Berlin Alexanderplatz: The Story of Franz Biberkopf (52 page)

But the watchman gets scared and he boils with rage at being tied up like that. How’m I gonna get free? They left the doors open so others can come in, too, and pinch things. He can’t get his hands free, but the wire on his legs comes undone, if I could only see a bit. Then the old man wriggles and short-steps forward with the armchair stuck to his back like a snail’s shell, he marches blindly across the office, his hands pressed against his body, he can’t get ‘em out, nor can he get the thick topcoat off his head. Thus he gropes his way towards the door, banging his head against things in the hallway, but he can’t get through the door. He flies into a terrible rage now, and retreats, bashing the armchair forward and sideways against the door. The armchair won’t come off, but the door splits, and the sound echoes through the silent house. The blind watchman keeps walking back and. forth, crashing and bashing against the door, somebody’s gotta come, I wanta see somethin’, them dirty dogs will find out a thing or two, I gotta get this coat off, he calls for help, but the coat muffles his voice. This goes on for two minutes and then the boss wakes up. Others arrive from the second story. Then the old man sits back on his armchair and flops over; he has fainted. Some rumpus, burglars have broken in, they’ve tied the old man, what’s the use of having such an old man, that’s to save money, penny wise, pound foolish, as usual.

General rejoicing among the little gang.

Hell, do we need Pums and Reinhold and that whole damned crowd? But things come to a head, and very differently from what they expect.

Things come to a Head, Karl the Tinner gets caught and spills the Beans

In the Prenzlauer cafe Reinhold goes up to the tinner and tells him they need him, they’ve been looking for a locksmith, but can’t find one. Karl must join them. They walk into the back room. Reinhold says: “Why dontcha want to come? What are you doin’, anyway? We’ve heard all about it.” “Because I won’t let you guys get my goat.” “Well, I suppose you got somethin’ else.”

“That’s none o’ your business.” “I can see you’re earnin’ dough, but you can’t get away with that, y’ know, first workin’ with us, earnin’ money, and then good-bye everybody.” “What do you mean, get away with what? First you holler I’m no good, and then, all of a sudden, you say Karl’s gotta come along.” “You gotta come, we got nobody, or give back the money you got with us. We don’t need no day-laborers.” “Search me, that money’s all gone.” “Then you gotta work with us.” “I won’t, and I told you so before.” “Karl, see here, we’ll break every bone in your body, we’ll make you starve to death alive.” “Don’t make me laugh. Are you drunk or somethin? Maybe you think I’m one of them little broads you can do anything you want to with.” “Is that so, old boy? Now you just beat it. I don’t care what the bell you are. Think it over. I’ll be round again.” “Attaboy.” There is a mower.

Reinhold discusses with the others what they are to do. They’re S. O. L. without a locksmith, and just now the season’s favorable, Reinhold has orders from two fences, he got them over Pums’s head. They’re all of the same opinion, we gotta put Karl into the sweat-box, he’s nothing but a crook, and he’ll get kicked out of the club one of these days.

The tinner notices that there’s something in the wind. He looks up Franz and often visits him in his room, trying to pump him or to get him to help him. Franz says: “First you got us in a hole up there in Stralauer Strasse, and then you ditch us. Now that’s enough.” “It’s because I don’t wanta have nothin’ to do with Reinhold. He’s a damned bastard, only you don’t know it.” “He’s a good guy.” “You’re a jackass, you don’t know nothin’ about the world, you ain’t got eyes to see with.” “Don’t give me any of that bunk, Karl, I got enough, we go on a job and then you ditch us. Just watch out, I’m tellin’ you, or things’ll go bad with you.” “On account of Reinhold and Company? Just watch me laugh. Couldn’t open my mouth any wider, could I? My belly’s shakin’. I’m as strong as he is, anyhow, I guess he thinks I’m like one of his little broads, well, I won’t say no more. But just let him come and try somethin’.” “Beat it, but I tell ye, watch out.”

And then chance would have it that the tinner, with his two friends, pulled a job two days later in Friedenstrasse, and he got nabbed. The wheelwright got caught as well, only the third man who kept watch escaped. They soon found out at headquarters that Karl was involved in the burglary in Elsasser Strasse, there are plenty of fingerprints on the coffee cups.

