The White Gallows (23 page)

‘That sounds a bit harsh.’

‘The truth is painfully bleak. So, what can I do for you?’ Koch said, more upbeat, trying to redirect the conversation. 

‘Information I’ve received suggests you were more interested in your father’s affairs than you first intimated. You wanted your father to invest in some of your ideas, but he refused.’

‘He knew they had little commercial value,’ Koch laughed. ‘He wasn’t stupid.’

‘And yet you still asked him to invest.’

‘I had to do something; give some indication I was trying.’

‘Why?’

‘Because that’s what was expected. Call it duty.’

‘You also wanted your son fast-tracked into a management post,’ McEvoy prompted.

‘I wanted him to have the same opportunities afforded to other members of the family.’

‘You mean Mark D’Arcy?’

‘Yes. Marion has been pushing strongly in Mark’s favour. I reciprocated for Francis. I was trying to be a good father.’

‘You were worried that your father’s fortune would all end up on Marion’s side of the family?’

‘I was worried that Francis would get overlooked. Look, Superintendent, being part of the Koch family is not easy. Everyone is so damn competitive. My father owned several businesses. Marion has a successful law company. Uncle Frank’s children seem to own half the car showrooms in Ireland. I had a duty to fight our corner.’

McEvoy nodded, noting the second use of duty by Koch. ‘Did that extend to spying on your father’s work?’

‘What?’ Koch said irritably.

‘You used to look through your father’s files.’

‘Is that what Roza said? No, no, I bet it was that weasel, Freel. The man who thinks he’s the son my father never had. If I was going to look anywhere for a prime suspect that’s where I’d start.’

‘Are you denying that you ever looked through his things?’ McEvoy said, ignoring Koch’s accusation.

‘No. Every child on the planet has sneaked a look through their parent’s belongings.’

‘Usually when they were a child, not when they are approaching retirement. What were you looking for?’

‘Evidence as to who he might promote – Mark or Francis. I’m not proud of what I did, Superintendent. I did it for Francis. And, as it happens, I didn’t find anything.’

‘You were at the house on Saturday? You met an East European couple?’

‘They were talking nonsense. They were trying to persuade us that my father was a war criminal. They’ve been at it for weeks. The whole thing is a fantasy. You should be questioning them. They had motive and seemed the type to break-in and search the place.’

‘We are questioning them,’ McEvoy admitted. ‘They have a pretty convincing story about your father’s activities during the war.’

‘The key word there is story. Yes, my father was a chemist during the war. Yes, he worked for IG Farben, but no he did not work at Auschwitz. He was based in Austria working at one of their subsidiary companies. They’re mud slingers after a pay day.’

‘They claim to have evidence that your father was a war criminal.’

‘Most of the files from that period were destroyed. God knows what evidence they’ve concocted. None of it’s true. None of it!’ Koch hissed. ‘If this allegation leaks out through the guards, I’ll be speaking to our lawyers. It’s bad enough that you seem to be taking this nonsense seriously, but my father’s not around to defend himself.’ He pushed open the passenger door. ‘You should think carefully about how you’re conducting this investigation. Ostara is a powerful organisation.’

‘Is that a threat, Professor Koch?’ McEvoy said evenly.

‘It’s free advice.’ Koch slipped out of the car. ‘I might not have been as successful as my father, but I am his son. I will fight any slander on this family.’ He slammed shut the car door.

‘Shit,’ McEvoy muttered. Another interview that had not gone as planned.

_{* * *}

Athboy’s main street was traffic chaos, cars parked seemingly at random in any available space. The town had managed to keep its small town feel, lots of small, locally owned shops, with an odd assortment of frontages, and no chain stores beyond a couple of corner shop franchises. Further down the street and on the opposite side to where McEvoy was parked were the three units of McElhinney’s department store – an old-style clothing emporium.

He glanced at his watch – 5.15 – and cursed John Joyce. They’d been due to meet Koch’s solicitor at five o’clock, though McEvoy had only just arrived himself and he’d been fortunate to grab a space across the road from the Darley Lodge Hotel. His mobile phone rang and he checked the screen before answering.

‘Kelly?’

‘Do you have a minute?’

‘Yeah, go on. I’m just waiting for Dr John to turn up.’

‘Well, I’ve just got off the phone with Marie Hines; she looks after the old military records held at the Cathal Brugha Barracks in Rathmines. She can find no record of a Frank Koch or Franz Kucken in the Curragh records. She recognises the name, okay, and she knows Frank Kock personally – he’s visited the unit a number of times trying to track down old colleagues – but the records are missing.’

‘What a surprise,’ McEvoy muttered. ‘Jesus Christ.’

‘She can’t remember whether the original record was Koch or Kucken, but she assumes it must have been Koch. She says there are other files missing as well – eight of them. There were only fifty-five German internees, so the gaps are easy to spot. She thinks they all relate to the same hut, but she needs to check that out. And she doesn’t think there are copies elsewhere unless one of the historians working on the files took down the details – there’ve been a number of students in doing theses on the Emergency. It seems that there’s a mini-boom of writing about
Ireland
during the Second World War at the moment.’

