The Wages of Sin: A Kidnap, a Crucifixion, a Murderer on the Loose

by Inge Löhnig

  ‘You collect the branches and I’ll saw the trunk into metre lengths. Tomorrow I’ll bring the tractor and winch. The roots will also have to come out.’

  Agnes was thirsty. ‘I’ll get us something to drink,’ she said. ‘Would you like juice or water, or would you prefer coffee?’

  ‘Water is fine,’ Anselm answered.

  Agnes brought out a bottle and two glasses. She put them on the almost silvery tree trunk that was now lying in front of the studio window. Anselm seemed nervous. He ran his hand through his hair for a third time and glanced at her, then turned away quickly when he noticed that she’d seen him. ‘Everyone in the village knows your story from that article in the paper,’ he said abruptly.

  Agnes cringed. Here we go.

  ‘I was wondering what you’re doing now. Are you back at work?’

  Agnes was relieved that he didn’t want to talk about her past. ‘I’m working on becoming self-employed.’

  ‘Self-employed. Good. I have a job for you,’ Anselm said and looked up. ‘If you’d like it.’ He looked at her, unsure.

  He looks like a child that’s come too close to the water and is now afraid of falling in, she thought. What kind of job could it be?

  ‘Do you design books?’

  ‘I once designed a cookbook of famous recipes. It was a promotion for a kitchen manufacturer. What did you have in mind?’

  ‘The history of Mariaseeon. The manuscript is finished. The publisher put together the first layout drafts, but I don’t like them. They don’t understand what I want. So I want to publish the book myself.’

  Agnes had assumed that Anselm, the owner of the Münch farm, was a farmer. He noticed her confused expression. ‘I studied history and got my doctorate in it. This book about the history of the village is a pet project of mine and it needs to be designed properly, in the way I envisage it. Have a look at the documents, then you can decide whether you’d like to do it.’

  * * *

  Dühnfort looked at the envelope that Gabi Sonnberger had handed him and tried not to let his rising anger get the better of him. ‘What is this?’

  ‘A ransom note.’ She defiantly held his gaze.

  Dühnfort pulled a sheet of paper out of the white envelope. ‘Thanks for your trust.’ He couldn’t stay seated any longer. He got up and stood in front of the altar. The Mother of God smiled softly at him. Dühnfort felt an irrational desire to turn the statue round. He turned himself round instead. ‘When did you receive this?’

  ‘I didn’t. My mother received it.’

  ‘And when was that?’

  ‘It was in her mailbox on Saturday morning when she went to get the paper.’

  Dühnfort unfolded the sheet. It was a computer printout. It contained the usual: no police; a threat to kill Jakob; a request for a million. But there was also something unusual about it. The blackmailer named a handover place and time. An amateur. ‘How did you come by the letter?’

  ‘My mother called me. She knew that a police officer was listening in, so she just said that she wasn’t feeling well and asked if I could come over. I left right away.’

  ‘Your mother thought it necessary to inform you but not us. Have I understood that correctly?’

  Gabi Sonnberger confirmed that he had. Her mother had wanted to leave the decision to her, so that she wouldn’t have to blame herself later if the police failed and something happened to Jakob.

  ‘And why didn’t you inform us?’

  She looked at him with incredulity and then it suddenly burst out of her. ‘I wanted my boy back alive.’

  ‘And we couldn’t have managed that? Because you, as a mother, must be much better equipped than a team of well-trained and experienced police officers.’

  She stood up in front of him. Her eyes glittered. ‘I may be a simple, stupid and inexperienced farmer, housewife and mother,’ she said, straining to maintain her composure, ‘but even I noticed your well-trained and experienced police officers shadowing me.’

  Dühnfort couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Dark grey Golf with tinted windows. A snotty little upstart who looked like he’d been up the whole night and a bald guy with a square head and aviator glasses. Real pros,’ she said, tilting her head back.

  The bald one was Rauchenbichler and the sleep-deprived one was Kölle. She’d only missed Karstensen. Dühnfort felt his anger rising like mercury in a thermometer with a match held under it. He exhaled sharply.

