Bad Wolf (44 page)

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Hopeful optimism reigned in K-11. Bodenstein’s appearance on
Germany’s Most Wanted
had brought in a new wave of tips that now had to be checked out. The witness, Karen Wenning, had arrived at nine o’clock sharp at the station. She had described the incident of May 7 in minute detail, displaying an amazing memory. She was absolutely positive that the girl who had begged so desperately for help was the Mermaid, and she declared herself ready to help the artist from the state police put together ID pictures of the alleged parents.

“She’s a mask sculptor at the Frankfurt Playhouse and has a great eye for faces,” Pia explained to her boss, who arrived as she and Cem finished questioning the witness. “She’s worked in film, TV, and theater.”

“Is she credible?” Bodenstein took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his desk chair.

“Yes, absolutely.” Pia took a seat in front of the desk and gave him a rundown of what they had learned from the conversation with Lutz Altmüller. Bodenstein listened intently.

“You’re doubtful that Rothemund is the perp?” he said with a frown.

“Yes. There’s something between him and Hanna Herzmann that goes beyond pure professional interest,” replied Pia. “She drove him to the trailer park that Wednesday evening and was with him in the trailer. The strand of hair that was found there came from her. What if those two only had consensual sex that night?”

“Possible,” Bodenstein conceded. “What about Prinzler?”

“Our colleagues in Frankfurt have granted me an appointment in Preungesheim for this afternoon,” Pia said sarcastically. “By the way, I also found out that the search of the property drew a complete blank, just as you thought. No weapons, no drugs, no stolen cars, no illegal girls.”

Bodenstein sipped his coffee and refrained from commenting. Pia continued telling him about how they’d gone through Leonie Verges’s patient files, but without result.

“What was the reason for doing that?” Bodenstein asked.

“I had a gut feeling that Hanna Herzmann was not doing research on the Road Kings,” replied Pia, crossing her arms. “And I believe that the Herzmann and Verges cases are connected. Maybe it was even the same perp.”

“Aha. How do you figure?”

“Kai, Christian, and I have been talking about a possible psychological profile of the perp. We think that he’s between forty and fifty, has relationship problems or problems with women in general, and low self-esteem. He has sadistic and voyeuristic tendencies and gets pleasure from other people’s suffering, from the pleading and death struggle of his victims. He likes exercising power over people who are superior to him but whom he can degrade and humiliate with bonds and gags. He has no sense of right and wrong, has a hot-tempered personality, but is very intelligent and probably also highly educated.”

She smiled when she saw Bodenstein’s astounded expression. “Kai’s courses have paid off, don’t you think?”

“In any event, it sounds impressive,” Bodenstein replied. “So which of our suspects fits this profile?”

“Unfortunately, we don’t yet know Rothemund or Prinzler well enough to decide,” Pia admitted. “That’s why I’d like to take Kai or Christian with me this afternoon to Preungesheim.”

“Fine with me.” Bodenstein finished his coffee. “Is that all?”

“No.” Pia had saved the most sensitive topic until last. “I’d like to hear what you can tell me about the death of Erik Lessing.”

Bodenstein, who was just about to set down his cup, stopped abruptly. His face shut down, as if a window shade had been pulled down inside him. The cup hovered an inch above the saucer.

“I know nothing about that,” he said, finally putting down his coffee cup. Then he stood up. “Let’s go over to the conference room.”

Pia was disappointed, even though this was the reaction she’d expected.

“Did Frank shoot him and the two Road Kings?”

Bodenstein stopped without turning around.

“What is this?” he asked. “What does this have to do with our cases?”

Pia jumped up and went over to him.

“I think that somebody used Frank to get rid of a dangerous witness—namely, the undercover cop Erik Lessing. Lessing must have learned something from the Road Kings that nobody else was supposed to know. It was neither an accident nor self-defense. It was a triple murder, and somebody gave the order to do it. Frank carried out the order; who knows what they told him. He shot a colleague.”

Bodenstein sighed deeply and turned around.

“So now you know everything,” he said.

