Hidden Depths

by Ally Rose

  Kruger and Glockner simultaneously let out a huge release of air.

  ‘Fuck that for a Monday morning briefing,’ Kruger exclaimed. ‘Who the hell did he think he was, storming into my office like that?’

  ‘Doughnut, chief?’ Glockner asked. ‘I feel like something sweet.’

  ‘Yeah, and while you’re raiding the staff canteen, get Drais in here.’

  Carrying a small tray with an assortment of biscuits and pastries, Glockner bumped into Hanne in the corridor.

  ‘Kruger wants you in his office, now,’ he told her. ‘We’ve just had Lotte Holler’s doctor in, shouting and stamping his feet at the press intrusion. Be warned, Kruger might be a little grumpy.’

  ‘Nothing new there,’ Hanne remarked, looking at the tray of goodies. ‘I see you want to sweeten him up?’

  ‘One of us has to. Here, Drais, have a doughnut,’ Glockner said, placing one gently into Hanne’s open mouth.

  Hanne wasn’t in the best frame of mind. She had a hangover from her outing last night with her friends where she had met Brigitte, her blind date, and they’d got on well and agreed to meet up again. To steady her nerves Hanne had drunk too much beer and was now suffering the consequences of her over-indulgence. At breakfast, Audrey had enthusiastically asked her lots of questions which Hanne was not in the mood for. All she wanted to do was return to her bed and mother and daughter had parted company on grumpy terms.

  Hanne went into Kruger’s office in an apprehensive frame of mind.

  ‘Drais, there you are. Grab a seat, a coffee and a cake,’ Kruger said.

  His pastries were mostly all gone and only a few biscuits were left over. Stefan had doughnut sugar all over his goatee beard. Hanne passed him a tissue and he wiped his face. They were like brother and sister, friends one minute, arguing the next, and as colleagues on good, collaborative terms. With their mutual, dry sense of humour there was rarely a dull moment.

  ‘I’ve had one, thanks. Got to watch my figure.’

  Hanne looked at Kruger. Best he said nothing.

  ‘Right.’ Kruger began reading information from the open file on his desk. ‘This is what we have… You’ve both read the files, haven’t you?’

  Hanne and Glockner nodded.

  ‘OK. In the winter of 1992, Lotte Holler was found unconscious after blows to the left side of her forehead. She was found the following morning by a dog walker, on the back of her car, an old, red VW Polo Estate on the banks of Muggelsee, near Kopenick.’

  They all perused some gruesome photos of Lotte Holler taken at the crime scene.

  ‘Blows to the left side at the front would indicate the assailant was right handed,’ Glockner said. ‘Do we have any idea what object caused the injury?’

  Kruger shook his head. ‘A hard, blunt object, not a rock but possibly the handle of a gun. The victim’s clothes had been cut and shredded. Her clothes and coat had been placed over her like a blanket, indicating someone else had dressed her. Her mobile phone was right beside her and her handbag hadn’t been touched. There were no signs of sexual assault, nor after examination was there any evidence of sexual intercourse.’

  ‘So we can rule out theft, rape and a sexual motive,’ Stefan stated.

  ‘I think so,’ said Kruger. ‘Although her clothes were cut off her at some point.’

  ‘Sounds like the assailant asked her to strip, possibly to make her feel the cold and be afraid for her life,’ Glockner suggested.

  ‘Or to humiliate her, you get control by humiliation,’ Hanne ventured. ‘Maybe that’s why he asked her to dance.’

  ‘Yeah, dancing on ice! OK, we’ll agree there was some sort of power struggle going on,’ Kruger said.

  ‘There’s the old adage that most murders or attempted murders usually have a sexual or financial motive,’ Glockner added. ‘So if it’s not sexual, maybe it was about money, some sort of blackmail?’

  ‘Unlikely,’ Kruger replied. ‘Lotte was a security guard working at Karstadt and living in rented accommodation in Kreuzberg. Hardly the sort to be blackmailed.’

  ‘Not far from where I live now,’ Hanne observed. ‘No, not much money in my area and even less back then.’

  ‘No, and you’re not due a pay rise,’ Kruger said, trying to read between the lines.

  Hanne did not react to her boss’s gibe.

  Stefan perused a different avenue. ‘A large percentage of women who are attacked know their assailant.’

