Time Heals No Wounds (A Baltic Sea Crime Novel)

by Hendrik Falkenberg

  TUESDAY AFTERNOON

  Hannes left the doctor’s office in a bad mood and stepped out into the balmy afternoon. Music flowed from the cafés and mingled with the customers’ snippets of conversation and laughter. Fritz had dropped him off on his way back to the station, and he had sat for an hour in the waiting room before he had finally been allowed to show his swollen knee to Dr. Mey. The sobering diagnosis had only further fanned his resentment toward Ole, the old fisherman who had caused his injury.

  “Mr. Niehaus, there still has been no improvement. You’ll need to keep off your knee,” the doctor had said. “I’m writing you a prescription for an ointment, which will help, but unfortunately, you’re going to have to postpone any further athletic activity. If you don’t, this relatively minor injury could turn into something much more serious that could keep you out for the season.”

  Hannes had reluctantly decided to follow her advice. The World Cup was in less than two weeks, and the competition was his last chance to qualify for the world championships. There was also the possibility of qualifying for the Olympic Games next year, and he was secretly still hoping for a miracle. At thirty-two, this would be his last chance to compete as an athlete in the Olympics. The thought of Ralf paddling his canoe through the Olympic course while Hannes sat at home watching on television was painful and motivating.

  On his way home, Hannes remembered he had to find a gift for Ines. He had almost forgotten about her spontaneous birthday invitation, but now he had no real desire to attend. Since he had not managed to build a real social network, he decided the birthday party would be a unique opportunity to make some friends. And although Ines had said no gifts, he could not come empty-handed.

  After considering several ideas, Hannes was struck by a familiar sound a couple of blocks away. Like on most afternoons, Anton was standing next to the entrance to the city park, playing his violin. Anton was a true character and well known in the neighborhood. He had been a professional musician and now lived off a small pension. But he had not given up music, and with his snow-white hair, suit, and bow tie, he maintained a dignified appearance.

  Hannes watched Anton play. As he went to drop a coin in the red-velvet-lined box, an idea popped into his head. Anton did not play on the street to supplement his pension. The money he earned went to a charity he had devoted himself to. The neighborhood was not hip or trendy: there were no mothers driving their kids to piano lessons in Range Rovers. Anton gave free music lessons to poor children from the neighborhood. With the proceeds from his busking, he rented a rehearsal room and bought several instruments on which children from around the world could try their first notes. Last spring, he and his students had given a concert in the park, and even if there had been a few slipups here and there, the children’s excitement and joy had deeply moved the audience.

  Since Ines worked in development, surely she would appreciate it if he gave her something meaningful instead of some sort of embarrassing gift. When Anton put down his violin, Hannes walked up to him and told him about his idea. He requested that Anton play a birthday song while he filmed him with his phone. Anton obliged with a cheerful version of Stevie Wonder’s “Happy Birthday.” He then bowed and waved sheepishly at the camera.

  Hannes handed Anton thirty euros, and his eyes lit up. “I know what I’m going to do with the money. There’s a little boy from Africa in my band who’s very talented. I’ll take him to the symphony.”

  “Great idea! That’s perfect!” Hannes said, then told Anton that Ines had been an aid worker in Africa.

  Hannes continued on his way, his knee hurting a bit less. He entered the small park through the gates near the old fire station and took a shortcut through a field. After the long day, he looked forward to a cool shower. As he rounded a bush, he almost collided with two men. A guy with blond dreadlocks exchanged some cash for a small bag. Startled, the men looked up at Hannes before running away. He couldn’t believe it! That was . . .

  “Ben!” he shouted at the fugitives. “Ben, stop!”

  Ben, who had taken the small plastic bag, hesitantly slowed down and turned around. He was embarrassed as he walked over to Hannes. “So I guess this is what you’d call caught in the act. Are you going to cuff me now?”

  “Normally, I would! What are you doing?”

  “This is just to relax!” Ben waved one of the bags full of marijuana.

