Lina sighed. “I know, an open relationship; so she says. But that’s easily said. Who knows how the two really felt about each other.”
When they finally arrived at headquarters, Lukas Birkner had been stewing for quite some time in one of the basement cells, not far away from Daniel Vogler. CSI didn’t have any world-shattering news. True, Daniel Vogler had size 44 shoes, so he could have left the tracks near the corpse of Philip Birkner in the Niendorfer Gehege and next to Franziska Leyhausen in Jenisch Park. However, no shoes matching the tracks had been found among his possessions. The evaluation of other evidence was still ongoing, but Hanno had pressured the forensics guys, especially about the DNA analysis.
“By the way, is the autopsy report of Franziska Leyhausen already here?” Alex asked. Hanno rummaged among the papers on his desk and waved a wad of them.
“The colleagues from Team 5 sent us a copy. She was raped and then strangled.” Hanno looked at his team. “She drank some alcohol before her death. The coroner guesses it was wine, red wine, three or four glasses. When the killer slapped her face quite violently on top of that, she was probably too groggy to put up any resistance. She had her last meal shortly before her death and died Tuesday evening, between ten and midnight.”
“Julia Munz was strangled as well, had had a lot to drink, and was slapped in the face,” Alex said slowly. “But he didn’t rape her.”
Everyone was looking at him. He shrugged. “Well, I was supposed to read the old file.”
Hanno slowly shook his head. “It’s not an unusual modus operandi. Not strong enough to link the two cases.” He sighed. “What else have we got?”
“Leyhausen’s phone company has contacted us,” said Sebastian, leafing through the pile of papers in his hands, “and they sent the list of contacts. She called Daniel Vogler the night she died.”
So Vogler had lied when he claimed not to have talked with Franziska Leyhausen between Birkner’s murder and her own. He also seemed to have a reason to detest Philip Birkner and Julia Munz, if Sonja Birkner was right that he had been brutally bullied by their clique in high school.
“It’s possible that he killed Julia Munz, but Birkner?” Alex said, doubtfully. “After such a long time? Isn’t that way too late?”
Max raised his shoulders. “Who knows how long he carried this grudge. A tiny trigger is all it takes . . .”
“But why would he take a job with his old tormentor?” Alex continued with his doubts. “If I landed by chance in the firm of my archenemy, I’d get out of there as fast as I could.”
“Maybe it wasn’t by chance at all,” Lina said.
Hanno looked at her with interest. “You mean Vogler applied for the job at Inoware on purpose, knowing it was Birkner’s company?”
“What would he get out of it?” Alex asked.
“He got very close to Birkner that way,” Max said, continuing the thread, “and could possibly ruin the company by manufacturing a programming mistake.”
“But things didn’t quite turn out the way Vogler imagined,” Lina said, taking up the ball again. “Yes, Inoware goes bust, but Birkner has a soft fall and finds a job immediately. So Vogler keeps his eye on him and waits for the next opportunity.”
“Which came last Thursday,” Hanno said slowly. “He has a date with Franziska Leyhausen, arrives late, sees her flirt with Philip, and snaps.” Energized, he straightened in his chair. “We’ve got to find out pronto what happened at that school.” He leafed through the papers in front of him. “We’ve got the names of the members of this clique. Let’s question them.” He looked up. “Why don’t we start with Lukas Birkner? It so happens we have him right here.”
The picture of misery waiting for them in the interrogation room reminded Lina of Frank Jensen. He had sat here just as unwashed, unshaven, and red-eyed a week ago. Lukas Birkner looked up when Max and Lina entered, but quickly looked to the floor again when he saw their expressions.
Lina scrutinized the man, who was less than a year younger than his dead brother but looked at least ten years older. His stringy hair fell over his face, his shirt was soiled, and huge sweat stains were visible under his armpits. He reeked of alcohol and an unwashed body.
“Your wife’s in the hospital,” Lina said.
Birkner swallowed. “That’s . . . I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but . . .”
“. . . but she provoked you, didn’t she? It’s actually not your fault that your hand just slipped, is it?” Lina couldn’t help being sarcastic. She could imagine rather than actually see Max’s warning frown.
Lukas Birkner bent over. “No. I mean, it was my fault, of course. I just snapped and didn’t know what I was doing anymore. Please believe me. I’m incredibly sorry and I promise—”
“Don’t make any promises right now,” Max interrupted him calmly. “Instead, tell us what made you beat your wife that way.”
