‘Captain Wolf is making enquiries about one of his police officers who was found dead a few weeks ago,’ said Friedrich, his arm fractionally tightening against her.
‘I’m sorry to hear that. How can I help you?’
‘Yes. It was an officer by the name of Fuchs,’ explained Wolf. ‘I believe he saw you when you had to report to the police station recently.’
Clara looked over at Herr Arnold. ‘Yes, but that was a few weeks ago now. I’ve seen Herr Arnold more recently.’
‘I understand from Herr Arnold that your husband had requested Fuchs not be allowed to see you. There was an incident.’ Wolf was smiling, but Clara knew not to trust him. He really was the epitome of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
‘That’s right,’ said Clara. ‘He made some inappropriate comments which offended me, but I have been fortunate not to see him since then. Despite his comments, I’m sorry to hear about his death.’
If she thought that would be the end of the visit, Clara was mistaken. Wolf paced slowly across the room, before pacing back the other way. ‘Why don’t we all sit down?’ he said. ‘I have a few more things to discuss with you. Coffee would be nice.’
Clara glanced up at Friedrich who gave a small nod. ‘I’ll help you,’ he said.
‘I’m sure your wife can make four cups of coffee by herself,’ said Wolf, wandering over to the bookcase.
Clara hurried through to the kitchen. Her hands shook as she made the hot drinks for everyone, except for herself. The thought of coffee turned her stomach. She ran a glass of water and took the coffee into the living room, placing the tray down on the coffee table.
‘You’re a midwife,’ stated Wolf.
‘Yes. That’s right,’ replied Clara. ‘I work at the Wilmersdorf Geburtsklinik and before that the Charité.’
Wolf ran his fingers along the spines of the books, coming to rest on the book about midwifery. He took it from the shelf and absently flicked through the pages. ‘Have you heard of the Angel of Life?’
Clara fumbled with the coffee pot, sloshing the liquid over the edge of the cup. Friedrich stepped forward and took the pot from her.
‘Angel of Life?’ repeated Clara, biding a few seconds.
‘Yes. Apparently, she’s a midwife who has been helping Jewish women give birth.’ Wolf tapped the book with his fingers. ‘We’re trying to locate her. Do you know who she might be?’
‘No. Sorry,’ said Clara. ‘I’ve never heard of her.’
Wolf gave a tight smile and pushed the book back into its place on the shelf. ‘One more thing, have you ever visited the town of Neuruppin?’
Clara shook her head. ‘I’ve heard of it but never visited.’ She was glad she had her back to Wolf so he couldn’t see her face. She was sure it screamed fear.
‘It’s strange, you know. A nurse from Neuruppin said they had an unexpected patient transfer request. A nurse with a strange accent, possibly British.’
‘And you think it was my wife?’ asked Friedrich. Clara was impressed by how genuine his indignation sounded.
‘No. Not at all,’ said Wolf. ‘I was merely pointing it out. I wondered if Frau Bergmann knew who it might have been, because of the British connection, you see.’
‘I’m sorry. I can’t help you.’ Clara thought her legs were going to buckle beneath her. She felt herself sway and for a moment her vision tunnelled. The strong arms of Friedrich, catching her before she collapsed, circled her body and sat her down on the sofa.
‘My wife isn’t well,’ he said. ‘No more questions this evening.’
‘I’m sorry, Frau Bergmann,’ said Arnold.
‘Strange your wife should come over so faint all of a sudden,’ Wolf remarked.
Clara swallowed hard, focusing her eyes on the German. ‘I’ve had a long and busy day. I’m not feeling well, that’s all.’
‘She’s exhausted,’ said Friedrich. ‘Now, I must insist you leave.’
He stood up straight to his full six feet plus height. Clara could almost see Wolf wither under her husband’s presence.
‘Of course, Herr Bergmann,’ he said. ‘But I will need to speak to your wife again. I shall be in touch.’ He turned to Clara. ‘Goodnight, Frau Bergmann.’ Then, placing his hat on his head, he marched out of the room, followed by Arnold who mouthed an apology as he went.
