Time Heals No Wounds (12 page)

Hannes declined. “Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer once I’m done with sports.”

“I heartily recommend it,” Ben said as he flicked his lighter. “How’s your investigation going, by the way? Made any progress?”

Hannes told him an abbreviated version of his busy day. As he described the Coast Guard’s capabilities, Ben furrowed his brow.

“Isn’t it scary that everything we do can be traced? That may be a plus if you’re fighting crime, but I don’t particularly like the idea that our society’s becoming so transparent.”

“As a private citizen, I think you’re right,” Hannes said. “But since we have no leads in this case, I’m grateful for every resource. At least we now know who the victim is.”

“Oh yeah? Who is it?”

Hannes squirmed a little, feeling somewhat guilty. “This stays between you and me, okay?”

“Of course, man. You’re not the only one who can keep a secret,” Ben said and winked as he waved his joint around.

“All right, so the victim is a woman named Helene Ternheim. She is, or was, the managing director of a pharmaceutical company.”

“What’s the name of the company?”

Hannes second-guessed himself before responding. “Lagussa. It makes money selling psychotropic drugs and . . . What’s the matter?”

Ben’s joint had fallen out of his mouth, and he looked aghast. “Lagussa? Are you sure?”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Ben picked up the joint and took another deep puff. “Well, Lagussa has a rather checkered past. We’ve stumbled upon this company in our research. It wasn’t always called Lagussa. It was founded by the pharmacist Heinrich Ternheim as the North German Chemical and Pharmaceutical Works, or NGCP, shortly before the First World War. At first, the company only developed medicine for the treatment of respiratory diseases, but with time it expanded its portfolio. It was not a well-known company, and its drug sales remained primarily in northwest Germany. During the Nazi era, the company was considered ‘vital to the war effort,’ and as a result, its situation fundamentally changed.”

Ben stubbed out the spent roach in the full ashtray. “That distinction had its advantages, and the company quickly aligned itself with the Nazis. For one, the company was given priority in the allocation of much-needed materials, so production wasn’t threatened by a nasty shortage. Secondly, workers lost to military service were soon replaced with forced laborers. And there was yet another advantage, if it can be called that: the company’s products were tested on prisoners in the concentration camps without deference to the law or morality. It had, in short, secured itself a steady supply of human guinea pigs. So NGCP first took off under the Nazi regime and clearly profited off the war.”

“But didn’t the Allies overhaul it after the war?”

“Well, back then there were a number of companies that needed to be overhauled. Ultimately, the Allies focused on the bigger fish. In comparison to the Americans, the British were a little more moderate in their approach to denazification, and NGCP apparently slipped through the cracks. Shortly after the war, the company was renamed North-South Pharmaceuticals. Maybe they were hoping to soon operate throughout the country. In the nineties, it changed its name again following a drug scandal, and since then the company has been called Lagussa.”

“I had no idea,” said Hannes. “So the Ternheim family has a dark past. I’m surprised none of this is public information.”

“Well, that’s going to change in a couple of days!” Ben stood up and collected the empty beer bottles. “Lagussa will be holding court on Friday night, celebrating their commitment to corporate social responsibility as part of a charity event benefiting children with leukemia. This will be the perfect setting for me and my fellow activists to show the world Lagussa’s other, darker side.”

“What are you planning?”

“You’ll read about it in the papers on Saturday morning.”

W
EDNESDAY
N
IGHT INTO
T
HURSDAY
M
ORNING

Again this sinister darkness! What nightmare lurks inside this time?

Quiet whispers ring in the ears. When the eyes open, the curtains of the dream stage are drawn.

“He’s awake, quickly now!” a bright, familiar voice shouts. A chubby boy with curly blond hair enters the field of vision and empties a bucket over the sleepy face.

It burns the eyes, stings the nose. A torrent of urine and feces rushes across the face and mixes with tears of shame.

“He did it again! Bed wetter, pants shitter! Bed wetter, pants shitter!” sounds a chorus of children’s spiteful voices.

The orphanage room with its bunk beds and bare walls blurs behind a curtain of tears.

