bavaria—Volker and I, Johann and an older girl called Ava Bauer, whom I quickly came to despise, though more out of my own jealousy than any fault of hers. You see Volker was besotted with Ava. I think he’d hoped to win her hand that night, but when it became clear that it was Johann she wanted, Volker became very moody. Late that night, he came to me at the apartment my aunt had rented for us while we were staying in Munich. I couldn’t really say he raped me because I wanted him, but I’ll never forget how violent he was, and how uncaring he seemed towards me afterwards. I’ve realised since then that it was because he couldn’t have Ava, so he took it out on me—and all those prostitutes, perhaps trying to find someone who was more like her, but of course he never could.’

‘Why did you marry him?’ Tayte asked.

‘My family had always wanted the marriage, and I suppose at the time I was as besotted with Volker, for all his faults, as he was with Ava. There were always three people in our relationship, and I knew I was the consolation prize he didn’t really want. Whenever Volker was with me, I knew he was thinking about her.’

‘But you kept his name after the war,’ Jean said, shaking her head, clearly at a loss to understand why.

‘I kept the name I had taken when I married Volker Strobel because I believe in the sanctity of marriage. I had taken my marriage vows unto death. Is that so hard to accept?’

‘No, I suppose not,’ Tayte said, thinking that her decision to do so, however righteous, had cost her a great deal: her family and her fortune, not that she hadn’t turned that around remarkably well. He began to feel a little sorry for Trudi as he considered that the family who had pushed her into her marriage with Volker Strobel had then turned their backs on her when the man they had wanted her to marry became anathema to them.

‘Johann Langner was very different,’ Trudi said. ‘Quite the antithesis of the man I married. He came to me when he was released from prison, and at first, although it sounds peculiar to say it now, I saw it as a way to strike back at Volker. That was in 1955. Johann’s family had been killed during the Dresden bombings, so I suppose at the time he had nowhere else to go.’

‘What about his wife?’ Tayte asked, still wondering why Johann hadn’t gone to Ava when he was released from prison. ‘Do you know what became of Ava Bauer?’

‘No,’ Trudi said. ‘We lost touch somewhere amidst the chaos of war. I never saw Ava again after she and Johann were married. When Johann came to me he never spoke of her, for which I was glad. I had already shared one relationship with Ava Bauer and I did not wish to do so again. My affair with Johann lasted a few years, but as Johann found his feet and started to become successful, he wanted less and less to do with me. He left me for the last time just after Ingrid was born. He paid for this house and gave me a handsome sum of money in advance for our daughter’s upkeep, and my discretion.’

‘And I suppose when Ingrid found out who her father was,’ Tayte said, ‘she later took the job as his private nurse to be closer to him without anyone suspecting he was her father?’

‘Exactly that, yes.’

Tayte sat back, wondering where to take the conversation next. Trudi seemed to have volunteered plenty of information, perhaps just to get this over with as she had earlier said, but he couldn’t see how it helped him with the bigger questions he still hoped to find the answers to before he and Jean had to leave Munich—apart from the knowledge that Volker Strobel had potentially sown more seeds for his family tree than Tayte cared to think about. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence he glanced at Jean, who gave a slight shake of her head as if to say she didn’t know what to ask next either. So Tayte asked the obvious question in the hope that something might come of it.

‘Can you tell us anything else about Volker Strobel?’

‘So you can find him and ask him whether he’s your grandfather?’

‘Something like that, I guess.’

Trudi shook her head. ‘I can’t help you, Mr Tayte. I’ve had no communication with Volker since before the war ended, which of course is now more than seventy years ago.’ She looked suddenly upset. ‘Why is it that people wish to make me relive these things that happened so long ago when I would sooner forget? This is why I refuse to give interviews about my husband. It’s painful to me. Do you understand? By coming here as you have, you’re hurting me.’

Tayte couldn’t have felt any more uncomfortable than he did right then. He could see that Trudi’s eyes had glazed over and he knew it was time to go. If Trudi did know anything about Volker Strobel that might prove useful in locating him then it was clear she wasn’t going to tell him and Jean about it.

‘I’m really sorry to have upset you, Mrs Strobel,’ he said. He got up to leave and Jean stood with him. ‘We’ll leave you in peace.’

‘And you’ll keep what you know to yourselves?’

‘A deal’s a deal,’ Tayte said. ‘You have our word that we won’t tell another soul.’

‘Another soul?’

‘We mentioned it to someone when we found out, but I’ll make sure he keeps it to himself.’

‘And how will you do that?’

Beyond asking Tobias Kaufmann not to tell anyone, Tayte didn’t know. He supposed Tobias had already shared the information with his father.

‘I’m sorry,’ Tayte said again, making for the door.

As Tayte and Jean walked back along the drive towards the main gate, Tayte checked his watch and noted that it was almost six o’clock, their visit with Trudi Strobel having lasted less than an hour. He took out his phone and called the taxi firm he’d been using, thinking that he’d take Jean into the city centre to find somewhere nice for their last evening meal in Munich.

‘That was awkward,’ Tayte said to Jean once he’d booked the taxi.

‘I don’t think she liked me at all,’ Jean said.

‘Maybe she’s got a problem with other women in general.’

‘You mean she’s psychologically scarred after having shared her husband with Ava Bauer, whom she could never live up to, and a host of prostitutes?’

Tayte snorted a laugh. ‘Yeah, something like that.’

They reached the gates and Tayte watched them close slowly behind them. ‘She really opened up to us back there, didn’t she? About her personal life, I mean.’