For a moment, it was completely quiet; only the ring of a telephone could be heard faintly through the closed door.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about this?” Pia asked. “I never understood why Frank got that special position, or why you always protected him. Your lack of trust is insulting.”

“It has nothing to do with lack of trust,” Bodenstein replied. “I had nothing to do with the whole incident, because I was in a different department. The reason why I learned about it at all was—”

He broke off, hesitant.

“Dr. Nicola Engel,” Pia said, completing his sentence. “She was in charge of the department that was responsible. Am I right?”

Bodenstein nodded. They stared at each other.

“Pia,” he finally said quietly. “This is a very dangerous matter. Even today. I don’t know any names, but some of those responsible might still be in high positions. Back then, they never hesitated to kill if necessary, and they will do it today, as well.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Nicola wouldn’t tell me the details. Supposedly, in order to protect me. And I didn’t really want to know any more about it.”

Pia looked at her boss. She asked herself whether he was telling her the truth. How much did he actually know? And all of a sudden, she realized that she no longer trusted him. What would he do, how far would he go, to protect himself and others?

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Nothing at all,” she lied, shrugging. “It’s an old case. God knows, we have plenty of other stuff to keep us busy.”

Her eyes met his. Was that something like relief that flashed across his face for an instant?

There was a knock on the door, and Kai stuck his head in.

“I just got a call from somebody who made an interesting observation behind the rest stop at Weilbach on the night Hanna Herzmann was raped.” Even Kai, who usually unnerved everyone with his unflappable composure, seemed agitated, which showed what a toll the tension of the past few weeks was taking. “Around two in the morning, the witness was driving along the highway between Hattersheim and Weilbach when a car suddenly came shooting out from a dirt road on the left with its lights off. He almost drove into the ditch from fright, but he got a brief view of the driver’s face.”

“And?” Bodenstein asked.

“A man with a beard and hair combed straight back.”

“Bernd Prinzler?”

“From the description, it’s possible. Unfortunately, he can’t recall either the make of the car or the license plate number. Big and dark, he said. Might even be the Hummer.”

“Okay.” Bodenstein thought hard. “We need to bring Prinzler in. I want a lineup to show the witness, first thing tomorrow morning.”

*   *   *

Pia got into her car and swore when she almost burned her hands on the steering wheel. The car had been parked in the sun and was as hot as an oven. She needed peace and quiet so she could think over what she’d just learned. Located a couple of hundred yards from the Regional Criminal Unit were the Krifteler Fields, the fruit orchards and strawberry fields that stretched all the way to the A66 autobahn. Pia turned left onto the L3016, locally called “the Strawberry Mile,” and drove to the first dirt road. She parked there and continued on foot.

Today the sun reigned supreme, but as usual it was accompanied by muggy air. Thunderstorms were predicted for later in the afternoon. The grassy dirt roads were full of muddy puddles that the last rain had left behind. The skyline of Frankfurt seemed farther away than on clear days, as did the hills of the Taunus in the west.

Pia stuck her hands in the pockets of her jeans and trudged with her head down past rows of plum and apple trees. It had shaken her deeply to learn that Bodenstein was keeping these kinds of secrets. Pia knew and respected him as a man who stood up for his convictions, even if they were unpopular. He was someone with a pronounced sense of justice and high moral values, incorruptible, disciplined, fair, and straightforward. She had regarded his leniency toward Behnke’s transgressions as an excusable weakness, a display of loyalty to a long-standing colleague who was in personal and financial difficulties, because that was how Bodenstein had once justified his actions to her. She now realized that his explanation had been a lie.

From the beginning, Pia and Bodenstein had understood each other and worked well together, but there had always been a certain distance between them. That had changed when Bodenstein’s marriage broke up. Since then a real relationship of trust, almost a friendship, had developed between them. At least that was what Pia had imagined, but obviously the trust part was an illusion. She recoiled from the thought that her boss might have had more to do with the Erik Lessing case than he was willing to admit. But she didn’t intend to pressure him to say more. As soon as Kathrin agreed to tell her the name of her ex-lover, Pia wanted to talk to him. She was also toying with the idea of taking up the matter with Behnke. At first glance, the incident seemed to have nothing to do with the current investigations, but her instincts told her that there was a connection between the triple murders that had been ordered, the attack on Hanna Herzmann, and the murder of Leonie Verges. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Rothemund and Prinzler had been key players in the past as well as today.

