Mark of Cain

by Marcus Hünnebeck

  As Gerd listened to her recite her list, he felt a draft at his neck. Puzzled, he glanced over his shoulder toward the windows of their ground-floor apartment. It was not like Dagmar to leave a window open before taking off on a trip, not at all.

  The glass shards on the floor sobered him up in a heartbeat.

  “Goddamnit, yes!” Matisek exclaimed, definitely not acting bored now. “After I’d seen what he did to her, I drove over to his place. I was going to warn him, tell him not to touch another hair on her head. Threaten to report him for rape. So I get to his place and see the garage open. A light’s on inside there, and I can see the back of a head, it’s not moving. I waited a bit, but the person on the passenger seat, he’s not moving. At some point I decide to go on into the garage and look inside the car. That’s when I musta left those fingerprints on the roof. Blum was dead. The killer had pulled a plastic bag over his head, strangled him with a cord. Soon as I realized it, I bolted.”

  Katharina smiled, entertained. “Amusing story.”

  “It’s the truth. I didn’t kill the bastard. Even though he deserved it. Why would I want to kill him like that?”

  “Maybe it’s the revenge talking, your icing on the cake.”

  “If that was the case, you wouldn’t have found my fingerprints. I woulda worn gloves.”

  “You probably took them off right after doing it, then accidentally touched the roof getting out,” Frank speculated. “That, or you wiped down everything really well but forgot the roof of the car.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I say; you won’t believe me anyway. You know what: I do want that lawyer!”

  Gerd, trying to get his thoughts straight, heard footsteps behind him. He whipped around in a panic. A naked figure lunged at him with a knife in hand. Yet the person’s expression, radiating so much madness, scared him far more than the weapon.

  He raised an arm to fend off the attack, but it was already too late.

  The blade plunged into his chest, and he felt a searing pain, as if the air were being sucked right out of him. Then the intruder gave him a push. Gerd lost his balance, toppling to the floor.

  12

  After only three hours’ sleep, Katharina was awakened by her cell phone ringing on the nightstand. She took the call still half asleep, but the caller’s words hit her like a bucket of ice-cold water.

  “Be there in twenty minutes,” she said.

  Frank Weimer showed up right after her. He looked as worn out as she felt. The dim and foggy fall morning wasn’t exactly helping her mood. She stubbed her cigarette out on the ground and walked with Frank toward the bank of the Rhine. A patrol officer waved her over.

  “Someone out strolling discovered the body and called the police right away. The deceased is male, late forties. He was put in a garment bag buck naked,” the officer told them straight-out. “I was informed you got called in because we found a copy of that tell-all book Detective Blum wrote. It’s right next to that garment bag all stained with blood. You’re investigating the Blum case, right?”

  Katharina nodded. She approached the body, a sense of foreboding growing in her, and bent over the half-open bag. She gasped in horror and a feeling of nausea washed over her. She knew the victim.

  “Ah, goddamnit!” she cried in shock. “That’s Gerd Renner.”

  “Who?”

  “Renner is a detective lieutenant with the Munich Police Department. I met him at a conference last summer. . . .” Stunned, she stared up at Frank. “Someone is killing cops.”

  She got back to headquarters at eight that morning and informed her colleagues in Munich, who confirmed they would go search Renner’s home. After two hours, which she spent trying to concentrate in vain on her work, she got a call from the Bavarian capital with more troubling news—this second murder had given the Blum case an unexpected new angle. She thanked her Munich colleagues for calling and hung up, lost in thought. Frank got off his own call and stared at her anxiously for the latest.

  “His home had been totally ripped apart,” she told him. “Our colleagues there haven’t been able to reach Renner’s wife yet, since she’s apparently away on a trip with their daughter. So we can’t know if the killer made off with any cash or other valuables.”

  “That’s not all you found out. Or you wouldn’t be looking so worried.”

  “Gerd had arrested a serial robber-murderer about a year ago. The man invaded the victims’ homes and brutally butchered them. After doing it he would haul the corpses hundreds of miles away, all over the country, before simply leaving them lying out somewhere.”

  “Is the man still in prison?”

  She shook her head somberly. “He hung himself in custody at the time. Incidentally, though, in his investigation, Gerd had help from a profiler.”

  “Oh no,” Frank responded. “Let me guess who.”

  He groaned when he lifted the heavy ceramic flowerpot. He had decided he would move his elephant’s-foot plant over to the opposite corner of the room, where it would look more decorative and get more light.

  “Done,” he said triumphantly as he set the plant in its new spot. He really did like making changes, so he took another look around his spacious living room. But the telephone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He walked into the foyer, where the handset’s display was showing a Cologne number that he’d recently just dialed. Before he took the call, he went back into the living room, opened the patio door, and stepped outside, even though it was foggy and dim out there.

  “Moll here,” he answered.

  “Hello, Chris. It’s me, Katharina.”

  “You kept your promise. That’s good. . . . I like that.”

  “Not that good, unfortunately,” she responded, sounding bleak. “Gerd Renner has been murdered.”