  Gabi Sonnberger continued, sarcastically pointing out that the kidnapper would also have noticed such a bumbling surveillance team and then would have killed Jakob. ‘Makes sense, no?’ she said and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Maybe from your perspective,’ Dühnfort replied, trying to maintain a matter-of-fact tone even though he was bursting with anger that was just looking for a way out. He would not let Gabi Sonnberger’s arrogance get the better of him.

  ‘And if I could give him what he wanted and he could be sure that I wouldn’t show up with the police, then he’d let Jakob go. Makes sense, no?’

  Dühnfort lost his temper. ‘No, not at all. Jakob was a dangerous witness who could have identified him. Why do you think he drugged Jakob and tied him to a stake? The petrol and matches were all ready to go. He wanted to kill him. Makes sense, no?’

  ‘No,’ she gasped. All of a sudden, the arrogance faded from her face. She slowly sat down on the narrow prayer bench. Dühnfort saw that his jibe had hit home, that she hadn’t thought of it like that until now, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  ‘I don’t know what’s going on inside your head. But you have the obsessiveness of a fanatical athlete to thank. It was a happy coincidence that she happened to get lost. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have found Jakob. And he would be dead now,’ he said coldly.

  Mrs Sonnberger burst into tears. ‘I thought he’d let him go in the forest. Well, not let him go,’ she stammered. ‘I mean, I thought he wanted Jakob to be found. But he wanted to burn him, oh God. I just wanted my boy back,’ she sobbed.

  Well, good. He had struck back, the pressure inside him had been released, but he didn’t feel better. ‘It is how it is,’ he said resignedly, then sat down next to her and handed her a tissue so she could blow her nose. She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

  ‘At least we might have a motive now,’ Dühnfort said after a while. ‘And that’s something. You paid a million?’

  Gabi Sonnberger sniffed and nodded. ‘You were right. Thomas organised the money for me. I went to my mother’s again in the afternoon and called him from there and set up the meeting in the cemetery.’

  ‘Do you know if the notes were marked?’

  ‘No. Thomas wanted to do that, but there wasn’t enough time. It was a Saturday and he didn’t have that much money in his branch. He had to organise it via head office.’

  Gabi Sonnberger explained that she’d done exactly as she was told. She’d placed two bin bags full of bank notes in the bins at the Portenläng car park in the town of Otterloh and had then driven off immediately. No one noticed her. There wasn’t another person in sight, not even a car.

  ‘How did you manage to sneak out unnoticed?’

  ‘That was very easy,’ she said with a smile. ‘I went out the back, through the orchard. There’s a footpath there that leads to Dorfstrasse. I used that.’ Dühnfort knew the path. Shit, he thought. Did Kölle sleep through it?

  Gabi Sonnberger had borrowed her mother’s car. She’d parked it on the street and had given her daughter the key that afternoon. Beppo Sonnberger was in a deep sleep, because his wife had convinced him to take a sleeping pill.

  ‘Why didn’t you bring him in on it?’ Dühnfort asked.

  ‘Beppo is incredibly law-abiding. I was scared he wouldn’t participate and would then tell you. And we’ve agreed that I would never touch the money. I wasn’t sure whether he would insist on sticking to that or not. I just didn’t have the strength to fight with him.’

  ‘Where did Thomas
Schmidt give you the money?’

  Gabi Sonnberger smiled.

  ‘I can’t believe he delivered two bin bags full of money to your house unnoticed.’

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ Gabi Sonnberger said hurriedly. ‘We met here. In the chapel.’

  * * *

  Dühnfort gave the ransom note to the forensics unit and asked for it to be investigated as quickly as possible. He hoped that Buchholz and his team might find some useful evidence at the handover location. The preliminary report from the forensic medical examiner was disappointing, in terms of the evidence it provided, anyway. A few black fibres were found under Jakob’s fingernails. That was all. No blood, no sperm, no hair, no flakes of skin. Nothing. Shit, Dühnfort thought. At least Jakob hadn’t been abused. Or not in a way that you could physically see. Dühnfort had already called Kölle on his way back to the city. The young father suffered from sleep deprivation because his son never slept through the night. He had nodded off for a few minutes during the stake-out.

