Mannequin
“Boemelburg was not pleased to see them. Rain poured down the windows that overlooked the courtyard where their car was parked. The Chief studied the gobs of slush that accompanied the rush of water while Hermann and he, like two errant schoolboys in steaming overcoats and shoes, sat uncomfortably in front of the antique limewood desk to which the bare planks of expediency and enlargement had been thoroughly nailed the day Boemelburg had taken over the office.
‘Kempf, Louis,’ breathed the Chief ...as he studied yet another gob of slush. ‘The Sonderführer comes from a very old and wealthy family—Prussian to the core, you idiots. He’s a cousin of the Reichsführer Goering or were you unaware of this?’ Ah nom de Jésus-Christ, a cousin! ‘Walter, over the past two years …’ Boemelburg didn’t turn from studying the weather. He would be very formal with these two. ‘Don’t interrupt me, Chief Inspector St-Cyr, and please don’t assume a familiarity you shouldn’t just because we once worked together in the old days.’ ‘Sturmbannführer, there were …’ ‘Louis, we were speaking French.MoreLess
‘Kempf, Louis,’ breathed the Chief ...as he studied yet another gob of slush. ‘The Sonderführer comes from a very old and wealthy family—Prussian to the core, you idiots. He’s a cousin of the Reichsführer Goering or were you unaware of this?’ Ah nom de Jésus-Christ, a cousin! ‘Walter, over the past two years …’ Boemelburg didn’t turn from studying the weather. He would be very formal with these two. ‘Don’t interrupt me, Chief Inspector St-Cyr, and please don’t assume a familiarity you shouldn’t just because we once worked together in the old days.’ ‘Sturmbannführer, there were …’ ‘Louis, we were speaking French.MoreLess
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