  “Oh my God,” he gasped. “When did it happen?”

  “Last night. Remember the case, the one you solved together with Gerd?”

  “Of course.”

  “Gerd was murdered the same way. And his body was brought here.”

  “Here, to Cologne?” Chris asked.

  “Yes,” she reported, adding, “and next to the body was Matthias Blum’s book. This killer wanted to make sure that we didn’t miss the connection between the two murders.”

  “Shit. So, what’s the latest with Blum’s murder?”

  “We arrested the suspect yesterday. A man.”

  “Then, that would rule him out for the second one.”

  “In that case you worked with Gerd, did moving the body a long way have some special meaning?”

  Chris thought about it a long moment. “The killer’s mother was kind of a nomad, moved him around a lot, from one rental to another and one city to another, when he was young. He was born in Munich. He had lived at some point in all the cities where he disposed of the bodies. His suicide prevented us from discovering any deeper significance, though.”

  There was a dead silence on the line.

  “You’ve got something on your chest. Fire away,” he told her.

  “On our last call,” she began, hesitating, “you offered me your help. That offer still good?”

  “You know, before I called you, I gave a great deal of thought as to whether I actually could go through with it. I wanted nothing more to do with violent crimes.”

  “Sometimes I feel that way too.”

  “But working with Matthias Blum back then, we developed a friendship,” Chris continued. “It was the same thing with Gerd. So yes, Katharina. My offer’s still good. I was definitely hoping never to have to step into a police headquarters again, but, if you think my take on things could help all of you somehow, then of course I’ll help you.”

  “I really do think it could.”

  “Then I’ll be there in about two hours.”

  After Chris had hung up, he noticed a raven out on the lawn, sta
ring at him.

  “Nevermore,” he whispered.

  13

  Katharina hung up the phone feeling slightly abashed. She wondered, now that it was clearly too late, whether she had made a mistake—out of purely selfish reasons. It probably would have been better just to accept the fact that Chris had retired from police investigations. She consoled herself with the thought that the first call, as well as the initial suggestion they work together, had both come from him. On top of that, Chris himself was a crucial component of their investigation; he was the only common factor in the two homicide cases.

  She decided to Google his name as a profiler. She came across tons of search results, and what stood out the most was that every news article about the murders he’d worked on back then mentioned his name.

  After a while, she checked the clock. It was half past noon. Two hours until they’d see each other again. Anxiety building inside her, she left the office to go out for a smoke. Just how was she going to feel once she was standing in front of Chris? She went back in and took a long look in the restroom mirror. Hopefully he’d still like her, she thought—and she surprised herself thinking this, because ever since the accident she had seen such little point in making herself look attractive to men. Maybe this renewed interest in her appearance was a sign that her psychological wounds were starting to heal. Even so, had enough time really passed since the accident for her to be thinking about other men? She was reluctant to answer the question—which was why she reminded herself that their upcoming meeting was of a purely professional nature.

  To get into the professional mindset, she went back to her desk and pondered how to proceed with Klaus Matisek. Without a doubt, he was not guilty of the Gerd Renner homicide. Yet, the hypothesis of one and the same killer being responsible for both murders was just that, so far. And that book left next to the body gave weight to this hypothesis, which seemed even more plausible with Chris Moll as the connecting link.

  Those fingerprints in the Matthias Blum homicide could suggest clear evidence of Matisek’s involvement. His explanation of how they got on the car did not convince her. Regardless, she feared she would be unable to close the file on Matthias until Gerd’s killer was found.

  She factored in Sandra Bürgel. She had apparently gone underground. Had Matisek somehow demanded she murder Gerd in return for his killing off Matthias? Had he been cunning enough to come up with a plan that would sow doubt about his guilt? In court, any wily defense lawyer would bring up the Munich detective’s murder and insist that a cop killer had committed both acts. So they had to find Sandra no matter what, to put pressure on her in questioning.

  Then Katharina got to thinking about the trail left by released convict Patrick Albrecht. She’d been neglecting him during the past forty-eight hours. His role did sound plausible when looking at the Blum homicide, but there was no connection to Gerd Renner. Unless . . . Glasch was pursuing some kind of double-dealing revenge plan aimed at Chris, his profiler. But then, would their Munich colleague even have become a target? Wouldn’t Albrecht simply have been contracted to kill Chris right after Matthias?

  Yesterday she believed they had apprehended the guilty party. Instead, a pile of unanswered questions had emerged since his arrest. Hopefully Chris could help her out.

  Katharina still had a quarter hour to go before their meeting, yet she kept glancing at the door to their open office full of anticipation every time it opened. As it turned out, Chris put her patience to the test by being almost thirty minutes late. When he finally entered the office, escorted by two uniformed officers, she felt a little flutter of desire in her gut, because he looked even more attractive than she remembered: his body seemed more buff and athletic than before and his light blond hair had a more stylish cut, which highlighted his angular face. Had he lost weight? It seemed even more chiseled. Also, instead of his usual conservative-looking suit he was now dressed casually, wearing jeans and an anthracite-colored shirt. It was going to be hard to maintain a purely professional mindset.

