Hidden Depths

by Ally Rose

  His Torgau life now seemed foreign to him. He’d read somewhere in an opening line of a book, ‘The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there’. Felix was different back then but he had changed and grown up. Nevertheless, there was always something nagging away in the dark recesses of his mind to remind him of who he was and what he’d done. Over the years, Felix had hidden his secrets well.

  Klaus, Ingrid and Axel came for lunch, bringing more presents. Felix felt boyishly happy to be spoilt by his family. After a jovial meal, they sat around the fire, together, with a freshly made pot of coffee and pastries. The lunchtime news came on. Dominating the headlines was the news about the Lady of the Lake. Felix almost choked on hearing the breaking bulletin and spat out the coffee. ‘Scheisse!’ he shouted, surprising everyone in the room. ‘Sorry,’ he apologised. ‘I burnt my mouth.’

  Ingrid wasn’t so sure it was the coffee. She paid attention to how intently Felix watched the news and for the first time since he was 17 and had returned home with rope burns on his neck, she had an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

  The newsreader made the following announcement.

  ‘Earlier today, the police announced that the “Lady of the Lake”, Fraulein Lotte Holler, is now recovering in hospital in Berlin having awoken from a coma on New Year’s Eve. Attacked by an unknown assailant in 1992, she was left to die in freezing temperatures in her car on the banks of Muggelsee, near Kopenick. At the time she was seven weeks pregnant but the baby did not survive. Fraulein Holler is responding well to treatment and is now helping police with their inquiries.’

  The archive television footage showed Lotte’s car on the banks of Muggelsee. The rest of the family was only half listening to the news but Felix was feeling sick and desperate for some fresh air.

  ‘Who’s up for a walk?’ he asked. ‘Or a boat ride?’

  ‘It’s snowing!’ Martha replied. ‘I know it’s your birthday but you don’t mind if I stay by the fire, do you sweetheart?’

  Axel chirped up. ‘Onkel, I’ll go out on a boat with you.’

  ‘You’re on,’ Felix told him, and hurried out to the entrance hall where he put on his coat and boots. He ran out of the door, managing to reach a nearby tree just in time to vomit behind it, hopefully unseen by his family.

  Felix and Axel took turns steering a small, motorboat with a cabin out onto the lake. They both enjoyed being out on the water. There wasn’t a need for conversation: they could be quiet together, taking in nature and their environment. It was just what Felix needed to gather his thoughts and try to calm himself.

  God! he thought, the go-between had come back to haunt him, on his 30th birthday of all days. Was this more than just a coincidence? Lotte Holler had been telling the truth about her pregnancy. Would she remember any details that could lead to his door? Regurgitating it all in the whirling torments of his mind, Felix worried about the clues he’d left behind at the scenes of his crimes.

  In Plaumann’s car was his aqua shoe but more importantly, he had mislaid his boat knife when he was with Lotte Holler. It wasn’t an ordinary knife; it was a Herbertz, a classic, top of the range, German knife made of stainless steel with rivets elaborated with a cocobolo wood handle. It had a lanyard hole, a rescue gut hook blade, a razor sharp, three-inch, serrated blade, a marlin spike and sturdy pliers attached to it. Felix had kept his knife proudly in a black leather sheath with a Herbertz crest emblazoned on the handle as well as the blade – and his fingerprints were all over it. This boat knife, which the newspapers reported had been found by Lotte Holler’s car, would have indicated to the police that the perpetrator of the crime had more than a keen interest in water sports and boats. He knew that clues that seemed innocuous in the beginning could magnify and profiles of perpetrators would be formed and trails followed.

  Felix reminded himself that he’d never been in trouble with the police and they didn’t have his fingerprints on file, yet he knew that if he was discovered he stood to lose all that he had, and especially the love of his family and the life he had built with them. He tried to block out the many imponderables and ‘what ifs’ from his mind. His family would be disappointed if he wasn’t enjoying himself on his birthday and was looking troubled and unhappy.

  When he returned home after his boat ride with Axel, all the family had disappeared. Felix knew Martha was plotting a surprise party for him and was glad to be alone for a while, so he steadied his nerves with a beer and a bath.