Birkner looked down. “I . . . I don’t exactly know. I had some drinks, and we quarreled, and then . . . then it just happened.”
Lina clenched her fists under the table so Birkner couldn’t see them and said nothing.
“What did you argue about?” Max asked.
“I forget.”
“You’re lying,” Max said.
Lukas Birkner looked at Max, tried to look genuinely shocked, but failed. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Max just shook his head. Birkner shut his mouth again and looked down.
“The argument was about Daniel Vogler and your brother, wasn’t it?” Max said. Birkner nodded. “Tell us what happened at school back then.”
Lina could see it working inside Lukas Birkner: How much did they know? How much had Sonja told them? What did Sonja know? He shrugged.
“We just liked to hassle him, maybe more often than others. He practically invited it: the teachers’ pet, the know-it-all, the slowpoke.” Birkner looked at Max. “I don’t know what Sonja told you. But she wasn’t even in our clique then, so she wouldn’t know anything.” For a moment, he seemed relieved, as if that solved all his problems. He was about to look to the ground again, when Lina startled him by leaning forward and smacking both palms onto the table with a bang.
“So you beat your wife up for no reason at all? Just because you and your clique back then bullied one classmate more often than others?” She looked as if she were itching to spit at him. “Rotten coward,” she mumbled quietly, so the recording machine wouldn’t pick it up.
Lina got up and Lukas Birkner shrank back, his face white as a sheet. Max breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. “It would be in your best interest to be a little more forthcoming, Herr Birkner,” he said calmly. “We know the names of the other students and it’s just a matter of time before we find out what happened and what role you and your brother played.”
Lina remained standing without turning her gaze from Birkner.
“I . . . I didn’t do anything, I swear. Neither did Philip. If anything, it was the others. Julia and Maike—they were the worst. Philip just went along with what they did because Julia forced him to.” He seemed to be almost begging.
Neither Lina nor Max said a word. She was seething and felt nothing but contempt for this man who denied everything that would reflect badly on him or his brother. Max, on the other hand, seemed quiet and polite, even friendly, as always. How in the world could he stay friendly with someone like that?
“It’s out of the question that Philip had anything to do with it. You don’t . . . didn’t know him, otherwise you’d realize how absurd it is to imagine—”
“What did your brother have nothing to do with?” Max interrupted him. He was almost half a foot taller than Birkner, so the man had to look up at him.
“It’s possible that something went on once, maybe one or two years before Philip took his exit exam. I wasn’t there, I swear, and Philip didn’t tell me anything—other than that they, meaning Julia, Philip, Maike, and also Miriam and her friend, Björn, met Daniel in City Park the night before.” He swallowed and adjusted his shirt. “I don’t know what happened there, but Daniel didn’t come to school for a few days afterward, and when he did show up again, he was . . . somehow different.”
“What do you mean ‘different’?”
Birkner raised his shoulders. “I don’t know. More quiet. He suddenly no longer had all the answers.” He thought for a moment. “He shut himself off completely. I mean, he wasn’t sociable before, but afterward he was practically always by himself.” He shrugged again. “Shortly afterward, summer vacation began. Julia and I went to eleventh grade and Daniel skipped to twelfth grade, the same grade Philip was in.” He paused again to think. “We left him completely alone from that moment on. We totally ignored him; even Julia didn’t talk about him anymore. That’s why I completely forgot the whole thing . . . until you showed up and started asking about it.” His voice actually had a reproachful undertone.
“And because of this nonevent, you beat your wife so badly that she had to go to the hospital?” Max said and sighed. “Herr Birkner, your story just doesn’t make sense. You were there at the time and your wife knows it. And last night you were afraid that your wife might tell us about it.”
Birkner shook his head. “No. No. I really know nothing! You’ve got to believe me.”
“Then why did you clobber your wife?” Lina asked. She was standing, but was only a few inches taller than Max, who was sitting.
Birkner wiped his forehead with his hand and was astonished that it got damp. He looked at the palm of his hand and wiped it off on his trousers. Lina grimaced.
“I was afraid she’d put Philip down in front of you,” he finally said. He swallowed. “Sonja didn’t like Philip and constantly found fault with him. Yesterday evening she started again, about that matter from the past, and said that Philip could be quite nasty sometimes . . . Yes, ‘nasty’ she called him. Philip! I asked her if she’d already told you,” he motioned to Lina, “about this on Monday. She denied it, but I didn’t believe her, and then . . . I don’t know, I just flipped out.” He looked at Lina pitifully. “Nasty! Philip! Philip was such a . . .” His eyes filled with tears. “You have to understand—he meant so much to me; he was always there for me. Sonja never got that.” He dropped his head and sobbed quietly.
