Where the Bones are Buried

by Jeanne Matthews

  When Dinah had invited K.D. to live with her, she had thought that giving the kid some time away from her troubled home life and her problems with the DeKalb County juvenile court would help her through her rebellious phase and give her a fresh perspective. They had spent a lot of time together over the summer and Dinah had come almost, almost to trust her. But it wouldn’t do to have her back now. Not with Margaret in town. K.D. was still grieving over her father’s death, trying to reconcile her memory of the man she loved with the scumbag he turned out to be. A reunion with the woman who killed him would be too dramatic.

  “Going home was the…the mature thing to do. Tough it out ’til the spring, graduate with decent grades, and we can work to get you into a good college. Someplace far away from your mother and your wacko brother. Maybe here in Berlin if you want.”

  “Fine. Go ahead. Sign my death warrant. Everyone will be thrilled to have me dead in my grave and out of their way.”

  “Don’t overplay the scene, kid. I’ve been manipulated by better liars than you.”

  K.D. pouted and opened the fridge. Behind the door, she said, “While you were out, I noticed a sticky on your computer. Eight-fifteen, Air France eighteen thirty-four, Atlanta to Berlin. Is your mother here? Is that why you’re so bummed out and gritchy?”

  “You noticed the sticky?”

  “It was in plain view, okay? On the desk where my bed used to be.” She took out a carton of yogurt and a spoon and flopped into a chair. “So is she here?”

  “Yes, she’s here. And when I’m not working, I’ll be busy entertaining her and showing her the sights. I can’t ride herd on you both.”

  “Oh, please. You know what my Daddy would say? He’d say, that ‘showing her the sights crap’ sounds like a bunch of who-shot-John.”

  It was an unfortunate turn of phrase, but Dinah had lost patience. “Margaret is with her, K.D.”

  The girl’s face went taut.

  Dinah reached across the table and touched her hand. “I’m sorry for dredging up sad memories, but that’s how it is. You don’t want to be here.”

  “I thought Margaret and Swan were arch enemies.”

  “They’ve patched up their differences.”

  She sneered. “They didn’t kiss and make up with my mother. I suppose they think they’re too superior to associate with her because Daddy threw her under the bus.”

  Harboring contradictory feelings toward one’s mother was a syndrome Dinah understood only too well. “Your daddy threw everyone under the bus, K.D.—you, me, and Margaret’s only child included. I wish Margaret hadn’t done what she did, but I can’t judge her. She was, still is, as conflicted about Cleon as the rest of us. And I’m sure that neither Swan nor Margaret thinks herself superior to your mother.”

  Dinah’s phone rang and she pounced. “Hello.”

  “Inspector Lohendorf speaking. Frau Pelerin?”

  “Yes, yes. Have you found her, Inspector?”

  “Both ladies are safe in their rooms at the Wunderbar.”

  Dinah breathed a sigh of qualified relief. They were alive. And neither was on the lam. “Thank you for letting me know.”

  “They profess to have had a disagreement over whether to remain on the beach and wait for one of the club members to escort them through the forest to the powwow, or go ahead by themselves. Mrs. Dobbs insisted that they wait. Mrs. Calms preferred to go ahead and she did, but took the wrong trail and ended up lost in Rahnsdorf.”

  His tone was matter-of-fact, but his choice of the word “profess” sent a chill down her spine. “Do you have some reason to doubt their story, Inspector?”

  “Actually, it is your story that causes me doubt.”

  She stiffened. “How so?”

  “Could you have misunderstood the name of the man who came to your apartment and demanded that your mother meet him at the tower?”

  She looked up into K.D.’s avid green eyes and took the conversation into the living room. Swan wouldn’t have backed her story about Hess being an old flame, but surely she would have acknowledged that she knew him. She waffled. “It was a tense encounter. He sounded threatening and I thought he might have been the one who ran my car into the bridge abutment and shot at us.”

  Lohendorf said, “Mrs. Calms admits that she is familiar with the name Reiner Hess. He worked for her first husband many years ago. But she denies having had any contact with him, romantic or otherwise. So you see, it is a mystery how he knew where her daughter could be found or why he would come looking for her.”

