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

by Inge Löhnig

  ‘What were you doing last Friday evening between six thirty and ten?’

  Münch put down the iron. ‘I was replacing the damaged shingles at the Chapel of Our Lady.’

  ‘Right,’ Dühnfort said. ‘But you were finished with that by around seven.’

  ‘After that, I checked on the wood and then drove home,’ Münch said. ‘I’ve already explained that to your colleague.’

  The doorbell rang and there was a knock at the front door at the same time. Münch put the iron aside and left the room.

  The knocking grew louder. The door squeaked. ‘Sorry, Anselm,’ Dühnfort heard someone say. ‘I know the detective chief inspector is here with you, I saw him go inside. I have to speak to him. Anna is missing.’

  A man without any striking features burst into the room: medium height, dark blond, an average face. The only distinguishing characteristic was a small goatee.

  ‘Nötzel.’ His flesh was clammy as he shook hands with Dühnfort. ‘You have to send out a search party for my wife. She’s been missing since last night.’

  ‘What do you mean by missing? Have you already looked everywhere for her and called all your friends and relatives?’

  Nötzel was out of breath and anxious, staring back and forth out of the window. He explained that his wife Anna had visited her friend Beata yesterday and still hadn’t returned home. Sometimes she spent the night at her friend’s house, which is why Nötzel only called in the morning. He first tried Anna’s mobile, but she didn’t answer. Then he called Beata. Anna hadn’t spent the night there. She also wasn’t at her parents’ house or the hair salon that she ran in Mariaseeon. ‘I’ve already called the police, but there have been no accidents.’ Nötzel ran his hand over his eyes. ‘I’m scared that the lunatic’s got her.’

  Dühnfort was not quite ready to share that fear. ‘Did the two of you have any sort of disagreement?’ he asked.

  Nötzel shook his head.

  ‘Is it possible your wife has a lover?’

  ‘No,’ Nötzel said energetically.

  From the corner of his eye, Dühnfort saw Münch standing next to the ironing board with his mouth open as if he wanted to say something. But then he shut it again. ‘Mr Münch, do you have a different opinion?’

  ‘What!’ Nötzel dropped down onto the worn sofa.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dieter,’ Münch said. ‘But Anna is having an affair with Konrad.’

  ‘That’s not true. How would you know a thing like that?’

  ‘Everyone knows it. It was impossible to ignore at Melli’s wedding.’

  An adulteress, Dühnfort thought. What does that mean? Normally, we wouldn’t initiate a search. There is no evidence that the woman has disappeared against her will. She has a lover, she is probably with him. But these are not normal circumstances. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife. ‘Who is Konrad?’ he asked.

  ‘Konrad Dambrowski,’ Nötzel said. ‘We’re in the shooting club together.’

  Dühnfort asked for his phone number and called him. Dambrowski said that he had planned to meet Anna last night at eight, but then he was delayed. One of his tyres was flat. It had been slashed. Dambrowski thought it was either a stupid prank or Dieter and changed the tyre. Because of that, he didn’t make it to the cabin until twenty past eight. Anna either hadn’t come or was upset that he was late and had driven away again. He waited until nine and then, when she didn’t answer his calls, drove back home.

  ‘Where were you going to meet?’ Dühnfort asked.

  ‘In Dieter’s grandfather’s hunting cabin. Why do you ask? Has something happened to her?’

  I hope not, Dühnfort thought. ‘Where is this hunting cabin?’

  ‘Near the San Andreas clearing by Mückl Pond. I’ll show you the way.’

  Dühnfort followed Nötzel’s car to a small wooden house. It stood on the edge of a pond and was surrounded by tall pines. Between cottage and pond there was a small mossy clearing and a gravel car park. Nötzel parked on the side of the track. Dühnfort stopped behind him and asked Nötzel to wait in the car. Then he went over to the cabin. The doors and shutters were closed and there was no sign of a break-in. The gravel in the car park was churned up and there were different tyre tracks in the mud on the forest track. He followed them back to Nötzel’s car and a few metres beyond. He was about to turn back when he noticed that another track veered off and disappeared through the moss between the trees. Dühnfort followed the faint prints until they broke through an overgrown area on the other side of the pond and then disappeared into the cloudy water. Something yellow stood out deep beneath the swampy surface. Dühnfort stepped back. Nötzel had got out and was now standing beside his car.

