Dead Woods (12 page)

“Who knows?” Sebastian said, shrugging. “Maybe one of them is a plant enthusiast and couldn’t stand it that a sweet little Aaron’s rod was soiled.”

“And what about the unknown woman from the Waldschänke? What about her?” Max said, voicing his doubts.

“She was scared shitless and beat it,” Sebastian replied.

Hanno looked at Sebastian. “Well, you’re on that lead anyway. Get the names of the youngsters from the station and bring them in.”

Sebastian’s grin was so obnoxious that Lina felt like slapping his face. “Just to bring them down a peg or two. Even if they have nothing to do with it. A prophylactic measure.”

Lina rolled her eyes and noticed that Max was frowning as well, but neither of them said anything. After all, one couldn’t completely rule out that some adolescent punks had something to do with Birkner’s death, even though she doubted it. She just hoped that Sebastian would follow proper procedure when dealing with them, but she wouldn’t bet on it.

“Now, then,” Hanno said. “We’re looking for at least three people, one of whom executed the deadly blow. Leaving the juveniles aside for a moment, we’ve encountered three people in the dead man’s surroundings so far who might fit: Tanja Fischer, Katja Ansmann, and Frank Jensen.”

“The last two know each other,” Lina said slowly. “Some tracks at the crime scene could be tied to Katja Ansmann since she wears size 41 shoes, and the size 44 fits Frank Jensen. However, so far we haven’t found any shoes we can directly tie to the scene of the crime.”

“It’s easy to make shoes disappear in any old garbage can,” said Alex.

“Has forensics told us more about the shoes yet, other than the sizes?” Hanno asked. “What brand, how old they are . . .?”

Max scanned his notes. “The size 41 shoes are most likely sturdy hiking boots, good quality. The soles are in good shape, so they’re either new or were recently resoled.”

“Brand?”

“Our colleagues are still working on that, comparing them with their collection. The size 43 shoes are an old, shabby pair. The left heel’s more run-down, but the difference from the right isn’t large enough to suspect that the owner limps. Simple soles, little profile left, probably cheap mass production. It’ll take a while to find out who made them.”

“And the third prints?”

“Flat casual shoes with rubber soles, well worn. Equally well worn at the heels, so one can assume the owner tends to shuffle a bit. The forensics guys found tiny leather scraps that might belong to these shoes. Ruby-colored.”

“Ruby men’s shoes?” Sebastian frowned.

“Why not?” Max dropped the papers on the table in front of him. “Frank Jensen could have worn ruby loafers and Katja Ansmann hiking boots.”

“Expensive and of good quality,” Lina added. “If Katja Ansmann were ever to wear anything less elegant than pumps, it would have to be some kind of high-tech shoes of superb quality. The latest ‘in’ thing.”

“And what about Jensen? Does he have a shuffling gait?” Hanno asked.

Max and Lina looked at each other. “It’s possible. He wasn’t very snappy when we took him along on Saturday, but that might have been the result of his hangover.”

“But how does it all fit together?” Alex thought out loud when everyone was quiet for a moment. “We could come up with plausible motives for the domestic partner and the former employee, but not for their working together, am I right? Jensen motivated by revenge, Ansmann by greed.”

“Maybe Ansmann hired Jensen,” suggested Sebastian. “Maybe she knew the condition her partner’s former staff member was in, and the way you describe the woman, she’d never get her own hands dirty.”

“Hm,” responded Hanno, visibly doubtful. “What do you think?” he asked Lina and Max, the only two present who knew both Katja Ansmann and Frank Jensen. Both were pensive and slowly shook their heads in sync, so that they resembled for a moment those nodding dachshunds one occasionally sees on the rear window shelves of cars.

“But how does the unknown woman from the Waldschänke fit in with all that?” Max said finally.

“Maybe that was Ansmann’s lover,” Alex speculated. “She picks up Philip Birkner, lures him into the forest, and there Frank Jensen kills him.”

Max laughed. “State councilor for economic affairs serves as decoy in murder! Great headline.” He shook his head. “Sorry, but I simply can’t see it.”

“She’s also too tall for that,” Lina added. “The descriptions for the woman in the Waldschänke—no matter how disparate they may be—don’t match Evelyn Riemann at all.”

“It’s possible the unknown woman is one of the people hired by Katja Ansmann to kill her partner,” Hanno suggested. “But why three of them? One would’ve been enough.”

“Maybe Ansmann didn’t know about the other two.” Alex leaned forward. “She hired Jensen since she knew he needed the money and hated Birkner. And he brought along the other two.” He looked around the room. Thoughtful faces everywhere.

“It all hinges on the question of how likely this Ansmann & Son bankruptcy is,” Max finally said. “If that’s not happening, Katja Ansmann wouldn’t have a reason to wish Birkner dead. She’d have enough dough.”

