Where the Bones are Buried (24 page)

Chapter Thirty-seven

No one had a cassette recorder. Thor had a digital voice recorder, and everyone's smartphone doubled as a recorder. But tape technology didn't exist in the Ramberg-Pelerin household and this being a Sunday, the shops were all closed.

“I guess we'll have to wait to hear Stirling Moss,” Dinah said, trying to sound cool and composed, knowing full well that the voice on this tape would not be that of the racecar driver. She didn't believe for an instant that Baer hid the tape in the car and forgot about it. He had to know that Jack would find it eventually and show it to her. He had given her the tape deliberately and for cause. But if the tape was the one Pohl had used to blackmail Swan, if Baer had taken it off Pohl's body after he killed him, it was evidence of his crime. In giving it to her, he had tendered his private confession. Why? A very special car, he'd said.

“Before I call Jens,” said Thor, “let's hear what it is you're going to say at this debriefing.”

“Oh, the usual stuff. The name of the murderer. The motive. The modus operandi.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Only a little. I'm going to take a walk and work out some things in my head and you need a nap or you won't be able to keep your eyes open while I'm giving you the lowdown. And later tonight, you'll have to be referee at the exorcism.”

“What?”

“The family dinner Mom wants us to have.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don't know. I'm just going to walk.”

He looked worried. “I'll go with you. In case you have a relapse.”

“No. I need some time to myself. Set up a meeting with Jens for late this afternoon and will you make a reservation at Café Aigner for tonight? With Dolf, there'll be seven of us.” She thought about her mother's penchant for fresh romance and wondered if Klaus was in line to become her next stepfather. “Better make it eight.”

“What time?”

“Seven o'clock. We could all stand an early evening for a change.” She donned her jacket, settled her Wayfarers on her nose, tucked the tape inside her purse, and headed for the metaphorical banks of the Rubicon.

She had reached the street, when she remembered seeing Geert with an old analog Rolleiflex camera. He was a retro sort of guy. Maybe he had a cassette recorder, or had a friend who had one. She ran back upstairs and knocked on his door with no consideration whatever for his sleep schedule.

When he opened the door, she held out the microcassette in the palm of her hand. “Sorry to bother you, Geert. But do you know anyone who has a player?”

He squinnied his eyes as if examining a tiny fossil and blew a plume of cigarette smoke toward the stairs. “Who uses these things anymore?”

“Just me, apparently. I need to hear what's on it as soon as possible.”

“My papa has an old recorder, but not a mini. Like K.D. says, you are SOL.”

“Right. Thanks anyway, Geert.”

Stymied, she went back downstairs and out into a perfect fall day, the cusp between fall and winter. She had the sense that her life was at a cusp, the divide between past and future. She walked in the general direction of the Tiergarten, thoughts of the past thrashing around in her head. If this tape contained a conversation between Swan and Cleon, she needed to know what her mother had said. She didn't blame her for her shortcomings as a mother, or her intrinsic inconstancy and unreliability. But there were limits. She had to know if Swan had encouraged or condoned her father's murder.

A sickening what-if wormed into her brain. What if there was something more incriminating on the tape than Swan had admitted? What if Pohl had threatened to give it, not to American federal agents, but to her daughter? Baer had obviously listened to it. Was he trying to warn her? Help her? What? In some inexplicable way, giving her the tape constituted a declaration of friendship. What danger would there be if she called him and asked him to bring his cassette player and meet her for coffee someplace?

The sunshine and the marathon had brought thousands of people into the streets. Soon she was caught up in a throng of cheering spectators. There were still runners on the course and probably would be for several more hours. As she drew closer to the finish line at the Brandenburg Gate, the driving beat of techno music and cheering rocked her.

She should tell Thor about the tape, but if she did, he would insist she turn over the evidence to the police. But it wasn't just evidence against Baer. It could be evidence against Swan. It could prove that she knew Cleon killed federal agents. It could prove she knew he'd killed Hart Pelerin. It could be empty, garbled, or subject to myriad interpretations. It might have nothing to do with Swan at all. How mortified would she be if it turned out to be Stirling Moss reflecting on his racing career, or Baer reading his recipe for Leberwurst?

The driving electronic music pounded in her ears. She picked her way through the crowd to the corner of Dorotheenstrasse and Wilhelmstrasse. The Marshall Bridge was just ahead. She took out her cell.
Riddle me, riddle me, riddle me ree
. Even if Baer was a cold-blooded killer, he had no reason to harm her. He liked her. He liked her a lot. And anyway, he couldn't very well shoot her on a sunny Sunday afternoon in the midst of all these people. She succumbed to impatience and dialed his number.

The phone rang five, six, seven times. Of course he wouldn't be inside on a day like today. For all she knew, he was out here watching the end of the marathon and couldn't hear his phone ring with all the noise. She was about to end the call when he picked up.