  ‘What kind of car does your wife drive?’

  ‘A yellow Fiat Panda,’ Nötzel said.

  * * *

  Fourteen hours later, Dühnfort shut down the computer and turned off the desk lamp. The only light in his office came from the cathedral outside. Instead of leaving, he sat down again. It was Anna’s car that they had pulled out of the pond. There was no sign of her. We’re going round in circles, Dühnfort thought. For the third time within a few weeks: questioning the neighbours, search teams, helicopters. The husband and the lover had been intensively questioned but with no result. Everything suggested that Anna Nötzel had not gone missing on account of relationship problems. We’re going round in circles, but everything in the centre is at a standstill. We are creating a huge vortex without moving a step forward.

  The door opened and Gina looked in. She was about to go out again when she noticed him. ‘Everything OK?’ she asked and closed the door.

  He saw her coming across the room. She sat in the visitor’s chair.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Of course not. He will kill her if we don’t find her. And I have no idea how to find her. None of our investigations are leading anywhere. It’s like we’re chasing shadows.’

  Gina took his hand. ‘You can’t get so close to it.’

  Her hand was warm and a light scent of perfume wafted over to him when she leaned forward. In the dim light, he saw her looking at him from those chocolate eyes. Nightfall lay like a possibility in front of them. Suddenly, Dühnfort understood. Gina’s change was for him. He slowly pulled his hand away.

  Gina sat back again and looked past him and out of the window. ‘I actually just wanted to tell you that Korinna and Cyril weren’t able to provide any specific information about the vehicle. No brand, no exact colour. Large and dark, probably a van,’ she said and stood up. ‘Alois and I are going out for a beer. Are you coming?’

  ‘I might drive out to Mariaseeon again.’

  ‘What will you do there at this hour? The questioning is over. Bichler is searching with his team and if he finds something, he’ll call you. We have to sleep now, so that we are in good shape to work again tomorrow. And I need a nightcap, so that I can even sleep at all. So, come for a beer and turn in after that.’

  ‘Another time, Gina.’

  ‘As you wish, boss.’ Gina shut the door behind her.

  Dühnfort stayed there by himself. How do you solve this problem? Münch had asked provokingly. Not by taking advantage of her affections, Dühnfort thought. He hadn’t slept with a woman in two years. Manually? For God’s sake: yes, sometimes in the shower when it gets unbearable.

  Saturday, 14th June

  Agnes took off the black dress. It suddenly seemed inappropriate. Instead, she put on the grey-green linen dress and matching slingback heels. She was not sure if Rainer would have found this outfit too sexy, but he wouldn’t see it and didn’t have to be jealous. Nothing is further from my mind than trying to hook another man, she thought. Kathrin was right, I don’t have to be faithful to you now that you’re dead, but nor do I need to replace you. For a moment, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She remembered how Rainer used to bend down, take her in his arms as he kissed her and say, ‘I will always love you.’ If only he were still alive, she would forgive hi
m for everything, for being so domineering and even for hitting her, and they could start over again. Surely he’d be willing to change. Today was their wedding anniversary. Would have been, Agnes thought. She opened her eyes and went downstairs. She took the bouquet off the kitchen table. Red roses.

  On her way out of the house, she bumped into the postman. ‘Can I just give this to you here?’ he said, handing her a large envelope.

  Agnes glanced at the sender. Notaries Künzlau & Weiler, Munich. Those weren’t the notaries she knew. She remembered the conversation she’d had with her mother two days earlier. So, these were the notaries that had wanted her address. It couldn’t be important, or else it would have come as a registered letter. Agnes put the envelope on the shelf in the hall, then drove to the Southern Cemetery in Perlach.