  Dinah tried to think of a response that didn’t compromise Swan or herself any further. Nothing plausible came to mind. “People do strange things,” she said.

  K.D. drifted into the room and perched one hip on the arm of the sofa.

  Dinah turned her back and asked Lohendorf, “Did you find the murder weapon?”

  “No. We will continue our search in the morning when it’s light, but I am not optimistic. A clever killer would have thrown the gun and knife into the lake. Still, it is a popular area. Eyes and phone cameras everywhere. The murderer might have taken the weapons away to dispose of them later.” He let a nervous few seconds pass. “I regret to add to your distress, but it will be necessary for you and your mother to view the body.”

  “But he’s a wanted tax dodger. You must have photographs. Besides, he’s been a member of the Indian club for years. Florian Farber or one of the other members should confirm his identity.”

  “They have confirmed it.”

  “Then if you know—”

  “The body is not that of Reiner Hess.”

  “Not…” she stumbled. “Not Hess?”

  “His name is Alwin Pohl, the newest member of the club. I need you to tell me if he is the same person who called on you earlier today.”

  Her thoughts scattered. Why would anyone impersonate a wanted man? Did Hess send this Alwin Pohl to meet her mother? Did he fail to obtain the thumb drive and Hess killed him? Or did he make the deal with Swan, and Hess killed him to make sure he left no witnesses? She wilted onto the sofa beside K.D. “Sergeant Wegener said that the only member of the club who didn’t attend the powwow was the dead man. Does that mean that Hess was there?”

  “It means that six months ago, Hess was drummed out of the club. If you’ll forgive the pun. Your mother didn’t recognize the name Pohl, but she may recognize him when she sees him. Again, do not go out again tonight. I have borrowed the ladies’ phones to run a check on the numbers called and messages left. If there is nothing relevant to my investigation, I will return them tomorrow.”

  “But I need, I want, to speak with my mother tonight.”

  “It will be best to wait. I’ll pick you up in the morning at eleven.”

  “Are you ordering me not to communicate with my mother?”

  He expelled an audible breath, like a tire going flat. “Because you are Inspector Ramberg’s friend, and because he is a trusted liaison to the Berlin police, I have accommodated your concerns. But there are rules and I must ask you to abide by them.”

  He ended the call, leaving Dinah in a quandary. If the dead man wasn’t Hess, or a henchman of Hess, then Swan and Margaret were in the clear as far as the murder investigation. As for the rest, they needed to get their stories straight before tomorrow or Lohendorf could arrest them all on a charge of obstruction. She said, “We may as well be back to the stone age and sending smoke signals.”

  K.D.’s eyes glinted in a devilish way that put Dinah in mind of Cleon. She said, “Nobody knows I’m here, if you need somebody to deliver messages behind enemy lines.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Dinah’s phone was almost out of juice. She plugged it into the outlet above the kitchen table to recharge and helped herself to the last two inches of red wine to steady her nerves. Just as she inserted the cord, the phone began plinking. Thor’s nam
e appeared on the display.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi, kjære. Sorry for calling so late. I’ve been in ’round-the-clock meetings. Maybe you’ve seen the news. A Norwegian citizen was involved in that terrorist attack on the shopping mall in Kenya.”

  “No. I hadn’t heard.”

  “It’s been crazy here and I don’t know when I’ll be able to break away and get home. Did you call Jens Lohendorf?”

  “Just as promised. I understand you beat me to the punch.”

  “I hope you’re not angry. I wanted to make sure you stayed safe.”

  “Listen, Thor, I need to…”

  “Dinah, we haven’t used the word love, but you must know how I feel. Do you?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, let me remove any doubt. I love you. We haven’t been together long, and there’s still unmapped territory, things we haven’t told each other. Important things. It’s easy to let the time slide and wait for the right moment, but we need to talk. We need to know that we can trust each other.”

  “I understand.”

