Friedrich Spanger was spending some of his weekend leisure time ripping up an old carpet in the study of the large old house that he had just inherited from his recently deceased father. The august residence had been in family ownership since the 19^th century when a Kaiser had ruled Germany and the new occupier was intending to carry on the proprietoral tradition, along with his wife and young son and daughter.

Friedrich, however, had to admit that the house needed serious refurbishment before he could expect to ask his wife and children to move in. He proposed to do as much of the necessary work as possible himself, at least in terms of the preliminary preparations, before inviting relevant tradesman to exercise their undoubtedly very costly and deliberately expensively prolonged skills to make the residence fully inhabitable.

Friedrich intended to retain much of the house’s original and now antique furniture, although he would dispose of some of the most ugly Gothic items. Many of the elderly carpets, though, were beyond restorative redemption, hence his current occupation of ripping the matting in the study, which was in stark contrast to his normal job of top-class lawyer.

Friedrich had followed his father into the legal profession, although whether he would ever become a judge, as his father had done, was questionable. The son considered himself too radical and too associated with liberal causes to be acceptable on the judicial bench in such a conservative state as Bavaria.

As Friedrich worked away in the study, which had been temporarily deprived of most furniture, a number of old family photographs proudly looked down at him from the long and broad mantelpiece above a large and tall fireplace. Amongst the people proudly portrayed was his eponymous father, dressed in the black robe and white shirt and tie of a lower court judge. Family tradition dictated that the first sons in each generation shared the same Christian name.

There was also a photograph of Friedrich’s grandfather. His green uniform, with double pips on each epaulette, was that of a senior pre-war police captain, or Hauptmann. His profession was one that had also been followed by his immediate forefathers. The law, in some manner or other, appeared to be a family preoccupation.

In the photograph, the helmet of Friedrich’s grandfather, which would have prominently displayed a certain badge, was noticeably and meaningfully missing. The absence of the hat was just another minor but nevertheless significant symbol of his immense distaste for what the insignia lauded.

The Friedrich of the current generation, or rather the older 45 year-old version because his young son, of course, shared his Christian name, had sadly not known his grandfather. The Hauptmann had been killed, allegedly in the line of duty, in 1937 at the age of forty.

Friedrich’s own father had only been seven years old at the time. However, his widowed mother gamely raised her son well on the meagre police pension, boosted by taking part-time jobs, to see him go off to study law amidst the ruins of Germany after the end of the Second World War.

Given the untimely demise of Friedrich’s grandfather and his father’s tender age at the time, neither had become tainted by active participation in the Second World War. Despite the usual conservative attitudes found within Bavaria, and especially the police in the Nazi stronghold of Munich, the family also possessed a liberal tradition and had bravely refused Hitler’s political party their support.

Friedrich’s grandfather had declined to join the Nazi Party, despite pressure from his superiors in the police to do so and the certain damage to his future career prospects caused by his refusal. His son had also been kept out of the Hitler Youth until after his father’s death and until membership had subsequently become compulsory.

After 1933, Friedrich’s grandfather had actually often contemplated leaving the police. Control of the Bavarian force had fallen in that year to the sinister Nazis, Himmler and Heydrich, whom he hated passionately for both their personalities and political beliefs.

Like the other fourteen independent ‘Landespolizei’ in the various other German states, or Länder, the Bavarian police had also later come under the direction of Himmler’s Shutzstaffel, or SS, and been merged in 1936 into the national Ordnungspolizei. These reorganisations, the associated new leaders and the adoption of Nazi insignia, including the mandatory swastika dangling from an eagle on the badge of his green helmet, had revolted Friedrich’s grandfather. However, he had ultimately demurred from leaving the force because of the financial and other hardships such a move might cause his family. He consoled himself with the fact that his duties remained concerned with genuine criminal investigation and he could therefore distance himself from so-called public order measures, such as those persecuting Jews, communists, gypsies and homosexuals.

Friedrich was now tearing up carpet from a part of the study floor that had become notorious for creaking loudly when stepped upon. However, nothing had ever been done to alleviate the problem because creating the noise had actually become a longstanding family joke.

