THE GREEN KING (part 37)
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The Photographer
from Salzburg
‘You have come
for them. She complained again, that whore. She whores around in Vienna with
the Americans, she gives me her kids to keep and almost no money, and she wants
me to treat them like kings.’
A slight noise
of bare feet. Reb turned around. The three little boys had just appeared. One
of them had a bluish bruise on a cheekbone; all three had whip marks on their
legs.
‘I have also
come about them,’ said Reb. ‘She asked me to see how they were. Now will you
kindly answer my questions, please.’
She lowered her
eyes first and said, with rancor: ‘I could put a little bacon in the soup.’
‘I was about to
ask you to,’ said Reb, still looking at her.
He began to ask
her questions. Who had engaged her, in September of 1941, as housekeeper in the
Klimrod home? A man named Epke, she said. This Epke, was he the owner of the
house? No. In that case, who was above Epke and gave him orders? She couldn’t
remember his name. Reb smiled, moved his head. ‘Ttttt…’ She really couldn’t
remember, she said. At least, not his name. But the man, yes. The boss.
‘A very tall
and very handsome man. Blond.’
‘In uniform?’
’In SS
uniform,’ said the woman. ‘He was at least a general. He didn’t come often.’
And in
September of 1941 were there still any servants in the house who had been there
for a long time? For years? For example, a very old man with white hair whose
name was Anton?
‘Yes’
And did she
know where Anton was today?
TO BE CONTINUED
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I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
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