“Sure, and that’s why you clobbered her until she was black and blue.” Lina looked down on the man in front of her and could hardly control her rage. “Because her opinion was different from yours. Because she didn’t keep your brother on the pedestal you put him on.”
“You don’t understand,” Lukas Birkner said. “I didn’t put him on a pedestal, but Sonja simply didn’t . . . She never saw him the way he really was.”
“But you saw your brother the way he really was?” Max asked calmly.
Birkner nodded. There wasn’t a shadow of doubt in his expression. Max was sighing quietly. Even if he’d known how, it wasn’t his job to take away the man’s illusions, but he was fascinated by this unquestioning adoration. He leaned forward a little. “Didn’t your brother have any faults? Isn’t it true that he sometimes made fun of you, or snubbed you?”
Birkner looked at him with wide-open eyes as if the question were absolutely absurd. “Is that what my wife told you? Typical!” He shook his head. “Of course, Philip talked trash sometimes. But, hell, he was my brother. When it mattered, he was there for me, one hundred percent,” he said, utterly convinced.
“Is he just that fixated or is he hiding something?” Lina was thinking out loud on their way to the elevator a little later. “I mean, common sense tells you that each of us occasionally makes a mistake. It puzzles me that Birkner denies it so categorically when it comes to his brother.”
“He certainly seems to have had a rather strange relationship with his brother,” Max commented. “Philip treated him roughly and took all sorts of liberties. Yet Lukas idolizes him.”
Lina was pushing the button, but, as always, all elevators were on the way up. “But doesn’t this also give him a motive for murder?” she asked. “Just think, if he suffered his brother’s taunts and humiliations for ages . . .”
“You mean it was the last straw?” Max said with a grin. One of the elevator doors opened with a soft click; they went in and pushed the button for the sixth floor. “Does he have an alibi, by the way?”
Lina frowned. “I believe he was on vacation. When I talked with both of them the first time, on Monday, his wife was busy catching up with all the stuff that had accumulated while they were away.”
“We have to check that out,” Max said. “And we’ve got to find other members of that clique. It’s vital.”
“Do you really think what happened then has something to do with Philip Birkner’s death?” Lina leaned against the wall of the elevator. “What could have happened then? If it’s true what both Sonja Birkner and her husband told us—that two years before Daniel and Philip graduated, something happened that changed everything—what could that something have been?”
“Well, it surely brought Daniel Vogler down a peg or two, making him withdraw even more than before.” The elevator opened and they stepped into the corridor.
“But at the same time it kept the clique from continuing to harass Vogler,” Lina said.
“I doubt very much that Vogler will volunteer information about what happened back then,” Max said, his hand on the door handle. “He won’t be stupid enough to just hand us his motive to murder Birkner. And other than that, we really have nothing on him, do we?”
“
Nada
. All we can do is wait for forensics to finish the DNA analysis.” She sighed. “And as you know, going through official channels that can take up to six weeks.”
Entering the reception area of the health center in St. Pauli with Lina, Max was engulfed by the typical hospital odors of cleaning supplies and disinfectants for the third time during the current investigation. The old building in the middle of the port of Hamburg hadn’t been a hospital in years, but had been converted into a health center following protests after the hospital was shut down. Today, the outpatient clinic fulfilled the function of an emergency room, which in this poorest and most diverse neighborhood of Hamburg was . . . quite an interesting task.
Max and Lina stepped to the information desk, gave their names, and said they had an appointment with Dr. Björn Boysen. It had turned out that it wasn’t easy to get hold of former members of the clique. Dr. Boysen was the only one who still lived in Hamburg, and so Max and Lina had decided to start with him. After waiting for a short time, a slim, tall man in his midthirties came to pick them up. He looked at them closely through brown eyes. His medium-length brown hair covered his forehead and his handshake was strong and warm. Lina’s first impression was that he didn’t seem to fit the image of someone belonging to a clique of arrogant youngsters terrorizing their classmates. But that had been quite some time ago, and people do change. Boysen led them to a small consultation room. The windows overlooked an interior courtyard where some people sat in the sunshine.