I’ve been with Bernie Gunther on this long ride and now it is over. Philip Kerr has died and this is the last book that he will ever write about Berlin’s detective. Those who have been following Gunther through the Second World War and beyond now have the opportunity to read about how it all began. This book deals with Berlin during the post-World War I period and how Bernie Gunther becomes an expert in murder and other crimes.
Here is how one of his mates at his boarding house describes Germany and “the metropolis.”
“The show is very empty and pretentious, it’s true. But these days, tell me what isn’t? If you ask me, the inflation didn’t just affect our money, but everything else, too. Sex, drinking, drugs, nightlife, art, you name it. It’s like everything is rampantly out of control, you know? Especially in Berlin. The inflated money was just the beginning. The city’s become one great big department store of debauchery."
This is early Bernie Gunther: "Most of the time I’m very proud to be a cop. I think there’s nothing wrong with being a cop—unless there’s something wrong with the cop, of course. But sometimes it took a great deal of courage to see the Berlin police force with all its faults and still love it."
We, who have been with Kerr and Gunther, for the decades after this, are examining the beginnings for those characteristics that endure. Here, Gunther, a low-level detective, comes to the attention of the Murder Commission early in the book.
"In our opinion you’ve the makings of a fine detective, Gunther. You are diligent and you know when to keep your mouth shut; that’s good in a detective….So welcome to the Murder Commission, Gunther. The rest of your life just changed forever. You’ll never look at people in the same way again. From now on, whenever you stand next to a man at a bus stop or on a train, you’ll be sizing him up as a potential killer. And you’d be right to do so. Statistics show that most murders in Berlin are committed by ordinary, law-abiding citizens. In short, people like you and me."
And his gracious rival for the position concedes: "Word is you’ll go far, Gunther. You’ll be a commissar in no time. Me, I’ve got a big mouth so it’s probably just as well I didn’t get the seat. Truth be told, two Jews in the one car is one Jew too many. But you know when to keep your lip buttoned, lad. That’s the secret to advancement around here. Knowing when to keep your trap shut. And when to forget about politics. Besides, there are too many damn lawyers in the force already."
There are a lot of killings going on: A series of killings of paraplegic WW I veterans and another series of killings of prostitutes. Are they related? Are we dealing with one killer or many?
"And the plain fact of the matter is that if we’re going to catch this psychopath it will have to be with the immediate resources of the Murder Commission and a few like-minded Kripo officers, rather than the whole police department…. But I fear that if you do conduct any more interviews, it will have to be a mostly solo effort. I’m sorry, Bernie, but that’s just how it is and how it has to be. Understand?”
“I hear what you say, Ernst. But we can’t have it both ways. Public apathy or public hysteria—we have to choose the lesser of two evils here."
Kerr’s attention to details of the period is enlightening. His descriptive flair only gets brighter with age.
"She was wearing a light tweed two-piece suit, a man’s shirt and tie, white stockings, and a pair of silver earrings. Her shortish blond hair was parted to one side, her mouth was maybe a bit too wide, and her nose a bit too long, but she was as elegant as Occam’s razor and just as sharp. She had come armed with some expensive stationery from Liebmann and a variety of accessories that made me think she might have been to India: a gold enameled cigarette case that resembled a Mughal’s favorite rug; a variety of silver and ivory bangles; and a green clutch bag with an embroidered Hindu god that was home to a lorgnette and several large banknotes. This was just as well; the Hotel Adlon’s restaurant was the most expensive in Berlin. I knew that because I saw the ransom demands that were amusingly called prices on the menu…"
Berlin is very strange and very open….far beyond what is demonstrated in the musical, Cabaret.
"“What’s fair got to do with anything? If there was any fairness in this world my little girl would still be alive.” He lit a cigarette and smiled a crocodile sort of smile. “Fair, he says. Listen, son, this country—and this city in particular—are full of shit. And the shit keeps on piling up around our ears. Communists, Nazis, Junkers, Prussians, military men, pimps, drug addicts, perverts. You mark my words, Gunther, one day there’s going to be nowhere clean left for anyone to stand on and we’ll all be in the shit."
And, Bernie Gunther, whose wife has died, is certainly aware of the women that he encounters.
“You’ve got a way with women, Gunther. A nice way, but a way nonetheless. The same way a professional gambler knows the way to count cards. Or a good jockey knows how to handle racehorses.” “You make me sound very cynical.” “No. That’s not it. I’ll work out a name for it the next time I have a thesaurus in front of me. Anyway, now that I know you’re all right I was thinking of celebrating by locking the door again.” “Just as long as I’m on the inside.” “I can’t think of a better place for you to be.”
"…we lay on top of the covers for a while, exhausted and sheened with sweat, listening to the symphonic adagio that was the city’s smallest hours, too tired to smoke or to touch each other but knowing without having to say anything that there would be another time for all those mysteries…Neither of us said anything and it seemed to me that for a fleeting instant we reached out into the void and touched a perfect innocence."
At the end of this book, but at the beginning of this saga, Bernie is the person who struggles with his humanity and his pursuit of justice:
"You wouldn’t have stood for it.”
“You were right about that much anyway.”
“I didn’t have time to figure all the angles, but it seemed like a good idea. I still think you should let things lie the way they are.”
“I can’t. It’s just not in me. I’ve got standards and I try to live up to them. Whereas you’ve got no standards at all, and you certainly live up to those. I should have realized that."
4.5*
"You’re a stubborn bastard if ever I met one. I almost admire you for it. It seems it’s true what they say: There’s no fool quite as foolish as an honest fool. But ask yourself this: One day, one day soon if I’m not mistaken, when you’re the only honest man left in Germany, who’ll know?”