I Am Your Judge: A Novel (53 page)

“So now we’ll have a connection between him and the car,” he said in grim triumph as he took his seat at the conference table. “I’m eager to see how Thomsen’s going to try to weasel out of that.”

“He doesn’t want an attorney,” Pia told her colleagues. She had just spoken to the suspect.

“His choice.” Bodenstein shrugged, then clapped his hands. “People, with a little luck, we’ve caught the sniper today, and you’ll be able to leave work on time.”

“That would be something,” said Kai. “We all need it.”

He tapped Karoline Albrecht’s phone number for the umpteenth time and finally got through.

“I’ve already seen that you’ve tried to get hold of me several times,” she said, instead of saying her name. “Sorry, my battery was totally dead.”

“I don’t want to take too much of your time. But it’s important for us to find out who gave you Helen Stadler’s notebook.”

Ms. Albrecht hesitated for a moment.

“I discovered that Helen’s Facebook page is still active,” she answered. “And that’s how I found her friend Vivien Stern, and we met in Frankfurt.”

“Facebook!” Kai moaned. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“What did you talk about with her?” asked Bodenstein.

“She said that Helen was on the track of a huge case. She was convinced that they let her mother die so they could get at her organs. Helen wanted to clear up everything that happened back then.”

“How close were Helen Stadler and Ms. Stern?”

“Apparently, they’ve known each other since their school days, and later they went to college together in Frankfurt. Helen always left her notebook with Vivien so her father or her boyfriend wouldn’t find it. Her boyfriend seemed to be putting a lot of pressure on her. He wanted to get married right away, but she didn’t. Helen and Vivien were planning in secret to go to the States to study. When Helen’s boyfriend got wind of that, he threatened Vivien and even beat her up. She has a real fear of that man, that’s why she didn’t dare give the notebook to the police. She asked me not to mention her name, but I told her I couldn’t promise her that.”

“Do you have a phone number for her?” Bodenstein asked.

“No, I’m afraid not. She’s flying back to the States the day after tomorrow. She just came over to see her parents for the holidays. And then she realized for the first time that there was a connection between Helen’s investigations and the murders.”

“How so?”

“She read the names in the paper. Ingeborg R., Maximilian G., Margarethe R. That’s what Helen christened them.” Karoline Albrecht paused briefly, as if trying to imagine the conversation. “Helen didn’t trust anyone after she found out that her father had received a million euros from someone for retracting his lawsuit against the hospital. That came out because the tax authorities showed up at her father’s house. Afterwards, she began her own investigation. She was supported by a friend whose name I’ve forgotten.”

“Mark Thomsen?” Bodenstein offered, impressed by the memory of the woman who’d had a traffic accident just yesterday.

“Yes, that’s it,” Karoline Albrecht confirmed.

“Why does Vivien Stern suspect that Helen was murdered?”

“She’s convinced that Helen had no reason to commit suicide. She claims Helen was absolutely euphoric because of the upcoming trip to America and the results of her investigation. Vivien suspects that her boyfriend killed her because she wanted to leave him.”

“There is some suspicion that your father let Helen’s mother die so her heart could be transplanted. Did you know that?” Bodenstein asked after a moment. He could hear Ms. Albrecht sigh.

“Yes, I knew that.” Her voice sounded bitter. “That’s why my mother was shot before my daughter’s eyes. If it’s true, I’ll never forgive him.”

*   *   *

“Henning, it’s me, Pia. Sorry I’m calling so late.”

“No problem. How late is it, anyway?” he said.

“Eight thirty.”

“Oh, I haven’t paid any attention to the time.”

Pia had to smile. A typical Henning reply. Had he and Miriam buried the hatchet? Maybe their quarrel yesterday hadn’t been the first, because lately Henning seemed to have been at the Institute from morning till well into the night. Something she remembered only too well from when she was married to him.

“Tell me, could you please take another look at the autopsy report on Helen Stadler?” she asked her ex. “We suspect that she was pushed from the bridge in front of the train and didn’t jump. Maybe there were some marks on the body that could be reinterpreted.”

“I’ll take another look and call you back,” Henning promised. “Are you making any progress on the case?”

“Today we arrested a suspect,” said Pia.