  It was just before three. Time to visit the children’s interview room. Dühnfort took the stairs down to the second floor, then walked along the corridor until he reached the door to the room set up specifically for the questioning of children. He still had a few minutes before the psychologist Beatrice Mével was due to show up. Dühnfort had worked with her several times before and admired the stocky woman who never got rattled. She grew up in Brest, came to Munich to study, fell in love with the city and one of its inhabitants, and stayed.

  The red standby light of a video camera was glowing in one corner. In the middle of the room were two chairs and a table piled with picture books, rag dolls, crayons and blocks. Further back were a colourfully striped mattress and a number of cushions. Next to which, someone had built a small wall out of yellow foam cubes. Dühnfort turned round and looked at the mirror on the opposite wall. An officer was sitting in the room behind it, ready to operate the video camera and record the conversation. If Jakob was able to identify the murderer or the hiding place, Beatrice Mével would carefully tease the facts out of him and the case could then proceed quickly.

  The door opened and the psychologist entered. Beatrice Mével was a short woman in her mid-fifties with short copper hair. As usual, she was wearing something green to bring out the colour of her eyes. Today it was a moss-green polo-neck jumper. Not quite so flattering was the tight tweed skirt that came to just above her knees and drew attention to her thick calves. She greeted Dühnfort and sat down. She placed her bulging briefcase on the floor and gestured to the other chair. Dühnfort took a seat and asked her how familiar she was with the case.

  It turned out that she was up to date. ‘You spoke to Jakob this morning. How did he seem?’ she asked.

  ‘He seemed very upset and spoke very little. Actually, he only said three words: “the black man”.’

  ‘Nothing else?’

  ‘I didn’t push for any more. You’re better at that,’ Dühnfort said.

  Beatrice Mével pursed her lips. ‘I don’t like the sound of that. Jakob’s behaviour suggests an acute stress response. This could be difficult.’

  Suddenly, Dühnfort was worried.

  ‘You sure you don’t want to be here for the questioning?’

  Dühnfort said no. He had thought about it carefully. Two adults talking to a traumatised five-year-old. It didn’t seem right to him. He was afraid it might make the boy clam up completely.

  There was a knock. The psychologist got up and opened the door. Gina entered the room, followed by Beppo and Jakob Sonnberger. Jakob tried to hide behind his father. Dühnfort introduced Beatrice Mével. She spoke briefly with the father and then asked everyone except Jakob to leave the room.

  Jakob’s father protested. ‘I won’t leave my boy on his own.’

  ‘He’s in good hands,’ Beatrice Mével replied.

  Jakob clung to his father’s legs. ‘You can see that he doesn’t want to be left on his own.’ Sonnberger picked up Jakob.

  ‘And you won’t be,’ Beatrice Mével said to Jakob. ‘I’ve brought a good friend of yours along.’

  Jakob looked round the room

  ‘You lost your Lulli, didn’t you?’

  Jakob nodded and pulled his bottom lip over his top teeth.

  ‘I brought him along. He’s in this room.’

  That’s not possible, Dühnfort thought. Forensics would never let a piece of evidence out of their sight. And even if she had managed to borrow the bear, she must know that she couldn’t take the bear away from Jakob again after that.

  Jakob said nothing but tried to get down from his father’s arms. Sonnberger put him down. Jakob looked round the room then dived into the mountain of cushions. He eagerly dug his way through them. Beatrice Mével nodded towards the door, indicating that the time had come to leave the room.

  ‘Your Lulli is here,’ she said and went to her briefcase.

  * * *

  Dühnfort entered the surveillance room and greeted Mani Schmitz, a skinny guy with a receding hairline who was responsible for the video recording. Dühnfort sat next to him at the table in front of the glass window that was a mirror on the other side.

  Beatrice Mével had taken Lulli out of her briefcase and given him to Jakob. Jakob was sitting on the mattress hugging the teddy bear tightly against his chest. She sat down beside him.

  ‘I think Lulli missed you just as much as you missed him,’ she said. Jakob didn’t look up. He showed no reaction.

  ‘I noticed that he’s missing an eye. How did that happen? Was he in a fight?’

  Jakob fell onto his side, held the bear tight and pulled his knees up to his stomach.

  Shit, Dühnfort thought. This doesn’t look good. She should give him a few minutes.

