“I apologize in advance if there’s anything inaccurate. My editor has a leaden touch.”
Kommissar Lang handed me a pen. “Come to my office and sign it.” He gestured back down the hallway, past the photograph of Ernst. If I followed him, I knew that he would regale me with tales of his arrests and later be offended that I did not write each one for the Tageblatt. I had been through that with countless police officers, and afterward they were never much use as sources.
I placed his newspaper against the wall and signed it. “I must be at the courthouse early. It is best to watch the accused come in and sit down. One learns so much.”
He nodded. “One can determine a great deal from watching someone walk.”
I handed him back the newspaper and walked out the front door, trying not to let the wobble in my knees betray me.
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