“Congrats.”

“Tell me, your informant who wants to remain anonymous, could it be Dr. Arthur Janning?” she asked.

“How did you come across that name?” Henning countered, and that was answer enough for Pia.

“Helen Stadler seems to have done some investigating on her own. She spoke with almost everyone and wrote it all down in her notebook,” Pia explained. “Including Janning.”

“You’re right, he’s the one,” Henning confirmed. “He’s now the chief of staff at the UCF. In my opinion, he had nothing to do with the Stadler case back then, but the patient had been in the ICU, of course, so he did hear about what happened.”

“Helen Stadler compiled a sort of hit list of nine names, and Janning was one of them. Five of these people, or their relatives, are already dead,” Pia revealed. “That’s why we’re afraid that Janning might be the sniper’s next victim.”

“Oh,” was all Henning said.

“We’re convinced that other inappropriate actions were taken at the UCF, and Helen had found out about them. The fact that everyone is afraid and that documents were destroyed at Fritz Gehrke’s house, whether by him or by someone else, confirms our suspicion.”

“Then watch out that Rudolf doesn’t leave Germany,” Henning advised her.

“He already missed his chance,” replied Pia dryly. “He’s been locked up at government expense since last night.”

*   *   *

Dirk Stadler seemed to have just gotten home. His small suitcase still stood in the hall.

“Please come in,” he said politely to Pia and Bodenstein.

“Thank you.” Pia smiled. “How was Bavaria?”

“Peaceful.” Stadler returned her smile. “Judging by the debris on the streets, it must have been considerably louder here.”

He shut the front door.

“Last night we had another fatal shooting,” said Pia.

“I heard it on the radio,” said Stadler. “But you don’t still believe that my son had anything to do with it, do you?”

“No, we don’t,” said Bodenstein. “We arrested someone today.”

“Oh, that’s … That’s great. Congratulations.” Stadler seemed both surprised and pleased. “So how can I help you now?”

“The man is denying that he’s the perpetrator, of course. So we still need to uncover more evidence and a motive. We’re obviously dealing with murders for revenge and retaliation. And we also know the basic motive. But there’s probably a lot more behind this than what we know at present.”

“I see.” Stadler switched on the lights in the living room. “Do you mind if I sit down? My leg … after that long drive from Bavaria…”

“Please do,” said Bodenstein with a nod. He and Pia followed Stadler, who massaged his knee as he listened attentively to Bodenstein sum up the story of Professor Rudolf and Fritz Gehrke’s son.

“You knew that Gehrke was an old friend of Rudolf’s, didn’t you?” Bodenstein asked.

“I thought it was something Jens-Uwe made up.” Stadler looked exhausted. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes had a feverish gleam. “Jens-Uwe was disappointed and angry, and he wanted to ruin Rudolf. He viewed me as an ideal person to cause trouble for Rudolf and make the whole matter public.”

“So you didn’t really want to file a lawsuit? Why did you change your mind?” Pia wanted to know.

“I’ve already told you,” replied Stadler. “My father-in-law was pressuring me. He kept harping on it. But the more he went back and forth with the lawyers, the more obvious it became to me that we didn’t have a chance. Even if we won the case, it wouldn’t have brought my wife back to life. I just wanted to be left in peace.”

“You told us that you received fifty thousand euros in compensation from the UCF,” Pia prodded him, remembering her conversation with Henning about his anonymous informant. “Was that the total amount?”

Stadler sighed in resignation.

“No,” he admitted. “From Fritz Gehrke I got an additional one million euros.”

“A million euros?”
Pia repeated, feigning disbelief. “Why so much?”

“Because I agreed to retract my lawsuit. A trial lasting a year would have ruined me. The money gave me the opportunity to secure a good life for my children.”

“So Gehrke bribed you,” Bodenstein stated. “Why?”

“I think it’s more likely that he wanted to soothe his guilty conscience by making the payment. His son could go on living, but my wife had to die,” replied Stadler calmly. “He didn’t need the money, but I did. I put it into a Swiss bank account, which was a mistake. Because one day, the tax auditor showed up. My account and my name were on a certificate of deposit. I had to pay back taxes and a fine. Of course, my children, who hadn’t known about the money previously, then found out all about it.”