T
HURSDAY
M
ORNING

Merle’s dream had transported her back to two weeks before. Back to a day that had gotten off to a pleasant start.

She had been coaxed from her sleep by the warm sun and the sound of birds chirping outside. She was to go on a day trip with her boyfriend and was scheduled to meet him at 11:00 a.m. He had kept the destination and reason for this trip a big secret, and Merle had reluctantly promised to wait for him at the East Cemetery.
Maybe it won’t be so bad,
she’d thought as she lounged under her duvet.
Maybe a day trip will be a good chance for finally letting him know my decision.

Her boyfriend had jumped out of the car just as she was leaning her bike against the cemetery gates. “There you are! I could hardly wait!” He passionately kissed her, and Merle was disgusted to taste his cigarette breath.

“So where are we going?” she asked. Her boyfriend only smiled.

In a while the city was behind them, and they were heading north along an empty country road.

“Are you taking me to the beach?”

Her boyfriend shrugged. Merle looked out the window. They’d been together for almost two years, yet she had recently come to the realization that they were not made for each other. She was annoyed by his jealous rages, and lately they had become more frequent and more violent. Although he always gave what seemed to be a sincere, heartfelt apology after every outburst, Merle had become fed up with his constant mood swings. Because of her past, freedom wasn’t just a pretty word for her: it was an indispensable part of her life.

She glanced at him. Sure, he was very attractive with his unconventional hairstyle, slim body, and light-blue eyes. But she had also recently discovered a chilling coldness in those eyes. She had even wondered if he was secretly doing drugs—at least that would explain his mood swings.

Today, however, he was in a very good mood. He stopped the car on a hill, and the sea stretched out before them, merging on the horizon with the deep-blue summer sky. He pointed to a narrow path that led down to the beach.

“There’s a surprise for you down there! Come on!” He jumped out of the car and held the door open for her.

Merle was surprised at his chivalrous gesture. She followed him down the path, and when they reached the beach, he guided her toward a small group of rocks.
I have to tell him,
she kept thinking and finally worked up the courage.

“Hey, hold on. I’ve been thinking a lot about us over the past few days and—”

“You’re not the only one! You’ll see. Right behind this rock.”

“Wait! Just listen to me for once!” Merle said. “Maybe you’ve been thinking how nice this is—I know I once did! But I’ve realized this really isn’t working out. Your crazy jealousy, your mood swings—sometimes I’m really afraid of you and . . .”

His smile had disappeared; he stared at her in disbelief. “You’re breaking up with me?”

She gently grabbed his arm. “I like you, I just think we’re not right for each other.”

He pushed her hand away. “Oh yeah? And who’s behind it this time? Is it the bartender from last Saturday? I saw how he stared at you all evening, and you . . . you encouraged him and—”

“That’s it! I’ve had it!” Merle cried. “Do you even hear the things you say? Could you listen to me just once without becoming insanely jealous?”

His face twitched, and his cold, fixed stare bored hypnotically into her eyes. For a moment, she was afraid he would hit her.

“You’ll be sorry,” he said. Then he turned and trudged through the sand. Merle sighed in relief. That certainly wasn’t the gentlest way to break it to him, but at least she had finally gotten it over with!

Merle had wondered how she would get back to the city, but first, before leaving, she peered behind the little rock. She looked down at a small wooden box with a red heart painted on it. Next to the small box was a lit candle, and inside the box was a small gold ring atop a velvet cushion.

A cold snout nudged Hannes awake. Socks licked Hannes’s face all over, wagging his tail. Hannes looked around until he finally remembered where he was.

“I thought I’d send Socks in here to gently wake you,” Ben said.

Hannes turned and saw Ben standing at the door.

“It’s a little after eight thirty. I have to go to class soon. Socks comes with me to campus. Help yourself to whatever you need.”

Hannes sat up. “Damn it! It’s already eight thirty? I’m supposed to be at the station by eight! My boss is going to kill me!”

Ben shrugged. “The world’s not going to stop spinning if you solve the crime an hour later. Do you want to sleep here tonight too?”

“If that’s okay with you.”