“Maybe she was just mad at him,” Alex said. “He cheated on her, with this Tanja, for example; maybe he wanted to leave her, or something like that.”

Lina shook her head. “That’s unlikely. According to Katja Ansmann, she and Philip Birkner had an open relationship. She knew that he had the occasional girlfriend. Besides, she wasn’t faithful herself.”

“But that doesn’t count as much,” Sebastian mumbled.

Max tilted his head. “Why not?”

“Well, she was only with another woman. If she’d been with a man, well then . . . But maybe she was just a little chummy with her girlfriend.”

Max and Lina looked at each other. Max raised an eyebrow and shrugged; Lina rolled her eyes. “As a matter of fact, Birkner had more reason to be jealous,” she said. “The two women were already an item when Katja Ansmann met him. And then there’s the study in the apartment, which could have served as a second bedroom. Maybe the two didn’t sleep together.”

“A strange relationship,” Alex said, shaking his head. “I couldn’t imagine being in such a relationship.” Hanno and Sebastian nodded, but neither said anything.

Lina took a deep breath. “We’ve got to look more closely at Katja Ansmann.” She knew Hanno wasn’t going to like that, but it was worth a try. “What’s her father’s financial situation really like? Did she make any recent payments to Jensen?” She looked directly at Hanno. “For me, she’s still the main suspect.”

“Not for me,” Hanno said. His face was slightly red, as if her persistence had provoked him. “We’ll just cast a wide net in our investigation. Who’s the unknown woman? What’s the relationship between Tanja Fischer and Philip Birkner? Max, have you heard anything from the forest rangers? Maybe one of them saw something. Follow up with them.”

Max nodded. “Will do. I’m also still trying to reach someone at the Ministry of Urban Development and the Environment. I want to find out who mapped the Niendorfer Gehege.”

Hanno straightened in his chair and emitted leadership quality. “Sebastian, you deal with the boys from the subway station. Lina, you try to get hold of this Tanja Fischer. She must be somewhere, after all.” He looked at his notes. “Also try to find some other acquaintances and friends of Birkner. Alex, as soon as the records in the Julia Munz murder case arrive, go over them. Maybe you’ll find something interesting. Also, interrogate the brother once more. Maybe he can name some names. Maybe more people were mad at Birkner, not just Frank Jensen.”

Chapter 10

Max had just entered his office with a cup of tea in his hand when the phone rang. The switchboard told him that a Herr Behnke had called and wanted him to please call back.

The forest ranger of the Niendorfer Gehege picked up right away. He told Max that he had talked with his people about the murder and one of them, a man called Barsfeld, had mentioned an odd guy who was constantly roaming the woods.

“I’ve often seen him myself,” said Herr Behnke. “He’s an elderly man and probably a little backward. And he is around here quite a bit. Maybe he noticed something.”

“Do you know where I could find this man?” Max asked. He heard Tobias Behnke pose the question to someone, and after a moment he was back.

“Are you still on? Herr Barsfeld just saw the man and could keep an eye on him until you get here—if you’d like to come here now.”

Max wanted to do that. After the long session in Hanno’s office, he needed exercise and fresh air. An outing to the woods sounded perfect.

Tobias Behnke was waiting for him when Max arrived. A tall elderly man was standing next to him. He had a gray mustache and close-cropped hair. “Herr Barsfeld has been with the forest ranger’s office the longest,” Behnke said.

Barsfeld nodded. “The man you’re looking for is called Niels Hinrichsen. I knew his grandfather. He was the ranger here after the war. Niels is harmless, but a little slow.”

“Do you know where he is right now?”

Barsfeld nodded. “He’s behind the game enclosure, in the area where we’re clearing the underbrush.” He pointed across the fenced-in area where fallow deer were kept. “He’s hiding behind a tree and watching.”

Max looked at Tobias Behnke and asked, “Could you spare your coworker for a little while?” When Behnke nodded, he asked the old forestry worker to bring him to Niels Hinrichsen. Five minutes later, Barsfeld pointed out a man in shabby green clothes, who pressed himself against a beech tree and gazed into the undergrowth. Max guessed he was in his midfifties. Gray strands of hair peeked out from under a visor cap, and his full gray beard was unkempt. Coming closer, Max spotted a twig in it.

“Hello, Niels!” Herr Barsfeld called in a low voice.

The man gave a start and turned around. When he recognized Herr Barsfeld, he smiled wryly, revealing a row of crooked, yellow teeth. “Hallo, Herr Barsfeld. How’s it going?” Then he chortled, as if he’d made a good joke.

