Where the Bones are Buried

by Jeanne Matthews

  Chapter Thirty-six

  There could be no doubt now. Baer murdered Pohl. The photo Farber took of him as he arrived at the powwow showed him wearing the red-fringed ghost shirt. It must have been saturated with blood as he kneeled over Pohl’s body and inflicted a wound that in the context of all the Indian mimicry, seemed like a scalping. In reality, it was meant to mirror the wounds Sabine Eichen sustained in the car crash. When Baer greeted Dinah at the powwow, he was bare-chested and strung with beads. He must have buried the bloody shirt in the woods or hidden it under the ice in the cooler he carried. Had the police searched the cooler? She didn’t recall seeing them search any of the picnic tackle.

  “I brought you a tester,” said Margaret, placing a small Apotheke sack on the table in front of her. “No sense fretting if it’s a false alarm. Took me a while to get it across to the pharmacist what I wanted. She couldn’t believe that a woman of my vintage would need such a test.”

  “Thanks, Margaret.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. One thing or the other.” She pushed the gun across the table toward Margaret. “You want to tell me how you came to have this in your suitcase?”

  “Not really.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  She poured a cup of coffee and sat down heavily. “When the police came to our door on the night of the murder, I wasn’t sure who’d been killed, but I was sure as sunup in the east that Swan had killed him. When she showed up at the Wunderbar, she tried to act sassy, but her voice was reedy and her hands wouldn’t stop quaking. It was petty of me, but I confess I enjoyed watching her tap dance around Wegener’s questions. I thought, she’s killed a man. She’s no better than me.”

  “How did you know about the gun?”

  “Reiner had mentioned it when he drove me out to Müggelsee. He knew Swan had a room at the Adlon. His friend Amsel is a big cheese over there. He told Reiner that Swan had received a package in advance of her arrival. Amsel steamed it open and found the gun.”

  “Mom had it with her the night of the murder. She says she dropped it off at the Adlon before returning to the Wunderbar, but somebody took it while she was downstairs in the bar. Did Amsel filch it, give it to Hess, and then Hess passed it on to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Loaded?”

  “Yes. He thought Swan killed Pohl and this was the murder weapon.”

  Dinah sifted the devices and designs, still waiting for some sense to fall out. Setting aside the question of who loaded the gun, nobody but Baer knew the caliber of the real murder weapon. “If Hess thought it was the murder weapon, why didn’t he leave it for the police to find?”

  “I asked him to take it. I asked him to give it to me.”

  The fact that Hess would do Margaret’s bidding so meekly passed Dinah’s comprehension. But she could think of only two reasons why Margaret would ask for the gun. She said, “Either you wanted to frame Swan for the murder, or you wanted to protect her, and neither reason makes sense.”

  “I did it to protect you. With all your other doubts, it would be tough knowing that your mother killed a man, especially in that way.”

  “She didn’t do it, Margaret. This gun isn’t the murder weapon.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Dinah couldn’t attest to whether she would have killed him if she’d gotten to him before Baer did. She put the mysteriously loaded gun in a Tupperware container and hid it behind a crockpot on the top shelf of the pantry where Jack couldn’t see or reach, a precaution that wouldn’t have occurred to her if K.D. hadn’t mentioned it. Thor always locked his gun in his desk drawer when he came home. She had thought it was just his nature to be prudent.

  “I still don’t believe that Reiner had anything to do with Pohl’s murder,” said Margaret.

  “You’re right. He didn’t.” Dinah reflected on Margaret’s change of heart toward Reiner. “You said you gave Hess up to the police because you didn’t want me to think you’d colluded with him, but you didn’t feel that way two days ago. Did something happen to cause you to change your mind?”

  “At our last meeting, I told Reiner that Pohl had been blackmailing Swan for something or other, but I didn’t think she had enough money to make it worth his while. He said Pohl was probably after the money Cleon cached in Panama.”

  “So he knew.”

  “Not from me. He had to have learned about it from Cleon. His knowing made me realize that he’d been buddies with Cleon long after he led me to believe they’d gone their separate ways. I thought Reiner had crawled out of the slime. My dear old friend was dirtier than I thought.”

  “Did you ask if he had given Pohl the information, or did the two of them cook up the blackmail plot together?”

  “I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know. I went to the john and called Lohendorf.”

  Dinah felt bound to call Lohendorf to tell him her news about Baer Eichen, but there was no longer a sense of urgency and for once, she felt like waiting. She had other, more pressing things on her mind and she needed a time out. “Tonight, we’re all going to smoke the peace pipe and exorcise the demon spirit of Cleon Dobbs once and for all. You, me, Mom, K.D.”

  “It’ll end in a cat fight.”