After Friedrich had lifted up the latest shred of carpet and cast it aside, he immediately recognised what had been causing the creaking. The nails at one end of a floorboard were missing.

Friedrich pondered whether to replace the nails but thoughts, of the happy times he had experienced as a boy creeping up on his father whilst he worked at his study desk and then making the floorboard creak and his parent jump, discouraged him. He wanted his own young son to continue the joke.

Friedrich instead then reached out to tear up another piece of carpet but suddenly another thought fatefully struck him. He wondered why the floorboard nails were missing.

Friedrich therefore reached out for the relevant end of the floorboard and, as he had surmised, he discovered that he could lift the wood a little. He did so and peered into the gloom below.

Fortunately, sunlight streaming in from a nearby huge bay window helped to illuminate the scene below the floorboard, enabling Friedrich to see that there was a large bulky brown envelope amidst the cobwebs and dust. He therefore reached in to pull his secreted find out.

After carefully looking round to ensure that nothing else was hidden under the floorboard, Friedrich moved his attention to the envelope. He blew the encrusting cobwebs and dust away and surveyed the brown paper, which was yellowing in parts with age but otherwise appeared well preserved, a phenomenon undoubtedly aided by the fact that the study had always been one of the warmest and driest rooms in the house.

One end of the envelope was unsealed and Friedrich withdrew the bulky brown folder that comprised the sole contents. He then took a deep breath.

Friedrich perceptively realised that the folder had been deliberately concealed, probably in haste or otherwise presumably the nails would have been replaced. The contents therefore clearly represented a secret that had been hurriedly hidden and were something that some people were not intended to discover, whilst they had also obviously also been retained for a purpose.

Friedrich was both excited and apprehensive, as he prepared to open the folder. He was thrilled at the prospect of unveiling a mysterious discovery but also worried that the secret contained in the folder might somehow be scandalous for his family.

Friedrich’s concern even made him ponder whether to destroy the folder instead, contents unseen. However, after further consideration, he eventually looked inside.

The contents mainly comprised a sheath of carbon-copy police memos, typed onto stationery headed ‘Ordnungspolizei Munchen’. All of the documents were dated 1937, including the smaller neatly hand-written letter at the top of the pile, which Friedrich began to read first.

The letter, several pages long, had his house’s address printed at the top of the first sheet and was dated the 10^th of June 1937. The manuscript began ‘Dear Friedrich’.

Friedrich was immediately tempted to skip without further ado to the last page of the letter in order to discover who was the author. His early supposition as to the writer’s identity was subsequently proved correct.

The letter concluded ‘Your loving father, Friedrich’, and the current eponymous reader instantly realised that his grandfather had intended to address his son and not grandson. However, because the folder had clearly not been found until now, revelation of the undoubted secret within had skipped a generation.

Whatever secret the folder contained was now the responsibility of the present Friedrich to tackle. He began doing so by returning to the front page of the letter to begin reading the main text.

The opening sentences caused Friedrich to shiver in sudden shock. His grandfather had written "I am leaving this file in the hope that someday you will find it as an adult, son, and know why I was killed, as I undoubtedly soon will be, although my death will be made to look like an accident or unsolvable crime. You may somehow sometime be able to use the information to secure justice for me’.

Friedrich again looked at the date at the letterhead. He again shivered.

Friedrich had regularly gone with his father to tend the family plot in the local church cemetery, which was a tradition that he proposed to maintain with his own son. He now remembered the dates carved on his grandfather’s gravestone. The man’s death had occurred on the 11^th of June 1937, which was the day after he had written his letter and presumably hidden his secret folder.

Friedrich knew that his grandfather had been called to his office at night, which for an investigator was not unusual if a serious crime had occurred or important criminal apprehended. However, he had never arrived. His dead body was instead found slumped at the wheel of his car, which had stopped at a quiet road junction. He had been shot once through the head, and the weapon and murderer had never been found.

There were two officially propounded likely reasons for the murder. One was that Friedrich’s eponymous grandfather had been killed by one of the many vengeful criminals whom he had been responsible for capturing and imprisoning over the years. Alternative suspects were those people who were in real fear of being apprehended soon through the Hauptmann’s renowned ability at investigation.

