When the moon rises over Berlin

      It was a warm evening in the city, the snow was melting and the street was full of puddles, the day had passed the halfway point. A light breeze freshened the streets, bringing a cold breeze of the days to come. There were three people sitting at the bar. This time they went to the cafe Adler wanted, it was nicer and better. It was crowded, music was playing as well. They had just returned from the cemetery where they had visited Ingrid.       Everyone was sitting pensive, no one wanted to talk. The report had been turned in and they had solved the case. All of them were sipping their whiskey and were lost in their own thoughts. Adler was on his second glass, willing to get drunk as soon as possible.       “Adler, don’t drink so much,” said Wieland good-naturedly, trying to appeal to his mate’s sanity.       “Get off, Wieland, I have an excuse to get drunk tonight,” pronounced Adler and swallowed his shot of whiskey.       “You’re right. You’re right today,” sadly said Wieland.       “I can’t believe it’s over like this, can you?”, Ehrman looked at the two of them.       “What are you talking about? Ingrid or the case?”, parried Adler. Wieland looked at Ehrman too.       “Both,” Ehrman sat closer to the table, pulling up a chair. “It seems, Ingrid wanted to escape, but when she realised Helmut wouldn’t let her do this, she decided to poison herself. And he showed up at her flat and killed her with the knife he had.”       “Wilhelm wanted to help her, but he became the victim himself. He wanted to take his sister to the aerodrome to take her to Britain, but he got caught and they came after him,” Wieland said with a hint of sadness. “And the best part is that he didn’t even know when they were coming for him, he was killed right under our noses.       “And yet I feel more sorry for Arthur and Heinrich,” Adler set the glass aside, deciding that was enough for today. “They had nothing to do with Ingrid and Wilhelm’s scam, thus they were the ones who suffered from it. Even though it wasn’t Helmut who had killed them, but his accomplice Jan, it was still a pity.”       “And the interesting thing is that Wilhelm couldn’t find a way out of it. He was so caught up in his lust for money and the easy way of getting then that he couldn’t escape from this nightmare.”       “Okay, let’s have one last drink and it’s time to go home, we all have our own lives, it’s not for us to judge Ingrid and Wilhelm, we didn’t fully become someone who could understand her. We were like medicine to her, she could forget everything and relax with. Just let her have a good time in the other world,” said Wieland, pouring the bottle into glasses.       “Yeah, you said it well. I think Ingrid is glad we caught her killer and that it was us who did it,” agreed Ehrman.       “I think the media will not stay quiet for a long time and Werner will be kept in prison for a long time to come,” said Adler.       Everyone drank without clinking glasses.       There was silence. There was no need to speak. Each other’s company became clear and simple to them. Everyone now knew that what brought them together was not just a coincidence. When it came to the fact that it was time to leave, Ehrman spoke up:       “I will remember you two, thank you for everything.”       Wieland and Adler shook his hand, telling him that if anything, he could easily invite them to visit him. The man replied that he would. Besides, now there was someone to call. He quietly packed up and left through the snowy streets.       He kept thinking about her all the time, but now with a slight sadness, with a slight wave of the fact that she had gone without sorrow in her heart as if she knew everything. She knew how to appreciate life and enjoy it. Ehrman went in to get cigarettes, he bought them at a kiosk along with a newspaper that had a front-page headline about their investigation.       “I’ll probably go too, Wieland. I’ll just thank you for everything. You’ve been looking out for us as a senior,” he said a little later.       Adler smirked, Wieland shook his hand in farewell and Adler walked out as well. Slightly drunk, he shaved the streets for a long, long time. When he returned home with a bottle of wine, he poured it into glasses with his wife. He had spent the entire evening paying attention to her and entertaining her as much as he could. Looking back now, he realised how wrong he had been. Ingrid had always been something of a teacher in his life, whose lessons came through after many years. No, he did not regret being with Ingrid, perhaps, it was just what he needed to come home now and appreciate what he had.       Wieland was sitting for a long time. When the cafe began to close, he got up, bought himself a cake and wandered home through the small courtyards by detours. Wieland remembered Ingrid with warm feelings. He was happy, he understood one thing for sure: Ingrid did not regret her death, she never regretted anything at all, it was her exceptional character trait, which she taught all three of them.