“I’m fine, Niels. Thanks.” Barsfeld went closer to the man while Max stayed a few steps behind. The chuckling stopped. “Niels, this is Max Berg. He’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“I don’t know anything.” The man snuffled up mucus and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. Now, no more than two arm’s lengths away from him, Max could smell the unwashed and lonely odor emanating from the man. His shirt was stained, his green trousers were filthy, and his shoes were threadbare and tied with mismatched shoelaces.

Max stayed where he was and smiled. His arms hung loosely at his sides and the palms of his hands were open toward the man. “Herr Barsfeld tells me you know this forest very well.”

Niels Hinrichsen smiled, like a child does when praised. “Yes, I do. My gramps told me everything about the forest. I know all of the trees and all of the animals.” There was a loud noise behind Niels, and Max was astonished to see a foal trotting through the underbrush of young beech trees. It was running behind its mother, a sturdy mare that was pulling two tree trunks. Niels Hinrichsen had turned around and was watching the animals, also. He was happy and Max again felt as if he were dealing with a child. “They don’t live here,” the man explained and adjusted his cap. “They’re just here on a visit.”

Max followed the lead. “Quite a lot of people come here for visits, also, to go for walks.”

Niels Hinrichsen didn’t say anything. He looked at his shoes. Herr Barsfeld cleared his throat. “Niels doesn’t like it that so many people come here,” he explained. “Especially not when they don’t stay on the paths. Isn’t that so, Niels?”

Niels shook his head without looking at either one of them. “They destroy everything,” he said quietly.

“But you aren’t allowed to scold them. You know that, don’t you?” Barsfeld said.

Niels was still looking down and he nodded.

“Herr Barsfeld told me that you’re also here at night,” Max said gently. Again Niels nodded.

“Did you by chance see a few people recently who . . . were quarreling? Three, four men, maybe also a woman? Maybe they weren’t men but youngsters?”

Niels looked up. His eyes sparkled. “In this wood two men were once fighting because of a woman.”

“When was that? And where exactly? Did you see it?” Max asked.

With surprising agility, Niels took off, straight through the woods, without looking once at the two men again. With a shrug, Max followed him and heard the forest worker wheezing behind him. They reached the next path very soon. Hinrichsen turned right and after a few feet disappeared again into the underbrush on the left. Only fir trees grew there. The ground was covered with moss and was soft like a carpet. Niels Hinrichsen had stopped in front of a rock that was covered with moss and lichen. Water had carved a deep groove across the rock, so that it resembled a gigantic bun. When Max and Barsfeld stopped next to Hinrichsen, he looked at them, obviously happy. “Very, very early in the morning, two knights once fought here with swords because they both wanted to have the same girl. One of them didn’t aim right and so he hit the rock instead of the head of the other guy. But he hit it so hard that the stone sent out sparks, like a flame, and so the other one was so scared that he ran away. But the stone got a very deep rut from that blow.”

Max smiled. “That’s a beautiful story,” he said and tried to bring the conversation to the not-so-distant past. “Have you yourself ever seen men fight with each other? I mean recently.”

Hinrichsen wrinkled his brow and seemed to ponder the question. His happy smile had disappeared. “Dunno,” he said softly. “Sometimes people shout very loud, but I always run away. And I’ve never seen men with swords here. Only on TV.” He looked at Max as if he hoped he was not upset with him. Max smiled and reached out to touch the man’s arm, but Niels flinched, as if he feared he’d be beaten. Max dropped his hand. “Nowadays there aren’t many knights anymore; they’re rare. And they mostly use sticks when they’re fighting,” Max explained and hoped this couldn’t be interpreted as witness tampering. “Did you see any men with sticks around here, Herr Hinrichsen?”

The man opened his eyes wide and slowly stepped back. “Dunno nothing, not a thing!” He turned around and ran across the soft moss, jumped across a gully, ran across another path, and disappeared into dense underbrush. Max watched him, frowning.

Next to him, Herr Barsfeld sighed. “That’s how it always is with him. He suddenly takes off as if the devil’s on his heels.”

Max turned to him. “You told him that he’s not supposed to scold people when they don’t keep to the paths. Was there a problem with that in the past?”

Barsfeld nodded. “Niels feels responsible for this forest, probably because his grandfather used to be the ranger here and always took him along. He thinks he has to watch, so nobody does any damage out here.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately he used to hassle people every now and then, and they’d then complain to the ranger.”

Max was frowning again. Why had Tobias Behnke not told him about this man? Before he could ask, Barsfeld continued, “But that was a while ago, when we still had the old ranger. Tobias has only been here three years or so. The previous one threatened Niels a few times that he would ban him from the forest if he continued to pester people. After that it was quiet for a while, but then he was at it again. These past few years, though, Niels has been quieter again. He’s not getting any younger, you know.”