Why did I get nabbed, thinks Karl. How did those bulls dig it out anyhow? Musta been that dirty louse, Reinhold, who squealed. Out of spite, because I didn’t go along with ‘em. The dirty bastard wants to put me out of commission, that crook, he got us into this trap, he’s the prize yegg, sure, never saw the likes of him. He sends a secret note to the wheelwright to say it’s Reinhold’s fault, he gave ‘em away, I’ll say he was in on it. The wheelwright nods to him in the hallway. Karl has himself brought before the examining judge, and at headquarters he insists: “Reinhold was in it, only he got away.”

They promptly arrest Reinhold in the afternoon. He denies everything, he ca n prove an alibi. He is pale with rage, when he faces the two men in the office of the examining judge, and hears those dirty hounds state that he was in Oil the burglary in the warehouse. The judge listens to all this, watches their faces, there’s something fishy about it, they’re furious with each other. Two days later, the thing’s cleared up, Reinhold’s alibi is valid, he’s a pimp, but he had nothing to do with this affair.

This is early in October.

So Reinhold is discharged, but the bulls smell a rat and decide to watch him more closely. The others, the wheelwright and Karl, are reprimanded by the examining judge, they mustn’t rake up a lot of nonsense, Reinhold has an alibi. Whereupon both are silent.

Karl sits in his cell, boiling with rage. His brother-in-law, the brother of his divorced wife, with whom he is on good terms, visits him. He gets a lawyer through him, he insists on having a lawyer, a good criminal lawyer. After sounding him out a bit to find out if he knows his job, he asks the lawyer what would happen if a man helped to bury a dead person. “What do you mean?” “If a man finds somebody who’s dead and then buries him?” “Someone you want to conceal, perhaps, shot dead by the police, eh?” “Well, anyway, if a man didn’t kill the person himself and he wouldn’t like to have the body found, can anything be done to him for that?” “Well, did you know the dead person, and did you gain anything by burying him?” “No, didn’t gain nothin’, it was for friendship’s sake; supposin’ a man simply helped, the corpse is lyin’ there, he’s dead all right and you don’t want to have him found.” “Found by the police, you mean? As a matter of fact, that’s merely suppression of evidence. But how did he die?” “How do I know? I wasn’t there, I’m just askin’ about this for somebody else. I didn’t help at all. Didn’t know nothin’ about it either, nothin’ at all. The corpse was just lyin’ there. Then somebody says to me, just take a hold, we’re gonna bury it.” “Who told you that?” “To bury it? Well, somebody. I just wanta know how I stand. Did I commit a crime when I helped to bury a corpse?” “Look here, the way you put the thing, it’s hardly a crime at all, or only a petty one. If you were not involved at all and had no interest in it. But why did you help?” ‘Tm tellin’ you, I just gave a hand for friendship’s sake, but that didn’t matter, at any rate, I wasn’t involved in the affair and it didn’t matter to me whether the person was or wasn’t found.” “Was there some kind of a femic murder in your gang?” “Well-” “Look here, old man, keep out of this. But I still don’t know what you’re driving at.” “It’s all right, Mister, what I wanted to know, now I know.” “Won’t you tell me about it a little more in detail?” “I’d like to sleep over it a bit.”

So Karl the tinner lies in his bunk all night long, trying to sleep, to sleep, but he can’t, and he gets in a rage. I certainly am the biggest boob in the world, now I wanted to squeal on Reinhold, and that fellow sure tumbled to something, and now he’s gone, he’s beat it. I’m a boob. That crook, that gorilla, gets me into trouble, but I’ll get even with him, you bet your life.

It seems to Karl that the night will never end; when’s the first bell gain’ to ring, it’s all the same to me, just helping to bury a person don’t get a man into trouble, and if I get a coupla months, it’ll be life for him; he’ll never get out again, unless they knock off his bean altogether. When’s the examining judge coming, wonder what time it is, and meanwhile Reinhold’s in the train and skiddoos. The crook. I never saw the likes of him, and what’s more, Biberkopf’s his friend, wonder how he’ll manage with one arm, they’re doin’ all kinds of funny things to the war-cripples.

Then things begin to stir in the old panopticon. Karl puts out his signal flag, and at eleven he’s before the judge. Well, the latter looks astonished. “You certainly have it in for him. This is the second time you have reported him. Let’s hope you don’t get into trouble yourself.” But then Karl gives such precise information that they take an automobile at noon, the examining judge goes along himself, two sturdy detectives with him, Karl between them, handcuffed, and they go out to Freienwalde.

