The first time over here for Germany's ""foremost"" mystery writer, not as lumpen as Hans Hellmut Kirst. The scene is bread, butter, and beer postwar Germany where Adolf Obuch, an advertising man, is the happenstantial witness to the dead girl in a train compartment. Later he spots her pocketbook in the painting of an artist (the next to go--fast) and traces her connection with the well-fixed head of a whiskey factory in a small town. . . . A dead sure touch for a story which moves with quick and likable enterprise.