  “Still! There’s a playground over there! Why do you have to conduct your drug deals here of all places?”

  “Drugs, drugs, drugs . . . Such a strong word for something so trivial. Others get drunk, I get stoned. What’s the difference?”

  “The difference is that selling marijuana is illegal, as is purchasing it.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Ben asked and sighed.

  Hannes thought for a moment and then pulled himself together. “I have a party to go to! There’s a good chance I may forget about what I saw here.”

  “Man, I knew you were all right.”

  “Don’t go around saying I caught you and let you go. Not even at the party. You’re still coming, right?”

  “Yeah, man, I’ll keep it between us. You can count on me.”

  Hannes shook his head.

  “No, really. I’ll never forget it! If you need something, just contact me . . . You can of course also have some.” He grinned and waved the plastic bag.

  “I’m a competitive athlete, you know. Anyway, are you coming tonight?”

  “Of course! I have a really cool gift for Ines. See you later—and thanks again!” He playfully punched Hannes on the shoulder, turned around, and jogged away.

  Hannes looked around, hoping no one had seen anything. Fortunately, no one was there, and he rushed home to get into the shower.

  An hour later, he got off the bus and studied the map of the neighborhood posted at the bus stop. Ines and Kalle lived across town in an area he was completely unfamiliar with. He walked past a noisy group of teens in front of a pool hall and passed the blinking lights of a sex shop which threw a kaleidoscope of colors onto the street. Two blocks later, he was surrounded by silence broken only by the excited barking of a terrier. He walked by a row of houses and stopped in front of number 72. He glanced through the names listed next to the doorbells. Seconds after he had pressed the top button, the door buzzed and the fluorescent hall lights switched on.

  “You have to walk up to the fifth floor. Unfortunately, there’s no elevator,” a tinny voice said through the intercom.

  He sighed and readied his knee for the climb.

  “Man, and you are a competitive athlete?” Ben greeted him as he reached the final landing. “That took forever!”

  Ben laughed and leaned against the open doorway. Ines and Kalle came to the door, beaming.

  “It’s great you could come!” Ines said and gave him a warm hug. “I was afraid you might all change your minds and last night would just be a one-time encounter.”

  “How can you live so high up with your fear of heights?” Hannes joked to Kalle and then shook his hand.

  “Be glad you didn’t help us move,” he said with a laugh. “That was the day we lost our friends.”

  The apartment was in excellent condition and tastefully decorated. Ines brought several plates of finger food into the living room.

  “Elke’s not here yet, but we should probably start. Hannes, would you like something to drink?”

  “Beer,” Hannes and Ben said in unison, and in no time they were holding cold bottles.

  “To the final hours of my youth,” said Ines, after which they all clinked their drinks.

  At that moment, the doorbell rang, and Ines sidled over to the intercom. “Elke’s on her way up,” she said from the hallway.

  “Anyone else coming besides Elke?” asked Hannes. “Or did you actually lose all your friends in your move?”

  “We still have a few,” Kalle said, laughing. “But Ines didn’t really want to have a big party, and you know how it is: it’s hard g
etting people to come at the last minute. Sometimes we have to schedule something weeks in advance, otherwise we would never get to see our friends.”

  “Yeah, it was so much easier back in college,” Hannes said, and as if on command, they all turned to look at Ben.

  He laughed and shrugged. “Hearing you say that really makes me want to finish school . . .”

  “I’ll say this: enjoy every day! How much longer do you have until you’re done?” Ines asked.

  Ben shrugged. “I’m not going to stress myself out. My father died early and left me enough money to get by the next few years.”

  “And it doesn’t bother you that you live off of your father’s money?” asked Hannes.

  “Not at all. It’s not taking me so long because I’m lazy. I devote a lot of my time to fighting neo-Nazis. There are more important things than finishing your degree on time. Besides, my father would have been proud. He spent his entire life fighting the far right and was active in a victims association. His father, my grandfather, was murdered in a concentration camp.”

