Time Heals No Wounds (17 page)

“So why are you playing hide-and-seek?” Fritz asked.

Schneider took a deep breath. “My wife and I have a prenuptial agreement. The money I used to start my real estate firm was hers. If we were to divorce, I would have to pay her out; but I don’t have the money, because, among other things, I had to pay off a significant fine not too long ago. I need another year or two. But thanks to that guy,” he said, pointing to the private detective, “she has me right where she wants me, and I can’t prove her affair with our gardener.”

Schneider wiped his face, and Fritz took a deep breath. Then Hannes intervened.

“How long have you been following Mr. Schneider?” he asked the private detective.

“Since last Wednesday.”

“Did you follow him to his boat on Saturday?”

“Of course! I take my job very seriously.”

“I’m sure. Did you follow him on the water?”

“How could I? I didn’t know where he was going, and I didn’t have a boat.”

“Then you must have at least seen who was with him. Was Ms. Kustermann on board?”

“Yes, I saw him get on the boat and leave with Ms. Kustermann.”

“Well, there’s always a silver lining,” Fritz said to Schneider. “This man may have invaded your privacy, but he also saved you from being taken into custody. Take down the private detective’s information, Hannes, and have him show you his ID.” He turned to Schneider and Ms. Kustermann. “As for you two, I have one last question. When you dropped anchor, did you see anything on the beach or in the water that looked unusual to you? Another boat or people on the beach?”

“Nothing,” Schneider said, “absolutely nothing.”

Ms. Kustermann shook her head but seemed distant. Her long lashes were wet with tears, and her mascara had run.

Fritz walked over to Hannes, took the private detective’s business card from him, and put it in his wallet. “So now we’re back to square one.”

Hannes was disappointed. “Now what?”

“Now we get the hell out of here. And take a shower. You smell like crap.”

As a precaution, Fritz and Hannes accompanied the private detective to his car. Afterward, Fritz spread a towel over the front seat of his Jeep and made a show of rolling down the window.

“At least you’re back in shape. Ole, the fisherman, can sleep easy tonight,” he teased. “Is your car in front of Ms. Kustermann’s place?”

“Yup, it’d be great if you could drop me off there. I was lucky she took her bike. She would’ve noticed me immediately in a cop car.”

“Say, how did you know who to look for? You had no description of her, right?”

Hannes told Fritz how he had found out who she was.

“Excellent work, Hannes! Maybe I’ll make a good cop out of you after all.”

Hannes beamed, knowing Fritz rarely praised anyone.

“What happened on your field trip?” Fritz asked.

Hannes began to recount his visit to Hohenberg Farm but was quickly interrupted.

“You can skip that; you already told me over the phone. Your question about Ms. Ternheim’s car, incidentally, was spot on. I’ve flagged the sports car as missing, but so far no one’s come across it. Tell me how it went with the wizard Merlin. Were you able to get him to talk?”

“No, but I think I’ve found a way to get to him.”

Hannes set the scene of his meeting with the old man.

“Hold on!” Fritz said. “When you told him the tattoo on his daughter’s forearm was likely a series of numbers, did he react?”

“Yes, a little oddly.”

“How so?”

Hannes told him about the painting of Helene Ternheim and tried to describe Merlin’s drawings.

“Interesting. Then what happened?”

Hannes had almost forgotten about his near miss with the art agent at the old lighthouse.

“So there’s another player on the field? As a precaution, we should check his flights and hotel stays. It probably won’t get us anywhere, but he didn’t have anything particularly good to say about the brother even though he depends on him. People have been killed for less.”

Fritz stopped in front of Hannes’s police car. “Look, just head home and take a shower! You can take the towel and put it on your seat. Just bring it back to me soon—washed! And bring the car back to the station after you meet with Anna.”

“I just thought of something,” Hannes said and shared his theory about the tattoo on Ms. Ternheim’s forearm.

Fritz rubbed his scar. “I understand the connection. But it’s probably a bit far-fetched.”

His phone rang. He answered and immediately recognized Ms. Wagner’s voice.

“Mr. Janssen! I’m glad I could reach you. Please don’t think I’m crazy, but I just had to call.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Mr. Ternheim has disappeared!”

“What?”

“Mr. Ternheim had a one o’clock lunch meeting with our bank consultant. He usually takes these appointments very seriously. But he didn’t show up at Fish.”

“Where?”

“Fish. The restaurant where they were supposed to meet. Mr. Grundmann, the bank consultant, called and asked if Mr. Ternheim was running late. He had left here at twelve thirty.”