  ‘I’m certain they had met before, even if Lotte didn’t know who it was – he was probably wearing a mask,’ Hanne explained. ‘It’s about revenge and the man wanted to punish her.’

  Kruger shook his head. ‘The bastard did a damn good job of punishing her. Putting her in a long term coma is a pretty severe kind of revenge.’

  ‘I believe he set out to kill her but for some reason couldn’t go through with it,’ mused Hanne. ‘He even left her mobile phone beside her in case she woke up to call for help. That’s a big U-turn – but why? He went to a lot of trouble kidnapping her in Berlin and taking her to Muggelsee, planning it down to the smallest detail.’

  Kruger frowned and scratched the stubble on his chin. ‘But if he didn’t plan to kill her, why be so violent?’

  ‘Violence equals control,’ Hanne began. ‘I think he changed his mind and was torn. Of course he could have helped her if he didn’t want her to die, and he could have called an ambulance instead of leaving her overnight to freeze in a car. But in case Lotte did survive he left her with access to a phone and dressed her to give her half a chance. My guess is he didn’t care about the outcome in the end and left Lotte’s fate in the lap of the gods.’

  ‘Fine, we agree that Lotte knew her attacker. What about an ex-lover?’ Glockner asked. ‘I believe the father of her child was a married man, so he’ll be worth revisiting.’

  Kruger stated. ‘In 1992, Lotte’s married lover was ruled out at the time with a cast iron alibi.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Hanne began. ‘Besides, I don’t believe it was a crime of passion. There’s every indication that Lotte Holler was afraid, which is why the music freaked her out. When a victim is afraid, the assailant is more likely to be a stranger to them but often a stranger who knew her and had something against her, if that makes sense.’

  ‘Maybe a work colleague, then?’ Stefan suggested. ‘We can get hold of all the old timesheets, records of Lotte’s colleagues at Karstadt, see if anyone had a grudge against her and take a fresh look at it from that angle.’

  ‘OK. So, let’s look at what clues were left at the scene of the crime,’ Kruger stated. ‘A Herbertz boat knife, with special attachments, was found under the wheel of the car, and some boat rope was left on the ground near the water.’

  ‘That could have been there already. It’s a lake, people fish at lakes,’ Glockner pointed out.

  ‘Obviously your papa never took you fishing,’ Kruger replied. ‘It was too cold for fishing! The boat knife and its leather sheath was the only piece of evidence that had unidentified fingerprints on it. We’ve kept it at our forensics storage unit along with Lotte’s car. Back then, we didn’t have a criminal DNA data base but now, thanks to some Oxford professor, we do.’

  ‘I think you’ll find that Sir Alex Jeffreys, who discovered the variations in DNA in genetic fingerprinting back in the mid 1980s, went to Oxford but is actually a professor at the University of Leicester,’ Glockner smirked.

  ‘Know-it-all,’ Kruger said. ‘Take that smug look off your face.’

  ‘Will you two stop throwing your dummies out of the pram?’ Hanne told them.

  ‘Drais, we’re enjoying ourselves,’ Kruger explained and quickly returned to his notes. ‘The boat knife had a minuscule strand of anchor rope attached to a lanyard. It’s possible the knife belonged to the assailant and he works with boats, angling, or aquatic sports, something of that nature.’

  ‘So, we’re looking for a Marine Boy,’ Glockner announced.

  ‘Hey, everyon
e, that’s our new nickname for our assailant – Marine Boy,’ confirmed Kruger. ‘An opera-loving Marine Boy!’

  Hanne ignored the two of them. ‘Did forensics pick up any fibres in Lotte’s car?’

  ‘It’ll all be gone over again,’ Kruger said. ‘Of course, there’s the risk of cross contamination after all these years.’

  ‘I’m meeting Dr Roth and Frau Kessler at the hospital this afternoon,’ Hanne reminded them.

  ‘Well, you’d better mind your manners with Lotte’s doctor. He came in here first thing this morning, shouting the odds. I think he’s programmed like the Terminator Two – a robot, protecting Lotte Holler at all costs.’

  Glockner piped up. ‘Yeah, you should’ve been here with Dr Caveman.’

  ‘Whatever you do, Drais, don’t talk to the fucking press,’ Kruger added.