‘Yes, I didn’t expect that,’ Jean said.

‘Me neither. It makes me think that if she did have anything to say about Volker Strobel, she probably would have said it. She can’t have much affection left for the man.’

‘I’m surprised she had any at all after the way he treated her. If she knew where he was, I’m sure she’d have given him up long ago.’

‘Maybe,’ Tayte said, but with a degree of doubt.

‘You don’t think so?’

‘I don’t know. Something just doesn’t seem quite right to me. I mean why tell us all that intimate stuff about her husband at all? It’s like she wanted us to think she hated him. She practically spelled out the reasons. I could be entirely wrong here, but it strikes me as a good way to put us off the idea that she might still care for Volker. Then there’s the maintenance money. It all seems to wrap up very nicely. She had a child with Langner, as we suspected, and he paid her off for the child and for her discretion, which explains her wealth.’

‘Put like that, it does seem as if she’s left us with nowhere to go—no story to pursue.’

‘Precisely,’ Tayte said. ‘But does it explain her wealth?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, we know that Ingrid was born a few years after Langner left prison. And Trudi told us that Langner left her for the last time just after Ingrid was born. It didn’t click at the time, but do you recall the conversation at the hospital where the chauffeur, Christoph, told us Langner started out with nothing, and that it took several years for him to even make a proper living from his business?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Jean said. ‘So Langner wasn’t a wealthy man when Ingrid was born.’

‘Far from it,’ Tayte said. ‘Seems he wasn’t anywhere near wealthy enough to have bought her that house, even back then.’

‘She also said that Langner had paid her a tidy sum of money as well.’

Tayte nodded. ‘She was clearly lying. And even if Langner had somehow paid Trudi off, barring her having made some very lucky investments over the years, it was a long time ago. Where’s she getting the money to maintain all this from?’

‘Where else could the money have come from?’ Jean asked, and they both stared at one another, clearly thinking the same thing.

‘Volker Strobel,’ they said together, although Tayte had to remind himself that Tobias Kaufmann already suspected as much and had been unable to prove it.

The taxi arrived and Tayte gave the driver the name of the restaurant Trudi had mentioned, thinking it would be good to go somewhere that the subjects of his self-assignment had once been.

The driver, an older man in his sixties with grey stubble on his face and a leather flat-cap on his head, turned back with a blank expression.

‘It’s a restaurant in the city,’ Tayte added, speaking slowly in case the driver was having trouble understanding him, but it seemed he understood well enough.

‘You mean the Osteria Italiana on Schellingstrasse. It hasn’t been called the Osteria Bavaria since the war ended. They say it’s the oldest restaurant in Munich.’

‘I guess that’s the place then,’ Tayte said. He turned to Jean. ‘You like Italian, don’t you?’

Jean smiled and nodded and the taxi took off, heading for the city centre. Settling back for the ride, Tayte put his hand on the back of Jean’s and said, ‘I’m glad you’re okay. You had me so worried this morning.’

Jean leaned in and kissed him. ‘And I’m glad you’re not going to jail,’ she said with a smirk.

‘Yeah, me too. Let’s try to stay out of trouble for the next twenty-four hours, shall we? Nice meal . . . Early night . . .’

Jean laughed at him. ‘Did you just wink at me?’

‘I think I had something in my eye,’ Tayte said, and Jean slapped his arm.

At that moment, their frivolity was interrupted by Tayte’s phone buzzing in his pocket. He took it out and checked the display. There was a number, but he didn’t recognise it.

‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Jefferson Tayte.’

‘Mr Tayte, it’s Tobias Kaufmann. Is it all right to talk?’

‘Sure,’ Tayte said. ‘It’s good timing, actually. We’ve just left Trudi Strobel. I was going to call you later to let you know how it went, although we didn’t really learn anything new that’s likely to help with your hunt for Volker Strobel.’

‘That’s a pity.’

‘Yes, it is. Look, I told her we wouldn’t say anything about Langner being Ingrid Keller’s father. I know I’ve already told you, but I don’t see how we have anything to gain from telling anyone else.’

‘You might not feel the same way once you’ve heard what I have to tell you.’ Kaufmann said. ‘Since our last conversation about Trudi’s wealth, I’ve been following the money, so to speak. At least, some associates of mine have. We’ll talk more when I see you. Is now a good time?’

‘What, right now?’ Tayte said, thinking about a bowl of pasta or a pizza, or maybe both.

Jean had been listening in. She gave Tayte a nod, and Tayte couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed with the timing.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘We’ll be right over.’

‘I’m not at the office at the moment. One of the staff, Amir, is working late. He’ll let you in if you arrive before me. I shouldn’t be long.’

‘Great,’ Tayte said. ‘We’ll see you soon.’

Chapter Thirty-One

Because of the hour, the tree-lined avenue that was home to the offices of
Kaufmann und Kaufmann
was markedly changed from Tayte’s previous visits. The various offices were mostly now closed, the people who staffed them having gone home for the day, and the car-parking spaces that had made the road appear all the more narrow during office hours, were now largely vacant. The taxi pulled up in front of a line of motorcycles and Tayte paid the driver as he and Jean got out.

‘I can’t wait to hear what Tobias has found,’ Tayte said as they approached the entrance, but in his next breath he realised he might have to. A familiar feeling of unease churned through him as he looked at the door. It was ajar, just like the door to the premises he’d visited the night he was framed for murder, only this time the doorframe was splintered. It looked as if it had been kicked in. He put his arm out to hold Jean back. ‘I think our “friends” have been here.’