Time Heals No Wounds (A Baltic Sea Crime Novel)

by Hendrik Falkenberg

  “Mrs. Schneider, were you with your husband on his boat on Saturday?” Fritz asked.

  She exhaled. “That ship is his favorite toy. I have not been on it in ages. He races it so fast that I feel sick every time. But sometimes he takes important customers out with him.”

  “That’s strange . . .” Hannes said, but Fritz cut him off.

  “On Saturday, your husband had apparently not only raced his boat. He laid anchor by a section of beach where, a day later, a woman’s body was found.”

  “He told me nothing of the sort. However, I returned from New York yesterday late in the evening. My sister lives there, and I stayed with her for a week.”

  “Do you remember your flight information?”

  Mrs. Schneider flicked her hair over her shoulder. “You do not think I . . . I arrived on a Lufthansa flight at nine thirty. You can verify that if you would like.”

  “You’re not under suspicion,” Fritz said. “But we do need to investigate all possible leads.”

  “You said your husband sometimes takes special customers out on the boat. Do you know if he had anyone on board on Saturday?” asked Hannes.

  Mrs. Schneider turned to him, paused at the sight of his unique eyes, then looked him up and down. “I have no idea. He runs his business on his own. You’ll have to ask him.”

  “Unfortunately, we’re running out of time. Who else would know his schedule?”

  “His secretary, of course. Leonie Kustermann. She lives at 20 Post Street. Was that everything? I still have to take care of the preparations for the party.”

  “That’s all, thank you,” Fritz said. “Could you please inform your husband when you speak to him that he should contact us? Here’s my card.”

  Mrs. Schneider nodded. “I’ll tell him. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  She held out her hand, and Hannes wondered if she expected them to kiss it. However, he followed Fritz’s lead and merely clasped it. As Mrs. Schneider turned back inside the house, Fritz and Hannes followed the gravel path back to the gate.

  Hannes shook his head. “She didn’t come across as too worried.”

  “Or particularly sympathetic,” said Fritz. “That white princess radiates cold arrogance. There doesn’t seem to be a close relationship between the two. Who knows what services the young gardener provides here?”

  “You don’t mean that he . . .”

  Fritz waved his hand. “I wouldn’t be surprised. She eyed you up and down. At least now you’ve got another job option. Gardener for a rich, neglected wife.” He chuckled. “Anyway, at least we know the body isn’t Mrs. Schneider’s.”

  “Why didn’t you tell her a woman was on board?”

  Fritz shrugged. “Just a feeling. If she’s having an affair with her gardener, maybe her husband eventually returned the favor and fooled around with a customer. Perhaps the woman pressured him on Saturday, making him commit an irrational act. We should have initially maintained the impression that we only wanted to question him as a witness, but at the same time monitor the property and continue searching for Mr. Schneider. I’m going to visit his secretary. Perhaps she can tell us if he took a customer out with him on Saturday. I’ll leave you at the office. Find out everything you can about this man! Sift through our archives, use the Internet to track him down, try to find his friends.”

  After dropping Hannes off, Fritz continued to Post Street. Nothing happened when he rang the doorbell. It was a nondescript apartment building, same as any other. Although its best days were long gone, it gave the impression of being clean. The faint sound of a radio came from an open window on the first floor, and a baby screamed from somewhere in the house. Fritz rang again, holding the buzzer down for a while. A few seconds later, a gray-haired woman appeared in the open window.

  “Excuse me!” shouted Fritz. “Are you Ms. Kustermann?”

  “No, Ms. Kustermann lives above me and left about an hour ago.”

  “Oh, I thought she was sick.”

  “Well, she didn’t look very good. Maybe she went to the doctor.”

  Fritz thanked the old woman and strolled back to his car. Once inside, he scanned Post Road in the vain hope of discovering a bakery or café somewhere. As a consolation, he popped in a CD of piano concertos and reclined in the driver’s seat to reflect on his next steps. A searing pain in his back catapulted him into a vertical position. His cell phone rang.

  “Fritz, it’s Hannes! We now know who the victim is. A missing-person report just came in, and the description’s an exact match!”

  Fritz raced down the hall and opened the door to Hannes’s office.

  “That was fast! Did you run a couple of red lights again?” Hannes joked.

  “I did, but this time I remembered to put my lights and siren on. So I’ll only have to explain two tickets from today.”