  His thoughts raced around in circles as he went over the details of the murders and Lotte Holler’s abduction. He believed he’d successfully diverted the police away from his doorstep by sending them the list of names in Horst’s diary. The Musketeers’ prolonged absence from their families as well as the police wanting to question them meant there was substance to the charges against them. Evidence pointed to the belief that the Musketeers had fled the country or were in hiding under a pseudonym. No one thought they had been murdered and were hidden in watery graves.

  As Felix lay in the bath, he asked himself if a person deserves to die. Death, he reasoned, is, after all, everyone’s final destination but what if a person does not respect the sanctity of life? Our behaviour towards others is a measure of ourselves. If there is not any dignity, compassion and respect of personal boundaries for others, there is always a ransom to be paid – and a forfeit.

  But who decides the forfeit? Felix had decided the price to be paid. He had played God, judge and jury. Who gave him this right? But then who gave the Musketeers the right to abuse him? This question could be asked of anyone in the annals of time who had participated in genocide, murder, crimes against humanity and rape, to name but a few. It came down to choices, personal preferences where it was the individual’s free will that decided their actions. The Musketeers and the go-between had made their choices and Felix had made his. And he was resolute: he had no regrets about it. The forfeit he chose for them was to pay with the most precious thing anyone can ever have: life itself. Except for Lotte.

  When he heard Lotte Holler had woken up on the news he was at odds with what he was feeling. He had thought about her regularly over the years but without remorse, and the case remained unsolved as the years passed and Lotte remained in a coma. Felix found himself strangely glad that she would have a second chance at life. All the hate inside him had long since subsided and although he was anxious she’d give the police clues that might incriminate him he was fairly confident he’d got away with it.

  The press had revealed Lotte Holler was pregnant at the time of her attack and Felix felt a certain vindication because he hadn’t actively killed an unborn child. No, he felt the price she’d paid was justified. Her forfeit for her years as the go-between had been 12 years in a coma and the loss of her unborn child and possibly the rest of her childbearing years. As for himself, he hoped that losing Susi and all the abuse he’d suffered at Torgau balanced up what he’d done to Lotte. Maybe he’d be lucky and there would be no further price for him to pay.

  Felix sank under the warm water. Retribution was morally wrong and unlawful, he told himself, but if Axel or Peonie were threatened he would do it all over again. No qualms about it. He had never prayed before but now he prayed not to be caught. A crucifix had helped him survive when Harald was choking him to death and he had nearly drowned along with the Musketeer. Maybe, Felix thought, a little prayer might help him now.

  Felix heard movement in the house and Martha came into the bathroom.

  ‘Hi, sweetheart. You OK?’ she asked him. ‘You’ve been miles away today.’

  ‘Sorry. I’m tired, that’s all,’ he lied.

  ‘Why don’t you have a siesta? We’ve a late night planned.’

  ‘Oh, you have, have you?’ he winked. ‘What’s happening later?’

  ‘Wait and see. All you have to do is put on a nice shirt for me, and smile!’

  Felix smiled. ‘OK.’

  ‘Tante Ingrid’s got Peonie for a while… and I’m joining you in bed.
’

  Later that day the family threw a party at the golf club. They waited patiently in the dark when they knew the VIP’s arrival was imminent. Axel relayed a message to the guests that his Onkel had just pulled into the car park. The lights were swiftly turned on when Felix, Martha and Peonie walked through the door.

  ‘SURPRISE!’

  Everyone who was important to Felix seemed to be present. Bernd, Ute and his cousins Anna and Heidi with their spouses, his parents-in-law, Dr Jens and Angele, Martha’s brother Friedrich and his pregnant wife Heike. The relatives from Rugen had made a surprise visit: Gisela, Nadia, her husband Olaf and their son, Lutz, with his wife; and Felix’s friends Carsten and Paul came with their girlfriends.

  Ingrid pushed a trolley with a two-tiered chocolate cake out of the kitchen. Stevie Wonder’s ‘Happy Birthday’ came over the loud speakers and everyone began to sing before an excited Peonie helped her Papa blow out 30 candles.

  The family had a good time together dancing to the music that Axel had mixed on a computer console in his role as the disc jockey for the night. Felix, with various members of the family watching him, opened a pile of presents. His face dropped for a second when he unveiled Bernd’s present: a top-of-the-range Herbertz boat knife in a beautiful case.

  ‘And look after this one!’ Bernd told him. ‘That’s the third Herbertz knife I’ve bought you in 10 years.’