  “I hope you do. Sometimes you’re so impulsive. You make snap decisions and don’t think how they can sabotage our whole future.”

  “I said I understand, Thor. I don’t want there to be secrets between us.” Whatever he knew or suspected, he seemed to be issuing an ultimatum. She drank half the wine and nerved herself. This was where her rubbery conscience met the Get-Real Road. “I would rather have this conversation in person, Thor, but…”

  “Me, too. This damned Kenya crisis has me pinned down, waiting for orders from on high. Believe me, I will get there as soon as I can.”

  “Okay.” For once, she didn’t want a reprieve and she was getting one anyway. He probably wanted to let the news of the murder soak in for a few hours before he quizzed her about her mother’s involvement. She asked, “What did Lohendorf tell you about what happened tonight?”

  “I haven’t spoken with him. Is there something that I need to know?”

  “Not really. Just that the danger is past. The man who threatened my mother won’t be bothering us again.”

  “That’s great. I told you Jens was good, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did. And as soon as you get home, we’ll have a heart-to-heart about all that unmapped territory.”

  “Dinah?”

  “Mmm?”

  “I will do everything I can to get back to Berlin ahead of schedule. But if something should happen before I arrive, something that makes you feel you have to run away or take some drastic action, please don’t.”

  If he hadn’t talked with Lohendorf, then what the hell was he hinting at? Maybe N.C.I.S. had looked into the doings of their agent’s girlfriend and the cat was out of the bag about the Panama account. Maybe Thor thought she would cut and run rather than face him. If that’s what he believed, he was wrong. This was a reckoning she couldn’t run away from. Whatever happened, she would tell him the unvarnished truth and hope that he could find it in his heart to forgive her. She said, “I promise I won’t do anything rash or impulsive.”

  “Thank you. Now I can go back to worrying about the murders in Kenya.”

  She finished the wine. It was going to be a rude homecoming. “Don’t let the bad guys blow up the world, Double-0 Seven. I’ll be here when you get home and…” she faltered. If it wasn’t in Thor’s nature to gush, it was even less in hers. She took a deep breath and a big first step toward honesty. “And I love you, too.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  They have no business prying into our affairs. Confiscating our phones, taking our clothes and shoes, and carting us off to the morgue in the morning. Goodness’ sake, they’re acting like Nazis, which they were just a few short years ago. It’s not your fault sending them after us. Margaret said you were real worried when you couldn’t find me. We’ll just have to mind our p’s and q’s when they ask their bullying questions. Margaret and I are very much let down that Reiner got himself murdered, but we haven’t given up on the money. We hope he left a trail of breadcrumbs that will lead us to it. We’d all better put on our thinking caps.

  Hugs and xxxx

  P.S. You’d better burn this when you’re done reading.

  The courier who delivered this extraordinary missive rolled her eyes. “They don’t know that the dead dude isn’t Hess.”

  “You read it?”

  “You knew I would.” K.D. hurled herself into the corner armchair and draped her long, blue-jeaned legs across the arm. “I read yours, too. Why didn’t you enlighten them?”

  “I don’t want to confuse matters more than they are already. I assume the dead man was a messenger sent by Hess.” She wished there was such a thing as a thinking cap, or a Vulcan mind meld, or a spaceship waiting to whisk her to a galaxy far, far away. She kneaded her head and paced. Why hadn’t Wegener told Swan that the victim was Alwin Pohl? Insofar as Dinah knew, Reiner Hess and Florian Farber were the only two people Swan knew in Berlin. Never having seen or heard of this Pohl guy would be exculpatory. She could have no motive for killing a stranger.

  “So.” K.D. stuck a foot out to block Dinah’s pacing. “What’s the story with the money?”

  Holding K.D. at bay was a fool’s game. She would ferret out the sordid details regardless of any effort to conceal them, and Dinah saw no reason to try. Theaters let seventeen-year-olds in to House of 1000 Corpses. “Margaret and Swan feel that Cleon shortchanged them in their divorces. They think Hess has some of your father’s ill-gotten gains, or a share of them, and they thought they could waltz into the country and hold him up for a bundle.”