“Maybe something’s come up?”

“He would never skip a meeting with our bank consultant. I can’t reach him on his cell phone, which is extremely unusual. Please don’t think I’m being hysterical, but I’d only blame myself if I didn’t let you know as soon as possible.”

“Ms. Wagner, calm down. You did the right thing contacting me, but I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. Let me know when you hear from him again.”

Fritz hung up. Hannes looked at him quizzically. “What’s going on?”

“Ms. Wagner believes Mr. Ternheim has disappeared.” Then he explained the circumstances. “He just lost his sister. Even though he seems in control, I’m sure he’s not made of stone. Maybe he just needs some time to himself?”

“So why is he not answering his phone?”

“Because he wants to be left alone. Or maybe his battery died.”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like he would just skip an important meeting.”

“Okay, I’ll look into it. Now go shower. When are you supposed to meet with Ms. Stahl?”

“We said six.”

Fritz glanced at his watch. “It’s just after four. I’ll take care of Mr. Ternheim, and you can do whatever you want until six. Give me a call when you’re done. Maybe I’ll have some news by then.”

Even though he was becoming more and more invested in the case, Hannes was ecstatic. If he hurried, he could still do a quick lap in the canoe before he met with Anna at Chameleon.

Merle had struggled for hours with hunger. She had been able to resist the tray of food that had been shoved into the room after the flashes of light, which, along with the clicking, she was convinced had been produced by some kind of camera. First her clothes had been taken off, then she had been photographed. What would happen next? Whatever it was, Merle wasn’t going to let it happen while she slept.

The hatch had been opened again a few minutes ago, and as a tray with the obligatory bottle of water was shoved in, this time a pizza followed. Merle had heard a cough. A male cough? Or was it an illusion? She had also noted in surprise that a gray wool blanket had been set next to her food. A sign of sympathy and human compassion? She had tried again to establish contact with the unknown person, but her questions and pleas went unanswered.

Merle began to worry about her mental state. That afternoon, she had spent an hour banging on the door, screaming, crying, and hitting her head against the wall until blood dripped into her eye. She was suffering from fear, light deprivation, exhaustion, hunger, and lack of human contact.

Another panic attack threatened to overwhelm her. She could not endure the darkness any longer. Her stomach began to cramp and she felt dizzy. She gasped for breath while tears ran down her cheeks. What if this tiny space ran out of oxygen? Logic, however, saved Merle from a hysterical breakdown. If the air couldn’t be replaced, she would have already suffocated. There must be a supply of fresh air coming from somewhere. Then she thought she felt a slight breeze coming from the ceiling above her bed.

After several more minutes, her breathing sped up. In order to distract herself from her fears and hunger, she began to recount another episode in her life. She wrapped the blanket around herself and imagined that Björn, her favorite teddy bear, sat beside her on the bed and looked lovingly at her with his black button eyes. He had been a gift from Aunt Amber and had accompanied her throughout her entire childhood. Merle had left Björn behind when she had started out on her new life because she had thought that she could do without his protection. But she needed him now more than ever.

“You know, Björn,” she said in a quivering voice, “when Aunt Amber finally called to tell me my father’s name, I didn’t know if I really wanted to find out. After all, he had abandoned me as a baby and never tried to get to know me. Do you think he ever wondered about me? Still, I’m glad I met him. Now at least I know who I am and where I come from.”

In her mind she could see Björn’s comforting grin and bundled up part of her blanket to create the illusion of a teddy bear. She stroked the fabric and giggled like a child. The blanket was a little rougher than Björn, but it almost felt like him. She then asked herself if she was finally beginning to lose her mind and if that was the reason why she was conducting a conversation with an imaginary teddy bear. But with the soothing image of her old companion, she immediately dismissed the thought and continued to pet the imaginary fur, while the memory of the first time she met her father flashed before her eyes.

The meeting hadn’t gone as Merle had hoped. Under the pretext of writing an article about depression and appropriate treatment options, she had managed to schedule an appointment with him through his assistant. His face had remained utterly devoid of emotion when she confronted him about her true identity. His air of detached coolness was deeply unsettling. Were it not for the birthmark under his right eye, Merle wouldn’t have been able to detect any resemblance between them.

Even now the anger grew inside her. “What a jerk! All he said was he and my mother had come to an agreement and that I should not delude myself into thinking I could squeeze any more money out of him. As if that had been my intention! He seemed to feel almost threatened. Fortunately his sister had walked into his office and was flabbergasted when she found me crying. She was so different from him, compassionate and kind.”