  She stood up and went over to him. As she did, she noticed he was appraising her the same way she had just looked him over. A heat rose inside her, coloring her cheeks with an embarrassing blush, because he evidently liked what he saw. At least his smile was telling her so.

  “Katharina! Nice to see you again.”

  “Good to have you here,” she replied.

  When he gave her an awkward hug, she breathed in his aftershave, which had a stronger scent than when they’d first met.

  Frank appeared from the next room, which abruptly ended their hug.

  “Hello, Chris. How you doing?” Frank shook hands with Chris and found his desk nearby.

  “I feel a little uneasy,” Chris confessed. “I was hoping I’d never be in a police office again.”

  “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. It’s like Dante set his Divine Comedy right here,” Katharina said.

  “This is the last time. I know that much,” Chris replied soberly. “After this? Nothing more to do with murderers. It depresses me too much.”

  His words tapped into her growing feeling of regret for involving him in the case. “You aren’t obligated to help us, you know,” she said, a little defensively.

  “I know. It’s just better we get started right away, before I have second thoughts.”

  She led him to a chair and handed him a large sealed envelope. “It’s all in there,” she said. “Colleagues in Munich e-mailed me the crime-scene photos. You’ll find the printouts at the back. Most of the material has to do with Blum’s homicide, though.”

  Chris looked pointedly at Katharina. “Once I open this, I’m back in the thick of it.”

  “Like I said: you’re not obligated.”

  Chris put his hand over hers and stroked it briefly. Katharina could tell Frank noticed the intimacy, and she felt her face flush red again.

  “I told you, I’d like to help.” Chris opened the envelope and pulled out a folder.

  For the next few minutes, Katharina observed him. The photos from the two crime scenes had the biggest effect on him. He kept running a hand over his face, as if not wanting to let the images penetrate into his inner being. She kept silent until he had closed the folder, sunk deep in his thoughts.

  “What do you think?” she asked him.

  He rubbed at his neck before responding. “Please don’t expect me to give you a precise profile. It’s not possible, not with such scant info.”

  “I know. Still, I want to know what your thoughts are.”

  “Which are exactly what I need to gather together first. I’m going to go for a little walk. Could we meet up in, say, three hours, get something to eat? Purely professional, of course.”

  Katharina managed a tense smile. “Agreed.”

  He stood and gave her a brief hug like before. As he left the office, she watched him go until the door shut behind him.

  “Something going on between you two, or what?” Frank asked from his desk.

  14

  Katharina had three solid hours to consider new angles in the investigation. She had to find out where Sandra Bürgel and Patrick Albrecht were holing up. She decided to start with the prostitute. It would help to learn more about Sandra’s connections. Maybe friends or family members were providing her with a hideout, or she might have gone back to a former lover.

  Various scenarios ran through Katharina’s head, all of which she noted down on a fresh legal pad. Once one page was full, she took a long reluctant look at her list. Pursuing it all was going to take enormous effort, and someone would have to take it on. As lead investigator, she was entitled to delegate. She looked around and noticed Daniel Schult sitting on the edge of his desk, flirting with that pretty woman from fraud unit.

  Perfect, Katharina thought, folding up the page.

  “Daniel!” she shouted. “There’s something big I need to hand off to
you.”

  As she stood, Daniel winked at his coworker. Katharina came over and passed him the page, as if conspiring with him. “Can you see this gets done, then report back to me?”

  “Sure thing,” he answered.

  His coworker from fraud complimented him. “Quite the man in demand.”

  He unfolded the page with a smile, but the smile turned to a concerned frown as he read over the list.

  “You can handle that, right?” Katharina said.

  He could either complain to her, which would jeopardize his standing with his coworker, or he could just grit his teeth and comply. To Katharina’s relief, he decided on the latter option.

  “I’m on it,” he grunted.

  Satisfied with that, Katharina went back to her desk. She could now focus solely on Patrick Albrecht. She didn’t know where he was hiding either, or if he had even been in contact with Glasch after being released. If he had, the simplest way for the ex-con and Glasch to communicate would be through Glasch’s wife.

  Katharina glanced at her watch. She had enough time to look in on Frau Glasch. She might even be able to swing by her home after and fix herself up for the evening ahead.

  After she’d found the wife’s address in the files, she stuck a note on Frank’s phone, telling him where she was going, and left the office.

  Someone buzzed her in just a few seconds after she rang the bell. Inside a courtyard, she looked up along an exposed mezzanine floor where a boy of about ten was waiting by his open front door. When he saw Katharina come up to the door, his face darkened. Apparently he was expecting someone else.

  “Hi there,” she said to him, keeping it light and friendly. “Is your mother here?”

  The boy took a step back. “Ma!” he shouted. He didn’t wait for his mom to show but withdrew back inside, probably off to his room. Right then the living room door opened and an exhausted-looking woman came out. TV noise rumbled in the background. As Katharina showed her police ID, a hint of worry flashed over Lydia Glasch’s face. She closed the living room door behind her and edged Katharina back toward the front door.