  ‘There’s a small number that camp daily outside the hospital entrance,’ Stefan added.

  ‘I’ve no intention of talking to anyone about the case outside of this office. I’ll use a different entrance,’ Hanne told them.

  ‘Well, Drais, what’s your gut feeling?’ Kruger asked.

  ‘What really intrigues me about this case is what incensed this man to attack Lotte Holler in this violent way,’ she said.

  ‘Marine Boy might just be some kind of a nutcase,’ Glockner ventured.

  Drais was adamant. ‘No, Stefan, he’s not some random nutcase. And if I’m right about them knowing one another, maybe Lotte did something to provoke her assailant and whatever it was, precipitated the attack – not that I’m condoning it.’

  ‘What?’ asked Kruger. ‘You mean, tit for tat?’

  ‘Possibly they shared some bad, past experience. But something pricked this man’s conscience which tells me he was capable of showing empathy to his victim.’

  ‘Just because he didn’t kill her doesn’t mean he’s a nice guy,’ Glockner stated. ‘Marine Boy took Lotte Holler there with the intention to harm her. It’s attempted murder.’

  ‘I didn’t say Marine Boy was a nice guy,’ Hanne said, realising she was joining in with her colleague’s penchant for nicknaming suspects. Oh what the hell, she thought, if it helps lighten the mood when working with dark and grisly cases.

  ‘Marine Boy is, or was a troubled soul. He’s damaged but he’s also capable of being normal.’

  Glockner was flabbergasted. ‘Normal? Murder isn’t normal?’

  Drais continued. ‘To show empathy, you have to be taught it. Marine Boy’s complex for sure, but he has a conscience. Even if he planned it, he couldn’t kill Lotte Holler, so someone loved him at some point and taught him about empathy.’

  ‘What do you mean, that he was a troubled soul? Do you think he’s dead?’ asked Glockner.

  ‘Marine Boy may be dead, who knows? What I mean is, it’s 12 years ago and a lot can change in a person’s mental health in that time.’

  Kruger requested. ‘Enlighten us, Drais.’

  ‘OK. The definition of a psychotic is that what they think is their reality. If Marine Boy thought about killing Lotte, he then had to act on his feelings, because his thoughts and feeling were his reality.’

  ‘So, we’re looking for a pretty screwed-up individual,’ Kruger surmised.

  Hanne continued. ‘Marine Boy’s state of mind could be worse or better. Mental health often fluctuates throughout our lives, depending on our circumstances. There are low and highs and manic episodes or just a steady, OK kind of flow. It depends if Marine Boy is emotionally literate or in denial.’

  ‘Oh, Marine Boy knows he’s done it all right and he’s got away with it up until now, but I’m going to nail the bastard,’ Kruger pledged.

  ‘I meant, Marine Boy probably thinks he’s normal or at least pretends to be. Take us three as an example, we’re hardly normal but we think we are.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, Drais, very droll. It’s too much psychobabble,’ said Kruger. ‘So, what are you really saying about Marine Boy?’

  ‘I’m saying, it could have been a stage in Marine Boy’s life. Maybe his mental health has improved and he’s put his past behind him – and now he’s just as normal as the three of us.’ Hanne smiled when she said this, watching their astonished faces.

  Chapter Twenty-two: Tentative Steps

  HANNE WAITED IN DR Roth’s office. She noticed how pristine everything was – a tidy desk with in and out trays, flowers in a vase that gave a sweet fragrance to the room – but it was a place bereft of personal photos.

  Jonas Roth opened the door allowing Julia Kessler to pass through before him. Hanne rose from her chair and held out a hand to Julia, which was grasped warmly.

  ‘Thank you for coming, Frau Drais,’ said Julia.

  ‘Please, call me Hanne.’

  ‘OK, Hanne. Pleased to meet you, and please call me Julia.’

  ‘I’m so very sorry about the press release of your sister’s private details,’ Hanne said, sincerely, hoping to start on a good note.

  ‘Jonas… Dr Roth explained everything,’ Julia said, appreciating Hanne’s gesture. ‘From my point of view, it’s a fresh start for all of us.’

  ‘Thank you. We’ll drip feed the media from now on and everything will first be approved by you and Dr Roth,’ Hanne reassured her.

  ‘That’s good to hear,’ said Julia, looking at the doctor in the hope that he would take over the conversation.