“Sure, man, not a problem! Just pull the door closed behind you. I put a key on the patio table for you. Come on, Socks!”

After the front door closed, Hannes jumped up from the sofa bed and rummaged for his cell phone. He had forgotten to turn the alarm on and had three missed calls. Just then the phone vibrated. Hannes answered.

“Man, finally! Unless you just lost your leg, I need you here! Where the hell are you?”

“Fritz, I’m really sorry. It’ll never happen again, honest! It’s a long story and I—”

“You can tell me the story in the car,” Fritz said. “We have a nine o’clock meeting with Mr. Ternheim at Lagussa’s headquarters. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes!”

Hannes heard an engine start in the background. “Stop, Fritz, I’m not at home! Pick me up at 10 Park Avenue.”

“Ah,” Fritz said and hung up while Hannes was already trying to put on the jeans he had worn the day before. He would have to do without a shower.

“A snake?” Fritz asked. “People. I’ll never understand. Well, I went to Ms. Ternheim’s penthouse last night with four of our colleagues; her brother gave us a key. The view of the harbor was stunning, but we didn’t find much. Ms. Ternheim seemed to be very interested in history: in addition to pharmaceutical literature, there was an entire shelf of books devoted to the Nazi era. Everyone’s gotta have a hobby, right?”

“There was a book about the Nazi era at her father’s place too! I think I know why Ms. Ternheim had such a strong interest in it,” Hannes said and shared Ben’s background knowledge about the victim’s company.

“Well then! Your new buddy’s really knowledgeable. And what do these activists plan on doing at the charity event?”

“No idea. And I’d prefer if you would disregard that last part. Ben’s been like a buddy to me.”

Fritz sighed and took a big gulp of coffee. “You know, I’ve also tried to make life difficult for neo-Nazis over the years. So you’re lucky I didn’t hear what you just told me. But did you say anything to Ben about the victim?” He pointed to a crumpled newspaper on the floor of the Jeep. “Look at the front-page headline.”

Hannes picked up the paper. Fritz hit the brakes, slamming Hannes’s head into the dashboard.

“Sorry,” said Fritz. “A dog just ran in front of the car.”

Hannes couldn’t see a dog anywhere and rubbed his forehead while staring in disbelief at the front page: “Managing Director of Pharmaceutical Giant Lagussa Found Dead. Murder?”

“Maybe your buddy has a contact at the morning paper?”

“I can’t imag—”

“Well then, how the hell did this shit get in the newspaper?” Fritz roared. “What were you thinking, discussing the identity of the victim with civilians? Next time, why don’t you just contact the paper directly. Hell, it’ll probably make the evening paper!”

“But that’s impossible! We sat out on the patio until really late last night, and by the time we went to bed, the paper would have already gone to print. Someone else must have tipped them off.”

“Yeah? Who? It wasn’t me, I’m assuming you’re also not that stupid, and our medical examiners hopefully know how to be professional.”

“Maybe Mr. Ternheim—”

“Mr. Ternheim called this morning and was furious. He demanded an explanation as to why his dead sister was already appearing in the papers.”

“But there’s got to be other people who know. The dentist, for example, who we got the matching dental records from.”

With weary, bloodshot eyes, Fritz glanced over at him. “Whatever. We couldn’t have kept it a secret for much longer. We’ll just have to deal with it now. But in the future, please keep your need to share things under control. There will be serious consequences if you don’t!”

They arrived at Lagussa’s corporate headquarters. The company’s white flags fluttered at half-mast, clearly a gesture in honor of their CEO.

“Where are we going to park?” Hannes asked.

Fritz turned and grabbed his detachable police light from the backseat and rolled down the window. He placed the light on the roof while steering the Jeep with his knees and drove onto the plaza in front of the large building.

“That should be enough to keep the traffic cops from doing anything rash,” he said and turned the engine off.

As they rode in the elevator to the twentieth floor, Fritz said, “Let’s split up. We’ll make better progress that way. It’s fine if only I talk with Mr. Ternheim again. You take care of the assistants. Two of them are around your age, and maybe that’ll get them to talk. We’re not going to be able to get much out of the head secretary, Ms. Wagner. She’s been with the company for decades and seems so loyal she probably considers herself a part of the family. Don’t zero in on any particular topic. Just try to learn as much as possible about Ms. Ternheim. What kind of person was she? What did she like? Dislike? Did she have any hobbies? Friends? Enemies? And so on.”