  “No it won’t. Thor can referee. Anyway, I want you there.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Be there, Margaret. I’ll be making an important announcement.” She picked up the Apotheke sack and forged into the bathroom for her appointment with Destiny.

  ***

  She came out a half-hour later, deniability down the drain, and cloistered herself in the office. She lay down on the air mattress and stared up at the ceiling. She had shied away from committing to a long-term relationship out of fear she would replicate her mother’s fickle behavior. Living with Thor had diminished that fear, but motherhood was magnitudes more serious than living together. And if she had cause to fear that she’d replicate her mother’s child-rearing behavior, shouldn’t she do what she could to avoid the accident? She wondered if Jack had been an accident. Thor loved him, but no man wants to make a habit of begetting accidents, and she would be a much worse mother than Jennifer. She couldn’t even relate to a cat.

  Aphrodite squalled like an angry infant and scratched at the door, wanting out. There were no answers written on the ceiling, and Dinah got up as undecided as she was when she lay down. The one thing she knew was that she wouldn’t tell Thor until she had made up her mind. Regardless of any views to the contrary, this was her decision, and hers alone. She was still waiting to find out what Thor intended to do with her confession. Under no circumstances would she give birth behind bars.

  She opened the door and Aphrodite streaked through the living room and into the kitchen. K.D. and a young man with dark hair and artless blue eyes sat on opposite ends of the sofa.

  “Dinah Pelerin, this is Dolf Kugler.”

  “The man who took you into the bear pit with Schnutes?”

  “Yes, Frau Pelerin. But Schnutes was very gentle and I did not mean to get K.D. in trouble.”

  “Do you have a gentling effect on women as well as she-bears, Dolf?”

  The question flustered him. He looked helplessly to K.D.

  “Never mind,” said Dinah. “Are you busy tonight or have your parents set a curfew?”

  He shook his head.

  “Excellent. Our family is gathering for a special dinner and I’d like for you to join us. K.D., this is not a request. Big issues will be on the table. Be there. I will let you know where and when. And will you animal lovers please feed the cat?”

  She tapped on the bedroom door. “Margaret?”

  “Come in.”

  Dinah looked in. The Monkey 47 was open on the bedside table and a glass poised at her lips. “Taper off, Margaret. I need you on your best behavior
tonight.”

  “You’re pretty high-handed, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, if that’s what it takes to get my life in order. And I’ll ask you not to refer in any way whatsoever to my condition. Is that clear?”

  “All right. But isn’t your condition the important thing you’re going to announce?”

  “No.”

  Thor and Jack walked into the apartment, Jack talking a mile a minute. They had seen the Kenyan Wilson Kipsang shatter the men’s world marathon record as he crossed the finish line of the marathon at the Brandenburg Gate. Jack was giddy with excitement. Thor, not so much. He greeted Dolf with grudging civility and the air between him and K.D. was decidedly frosty. He couldn’t have slept more than two or three hours after his run to the jail to bail her out, and yet he’d gotten up early to take Jack to the finish line.

  Dinah took him aside. “You look tired.”

  “I’m okay. You?”

  “Much better. I want to hear about Lohendorf’s interrogation of Hess and I’ve learned some things I need to tell you about. Maybe Lohendorf should be present. Nothing’s urgent now. If you’re beat, we can wait until this afternoon and invite your friend Jens to join us for the debriefing.”

  He laughed. “You sound like a spy back from some secret mission.”

  “Dinah! I have to show you something.” Jack grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the office.

  “Don’t interrupt,” said Thor. “Dinah and I are talking.“

  “But this is important, Dad. You’ve got to come see this.”

  The seriousness in his eyes made Dinah relent. “What is it, Jack?”

  “In here.”

  He led them into the office. His fleet of model cars were lined up on the floor next to the TV, the red Ferrari GTO that Baer had given him out in front. He picked it up, popped the hood, and took out a tiny microcassette. “What do you suppose it is?”

  She took the cassette out of his hand and examined it. The first possibility that hurtled through her mind was that this was the tape Pohl used to blackmail her mother.

  “You think it’s an interview with Stirling Moss?” asked Jack.

  “Who?”

  “You know, the Formula One driver who raced the car.”

  “Oh, right. Yes, that’s probably what it is.”

  “Do you think Baer wanted me to have it?”

  She forced a tight smile. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Can we listen?”

  She crossed her fingers and prayed that the answer was no. If this was the tape of Swan’s conversation with Cleon on the day he killed two federal agents, if it was the smoking gun that could send Swan to prison, then Dinah wanted to be the first person to hear it. “Do you own a microcassette recorder, Thor?”

  “No.”

  His eyes transmitted a ray of suspicion, which made it hard for her to hold the smile. But she did. “I’ll just hold onto it until we can find something to play it back on.”

  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 thro
ugh 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.”