  Dr Roth cleared his throat. ‘Lotte’s doing very well and making a slow but steady recovery. She’s reluctant to talk to the police but she knows she has to. May I suggest we schedule weekly meetings with her lasting no more than an hour?’

  Hanne nodded. ‘Will either of you be present at these meetings?’

  ‘I think Lotte will be more comfortable if I’m with her,’ Julia told her.

  ‘That’s fine,’ Hanne replied. ‘And shall we have a briefing meeting with you, Dr Roth, before and after our sessions?’

  ‘Yes, of course. We can schedule that in.’

  ‘I’d also like to speak with the nurses on duty the night Lotte woke up, if possible?’

  ‘That would be Lena Bruhl and Martin Schmidt,’ Jonas informed her.

  ‘I’d like them to come to the station to be interviewed so my colleagues can be present.’

  Jonas nodded. ‘I’ll let them know.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Hanne said.

  Julia’s smile was friendly. ‘I’ll think you’ll find my sister is quite chatty and she’ll tell you all you need to know in her own time. Just let her do the talking.’

  Lotte Holler was dressed in a tracksuit that hung loosely on her thin frame. She was sitting in one of the armchairs by the window in her room when Julia and Hanne entered.

  ‘Excuse me, if I don’t stand up,’ Lotte began, eyeing the police intruder. ‘I had a work-out in the gym this morning and my legs are a little achy.’

  Hanne noticed Lotte was physically frail. There was a Zimmer frame and a walking stick close by. ‘Don’t get up on my account,’ she said.

  Julia did the introductions. ‘Lotte, this is Hanne, Hanne, this is my sister, Lotte.’

  ‘Julia, don’t be so formal,’ Lotte said gruffly. ‘I can speak for myself.’

  ‘Thank you for seeing me,’ Hanne said, stretching out her hand to Lotte. Considering the patient’s condition, it was quite a strong handshake, thought Hanne, noting the determined, almost steely look in Lotte’s eyes.

  ‘Have a seat,’ Lotte instructed. ‘Julia, you can sit on the bed.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Hanne, sitting in the armchair.

  Lotte got straight to the point. ‘So, after all this time, what do you think the chances are of catching the bastard who put me in here?’

  ‘I can’t guarantee anything but we’ll certainly try. Shall we begin?’ Hanne asked.

  ‘OK, but it’ll be like chasing a phantom in the night,’ Lotte said, with more than a hint of bitterness.

  Hanne took out her notepad. ‘What do remember about that night?’


  ‘I remember everything! What do you want to know?’

  ‘Please, talk me through the events.’

  ‘I was abducted outside my flat in Kreuzberg. He put a gun to my head and duct tape over my mouth to stop me from screaming, tied my hands behind my back and shoved me into the back of my car. Next thing I knew, I was at a lake and at the mercy of a madman!’

  ‘That would be Muggelsee. Go on.’

  ‘I tried to kick out at him but he was too strong – I’d freed my hands and pulled off the duct tape and I was screaming, but no one could hear me. It was pitch black except for the headlights on the car.’ Lotte’s voice faltered. ‘He held a gun against my head and told me to strip.’

  ‘Lotte, if it’s too painful, you can stop any time,’ Hanne assured her.

  ‘No, it’s OK, I won’t cry. I won’t give that bastard the satisfaction. I was afraid he was going to rape me but he told me that wasn’t what it was about.’

  Hanne noticed Julia had tears in her eyes as her sister retold her story.

  ‘I was so cold in the water,’ Lotte began. ‘He told me to dance, and perversely it did me a favour because it warmed me up. But being made to dance to that bloody opera song… I’m not a fucking toreador! Just saying it makes me so angry. I’ve never felt so humiliated in all my life!’

  ‘What do you think that was all about?’ Hanne asked.

  Lotte bellowed. ‘Revenge, that’s what! He knew me, that boy knew me.’

  ‘That boy?’ Hanne quizzed her.

  ‘Well, I didn’t think he sounded older than about 20,’ Lotte announced, looking at Julia and thinking, if I don’t tell this psychologist, they’ll find out some other way. Lotte braced herself. ‘You see, I used to work as a warden at a youth correction centre in East Germany. You may have heard of it… Torgau.’