Her hands tensed and she stroked her imaginary teddy bear even harder. She then relaxed as she recalled the next few memories.

Even though Merle’s father had refused to meet with her again, his sister had taken an interest in her and insisted that she call her Aunt Helene: “Because I am, after all, your aunt!” She had even introduced Merle to her father, whom Merle had continued to visit. Initially, she had felt repulsed by her grandfather and his silence, but he quickly broke the ice after he painted a lovely portrait of her. She had also been able to forge a warm relationship with her aunt. At that moment, she longed to be close to her.

“I wonder if she’s reported me missing? We were supposed to get together on Sunday. She must be worried sick. What do you mean, Björn? Maybe the police are already looking for me?”

She was distracted by her stomach growling again. She peeled the blanket off her and placed her bare feet on the cold floor. If she ate, she could be drugged again, but if she didn’t, she would inevitably starve.

With a heavy heart, Merle took small steps through the darkness. She sat down on the floor and grabbed the pizza. Despite her doubts, she took a bite, followed by many more. As she pictured her aunt and grandfather, she felt overcome with love. But then Christian Ternheim’s face appeared in her mind and instantly scared her positive feelings away.

“I know you hate me because I’m your daughter. And I hate you too,” she whispered between bites before she crouched into a ball.

E
ARLY
T
HURSDAY
E
VENING

Hannes entered the Chameleon at six on the dot. The lighting in the glass-walled lobby transitioned from yellow to red, then brown to blue, before starting over again. The actual lounge was behind a heavy dark-red curtain and featured small groups of couches and chairs surrounded by walls painted in warm colors. The shelves behind the bar were also lit in alternating colors, which made the numerous bottles seem to constantly change hues.

Despite the large chalkboard advertising happy-hour specials, there was only a moderate number of people at the bar. Hannes headed for a two-top table in the far corner of the room. Soft background music was playing, but he knew from a previous visit that this would change later on.

The bored-looking bartender glanced at him but continued to polish a couple more glasses before he took Hannes’s drink order. He shortly brought over a bottle of bitter lemon soda and a glass, and Hannes ordered a plate of nachos. Practice had made him hungry and sleepy; he had pushed himself a little too hard. Fortunately, he had found clean clothes in his locker, so he had been able to head straight to Chameleon without stopping at Ben’s place.

He took out a pen and a small notepad and whiled away the minutes sipping his drink. Had they overlooked anything in the case? Why was the body found in such a secluded spot? And why was the victim someone who seemingly had no friends or acquaintances? All they could focus on was the pharmaceutical company, since this seemed to be Ms. Ternheim’s only purpose in life other than visiting her father. Hannes’s mind kept coming back to the old man’s drawing of his son as the Angel of Death. But he was unsure whether it was merely a senile man’s fantasy or a valuable clue. He was equally perplexed by the tattoo and could only hope that the bar’s cozy atmosphere would keep Anna from stalling and that she would open up and provide him with valuable clues.

It was already six fifteen when the nachos arrived. He was beginning to think the assistant had gotten cold feet. It was a rather unpleasant thought: if she stood him up, then he would leave empty-handed. Hannes dug in to the nachos.

“Anything else?” asked the bartender a few minutes later.

He looked again at his watch: Anna was half an hour late. But what else was there for him to do other than wait? He ordered a nonalcoholic Summer Delight. He hadn’t asked for the assistant’s address or number, or he would have called or headed to her place.

The curtain by the front door was pushed aside. Anna walked in and looked around the room, and Hannes stood up and waved to her. Clutching her purse, she crossed the room. She was clearly a little upset or nervous.

“Glad you could come,” he said. “I was going to get a table outside, but then I thought we’d be less disturbed inside. Besides, they have air-conditioning here. I hope it’s all right.”

She nodded and sat down, completely tense. Her brown hair was slightly sweaty, and strands of hair stuck to her face. She kept glancing nervously around the room. Her body language exuded apprehension. But this was not normal apprehension: Anna was clearly terrified.

The bartender placed Hannes’s cocktail on the table. “Do you know what you’d like?” he asked her.

“Something with alcohol. I could use it right now.”

“Of course, no problem,” the bartender said. “I recommend the Caribbean Dream. It’s so good.”

“Sounds good, I’ll take it,” Anna said.

“A Caribbean Dream goes well with today’s heat,” Hannes said. To lighten the mood, he opened with some small talk about the weather. Her Caribbean Dream soon arrived.

“Well, does it taste like a party?” he joked and raised his glass.