So they ride once more over the old roads. It’s nice to ride along like this. Damn it, if only I knew how to get out of this car. The lousy fools have handcuffed me, nothing doing. They got guns, too. No use, no use. Riding, riding, the road shoots past him. 180 days I give you, Mieze, on my lap, a darling gal, he’s a crook, Reinhold, he walks over corpses, well, just wait, old boy! Got to think about Mieze again, I’ll bite your tongue, she knows how to hug, which way are we going to drive, right or left, don’t care, what a sweet kid.

They cross the hill, and come to the wood.

There’s a pretty bathing-beach in Freienwalde, a small summer resort. There is yellow gravel neatly spread over the paths of the Kurgarten, back there is the restaurant terrace, that’s where we three sat. In Switzerland and on Tyrol’s height, One feels so well by day and night, In Tyrol the milk comes warm from the cow, In Switzerland there’s the tall Jungfrau.

And then he rushed off with her, and I made myself scarce for a few lousy bills. To think I sold that poor kid to such a crook, and now I’m in trouble on accounta him.

Here’s the wood, autumnal, sunny, the tree-tops are still. “We gotta walk along here, he had a flashlight, it’s not easy to find, but when I see the place, I’ll know it again. There was a clearing with a fir tree standing crooked and then there was a little hollow.” “There are lots of hollows here.” “Wait a minute, chief, we’ve gone too far, it wasn’t 20 or 25 minutes from the restaurant. It wasn’t that far.” “But you said you were running.” “Only in the woods, not on the road, of course, somebody might have noticed us.” Now they have found the clearing; the crooked fir tree is standing there, everything is as it was that day. I’m yourn, her heart smashed, eyes smashed, mouth smashed, how about walking a bit, don’t hug me so tight. “That’s the black fir, that’s it.”

Men came riding over the land, they sat on little brown horses, they came from far away. They kept on asking where the road was, till they came to the water, to the great lake, there they dismounted. They tied their horses to an oak tree, they said prayers beside the water, they threw themselves on the ground and then they took a boat and rowed across the water. They hailed the lake with singing, they talked with the lake. They sought no treasure in the lake, they only wished to worship the great lake wherein one of their chieftains lay. For this is the reason, the reason these men.

The detectives had brought some spades along, Karl the tinner showed them the spot. They stuck their spades into the ground, and no sooner had they stuck them in than it became loose; they dug still deeper throwing the earth high, the ground has been disturbed here, there were fir cones lying underneath. Karl the tinner stands and looks and looks and waits. It was here, it was here all right, here’s where they dug the girl in. “How deep was it?” “A foot or so, no more.” “Should have got there by now.” “It was here all right, just go on diggin’.” “Go on digging, digging, all very well, when there’s nothing there.” The ground is all torn up, they shovel green grass from the bottom of the hole, there’s been somebody digging here, yesterday or today. She oughta come now, he goes on holding his sleeve to his nose, she must be decomposed by now, how many months is it, and it’s been raining, too. One of the men digging down there asks from below: “What kind of a dress did she have on?” “A dark skirt and a pink waist.” “Silk?” “Maybe silk, anyhow, light pink.” “Like this?” One of the men holds up a strip of lace, all loamy and sodden, but it’s pink. He shows it to the judge. “Part of the sleeve perhaps.” They go on digging. It’s obvious: something was buried here. Yesterday or perhaps today, someone was digging here. Karl stands there; so that’s it, he smelt a rat and dug her out, maybe he has thrown her into the water. The judge takes the police commissioner aside, their conversation lasts a long time, the commissioner takes notes. Then the three return to the automobile; one of the men stays behind.

While they are walking, the judge asks Karl: “When you came, the girl was already dead, wasn’t she?” “Yes.” “How can you prove it?” “Why?” “Well, suppose your Reinhold now says it was you who killed her, or you helped.” “I helped carry her all right. Why should I kill the gal?” “For the same reason that he killed her, or is supposed to have killed her.” “I wasn’t with her in the evening at all.” “But in the afternoon.” “But not afterwards, she was still alive then.” “That’ll be a difficult alibi.”

In the car the judge asks Karl: “Where were you in the evening, or the night following this business with Reinhold?” Damn it all, I’ll tell you. “I was on a trip, he gave me his passport, I beat it, so that I could prove my alibi in case the thing got out.” “Strange, but why should you do that, that’s really odd, were you such good friends?” “Oh, I’m poor, and he gave me some money.” “But now he’s not your friend any more, is he? Or hasn’t he any money now?” “Him, a friend of mine? No, judge. You know why I’m in jail - it’s on account of that affair with the watchman and so on. He snitched on me.”