  Beatrice Mével sat next to the boy and said nothing. A few minutes passed and then Jakob suddenly murmured, ‘A raven pecked it out. It came down from the sky and pecked it out and took it.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ Beatrice Mével said. ‘Poor Lulli. What did the raven do with it?’

  ‘Took it to his hiding place, of course,’ Jakob replied and sat up.

  ‘Was it a black raven?’

  Jakob jumped up and kicked the cushion. ‘Black raven, black raven!’ he yelled. The cushions flew across the room. Then Jakob lunged at the wall of foam blocks. ‘Black raven, black raven!’

  He’s scared, Dühnfort thought. He’s angry, but most of all he’s scared.

  Jakob threw the blocks across the room. Beatrice Mével didn’t stop him. ‘Black raven, black raven.’ He seemed to be slowly calming down. The cries grew quieter and faded away. Jakob sat on the floor in the middle of the room. He seemed completely apathetic. Beatrice Mével kneeled down across from him.

  ‘The raven took his loot to the hiding place,’ she said. ‘You know, I am not so familiar with ravens. But I think they’re smart.’

  Jakob gave a slight nod.

  ‘So, the raven must have a good hiding place, don’t you think?’

  Jakob didn’t make a sound.

  Beatrice continued kneeling on the floor and waited. Her feet must have gone to sleep, Dühnfort thought. Jakob looked past her at the wall of yellow blocks. Then he suddenly stood up and began to build the foam blocks into a round tower. He left a gap in the bottom row. When the tower was three rows high, he got the largest cushion from the mattress, put it on top, grabbed one more block, placed it beside the opening in the bottom row and crawled into the tower holding Lulli. His hand appeared at the opening and he closed it with the last block.

  Shit, Dühnfort thought. That’s probably it.

  Ten minutes later, Jakob was still sitting in his tower. Beatrice Mével had initially waited to see if he would come out of his own accord, then she tried talking to him, but that didn’t convince him to come out.

  ‘I will now start taking down the tower,’ she said and put the cushion back on the mattress. Dühnfort noted how she looked in on Jakob from above. Suddenly, the blocks flew in all di
rections. Jakob was kicking and hitting them, but he made no sound. He rushed to the door, threw it open and ran out into the hallway where his father was waiting for him.

  * * *

  Dühnfort said goodbye to Beppo Sonnberger and Jakob and went with Beatrice Mével to the canteen. He needed a proper coffee. He ordered a cappuccino for himself and an espresso for Beatrice Mével. When they sat down at one of the tables, he asked her how she’d got hold of Lulli.

  ‘A little trick. I got a close look at him in forensics. It’s an entirely normal teddy bear that you can get in any department store. So I went and found one. Removing the eye was no problem. I then submitted him to various forms of torture until he looked used. To finish, all that was needed was a stain from a green marker pen and then Lulli was ready,’ she explained.

  ‘Weren’t you afraid that Jakob would notice?’

  ‘Not really. We believe what we want to believe,’ Beatrice Mével said and shrugged. ‘He will never get the real Lulli back. That one will have to stay as evidence. The new Lulli will take the place of the old one. So, Jakob has his Lulli back.’

  ‘Terrifying logic,’ Dühnfort said. ‘I suddenly feel so replaceable.’

  Beatrice Mével raised her eyebrows slightly. ‘You’re comparing yourself to a stuffed animal. Interesting,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Well, my figure seems to be going in that direction,’ Dühnfort replied. ‘But we’re talking about Jakob. He’s scared.’

  ‘Of course he’s afraid,’ she said and took a sip of espresso. ‘He’s a little boy who’s been exposed to extreme psychological stress. It’s rare for adults to have an adequate coping strategy for an acute stress response, let alone a five-year-old.’

  ‘What does that mean for us?’ Dühnfort asked. ‘When can we expect information from Jakob?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Beatrice Mével said.

  ‘If Jakob were to get therapy –’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ she said, interrupting him. ‘An acute stress response is not an illness. Jakob is reacting completely normally to an abnormal situation. He needs time to come to terms with the experience. He should be given psychological support to do that; otherwise it could develop into post-traumatic disorder, in which case therapy would be appropriate. But not yet. Right now, what Jakob needs is to be given some peace and quiet, and to have his sense of security restored. I’ve advised the father to get him psychological support and I gave him some addresses.’