  ‘Thanks Onkel Bernd. I’ll try not to lose this one.’

  Felix knew he’d lost the first one at the scene of the crime when he was with Lotte Holler and a second one had fallen overboard into the lake at Motzen. Felix felt it was an omen that he wasn’t meant to own such a prestigious knife. Possibly, it brought him bad luck and he’d made do for several years with a marine knife of a lesser brand and quality.

  Ingrid noticed Felix’s discomfort at Bernd’s gift. He couldn’t hide things easily from her, she knew him too well. She noticed his nuances, his mood swings and tonight she knew something was troubling him. Her instincts were often right and began to feel worried about him. It was time they had a private talk. Not tonight though, let him enjoy his birthday.

  Jens was thinking along the same lines. He’d heard the news about The Lady of the Lake awakening from her coma and that it was his ex-Torgau colleague, that notorious bitch Lotte Holler. Jens and Felix had not spoken about Torgau since Susanne’s funeral, although in the beginning of Felix’s relationship with his daughter Martha he used to advise her how to handle a boy from Torgau. Jens didn’t intend mentioning anything about their shared Torgau past with his son-in-law, and certainly not on his birthday, not unless Felix wanted to talk about it. It was a subject that was best left, dead and buried.

  Instead, Jens patted his son-in-law on the back. ‘Well, young Felix, how’s it feel to be 30?’

  ‘No different to yesterday,’ Felix joked.

  ‘Angele and I hope you like your present from us. I thought now you have entered another decade, you might appreciate a night at the opera,’ Jens said, passing Felix an envelope.

  Felix opened the envelope and pulled out a pair of tickets. To his dismay, they were for Carmen. The last time Felix had heard The Toreador song was on the banks of Muggelsee with Lotte Holler. He never wanted to be reminded of that night or hear the music again and he’d thrown away his recording of the aria in an attempt to forget.

  ‘Thank you, Jens,’ he said, trying to hide his feelings of discomfort.

  ‘You’re welcome. It’s on at the Berlin Opera House so you’ll have to wear a tuxedo. I rather like the Toreador song, and if my French is up to scratch, I believe the chorus translates as something like, “Toreador be ready, dream even when you’re fighting, that a black eye is watching you” – that’s the black eye of the bull – “and love awaits you, Toreador”. I hope you’ll love it as much as I do,’ Jens enthused.

  ‘I’ll go and find Angele to thank her,’ said Felix, trying to make a quick escape.

  But Jens noticed Felix’s discomfort and glancing down at his hands saw they showed signs of eczema.

  ‘Felix, you know if there’s anything troubling you, I’m here for you. You’re like a son to me and if you want talk it’ll be between us,’ Jens told him.

  ‘I’m OK, but it’s good to know,’ Felix replied and hugged Jens.

  Approaching midnight. Martha led Felix onto the dance floor.

  ‘Peonie’s asleep in the back office. Gisela’s watching over her.’

  ‘It’s been a long day for her. I’m tired too.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. How many beers have you had?’

  ‘I’ve lost count. I haven’t had a drink in ages and it’s my party!’ he declared. ‘I’ve had a great day. Thank you, sweetheart.’ ‘Don’t thank me, Ingrid and Axel planned it. They love you… everyone loves you,’ Martha told him with pride.

  A happy Felix squeezed his wife’s arm. ‘I’m very lucky to have such a lovely family. It’ll be your 30th in the summer.’

  ‘Don’t remind me, we’re all getting old.’

  ‘Martha, I’ll love you at 90. You’re beautiful, whatever your age. But what shall I give the girl who has everything?’ he joked. ‘I think I’ll take you away, just you and me, to some exotic beach where it’s nice and hot. What do you say?’

  ‘That would be nice. So, tell me, when you blew out the candles on your cake, what did you wish for?’ Martha whispered in his ear.

  Felix kissed her. ‘I’ve all that I could ever have wished for, right here in my arms. I love you.’

  ‘I love you, too.’

  They kissed again and rested their foreheads together.

  ‘Surely you want something?’ she asked. ‘I mean, you don’t think there’s anything missing from our lives?’

  Felix shook his head. ‘I’m the luckiest man alive to have you and Peonie.’