  “How funny. Away over here in Berlin and we’re still talking about Daddy.”

  “It seems that all roads, particularly the one to perdition, lead back to your daddy.”

  “What’s perdition?”

  “Eternal punishment.”

  K.D. pursed her lips and examined her purple fingernails. “Did Hess mule for Daddy?”

  “Probably not. He was a lawyer of some kind. Did your father ever mention a German partner, or did a German visit him?”

  “No. I think I’d remember if a German came to the house, but Daddy didn’t talk business much at home except for law stuff.”

  Dinah resumed her pacing. “It’s easy to forget he had a parallel career as a lawyer.”

  “How does Swan know Hess?” asked K.D.

  “I’m not sure. She says Cleon left evidence that Hess killed a couple of federal agents in the U.S.”

  “And she wants to sell it to him?”

  “That was the plan.”

  “Whoa, that’s hardcore crazy.”

  No screaming shit, thought Dinah. She had assumed the dead man was Hess, but why did Swan jump to that conclusion? It must have been the way Wegener asked the questions, the repetition of his name. But if Lohendorf related Swan’s lies and evasions to Pohl’s murder, he wouldn’t rest until he’d wrung the truth out of her. “Did Margaret say anything to Swan while she was writing this note?”

  “The old puss took one look at me and scuttled off to the toilet. Hashtag guilty conscience.”

  “Hashtag drop it, K.D. It’s almost midnight. Go to bed.”

  “I’m going to take a shower first. Is Thor’s army sleeping bag in my bedroom closet?”

  “The office closet, yes.”

  “There isn’t enough space in the office with the two desks and the TV. Until he comes back, is it okay if I sleep in your bedroom?”

  Dinah smothered a groan. How many hours ago had she woken up in Thor’s arms and congratulated herself on being happy? It already felt like a distant memory. “Sure. I stored your pillows in my closet on the top shelf.”

  The cuckoo lunged out and began its infernal HOO-hooing. K.D. stopped her ears and bugged off to the shower. Dinah stopped her ears and returned to the kitchen to o
pen another bottle of red wine. If she was going to sleep, she needed a soporific. She had just dug the angel wings into the cork when the buzzer blatted.

  What fresh hell…?

  Or could it be Thor? Had he dropped everything and rushed home? Couldn’t be. He was in Oslo less than an hour ago and he wouldn’t buzz his own apartment. Swan? Margaret? Lohendorf? She left the angel wings sticking up in the cork and went back to the living room and the intercom.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Lena Bischoff.”

  “Little Deer?”

  “Yes, all right. I have come to see your red bitch mother.”

  Like Pohl, Lena apparently believed that Swan was camped in this apartment. What had prompted her to come name-calling at this hour and why, if the cops still had the place under surveillance, did they let her? “Is your husband with you?”

  “No. I am alone. Let me in.”

  Dinah blew out a breath. You wanted to talk with her and here she is, like the mountain to Mohammed. “Okay, come up.” She buzzed her in, closed the sliding door to the bedrooms and bath, and stepped out the front door into the hall to meet her.

  Lena blitzed up the stairs, shouldered Dinah out of her way, and charged through the door into the apartment. She had changed into jeans, a red leather jacket with a cashmere scarf around her neck, and black high-heel boots. “Where is she?”

  “My mother isn’t here.”

  “Where is she? Where is she hiding?”

  “Little Deer…Lena, what is it you have to say to her?”

  “She murdered Alwin. Now I will kill her.”

  “You’re wrong. She didn’t even know the man. She had no reason to kill him.”

  “It was her.” She craned her neck around as if she expected Swan to swoop down on her like a witch on a broomstick. “It had to be her.”

  “Why do say that?”

  “She knew him. Oh, yes. It was arranged. For sure, she knew him.” She looked toward the sliding door that led to the bedrooms and took a step.

  Dinah moved around the sofa and blocked her way. Lena was a big girl. If she wanted past, the only way to stop her was to knock her feet out from under her. “Tell me how my mother knew Alwin. Had they met?”