‘Any idea as to how long they’ve been missing?’

‘She’s not certain – could be any time in the last year maybe.’

‘Since our East European friends turned up,’ McEvoy observed. ‘They claim to have copies; you’d better check that out.’

‘I’ll get on it right away. Do you think Albert Koch was a war criminal?’ Stringer asked sceptically.

There was a knock on McEvoy’s passenger window and John Joyce’s round face peered in.

‘I’ve no idea,’ McEvoy continued, holding up his index finger to Joyce. ‘We need someone to go through whatever evidence that couple’s got and to try to make sense of it. Look, I’d better go, Dr John’s finally turned up.’

McEvoy ended the call and levered himself out of his car. ‘Where the hell have you been?’

‘I couldn’t find anywhere to park. The place is a nightmare. I ended up in behind the back of McElhinney’s. You should go in there by the way. I managed to pick up…’

‘What did the doctor say?’ McEvoy interrupted.

‘He kept me waiting and then talked nonsense. He’s threatened to sue us for harassment.’

‘We’ll counter-sue for negligence,’ McEvoy spat frustrated, dashing across the busy road. ‘Is he living on the same planet as the rest of us?’

‘Living on his own, more like. I think he’s a wily old bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing – a natural death, a quiet funeral and plaudits all round.’

‘At Marion D’Arcy’s behest?’

‘At Albert Koch’s is my guess.’

‘So she didn’t pressure him into trying to hush the whole thing up?’

‘He claims not, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t glad of the verdict.’

‘For God’s sake! Right, let’s see what his solicitor’s got to say. If anything.’

_{* * *}

Henry Collier looked to be well past retirement age. He was a short, portly man, bursting out of his green tweed suit, his grey hair combed over a large bald spot. Introductions over, he pointed at two wooden chairs with green leather seats and slid behind a huge mahogany desk free of clutter.

‘So, gentlemen, what can I do for you?’ Collier asked, glancing between McEvoy and Joyce.

McEvoy cleared his throat. ‘Well, it’s clear from our investigation into Dr Koch’s death that someone was searching the premises for something valuable. We think it might have been his will. We were hoping we might be able to see a copy.’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Collier said gravely, shaking his head. ‘The will can only be read after the murder investigation is concluded and a conviction secured. Until then it remains confidential.’

‘It might contain important clues as to who the killer might be,’ McEvoy suggested, trying to keep his frustration out of his voice.

‘The killer may have been searching for the will,’ Collier said evenly, ‘but they did not – could not have – found it. I possess the only copies, both lodged in safe deposit boxes. Only myself and Dr Koch knew its contents. What the will contains then is unlikely to be the reason for murder, though finding it might have been the motive. As a result there’s no need for you to view it. Indeed, the contents of the will might prejudice any inquiry into his death and therefore, the outcome of any trial. As such, I’m not prepared to divulge its contents until the case is solved and a conviction secured.’

McEvoy nodded wondering why things were never as simple as they could be. ‘Nonetheless,’ he pressed, ‘the will could help us identify potential suspects. It would, of course, be treated in full confidence and it doesn’t need to leave this office, if necessary.’

‘With all due respect, Superintendent,’ Collier said smiling weakly, ‘Dr Koch’s estate is worth billions of euro. I am not, at present, prepared to share its contents with anyone connected with your investigation. If the murderer was to offer you just a tiny fraction of the estate in exchange for burying evidence you would retire a very, very rich man. As it stands, you wouldn’t know whether any offer has substance or not.’

‘And what if we don’t catch his killer?’

‘Then the estate will remain frozen for the next five years to be released at my discretion.’

‘So you’ll have effective control over Ostara Industries in the meantime?’

‘No, no. Ostara will continue to operate as normal through its Executive Management Board. Only substantial deviations in its business practices will have to be ratified by me, although I will manage the rest of the estate. After five years that estate will pass to his beneficiaries.’

‘At your discretion,’ McEvoy said.

‘Yes, at my discretion,’ Collier repeated, a smug smile spread across his face.

‘From where I’m sitting that gives you a strong motive to kill Dr Koch. Assuming you weren’t caught, you’d gain control of his estate, able to transfer assets for your own ends during the five-year window.’

‘I’d be careful what you say, Superintendent,’ Collier warned. ‘You don’t want to be rash in your accusations. I’ve been Dr Koch’s personal solicitor for over forty years. We were good friends. Believe me, if you do solve the case, which I sincerely hope you do, I will be handsomely rewarded for my service. And I’ll have much more ready access to those funds. It’s in my interest as well that you solve the case quickly. I’m prepared to help as much as I can, but I can’t give you access to the will.’

‘And what do Marion and Charles Koch think about all of this?’

‘Well, neither of them is very happy, as you’d expect. Of course, if they killed their father then they’d be unable to inherit. But if the killer’s not caught then they won’t be able to inherit for five years. They’re both pretty upset by that prospect.’