  ‘Maybe there’s more to come,’ said Martha, unable to keep her precious, six week old secret to herself one moment longer. ‘Because, my darling, our holiday will have to wait until next year. Hopefully, I’ve saved the best birthday present until last: we’re having another baby.’

  Chapter Twenty-one: Standards

  DR JONAS ROTH ARRIVED AT Berlin’s Brandenburg gate police station first thing on Monday morning carrying a briefcase. He took the lift to the fifth floor and marched into Chief Detective Kruger’s office, slamming the door behind him. In the room was Kruger’s colleague Detective Stefan Glockner, a dark-haired man in his 30s of medium build and height, sporting a goatee beard. He was dressed in a favourite brown suede jacket, sitting in an armchair close to the window, mulling over a case file and drinking coffee.

  Kruger and Glockner both sat upright at the abrupt intrusion.

  Dr Roth was fuming. ‘Detective Kruger! What on earth’s going on?’

  Kruger was flummoxed. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I thought I made it very clear that any of Lotte’s details you released to the press were going to be censored but yesterday the Lady in the Lake was the lead story on the television news!’

  ‘Do you want me to leave?’ Glockner asked his superior, half rising from his chair.

  ‘No, you stay. I need someone to witness this outburst.’

  Glockner sat down.

  ‘Herr Doktor. Don’t come barging into my office accusing me of God knows what. Yes, we agreed, the press would be drip fed to avoid a media circus – and it’s Chief Detective Inspector Kruger to you,’ he added, churlishly.

  Jonas slammed a newspaper down on Kruger’s desk. Lotte Holler was front page news.

  ‘And this? What have you got to say about this, Chief Detective Inspector?’

  The newspaper headline jumped out at them: LADY OF THE LAKE WAS PREGNANT.

  ‘Damn!’ Jonas bellowed.

  Kruger glanced at the headlines. ‘I didn’t tell the media a bloody thing!’

  Jonas felt indignant. ‘It’s an invasion of privacy!’ he shouted.

  Glockner stepped in calmly. ‘If I recall, back in 1992 when
the crime took place the press somehow got hold of the victims’ details about her pregnancy. It’d be worth considering if it was the staff in the hospital who told the press or if the journalists simply looked back in the archives.’

  The idea momentarily stopped Jonas in his tracks.

  Kruger could always count on Glockner’s logic. ‘Dr Roth, this is my colleague Detective Glockner who is assisting me on the case.’

  Glockner nodded and shook the doctor’s hand.

  ‘Unfortunately when the media have a story to tell they have a habit of sensationalising, and Lotte Holler’s private life is merely fodder for them,’ continued Kruger.

  ‘I’ll investigate whether it was leaked by hospital staff, but it stops now!’ Dr Roth insisted. ‘It was an invasion of the family’s private grief. Isn’t it enough that someone spends years in a coma? Yesterday it was all over the television news and today it’s in the morning papers and the whole country knows Lotte Holler was pregnant and lost her baby.’

  ‘As I said, some clever journo probably looked back to the attack in 1992,’ Kruger reassured the doctor. ‘After all, this was common knowledge at the time.’

  The tense atmosphere in the room began to ease.

  ‘Julia – Frau Kessler, Lotte’s sister – was upset by it all. She was in tears yesterday at the hospital. Lotte must be protected,’ Dr Roth insisted. ‘She’s very fragile.’

  ‘Please pass on my apologies to Frau Kessler,’ Kruger said sincerely. ‘We don’t want the patient or her family upset.’

  The doctor nodded appreciatively. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Can I get you a coffee?’ Glockner asked.

  ‘No, thanks, I’m due at the hospital. I believe I’m meeting your colleague Hanne Drais this afternoon. I’ve arranged for Frau Kessler to be present and then the process of interviewing Lotte can begin. Thank you for your time. Good day.’

  Jonas left the room in a civilised manner, closing the door quietly behind him. He’d been incensed on Julia’s behalf with the media coverage. As Lotte’s doctor, he understood the ramifications of the media intruding on her fragile psyche but it was really Julia he wanted to protect. Jonas kept his growing but unspoken feelings for her private but even so, he didn’t want Julia hounded by the press for photos, interviews and statements in her role as next of kin to the victim. On his way back to the hospital, he felt a bit embarrassed about how he’d handled himself in front of the detectives but at least they were now under no illusions that this case had to be handled with sensitivity or they’d have him to deal with.