“How did they react?” Bodenstein inquired.

“Erik didn’t care. He just said it was stupid of me to take money under the table,” Stadler replied. “Helen, on the other hand, was furious and accused me of taking hush money. She said I had implicated myself. We discussed it over and over until she understood why I acted as I did.”

“When was that?”

“Two years ago.”

Bodenstein and Pia exchanged a glance. Two years ago was when Helen had started keeping her notebook and doing her research.

“Did you know that your daughter started keeping a sort of diary at that time?” Pia asked.

“Yes. She had kept a diary when she was a child, but stopped when she was sixteen or seventeen. After that, she limited herself to making daily notes.”

“Your daughter was convinced that the doctors did not use all possible means to treat your wife,” Pia said cautiously. “She thought they had let her die in order to harvest her organs for transplants.”

“But that’s nonsense,” replied Stadler wearily. “We’ve already discussed that.”

“Nonsense or not, it’s what she believed, and that’s why she began investigating on her own,” Pia continued. “She was putting pressure on people. And rather intense pressure, at that.”

“No, I just can’t believe that,” Stadler emphatically protested. “That can’t be true. My daughter was emotionally very unstable; she never would have dared do something like that.”

“She spoke with the director of the UCF, with Fritz Gehrke, Professor Rudolf, and another doctor at the hospital whom she felt was responsible. She seems to have given each of them an ultimatum.”

“An ultimatum? What do you mean?”

“Presumably, she wanted them to make public the truth about the circumstances of your wife’s death. The ultimatum had a deadline of shortly before Christmas,” said Pia. “But three days after the last conversation, she took her own life.”

Pia’s cell phone buzzed. A text from Kai.
I found Vivien Stern,
it said. She debated whether to ask Stadler about her daughter’s friend, but decided to wait until she spoke with the young woman.

“She also had no plans to get married,” Bodenstein added. “Apparently, she was afraid of Mr. Hartig, who was trying to control her life and restricting her actions.”

“That’s crazy! Jens-Uwe loved Helen!” Stadler shook his head, flabbergasted. “It’s true that she would have preferred to postpone the wedding a bit, because she wanted to go to the USA and study for a year. I approved because I thought it could have a positive effect on Helen if she did something completely new and got away for a while. Jens-Uwe agreed with me on that.”

“Then why did he stuff her full of drugs?” Pia asked.

“Who told you that?” Dirk Stadler gave the impression that he could no longer cope with any more news of this sort.

“We learned that from a reliable source,” Pia said evasively.

“On top of that, your daughter had quite different plans,” said Bodenstein. “She drew up a list of people whom she held responsible for her mother’s death. And she started observing these people, spying on them and recording their routines for months at a time. She was obviously assisted by Mr. Thomsen. In his house, we found a record of the surveillance of Maximilian Gehrke. We assume that Helen wanted to call these individuals to account. After her death, someone else took over the project.”

Stadler looked at Bodenstein, and for a fraction of a second, his eyes revealed the pain for which there were no words, the grief he had carried around with him for more than ten years, and from which he could not free himself.

“And who might that be?” he asked in a toneless voice. “Who was supposed to … ‘take over’?”

“Someone who is a very good marksman,” replied Bodenstein.

“Thomsen?”

“Possibly. By the way, does the name Wolfgang Mieger ring a bell?”

“Of course.” Stadler nodded wearily. “Wolfgang was one of my work colleagues, until he fell ill with Parkinson’s and then dementia. Three years ago his wife died, and he had no children. But how did you run across him?”

“We arrested the suspect inside his house.”

This piece of news left Stadler speechless for a few seconds. He straightened up.

“I have a key to Wolfgang’s house,” he said quietly. “Since he went to the old folks’ home in Königstein, I’ve been stopping by the house from time to time and taking care of the yard. Helen often went with me. Occasionally, she’d go there alone to empty the mailbox and check on things when I didn’t have time.”

“When were you there last?”

“Sometime before Christmas. Yes, about two weeks ago, when it was so cold. I wanted to check on the furnace.”

“Do you ever use Mr. Mieger’s car?”

“No. It stays in the garage, and the registration hasn’t been renewed.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not true. Someone has been driving it.”