The Case of the Two Detectives

Life was good. At least for now Joseph Schatz felt like it was. Being the assistant and helper of a private agent was, generally speaking, a dangerous and gruelling existence, but it certainly had its perks. Right now for example him and his long-time colleague, Herr Heinrich Anzelm Backhaus were spending their hard-earned revenue at an elegant resort in Geneva. It was an exquisite hotel, a huge five-storey building of three wings, propped above the city in the mountainside surrounded by thick woods, offering a splendid view on the lake.

Schatz and Herr Backhaus were spending their dinner in the elegant dining room. Schatz was slightly dazed – had his colleague not so generously invited him he could never have afforded to stay a single day at such a place. Just the starter on his plate was worth a day's salary.

'A quick exercise for you, my friend' Backhaus said, leaning back in his seat. Schatz was instantly wary – such exercises often only occurred to highlight his colleague's brilliance, when he inevitably failed and his companion got the chance to spectacularly correct him. He sighed and nodded. The detective smiled and went on.

'Look over this room. Full of the crème de la crème, the elite of Europe – and yet. And yet, what a collection of flaws and crooked characters! At the first glance, all you see is shining brilliance, if only because of the sheer amount of diamonds in the room, but look closer! Go on – take a closer look at each table! What do you see?'

Schatz sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He dearly wished he would be left alone to eat in peace, but he gave in none the less.

'All right then, let me see. The table beside us, with the old gentleman and the much younger lady. Going by his clothes he's clearly wanting for nothing, and as a result neither is the lady.'

'And why would you say that?'

'Well... they seem to be quite close, if you know what I mean' said Schatz, allowing some coyness to colour his voice.

'That's actually Monsieur Gillard, a banker, with his daughter.'

Ears burning, Schatz fought down an embarrassed groan. He hated this game.

'All right' he said 'Moving on... In that far corner, the table with the two Englishmen.'

'Count Archibald Willbury-Higgs the second and his personal doctor' Herr Backhaus added, nodding 'Not to sway your judgement of him in any way, but the count would not let his poor doctor have his own room... His health is declining, from what I gather he's been at death's door for the past ten years or so. His precious person must be watched constantly.'

'A fine and typical specimen of the English aristocracy, I see' murmured Schatz.

The man in question was inspecting a slice of galantine on his plate. Going by the couple of words Schatz could catch he was judging it heavily.

'Charming' said Schatz. Backhaus chuckled quietly, then nodded towards the far end of the dining room.

'And what would you say about the young gentleman over there?'

Schatz followed his colleague's gaze. There, chatting with a middle-aged lady who was almost lost in a heap of mink, sat a lean, black-haired youth with a pencil-thin moustache. Schatz had to take several deep breaths and count up to ten to keep himself from just getting up and walking out of the room and not stop until he got home, preferably banging his head on every vertical surface on the way. That man was no stranger. He was – or at least last time they met he was calling himself Wilhelm Blumberg. Respectable socialite to the world, slippery jewellery thief and long standing Nemesis to Backhaus.