Max looked to the undergrowth where the weird fellow had disappeared. “Has he ever been violent?” he asked, but Barsfeld shook his head.

“Not as far as I know. He doesn’t like to be touched, but all he did himself was pester people, and the way he’s behaving . . .Well, you’ve seen him, how unkempt and dirty he is . . . That scared people.”

Max was pensive. It was possible that, even if he hadn’t struck any blows, Niels Hinrichsen might have witnessed Philip Birkner being beaten to death. “How do you know that he’s in the woods at night, as well?”

“From the old ranger. Herr Wiebert often saw him. He lived in the forester’s lodge. Even the young one mentioned two or three times that he’d seen an odd bird sneaking through the woods.” Barsfeld shrugged. “After a while, you know pretty much everyone who lurks in such a small area.”

The two men made their way back to the forestry office. Max asked Barsfeld whether he or his colleagues had noticed anything unusual recently or in the days before the murder, but the gaunt man shook his head and only confirmed what the ranger had already said on Friday. “We’re working at the other end at the moment.” He gestured vaguely toward the west. “On the other side of the street.” He smiled. “Seems the forest isn’t that small, after all.”

It turned out that Tanja Fischer worked at a large ad agency in the center of Hamburg. When Lina finally reached her at the number they had found on Birkner’s phone, a woman with a pleasant, matter-of-fact voice answered. She said she couldn’t get away from work at the moment, but was prepared to meet briefly in one of the company’s conference rooms. Since Lina didn’t want to tell her on the phone what it was all about, she agreed and half an hour later was standing in front of a new, modern building with a glass facade and a fountain in the lobby.

Tanja Fischer was tall and slim. She wore a miniskirt, blouse, and pumps and greeted Lina with a strong handshake when she met her at the reception desk. She had a short, asymmetrical haircut and bright blue eyes hidden behind small glasses with strikingly dark frames. Lina thought about the description of the woman in the Waldschänke. It obviously hadn’t been Tanja Fischer.

The conference room was cool and functionally furnished: parquet floor, a huge table of blond wood, simple but comfortable chairs. Tanja Fischer gestured for Lina to have a seat and then sat down across from her. She put her cell phone on the table and slid a business card toward her.

“Frau Fischer, you know Philip Birkner, don’t you?” Lina began. The woman seemed to hesitate for a tiny moment, but then nodded. “What kind of relationship is it?” Lina asked.

“May I ask why you want to know that?” Tanja Fischer had raised one brow and looked at her suspiciously. “Did something happen to Philip?”

Lina nodded. “Philip Birkner is dead. I got your phone number from the contact list on his phone.”

Tanja Fischer turned pale. She raised a hand as if she was about to cover her mouth, just as Katja Ansmann had done, but then put it down again and turned away instead. She was staring out the window toward the facade of the office building across the street. One could hear muted traffic noise from below.

“Frau Fischer, how well did you know Herr Birkner?” Lina asked in a low voice.

She didn’t say anything for awhile, then took a deep breath, and turned toward Lina. “Quite well,” she said. “We were . . . He was . . . Well, we were close friends.” She swallowed. “We had a date for Thursday, but then I had to go to Frankfurt on short notice for a presentation. I only came back late last night.” She took another deep breath. “How did he . . . I mean, did he have an accident?”

Lina shook her head. “No. He was murdered late Thursday night, in the Niendorfer Gehege.”

Tanja Fischer grew even paler. Now she did cover her mouth and Lina was almost afraid she might faint. It was obvious she was affected by Philip Birkner’s death. The way she phrased it, that she and the dead man had been close friends, most likely was an understatement. The tears in her eyes were real and the shaking hand with which she accepted the handkerchief Lina gave her proved how important Birkner had been to her.

“Frau Fischer,” Lina said gently after a while, “I assume that Herr Birkner and you were very close. Did you . . . have an affair?”

Tanja Fischer sniffled and wiped her nose. “Yes . . . No. I mean . . .”She sniffed again. “Two, three years ago, we had something going, a relationship. At least I thought we had one, but then Philip met another woman and it was suddenly over between us.” She wiped away her tears. “I was working for him at the time—he had his own company then—as an administrative assistant. I was his right hand.”

“Oh, so you worked at Inoware?”

Tanja Fischer nodded and looked out the window.

“Were you there until the end, when the firm went bankrupt, or did you quit before?”

The woman didn’t respond for quite some time but finally shook her head slowly. “I stayed on even though it was really hard after he took up with the other woman, Katja Something-or-other, a management consultant. You probably already met her. At first I thought it wouldn’t last long. The woman’s a cold fish. I only looked for another job when Philip told me she was pregnant—but the bankruptcy came as fast as the baby.” She looked at Lina with a faint smile. “Do you already know who killed him?”