  Visiting the graves got a little easier every time. She placed the roses in a vase and, as she pulled out the weeds that had spread between the begonias since her last visit, told Rainer and Yvonne about the house by the lake and her new career start. She didn’t talk about Melli or how Anna had been missing since yesterday. Gina Angelucci had rung her doorbell in the afternoon. She was questioning everyone in the village. Yes, she knew Anna well enough to wave to her on the street, and she knew that Anna and Konrad were having an affair, especially since she’d overheard the two of them at Melli’s wedding. No, she hadn’t seen Anna since then. Gina Angelucci wrote it all down and then left. Agnes couldn’t believe that Anna was in danger. She didn’t want to believe it. She quickly suppressed the thought and told Rainer and Yvonne about the running club that she had organised.

  She got home in the early afternoon and immediately dived into her work. Around seven, her stomach started growling. On her way to the kitchen, she remembered the letter. She got it from the hall and opened it. Inside were a large brown envelope and a white business envelope with a window. Agnes opened the letter from Notaries Künzlau & Weiler first.

  Dear Mrs Gaudera, On behalf of our client, please find the enclosed document in accordance with the scheduled deadline. Sincerely – and then a scrawled signature.

  What kind of document could it be? Agnes put the letter aside and picked up the brown envelope. She looked at the front. Her name was written in blue ink. She immediately recognised Rainer’s handwriting.

  * * *

  The light was on in the living room and it cast a bright stripe across the terrace and onto the grass. He stood away from the illuminated rectangle, leaning, as he had so many times before, against the trunk of the copper beech. Today, Agnes had neither closed the shutters nor drawn the curtains. She’d withdrawn recently, which had unsettled him and made his imagination run wild. He still hadn’t found the courage to confide in her. He was ashamed. It was a vicious circle. He trusted no one, but there was nothing he wanted more. Trust had to be won and what was he doing? He was scared. He lacked the courage. What if she rejected him?

  Now she was finally letting him in again, but he did not understand what he was seeing. The images were there, but his brain seemed to be having trouble processing them.

  Agnes was sitting on the sofa in the living room. She was crying. Her eyes were red and puffy. She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. There was a bottle on the coffee table. She reached for it and held it to her lips. A drop dripped onto her dress, which had slid high up her bare legs. He caught a glimpse of her white knickers. She looked vulgar. Something inside him felt cold and concentrated. It was as if his gaze were being sharpened. She is no better than the others, his inner voice said. Can you finally see that? First she lures you in and then she will betray you. But he didn’t want to believe it. He conjured up the images of how she’d brought Jakob to the church, how she’d shown him Melli, how she’d reached for the green vase. No, he was not mistaken.

  Agnes stood up and left the living room. She tripped over the edge of the carpet, lost a shoe and slipped off the other one as she walked. The light went on in the office. He followed her. He saw her through the window, how she took the scissors off the table. She grabbed a lock of her hair and cut it off just above her scalp. It fell to the floor. She grabbed the next one. Snip. Blond hair fell, like the tresses of a sinner whose head was being shaved bald for the executioner.

  * * *

  Dühnfort sat in his car in front of the Zur Post hotel. Once again, they’d held a meeting there; once again, they’d had to acknowledge that they had nothing to go on. Nothing that could help them target their investigation. Gina started up her car next to him. As she left, she nodded to him with a tired, joyless expression; a moment later she was driving along Dorfstrasse. All the others had already gone. He was the only one left and he couldn’t decide whether he should visit Agnes. It was late, nearly ten o’clock. She might have already gone to bed. He had a gift for her in the glove compartment. He took it out and removed the ribbon and wrapping paper. It wasn’t actually a gift. He wanted to repair the damage he’d done, so he’d bought her a silver picture frame that was similar to the one he’d destroyed.

  He started the car and drove down to the lake. To her house. The lights were on, so she must still be up. How careless of her to leave the shutters open, Dühnfort thought, even if she doesn’t seem to be the anxious type. He’d seen her poster about the jogging group and admired her for it. She wasn’t going to let the almost palpable fear in Mariaseeon hold her back. A woman who bounced back, who wasn’t helpless. But why doesn’t she draw the curtains? She’s sitting there like she’s on stage. Well, not quite, he corrected himself. The stage was empty. He couldn’t actually see Agnes.