“Hello, Dinah. I've been expecting you to call.”

She said, “Jack found the tape.”

He was silent for a moment. “The car was for Jack. The tape was my gift to you. You have deduced the meaning?”

“You took it from Pohl after you killed him.”

“Yes. After I listened, I understood better why you were so personally involved.”

“What did you think it was before you listened?”

“I thought it had something to do with Florian's criminal enterprise. Pohl was extorting him. When I realized what it was, I wanted you to have it. There's been too much collateral damage. No need for more.”

“Thank you.” Had she thanked him for murder? There was no point in parsing a conversation this weird. “How do you know Pohl was extorting Florian?”

“Viktor heard things, which he repeated to me. I listened between the lines and understood what Viktor did not.”

“What things?”

“Since Reiner's legal problems began, his ability to move around has been hampered. At the same time, the art market was mushrooming. Reiner brought Pohl to Germany to assist Florian in dealing with the less savory elements of the business. Pohl had been on the fringes of the business in America. When he saw how lucrative it was, he wanted a larger share of the profits. He threatened them with exposure if he didn't get what he asked. I had other reasons to hate Pohl.”

“Your wife's death.”

“Yes. It's never easy to see the wicked flourish. I stayed my hand as long as I could. And then I thought killing him would be more than revenge. It would be a gift to Viktor.”

A man who conflated murder and gift-giving wasn't a man to trifle with. She fingered the “gift” in her pocket and decided she could wait until the stores opened in the morning to get a tape player.

“I'd like to talk with you again, Dinah. I'd like to tell you about my wife. I would like to explain myself.”

In the background she heard the doorbell.

“Will you hold please?”

There was a pause, followed by the sounds of a muffled argument, as if the shouts were coming from inside a thick wool pocket. Somebody grunted and grunted again. There was a heavy thud and the crack of gunshots.

“Baer?” But the line was dead.

A cavalcade of horrors flashed through her mind. She took a deep breath and dialed Thor.

He picked up on the first ring.

“I think someone shot Baer Eichen. Meet me at his house off the Schiffbauerdamm as soon as you can. Hurry.”

“Dinah, wait.”

“No time.” She clicked “End” and started running.

Chapter Thirty-eight

The corridor down to the river was empty. She looked up and down the street, expecting to see Thor's car careening around the corner, or a squadron of police cars, or to hear the sound of approaching sirens. But there were no cars and no sirens, just an invisible bird cheeping and flittering somewhere in the hedge.

She took the Smith & Wesson out of her purse and rubbed it against her jeans. Just breathe normally, she told herself. The cavalry will be here any second. She held the gun in front of her with both hands and started toward the house. She wouldn't go inside until the pros arrived. She wasn't that foolhardy. She would simply keep watch outside the door and ID Baer's attacker if he tried to flee.

As she drew closer, she saw that the front door was ajar. Of course. What had she been thinking? From the time she heard the shots, it had taken her what, seven, eight, minutes to get here? The shooter wouldn't have stuck around. He was probably long gone while Baer lay dead or wounded inside. She edged around the porch and peered into the dark vestibule. Impossible to make out anything from down below. She'd have to climb the steps to see inside.

She licked her lips and looked back down the path. Where were the police? Thor would have called them immediately. What was taking them…him so long?

A motorboat thrummed by. A man hung over the side and pointed toward the house. A cop? She lowered the gun and waved for help, but the boat speeded up and scooted out of sight. Whoever they were, they were probably reporting a gun-toting lunatic to the police at this very moment.

Gingerly, she stepped up onto the porch and with her left hand, eased the door open wider. Something stopped it halfway. Something squashy. She held her breath and peeked inside. A body, crumpled in the fetal position with face to the wall, leaked a slow stream of blood across the wood floor.

She turned and leaned her back against the outside wall. He might still be alive, but she couldn't make herself step into that gore and if she did, it would just contaminate the crime scene. She slid down onto her butt and was digging out her phone to call for an ambulance when she heard the sirens. A minute later, Thor was loping down the path with Jens Lohendorf and Sergeant Wegener hard on his heels. She buried the gun in the bottom of her purse and tried to stand, but her knees were like foam rubber.

Thor bounded up the steps and pulled her to her feet. Without looking, she pointed to the body behind the door. He glanced inside. “If you didn't look so green, I swear to God I'd smack you, Dinah. Why do you take such chances?”

Lohendorf and Wegener arrived.

Dinah said, “It's not Eichen, Inspector. It's Florian Farber.”

Wegener fastened a disapproving stare on Dinah. “What business brought you here?”

“Later, Sergeant,” said Lohendorf. “Frau Pelerin, you will please remain on the scene until I have a chance to speak with you.”

“We'll be here,” said Thor. He dragged Dinah off the porch and walked her to the riverbank. “What
did
bring you here? Is it about that tape? What were you thinking?”