Friedrich’s grandfather had subsequently been given a hero’s funeral, attended by many Munich dignitaries and, to the family’s quiet disgust, important but uninvited local Nazis and members of the SS. However, the murder case was subsequently closed without resolve rather quickly and significantly, especially given that the victim was a senior policeman.

What Friedrich next read in the letter from his grandfather took his imagination back 68 years, almost a quarter of a century before he had been born.

Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler, head of the SS, handed four files to his subordinate, who specialised in quietly liquidating political nuisances, and ordered "These are to be disposed of and, as usual, ensure that their deaths look like accidents or unsolved crimes!"

Heinrich Himmler raised an eyebrow. Such an ominous gesture of displeasure from him could often mean instant death for someone.

The current object of Himmler’s disgust was the same Hauptsturmfuehrer, the SS equivalent of captain, to whom he had earlier handed four files. The officer, who was apparently an assassin with discernment, had just had the temerity to return to the Reichsführer’s office to query whether he had been given the correct dossiers.

"But the four men seem reasonably worthy working-class citizens with families and useful crafts," the Hauptsturmfuerhrer had complained. "Three are actually members of the Nazi Party and all four fought with distinction on the Western Front in the Great War, earning medals in the process. Are you sure, Reichsführer, that you want them quietly eliminated? Hasn’t there been some form of administrative error and we’ve both been given the wrong files?"

"There is no error, Hauptsturmfuerhrer," Himmler answered forcefully and sternly, with both quiet annoyance and menace evident in his voice, "and the command for the discreet liquidation of the men has come from the mouth of the Führer himself. Do you wish to continue to contest the order?"

Himmler did not feel obliged to inform the Hauptsturmfuerhrer that he had recently personally quietly advised the Führer about the slanderous indiscretions of one of his former army comrades, which had been reported by an informer in Munich and had eventually come to the attention of the Reichsführer. Hitler had immediately gone berserk and, amidst his raging tantrum, had ordered the deaths of four men, supposedly for betraying a state secret.

"No, Reichsführer!" the Hauptsturmfuerhrer replied to Himmler’s question, knowing that it was very unwise to test his superior’s patience any longer or challenge a personal order from the Führer. He therefore simply gave the Nazi salute, simultaneously shouting "Heil Hitler!" and then rapidly turned on his heel and quickly retreated from the ornate office, full of Nazi regalia, without further ado and as swiftly as possible.

Hauptmann Friedrich Spanger was attending a funeral. The event was not yet his own, as he still had a few months to live.

Friedrich was paying his respects to someone whom he had never known in life but whose death he was investigating. The murder appeared relatively straightforward, namely a man beaten to death as he walked drunkenly home after a night consuming too much strong Bavarian beer in a bar.

The early presumption was that the victim had been attacked for either whatever few Reichspfennig he had left, if any after his night of insobriety, or, more likely as he was well known for unpopular outspokenness, what he had said to upset someone. As he had once been known to be a left-wing socialist, which was a dangerous persuasion in Nazi Germany, despite use of the term in the name of the reactionary ruling party, a political motive could not be ruled out. Such a potential reason was perhaps why Friedrich’s superiors had instructed him not to spend much time on the case and why he intended to do the opposite.

Friedrich appreciated that Nazis of significance would not have been involved. If the victim had upset them, they would not have bothered murdering him in such a tasteless manner. They would instead have simply had him arrested for the crime of serious political unorthodoxy and thereby had him despatched to one of the new concentration camps.

If the murder had a political motive, the victim was therefore more likely to have been attacked by an angered Nazi-supporting thug, perhaps one of the now thankfully marginalised Sturmabteilung, or SA. Members of this organisation, who were nicknamed ‘Brown Shirts’ after the colour of their uniform and were originally Hitler’s bodyguard and agent provocateurs, had lost much influence after their largely homosexual leadership under Ernst Röhm had been culled during the ‘Night of the Long Knives’ in 1934.

Nevertheless, the idea of having an SA thug convicted of murder rather appealed to Friedrich. He was therefore investigating the crime with his usual enthusiasm and expertise, even at the funeral of the victim.

Friedrich knew that murderers often returned to the scene of their crimes, and had also been known morbidly to watch the funerals of their victims. He was therefore not only paying his respects by attending but also looking out for potential suspects.