  He hesitated a moment before ringing the bell. She would tell him in her forthright way if he was disturbing her. But he didn’t want to disturb her, he wanted to be welcome, to drink a glass of wine with her, to talk and maybe . . . ‘Nonsense,’ he muttered. She is mourning her husband, there’s no place for me. There was no answer. He put the box with the frame in his jacket pocket and was about to leave when, out of nowhere, he was filled with fear. His heart was racing, the hair on his arms stood on end and he felt like his head was being squeezed between icy hands. He put his finger on the bell and didn’t take it off. He pounded on the door with his right hand. You’re acting like an idiot, he thought. The light went on in the hall. He stopped knocking and took his finger off the brass button. A key turned in the lock. Agnes opened the door. He almost didn’t recognise her. She looked like one of those women during the war in occupied France who were accused of collaborating and then had their heads shaved by the mob.

  ‘Where’s the fire?’ she asked and began to laugh. Giggling, she turned away from him and went into the house. He followed her and closed the door.

  * * *

  Agnes was aware that she was drunk. The bottle of whisky that she’d bought for Michael was nearly empty. First because of Melli and now . . . The thought of the letter was like a knife in her chest. Murderer. Her legs gave out. She had to sit on the carpet. Dühnfort came into the living room. She had only let him in because he would have beaten the door down. Now she scrambled to her feet and offered him a seat on the sofa. He stopped in front of her.

  ‘What happened, Agnes?’ he asked her.

  She saw concern in his green-grey eyes and ran her hands through her short, bristly hair. ‘You want one?’ she asked and pointed to the bottle of whisky. Dühnfort shook his head. ‘Well, all right. Can I offer you something else?’ Dühnfort turned that down, too.

  Agnes’s eyes landed on the CD case that was under the coffee table. She had to laugh. Kathrin was absolutely right. ‘Then I’ll put on some music.’ She bent down, picked up the CD and put it in the player. ‘A special gift from my husband on our anniversary,’ she said. ‘But you have to listen. It’s also a joke.’ Agnes sat back down on the carpet. Cheerful calypso music filled the room. After the first few bars, a smoky man’s voice started singing about never making a pretty woman your wife if you want to be happy living king’s life. Agnes sang along loudly wi
th the chorus. Dühnfort turned off the stereo.

  Agnes was suddenly tired. She lay down and closed her eyes. I’m behaving very badly, she thought, and I’m wallowing in self-pity. With the CD, Rainer had proved that he’d actually had a sense of humour. She tried to hold onto the thought, so that she didn’t have to think about the other thing. She stood up and sat on the sofa. Dühnfort looked at her. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m not doing so well and I’m also . . . well, not sober anyway. If it’s not important, maybe it’s better if you go.’

  But she didn’t want to be alone. How could she get through the night and then the next day and the one after that? ‘I ruined everything. I killed Yvonne,’ she said and was astonished by the factual tone of her voice. She reached for the bottle.

  Dühnfort took it out of her hand and placed it back on the table. ‘You didn’t kill your child,’ he said. ‘What happened?’ He sat next to her and pulled her close. ‘Tell me about it, OK?’

  She knew he would listen. But how could she explain it to him? She bent down and picked up Rainer’s letter. It was under the coffee table next to the CD case. She handed it to Dühnfort. ‘Read,’ she said.

  My dearest,

  They say that time heals all wounds. More than a year has passed now and I hope – no, I am sure – that you are doing well. Wonderful. You will have accepted the position at Niehaus & Partners and now, as you always wanted, you’ll be finding your purpose in life through your career. A family, the greatest happiness that one can have, was not enough for you, so you had to destroy it.

  You are gradually forgetting us. Perhaps there is already a new man in the picture, though I don’t actually believe that. You are neither pretty nor charming but rather boring and stuffy. And more than all of that, you’ve really lost your figure. With pleasure, I picture you having spent the last year pursuing your fatal tendency to eat your way out of unhappiness. In doing so, you’ll have become less and less the sort of woman that a man could ever find attractive. And as I reallocated my assets so that nothing was left to you – were you really surprised about that? – no one will be able to overlook your shortcomings, which would otherwise have been improved by the glow of money.