  There was an apprehensive silence.

  “Was he Jewish?” Elke asked.

  Everyone looked at the door because no one had heard her come in.

  “Hello, Elke,” said Ben. “No, he wasn’t Jewish; he was a Communist. And for that he was shot in the back of the head . . .”

  The conversation turned to Ben’s activism, and with each successive story, Elke seemed to hold him in greater esteem. Hannes too realized he had great respect for Ben’s commitment, especially since he didn’t come across as a show-off when he told his stories. Instead, he seemed very determined, and his knowledge of the Nazi era and current neo-Nazi scene was impressive. It made sense why he had decided to study history, even if later he would probably have trouble staying afloat financially.

  “Well, enough of that,” Ben said, getting up from his chair. “After all, this is a birthday party . . . I’m going to go have a smoke. May I use your balcony?”

  Hannes followed him to the balcony door. Ben looked at him in the reflection of the windows and grinned. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and shook one out.

  “All perfectly legal,” he said to Hannes and disappeared onto the balcony.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Ines.

  “No idea,” Hannes said.

  When Ben came back into the room reeking of stale cigarette smoke, Hannes was already recounting the events of his day. He was unsure how much he was allowed to say and avoided details. Nevertheless, they hung on his every word.

  “You really have an exciting job,” said Kalle. “You’re lucky.”

  “Don’t say that,” Hannes said, and he described his morning visit to the medical examiner. “And besides, we’re just groping in the dark right now. We have no leads and no clues. So, as an events manager, you probably have some good stories.”

  But Kalle was dismissive. “It sounds more exciting than it is. At first, I thought it was great, working with real stars and making these big, lavish events happen. But the majority of my work is routine, and celebrities are not always known for their cooperation. They’re accustomed to being treated like royalty and develop an attitude.”

  “Speaking of which, I just remembered. Ines, I have a present for you.”

  “But I had said—”

  Hannes waved aside her protests and pulled out his cell phone. “It’s not a gift in the traditional sense,” he said and explained the story.

  Touched, Ines watched the old violinist’s performance and excitedly hugged Hannes. Apparently, Ines’s job as an aid worker had also made a big impression on Ben, who had sponsored a girl in Africa on her behalf, as well as on Elke, who had made a donation to Doctors Without Borders in Ines’s name.

  “This is really unbelievable,” Ines said and laughed. “Thank you so much! You’ve really made my day. And it’s definitely better than a bottle of perfume or some stupid knickknack.”

  “Yeah, and we already have enough of those,” said Kalle, and everyone laughed.

  Ines wagged her finger at him. “You’re not so innocent yourself, my dear! Kalle collects coasters from around the world, and there are three drawers full of them in the cabinet.”

  They turned their attention back to the finger food, and the discussion became less serious. Kalle demonstrated his skills as a DJ. Old party hits boomed from the speakers, livening everyone up.

  “It almost makes you feel old,” Elke said, rattling her bracelets. “Teenagers probably consider these songs oldies now.”

  “If they even recognize them,” said Ines.

  At midnight, Elke looked at her watch and jumped up in surprise. “I should head home now, I’ve got a bunch of kids waiting for me tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh come on! They might be easier to deal with if you’re hungover!” Ines joked. “Tonight’s been really fun. Let’s not think about work for once. There’s no reason why we can’t go a little crazy from time to time. We should really let loose!”

  Ines walked over to a chair and pushed it against the wall. Kalle supported her efforts to keep the party going by dimming the lights and turning up the volume.

  “We’ll see when your colleagues come and ask us to keep it down,” Elke teased Hannes, then kicked off her shoes and began to hop around the room. Soon the group transformed the living room into a dance floor. It was only when the morning light crept through the windows that Elke at last acknowledged how tired—and perhaps old—she felt.