Friedrich was additionally attempting to gather more information about the victim. He fatefully chose initially to do so by approaching a small group of men, all of whom were in their 40s and wearing neat dark suits and black ties as befitted the sombre occasion. However, what particularly caught the Hauptmann’s attention were the rows of medals each of them proudly displayed, dangling from the top of their breast pockets.

The men clearly appeared to be army comrades and, from their ages, Friedrich guessed that they were probably veterans of the Great War. He was quickly proved correct after he engaged them in polite conversation, encouraging them to talk about themselves and the murder victim.

Despite Friedrich’s police uniform, he managed to encourage the little group of army veterans to speak frankly to him. The Hauptmann soon discovered that the men had been in the Bavarian Regiment with the murder victim during the Great War and had been some of his drinking companions ever since.

Friedrich’s gregarious disposition, which generally succeeded in providing complete strangers with the confidence to talk freely, had worked again. His efforts to stimulate open conversation were also aided by the fact that he too could boast a proud army record in the Great War.

"I’m not surprised he’s come to such an end," one of the men eventually commented about the murder victim. "I told him not long ago," he added, "that his political attitudes and loud mouth when drunk would cause him trouble, especially if he disparaged the Führer or National Socialist Party."

"We all rather liked the usually amiable old rogue," the man continued, "despite disagreeing with his political views, which was why we all still drank regularly with him. However, he did sometimes step over the mark to encourage us to walk out on him."

"For example," the man advised, whilst his voice lowered to a whisper to relate the confidence, "he recently had the temerity to insult the Führer in a tasteless joke. We were listening to one of our illustrious leader’s speeches on a bar radio when our late friend cracked his supposed witticism, which caused only him to laugh."

"He laughed so much," the man informed, "that tears began to stream down his face and his false teeth almost fell out of his mouth." "He must have found his own joke very funny," Friedrich remarked in response before asking "Would you care to tell me what it was?"

"Don’t worry," Friedrich felt obliged also to promise, "I won’t arrest you or inform on you for defaming the Führer yourself." With this reassurance, the man related the joke in a whisper so that the slander could not be overheard by anyone outside the group.

Friedrich immediately agreed with those who did not find the joke superficially funny. However, unlike with the others, his clever and enquiring police brain also instantly began to wonder whether there was a serious subplot to the so-called witticism, as well to the teller’s murder.

After all, Friedrich also now discovered that the murder victim was the fourth local army veteran to have died suddenly during the last month. The other deceased had died in supposed accidents, which was why their demise had not come to the attention of the Hauptmann.

The army veterans to whom Friedrich was talking had had a busy month in terms of funerals because the current event was their fourth in the month. As the Hauptmann eventually walked away from the latest such occasion, he contemplated the other additional piece of very interesting and possibly highly relevant information he had gleaned from the army veterans about their late comrades.

There was one particular feature of the army service of the deceased foursome that they shared with only one person still alive.

"I’m pleased," Himmler commented to the Hauptsturmfuehrer, "that you’ve completed your latest assignment successfully." "Now, for my personal interest," he added, whilst displaying a sadistic smirk, "tell me how precisely you eliminated your targets."

The Hauptsturmfuehrer proceeded to describe three fatal ‘accidents’ encompassing working class men. One involved a hit-and-run driver and stolen car, another a large crate falling onto a warehouse employee and the third a drowning, after apparently a drunken fall into a canal.

"The fourth was a drunken loudmouth with undoubted anti-National Socialist tendencies," the Hauptsturmfuehrer added, whilst displaying an air of genuine disgust at the thought that a German could dislike the Nazi Party, "and so we rather enjoyed beating his brains out. The local police are unlikely to take much interest in the murder of such a low-class inebriate, ostensibly by another sot or petty thief."

"Make sure that the police are disinterested about the murder," Himmler commanded, as he wanted no trouble, "and make no connection with the other ‘accidents’. Warn off any officers taking too much notice and, if they won’t comply, eliminate them too!"

"Yavold, Reichsführer!" the Hauptsturmfuehrer replied, before again giving a neat Nazi salute and turning on his heel to leave Himmler’s office.

by Pueros