Anna sucked so hard on the straw that nearly a third of the orange liquid was gone. She exhaled in satisfaction and relaxed a bit. “That feels good. Today was really crazy!”

“I can imagine. The news must have come as quite a shock.”

“That’s true. It’s still all so surreal. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

“Neither have I.”

Anna stared at him, puzzled.

“Yes, that’s right,” he said and laughed. “My boss could tell you one crime story after another, but this is actually my first case.”

He briefly explained his background and soon realized it did more to make her feel at ease than any small talk about the weather.

“Did you have a lot to do at the office today?” he asked.

“No, not really. The whole company’s kind of shocked by what happened. Hardly anyone could work today. Or do you mean why was I late getting here? It had nothing to do with work. I . . . The tires of my bicycle were flat, so I had to lug it here.”

“I always have my pump with me except when I need it,” he lied.

“Actually, I have a small pump in my bag, but . . . Oh, never mind.”

She retreated back into her shell and looked even more unapproachable than she did that morning. As he looked at her, he felt as though he were sitting opposite a frightened squirrel. He wondered if he had made another mistake. “Why, what was the problem?” he asked.

Anna leaned forward. “The tires had been slashed; no bicycle pump would have helped.”

“Oh . . . There are some really nasty people out there!”

“This is the first time something like this has happened to me. Lagussa’s surrounded by other office buildings, so there are never any shady characters around. And besides . . . Never mind. To be honest, I’ve been wondering why you asked me here. I don’t know anything that could be of help. I’m sorry, this was such a stupid idea! I’m just wasting your time. You have better things to do.”

She reached for her purse.

“Wait, Ms. Stahl!” he said. “You made several allusions this morning, and then you show up half an hour late this evening with a frightened look on your face. Now you’re suddenly trying to back out and are telling me you have nothing to say. I’m sorry, but I don’t buy it! We’re grasping at straws right now and know almost nothing about Ms. Ternheim’s private or professional life. We’re trying to find out as much as we can, and I just want to hear what you wouldn’t say in front of your colleagues this morning. And besides, I’d like to know why you’re so afraid.”

She burst into tears, and the bartender shot Hannes a dirty look.

“I’m sorry,” Anna said, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s all just happening at once. Yesterday everything was fine, and today I’m caught up in this strange story.”

“But you’re not really caught up in it. You just have to tell me about your boss, and you’ll probably never see me again.”

Anna blew her nose. Then she rummaged in her bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper which she pushed across the table.

“This note was stuck to my bicycle seat,” she said.

He unfolded the paper:
Silence is golden, talking can be deadly.

“Did you tell anyone about our meeting tonight?” Hannes asked.

“I only told my best friend, who also works at Lagussa. We went through training together. I told her at lunch in the cafeteria. But she is absolutely trustworthy. It’s possible someone overheard our conversation—the cafeteria was pretty packed. I’m so stupid.”

“Well, you didn’t know. Why did you tell your friend about our meeting?”

Anna blushed and looked at the ground. “Oh . . . just . . . We just talked and somehow, I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking and didn’t pay attention if anyone else was listening.”

Hannes sensed another reason. He glanced at her knotted hands. She wasn’t wearing a ring.

“Whoever placed the note and slashed the tires had to know which bike was yours. How many people at Lagussa would recognize your bike?”

“In the summer, I ride it almost every day and lock it at one of the stands by the main entrance. Most of my coworkers have probably seen me with my bike.”

“Well, I’m glad you still came,” he said. “Did you notice if someone followed you?”

“No, I kept looking around, but I didn’t see anyone.”

“Hmm. Usually things like this don’t amount to much,” he said. “Would it be possible for you to stay with your friend tonight?”

“Yes, sure! She doesn’t even know what happened. I came here as soon as possible, but I didn’t know if I should tell you. But now I realize the scope of all this . . .”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you,” he said, even though he felt the note wouldn’t be enough to justify police protection. “Do you trust your friend completely?”

“Of course, otherwise she wouldn’t be my best friend! She’s completely innocent, and if you met Tina, you’d know what I mean.”

“Does she have any connection to the Ternheims?”

“No, definitely not! Tina works in logistics, there’s no overlap with management.”

Hannes decided not to press her any further but still wanted to draw his own conclusions. “Be careful! I came here by car. After our conversation, I’ll take you to your apartment, so you can pick up a few things, and then I’ll drop you at your friend’s place. And don’t worry, I know how to shake off pursuers,” he said with a grin.

She looked at him skeptically. “But you just said that this was your first case . . .”