Her cell phone rang. She didn’t pay attention to it at first, but then her sense of duty prevailed. It was Christian Kröger.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Lunch break,” she snapped. “Why?”

“I saw your car parked by the side of the road. Yesterday, I didn’t have a chance to tell you something else. When will you be back?”

“At two eleven and forty-three seconds,” she replied curtly, which was not usually her style, and she regretted it immediately. Christian, of all people, didn’t deserve to suffer the brunt of her bad mood.

“Sorry,” she said. “Would you like to join me for a walk through the picturesque strawberry fields? I need some exercise and fresh air.”

“Sure, gladly.”

Pia told him which way she’d gone and sat down on a boulder that probably served as a property marker. She turned her face to the sun, closed her eyes, and enjoyed feeling the warmth on her skin. With a trill, a lark sprang into the blue sky.

The constant hum of the autobahn in the distance was a familiar sound; her house was no more than two miles away as the crow flies, right next to the A66. Christian apparently didn’t have the same need for exercise and fresh air as she did. The blue VW evidence van came bumping along the dirt road. Pia stood up and walked over to her colleague.

“Hey,” he said, studying her. “Did something happen?”

His sensitivity again surprised her. He was the only one of her male colleagues who would permit himself such a question. All the others treated her the same as they treated everyone else on the team. And that meant they would probably prefer to bite off their tongues rather than ask about feelings or emotional issues.

“Come on, let’s take a walk,” said Pia instead of answering. For a while, they walked in silence, and Christian picked a couple of plums and offered her one.

“Plum thief.” Pia grinned, rubbed the plum on her jeans, and took a bite. It tasted magnificent, warm from the sun and sweet, awakening childhood memories.

“Theft of comestibles for personal consumption is not a punishable offense.” Christian grinned back but then quickly turned serious. “I think there are some blotches in the biography of State Attorney Frey.”

Pia stopped in her tracks.

“Why do you say that?” she asked in astonishment.

“I happened to recall reading a newspaper article,” he replied. “It was shortly after Rothemund was arrested. They had interviewed a woman who claimed that the arrest was motivated by personal revenge on Frey’s part, because he—Rothemund, that is—had discovered that Frey didn’t earn his doctorate; he paid for it.”

He spit out the pit of the plum.

“Then last night, I was researching something and stumbled on who Frey’s doctoral supervisor was. He happens to be a member of the board of the Finkbeiner Foundation: Professor Ernst Haslinger. He was dean of the law faculty and vice president of the Goethe University, and was later called to Karlsruhe to serve on the federal Supreme Court.”

“That doesn’t have to mean anything,” said Pia. “But why are you so interested in State Attorney Frey?”

“Because I find his fascination with the case odd.” Christian stopped. “I’ve been doing crime-scene investigation for ten years now, but I’ve never seen a chief state attorney show up in person for a house search. If anything, they send some underling.”

“I suppose he has more than a professional interest in the case,” replied Pia. “He and Rothemund were once the best of friends.”

“So why did he show up on that evening in Eddersheim when we discovered the dead girl in the river?”

“He’d been visiting friends nearby for a barbecue.” Pia tried to remember what explanation Frey had given for putting in an appearance that evening. She had wondered about that, too.

“I believe the part about the barbecue,” said Christian. “But not the part about being in the vicinity.”

“What are you getting at?” Pia asked.

“I don’t really know,” Christian admitted. He picked a blade of grass and absentmindedly wrapped it around his finger. “But there seem to be way too many coincidences.”

They walked on.

“And what’s bothering you?” he asked after a while.

Pia pondered whether to tell him about the Erik Lessing case and Frank Behnke’s involvement in it. She had to talk about it with someone. Kai was out, because he had been too directly involved in the events at the time. Cem, she didn’t know well enough; Bodenstein and Kathrin were not neutral observers. Actually, Christian had developed more and more into the only colleague she really trusted. Finally, she got up the nerve and told him her suspicions.