“Those are pretty guilt-inducing questions, Ramberg.”

“They're the same ones Jens will ask. You may as well practice your answers on me.”

“I didn't intend to come to his house. I called to ask him if he'd meet me. When I heard the shot, I just came. Instinctively.” She had a catch in her throat. “I thought I'd find Baer dead.”

Thor put his arms around her. After a minute, he backed away and looked her in the eye. “Why did you want him to meet you?”

Either she trusted him or she didn't. “The tape Jack found was in Alwin Pohl's pocket when Baer killed him. Pohl had been using it to blackmail my mother. Baer listened to it and, for whatever reason, decided to pass it on to me.”

Thor's eyebrows skewed up and she felt a flash of doubt. She had placed her own fate in his hands by owning up to the Panama account. Now she'd placed Swan's fate in his hands. “What's that look supposed to mean?”

“You knew he was a murderer and you called him anyway? Why?”

“I wanted to borrow his cassette player. To play the tape.”

“If you'd told me what the tape signified, if I'd known you were that desperate to hear it…” he broke off. His eyebrows returned to their natural line. “Tell me about your conversation with Eichen.”

“He was saying he wanted to explain himself to me when the doorbell rang. He went to answer. There was an argument, but I couldn't make out the words. It sounded like they struggled and then I heard two shots.”

“Do you have any idea why Eichen killed Farber?”

“Maybe. Pohl was also blackmailing Farber and his partner Hess about their shady art acquisitions. Viktor lived in a world of his own and was late to figure out what Farber was up to, but he mailed a letter to Baer the day before he died. Baer may have told Hess what was in it and Farber came either to buy it back, or take it by force.”

An ambulance came to a stop on Schiffbauerdamm at the entrance to the path and a pair of medics walked toward the house, no hurry. That could mean only one thing.

“Stay here,” said Thor. “I'll go and brief Jens and see if they've found the murder weapon or any evidence of a motive.”

“Thor, about the tape—”

“Why were you in such a hurry to play it?”

“I need to know how to feel about my mother. I need to understand how far she was willing to go. Toward the dark side.”

“You can't understand anyone by listening to a secret recording, Dinah. That's the Stasi way.” He looked back toward the house. Lohendorf and Wegener were standing on the porch talking with the EMTs. “Fill me in quick. Did Eichen admit to you on the phone that he killed Pohl?”

“Yes. It was revenge. Pohl was responsible for the death of his wife ten years ago in an auto accident. Pohl was driving drunk.”

“That's all Jens needs to know for now. He's got more than enough to keep him busy. Hold onto the tape for the time being if you must.” He left her and went to join the police and medics. Everyone slipped footies over their shoes, pulled on gloves, and went inside.

She turned away and gazed out over the Spree. The river was Baer's front yard. From his living room, he could look across into the heart of Berlin, a checkerboard of memorials to the murdered, art museums, concert halls, and soaring towers of commerce. It was a composite of painful remembering and willful forgetting. Berliners lived with their ghosts, but they plowed ahead into the future. What choice did they have? The future was the only thing a people—or a person—could do anything about.

She took the tape out of her pocket. The police had all the evidence they needed to charge Baer with the murder of Florian Farber, and when they found him, she didn't think he'd deny that he murdered Pohl. So what was this little relic of history worth to her? Would it tell her how her mother felt about her father, or about his death? Would it prove that she had known what Cleon did?

More police trooped down the path. They cordoned off the house, but didn't bother her. She climbed over the retaining wall and moved a little closer to the water. Life at this point seemed to call for multiple decisions, all of them irrevocable. How freeing it would be to sail this tape out into the Spree. Could she live with the everlasting doubt of not knowing? Thor was probably right. She wouldn't understand her mother any better by listening to a few words spoken years ago in unknowable circumstances.

“Dinah, I've been called away.” Thor stood on the bank above. “Jens has gone back to police headquarters to organize a manhunt, but he'd like you to remain here with Sergeant Wegener for an hour or so, until he gets back. He wants to question you, himself.”

“Should I demand a lawyer?” She held out her hand for a boost up the bank.

“Not yet. It'll be a friendly talk. Either he or the sergeant will drop you off at the apartment after your interview. I'll try to get home in time for the ‘family dinner,' but nothing's sure.”

“Tell me about it.” They walked together back to the porch. “I hope Wegener lets me wait upstairs where I can sit down. I feel as if I'd run the marathon.”

“I'm sure she will. The house has been searched and guards posted around the perimeter.”

“I know it sounds perverse, but I wish I could talk with Baer again before he's hauled him off to jail.”

“The way you say his name makes me think you actually like the man.”

“I think I did like him. I've known someone very much like him before.”

“I'm on my way,
kjære
. Can I trust you not to pull any more death-defying stunts?”

“Absolutely. I've learned my lesson.”