“Policing 101,” he said. “We covered numerous practical exercises! Besides, I already demonstrated once today that I haven’t forgotten what I learned.”

He persuaded her to order another cocktail and a sandwich. He had apparently managed to make her feel safe again and hoped that he actually had the situation under control. As a precaution, he decided against any alcohol and ordered another Summer Delight, while Anna opted for a Caribbean Lover. Was she trying to tell him something?

He engaged her in harmless small talk and felt this helped further reassure her. After the bartender placed the second round of cocktails in front of them, he steered the conversation back to business.

“Ms. Stahl, this morning I got the feeling you’re very happy working at Lagussa.”

“Oh, please call me Anna. Otherwise you make me feel like an old woman. We’re about the same age, anyway.”

“Sure,” he said. Anna wasn’t really his type, so why did he become more nervous the more she felt relaxed? “However, you’re a little generous in saying that we’re about the same age: I’m pushing thirty-three.”

She cocked her head and looked at him. “Huh? How old do you think I am?”

“That of course is the most dangerous of all questions,” he said and laughed. He made a point of sizing her up and realized she came off pretty well. She had slightly tanned, flawless skin and wore only a subtle amount of makeup. A few small freckles dotted her straight nose, and her smooth brown hair was casually tucked behind her ears. Earlier that morning, he had noticed her athletic figure.

“Well? Finished looking?” she asked, and he realized he had been eyeing her in silence.

“You, uh . . . Since you’ve already been working at Lagussa for almost ten years and started right after graduation, I’d guess twenty-seven.”

“Ugh, such a cop,” she said and laughed. “I gave you too much information before. Still, you’re a little off: I’m twenty-nine. But that’s not because I was held back in school. After training, I traveled the world for a year. You could still pass for someone in his twenties . . .”

Now she was clearly flirting: there was no mistaking the look on her face. He had hoped the alcohol would loosen her up, but he had not expected this.

“I’ve had this question on my mind the entire day,” he said, trying to collect his thoughts. He could see the expectation in her eyes as she leaned toward him. “You said Ms. Ternheim had seemed a bit absent lately. When did you first notice the change?”

“Well, she was never really an extroverted person; she only occasionally came out of her shell. But she was always friendly, focused, and extremely present. I first noticed something had changed about two months ago. She started leaving the office earlier and earlier, at least by her standards. In the mornings, she would seem somewhat bleary-eyed and would barricade herself in her office for hours at a time. Normally, she would have meetings or would come out to ask us to do something for her. Then I started noticing how she would stare off into space whenever I spoke to her. She would ask me afterward to repeat myself.”

“Was it just a phase or was she like that for the whole two months?”

“Last week, she had almost returned to her former self, and I hoped she had finally recovered from whatever it was. She was looking forward to tomorrow’s charity gala for children suffering from leukemia. The cause was very close to her heart.”

Hannes remembered Ben telling him he would be staging a protest at the gala, and winced.

“What is it?” asked Anna.

“Oh, nothing.” He struggled with his bad conscience. “Are you involved in this event?”

“Our event coordinator takes care of it primarily, but I make sure management’s ideas are adhered to. Basically, I supervise it all and make sure everything goes to plan.” She sighed. “It’s been a real tough job lately. I’ve had to hit the brakes a couple of times, so it doesn’t devolve into some kind of party and we don’t lose track of the reason behind the gala.”

He felt even guiltier and wondered if he could talk Ben out of his protest. “Do you have any idea what could have triggered the change in Ms. Ternheim?”

Anna squirmed and stared at the table.

“Anna, please! You have to tell me what you know.”

“Will it stay just between us?”

“I can’t promise that. If it’s crucial to the investigation, then I at least have to talk to my superior about it. But I promise you that we will treat your information as sensitively as possible.”

“No one at Lagussa can find out. Think of the note on my bike, and Mr. Ternheim could even fire me!”

He thought for a moment and then nodded. “Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he said and hoped he would be able to keep it.

“I have two theories. One private and the other professional.”

“Tell me the private one first.”

“Well . . . there were rumors going around the company for some time. As you know, Ms. Ternheim was not married and never had been. Even at public and official events, there was never a man by her side. The staff started talking, and I would hear bits and pieces until I was promoted to executive assistant. After that, the gossip stopped the moment I was near.” She smiled. “But my friend Tina naturally kept me in the loop. There was a rumor going around that Ms. Ternheim was a lesbian. I couldn’t picture it at all because she . . . Well, let’s just say she didn’t fit your stereotypical idea of one.”