  Fritz stepped closer and looked over Hannes’s shoulder at the computer screen. “Is that her?” He pointed to a photo of a woman with long gray hair.

  “That’s her. Helene Ternheim was reported missing by her brother, Christian Ternheim. The two head the drugmaker Lagussa, and he has not heard from her or seen her since Friday. She’s fifty-seven and lives in a penthouse near the harbor bridge. She was supposed to attend a board meeting yesterday afternoon, and when she didn’t show, her brother called the police.”

  “There’s no possibility of a mistake, is there?”

  “No. Maria’s already been in touch with Ms. Ternheim’s dentist and compared the dental records. There’s no doubt this is Helene Ternheim.”

  “Has her brother been notified?”

  “No, that’s been left to us.”

  Fritz exhaled. “This case is really starting to take off. We’d better not put off visiting Mr. Ternheim, even if there’s nothing worse than informing someone about a loved one’s death. But still, he has a right to know as soon as possible, and he might be able to shed further light on the case.”

  “When did we want to stop by the Coast Guard? They promised the initial data for today.”

  “Why don’t you head there on your own. It makes sense if we split up. The manhunt for Schneider is already underway; Matthias and Steffi are coordinating it. You can take my car, and I’ll take the bus. Lagussa’s headquarters are only a few stops away. I’ll meet you back here, and we can share what we’ve learned.”

  Fritz threw the car keys to Hannes and was already halfway out the door when Hannes hesitated. “Um . . . wouldn’t it be better if we did everything together? I was taught that detectives should only split up in exceptional circumstances.”

  Fritz eyed his young colleague before taking a deep breath. “Well, let me teach you a few more things, smart alec. First: welcome to reality! Second: a murder investigation always counts as an exceptional situation to me. Third: I told you when we first started working together that I won’t change the way I work because of you. Still, you shouldn’t go telling everyone how we carry out our investigations. In the end, the only thing that counts is the result; I can tell you that from years of experience. So why don’t you go and get the passenger lists of all the ships that were in the area. I don’t think we’ll get anywhere looking at them, but if we can rule the ships out now, it will help.”

  Three hours later, Hannes and Fritz met back at the station. Fritz furrowed his brow as Hannes brought the Jeep to a screeching halt in the parking lot and rammed it into first gear before he finally turned off the engine.

  “Maybe you treat your own car that way, but I’d like to keep my Jeep for a few more years,” Fritz said as Hannes opened the door.

  “I’m sorry,” said Hannes without the slightest hint of remorse. “I couldn’t resist. It’s really fun to drive a car where everything works and you don’t have to deal with funny noises or backfiring. Your car’s still in good shape and—don’t worry—no scratches.” He pounded happily on the roof and looked in amusement at the vehicle, which had seen better days. “Or should I say, no further scratches, because here . . . and
there . . . and over here . . .”

  Fritz took the key from Hannes and slammed the car door.

  “The trip was worth it,” Hannes said and patted a bulging blue bag with the yellow Coast Guard logo. “Everything’s in here. It’s amazing all the info the Coast Guard collects.”

  “Big Brother’s watching you,” Fritz said. “Let’s hope our brothers and sisters at the Coast Guard also filtered the data into something useful. Let’s go eat, I’m really hungry.”

  “How did it go with you?” asked Hannes as they walked toward the cafeteria.

  “I have always hated being the bearer of bad news. In all these years, I still haven’t found a suitable way to do it. Especially since those left behind all react differently. Some collapse, others are silent, and others attack you because they don’t want to believe it.”

  “And Mr. Ternheim?” Hannes asked.

  “He was shocked, and obviously wasn’t expecting to hear that his sister was dead. However, he was quick to regain his composure. And I did learn some interesting tidbits. But one thing at a time. Let’s deal with the food first.” Fritz studied the menu at the counter. “Spelt patties with sprouts and mashed potatoes! Who comes up with this crap? Mrs. Öztürk, is it health-food week again?”

  Mrs. Öztürk wiped her hand on her apron and winked. “Ah, Detective Janssen! You haven’t been here in a long time. There’s healthy food on the menu every day. You don’t like it?”

  “Healthy’s good, but taste matters too,” Fritz said.

  “Either way, there are no more patties! You got here too late. There’re only leftovers now. But if you want, I’ll make you currywurst, okay?”