  Promising to get together again sometime soon, they exchanged phone numbers and headed out into the early morning. The birds were already chirping as Hannes, slightly swaying, attempted to hail a cab. A feeling of happiness flowed through him, and he vowed to enjoy life to the fullest. The dead body and the station were far from his thoughts.

  TUESDAY NIGHT INTO WEDNESDAY MORNING

  Dreams have different origins. They are based on imagination, stories, fears—and memories.

  As in the dreams of years past, it begins pitch-black. A beam of light appears when the hand of a small child pushes the door open, allowing for a glimpse into the adjacent room.

  A young woman with a battered face and gray hair sits in a poorly furnished living room. The dull glow of the single lamp in the room falls on her hunched back. A sewing machine sits in front of her on the rickety wooden table, a mountain of fabric next to it.

  The child enters the room. The previous night, he slept at a friend’s house and received a set of pajamas as a gift from the friend’s mother. The child knows his own mother earns very little, and any purchase poses a heavy burden. His own pajamas are old and worn, and he had outgrown them.

  The child beams and innocently skips in the light of the lamp and, spinning in circles, presents his gift. He figures his mother will be so happy when she sees the new blue-and-gray striped pajamas!

  Tired, the mother raises her head, and her eyes widen. A scream comes out, and she stretches out her arms in defense. Panicked, she jumps up from her chair and backs away. Inarticulate sounds are all she produces before she throws herself on the threadbare sofa, buries her head in the pillow, and sobs. Shivers run up and down her body. The forlorn child stands in the center of the room, his arms at his sides, before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

  Darkness is all that remains.

  WEDNESDAY MORNING

  It’s cold, Merle thought as she slowly regained consciousness. She felt déjà vu as she lay on the soft mattress, trying to get her brain to work again. It was as though she had been transported back in time to when she had first woken up in this room. Everything still felt the same, right down to the chill that gave her goose bumps.

  Then she remembered the food and the subsequent grogginess. She became restless. She listened to her body and then moved slightly. No pain. No handcuffs. Everything seemed fine. So why the sleeping pill in the food?

  She touched her thigh and froze. She had been left in only her underwear.

>   Merle trembled uncontrollably and moaned. Without clothes, she felt even more vulnerable and helpless. Someone had entered the room while she’d slept and undressed her.

  Merle began to sob. As she turned on her side and curled up in a ball, she felt something soft next to her. She examined the item with her hands and unfolded it. It was too small to be a blanket. The item had two buttons and an elastic waistband. She realized it was a pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt. She slipped on the garments. The material was thin but warm.

  I don’t understand! Why would someone put sleeping pills into my food, undress me, and place a pair of pajamas on the bed? What do they want? And why won’t they talk to me?

  When Fritz came into the room, Hannes was sitting at his desk, his eyes slightly bloodshot. He was badly hungover.

  “What’s wrong? You look like you spent half the night hugging the toilet,” said Fritz. He was wearing his typical black jeans and blue polo shirt and was carrying a coffee cup.

  Hannes shook his head. “I told you about the people I met on the Ferris wheel. Ines’s birthday was yesterday, and she invited all of us. I didn’t get to bed until five, and now I’m feeling it.”

  “How many beers did you have?”

  “I lost count.”

  “Well, it’s about time you started training again, otherwise you’ll lose sight of your goals and get completely out of shape. Was there at least a woman you’re interested in?”

  “They’re all interesting, but Ines has a boyfriend and Elke’s a lesbian. You’d like Ben. He’s a committed Nazi hunter and has even gone to jail for it.”

  “Well, looks like you’ve got yourself a fine group of friends. Probably better not to tell me everything this Ben character is up to . . .” Fritz leaned against the desk. “I called the Coast Guard again yesterday evening. The owner of that unmoored motorboat’s named Florian Schneider, and the report reveals he was negligent in properly tying his boat up. Mr. Schneider has naturally tried to make up excuses, but the circumstantial evidence is clear. It wouldn’t surprise me if it was his boat the farmhand saw on Saturday.”