Hannes nodded as the elevator doors opened. The assistants greeted them politely, but it was clear they had great difficulty maintaining a professional demeanor. Ms. Wagner got up from her desk and walked over. Her eyes had the telltale shimmer of tears.

“I read it in the newspaper this morning.” She sobbed for a moment, then covered her mouth. “It’s so awful! I can’t believe it! Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?” She stared at Fritz.

“I’m very sorry. But you understand we have to inform the family members first and then decide together who to tell and when. This is my colleague, Mr. Niehaus. He’d like to talk with your two assistants while I speak with Mr. Ternheim. May I go in?”

Ms. Wagner nodded and led him to the office. “He’s already waiting for you.”

A slightly embarrassed Hannes walked over to the two young women. They introduced themselves as Irene Maler and Anna Stahl. This was the first time Hannes would question people on his own, and he did not want to let Fritz down.

“Did you come straight from a fistfight?” Anna asked.

“Life as a police officer can be dangerous. Anyway, is there a quiet place I could talk with you individually about Ms. Ternheim?”

Irene pointed to a corner of the office. Four chairs sat behind several planters in a waiting area. “I’ll go first. Might as well get it over with,” she said and walked over there. She sat cross-legged on the edge of a chair, her black miniskirt revealing her flawless legs.

Hannes followed her and worried his ears might turn red. He made a conscious effort to focus on her face. He sat down in the chair opposite her and noticed out of the corner of his eye that Anna was furtively looking at him.

“How long have you worked for the Ternheims?”

“Not long, and I’m leaving soon. I gave my notice last Friday.”

“Oh, why? Did you receive a better offer?”

“I did. In less than three months, I’m outta here.”

“And when did you start?”

“Two months ago.”

“Ah, and how well did you get to know the heads of the company in this time?”

Irene snapped her gum with a loud pop. “Well, I’ve never really worked with them. Actually, I’ve only really worked for Ms. Wagner.”

“What can you tell me about Ms. Ternheim?” Hannes asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what kind of boss was she, for example?”

“My boss is Ms. Wagner. I only worked for Ms. Ternheim in a tangential capacity. Basically, I’m Mr. Ternheim’s assistant. I only ever saw her go in and out. My coworker can definitely tell you more. She works—er, worked for Ms. Ternheim.”

“Ah. Well, what kind of impression did you have of her, and what were you told about her?”

“Well, I don’t know much. She was a career woman. She was always in the office before me, even when she didn’t have anything on her calendar, and whenever I left, she was usually still there. I often wondered if she spent the night here. She never said much; she probably thought it was below her. She could be very determined when things didn’t go her way.”

“Did you notice any changes in her recently?”

Irene laughed. “Changes? Nope! I’ve heard she wore the same hairstyle and clothes for years.”

“Not just her appearance. Were there any changes in her behavior?”

“Like I said, I didn’t have much to do with her. Work was all that mattered for her. That’s why she always seemed a little aloof. She probably only had enough room in her head for the next product launch: a new antidepressant is supposed to hit the market at the end of the year. She wasn’t really interested in us.”

“Do you know anything about her social life? Friends, for example?”

Again Irene chuckled. “I don’t think she had the time for friends. The company was all that mattered. At least, I don’t know of any friends or acquaintances.”

Hannes nodded. He was tempted to ask whether Irene knew of any connection between Ms. Ternheim and the real estate agent Florian Schneider, but he had no idea if he was allowed to divulge the name of a suspect.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about Ms. Ternheim?”

Irene shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know much about her.”

“Thank you. Please send over Ms. Stahl,” Hannes said, happy to be done with the first part of his questioning. However, he feared Fritz would be unhappy with his results. He could only hope Anna had something more to share.

Irene made a show of standing up and smoothing out her skirt. “Are you in a special unit or something? You’re certainly in awesome shape.”