Page 21
Goebbels nodded, felt a smile creep onto his face. “When you cannot attack the message, mein Führer, you attack the messenger.”
Hitler paced through the living room, now freshly bathed and dressed in his beloved Bavarian lederhosen and chocolate-colored hiking boots. “I loved Geli only as an uncle would love a niece,” he said, one hand on the riding whip at his side. “I did not object to her travel to Vienna. I encouraged it. We had no violent quarrel the night before her suicide or at any time before that. She was not engaged and had no plans to marry that I knew of. Though if she had, I wouldn’t have objected.”
Goebbels, Hess, and Bormann all nodded dutifully.
Hitler turned to Hess. “Get Hans Frank on the phone. I want lawsuits prepared.”
“You wish to sue the periodicals, mein Führer?” asked Hess.
“No, I wish to threaten to sue,” he said. “And I want Himmler to make sure the messages are delivered in a way only the SS can deliver them.”
“Very well, mein Führer. Anything else?”
Hitler thought a moment. “Yes, one other thing,” he said. “I think it might be nice if I were seen with Eva Braun again soon.”
10
Munich Police Department
Directorate 22, the Bogenhausen District
“YOU WANTED TO SEE me, Chief?” Detective Inspector Thomas Bauer walked into Chief Müller’s office on Monday morning but stopped short of the desk. In the corner, a flag of the Weimar Republic, with its horizontal stripes of black, red, and yellow. Behind the chief, a tapestry adorned the wall of the Munich Coat of Arms, a robed figure holding a book.
The chief looked up from his paperwork. “Have a seat, Bauer.”
“No, I’m fine standing.”
“Bauer, I told you to sit.”
“I heard you the first time. I’ll stand.”
The chief let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. “I’m ready for your apology.”
“My apology.” Bauer repeated it like a statement, not a question. “My apology. Okay, Chief. It was disrespectful of me to suggest that you were a politician and not a cop. It was disrespectful to imply that you were more concerned with currying favor with an up-and-coming politician than in solving the murder of a talented young woman. Both of those things were disrespectful.”
The chief ran his tongue against his cheek, eyes narrowed.
“True, every word of it, but disrespectful,” Bauer added. “I should keep my opinions to myself. The next time you disgrace the uniform, which I assume will be any moment now, you will not hear it from me—that’s a promise.”
After a long pause, the chief started shaking his head, allowing a bitter grin. “Bauer, I don’t know what you think you’re doing. I could fire you right now, and nobody would blink.”
“Then fire me, sir. But I don’t think you will.”
“No?”
“No.”
Bauer was right, and they both knew it. The inspector assigned to the Raubal investigation, fired after the body was mysteriously moved and virtually every protocol of the kriminalpolizei was disregarded? The press was all over this story. Surely the Nazis whispering in Müller’s ear didn’t want to give this narrative any new oxygen. Bauer would be free to tell the newspaper his side. No, the chief had to handle Bauer, keep him on a leash, keep him right where he was.
At least for now.
“Oh, I thought you might want to know.” The chief wagged his finger at Bauer and gave him a satisfied smile. “The Raubal suicide—”
“It wasn’t a suicide,” said Bauer.
“The Raubal suicide,” the chief continued, jaw clenched, “is no longer our case. The investigation has been taken over by the Justice Ministry. The JM has taken custody of her body and performed the PM. So your work is completed.”
Bauer had already figured as much after his conversation with Elie Achterberg at the morgue.