  “Two, please, and a large plate of fries,” said Fritz, his mood brightening.

  Hannes pulled a bulging salad bowl from the refrigerator and cracked open a soda bottle of sparkling water while Fritz grabbed a bottle of beer and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  “You don’t seem to mind the health campaign,” said Fritz.

  “And you seem more concerned about your taste buds than your health,” Hannes said. “Because I can’t work out at the moment, I have to adjust my diet. I’m burning almost nothing right now.”

  Fritz shook his head and steered them toward a secluded table in the corner by the window. “When I hear you talk like that and compare our trays, it makes me feel bad.” He put his tray down and slid into the booth with a groan. “Our brains have to kick into high gear now, so maybe I’ll burn off at least one of my currywursts.”

  He speared his first piece of meat and shoved it into his mouth. Satisfied, he watched as Hannes balanced a leaf of lettuce on his fork.

  “Enjoyment trumps everything,” Fritz said. He took a long sip of coffee before switching to his beer, which he drank with a satisfied sigh. Hannes looked at him in disbelief and shivers ran down his spine. Fritz shoveled another bite of sausage into his mouth. “Put that down for now and tell me what the Coast Guard has for us. Then I’ll tell you about my meeting with the victim’s brother.”

  Hannes fished a stack of papers out of his bag and placed the documents next to his plate. Then he unfolded a sea chart.

  “This is a map of the area in question. As you can see, the various sectors are labeled. Ms. Ternheim was found here”—he pointed to a cross near the shoreline—“at six thirty on Sunday evening and pulled from the water just before eight. By Maria’s estimations, she died twenty to thirty hours prior. They’ve divided the waters around the crime scene into four zones according to calculations of current and wind conditions. As a precaution, in case there was a mistake determining the time of death, they extended the window to between fifteen and thirty-five hours.”

  Fritz leaned over the map and studied the four zones, which spread out like a fan. “A fairly large area. Basically, the zones extend like a somewhat wobbly triangle from the crime scene out into the sea, and only the first zone touches land. That means . . .”

  “. . . that the woman did not drift from somewhere else along the coast,” Hannes completed the thought. “Where she was found, the coast juts out a little farther into the sea like a sort of promontory or small headland. Since this headland is shielded on the left by rocks, the body could not have floated there from elsewhere, otherwise it would have gotten stuck on the other side of the rocks. That leaves only the right-hand side, which leads to the lighthouse. But the direction of the current precludes this possibility.”

  “That’s very important information. If she wasn’t thrown overboard but was placed in the water, it must have happened right at the site. How many ships passed through these marked areas?”

  Hannes slid a piece of paper across the table. “In total, twenty-five ships were recorded, one of them a big passenger ferry.”

  “Hold on! That’s just the boats that have been recorded. What’s with all the recreational boaters like our real estate agent? There’s tons of them floating around on weekends!”

  “Actually, that’s a problem, because yachts, speedboats, and fishing boats aren’t recorded. Some smaller boats, including virtually all fishing boats, are still equipped for safety reasons with a radar system that automatically sends information to the Coast Guard. All other boats are detected by radar but are only a blip on the screen.”

  “Which is perfectly fine,” said Fritz. “At least there’s still freedom on the water. But let’s get back to the topic. So how many of these unidentifiable blips do we have?”

  “Fortunately, the stretch of coast in question isn’t highly trafficked. I saw a screenshot of a tourist area, and it was teeming with recreational skippers. All in all, there were just twelve smaller boats in our area.”

  “So we’re talking about a total of thirty-seven vessels, twenty-five of which we already know. That doesn’t make me particularly optimistic,” said Fritz.

  “Maybe. All recorded ships were radioed and checked. None of them reported any incident or noticed anything unusual. So we can cross them off our list.”

  “So long as what they said is the truth,” said Fritz. “And it’s not really possible to verify. We would have to board all the boats, question all the crew members, review their statements, and possibly make further inquiries. We wouldn’t be done until winter.”

  “Especially since the ships are now all over Europe.”

  “Since we can’t inspect the ships, we should consider the responses accurate and concentrate on the investigation here on land. Figuring out which boaters were in the area would most likely be impossible. We must be judicious in our use of resources, and after my conversation with Mr. Ternheim, I doubt we have to look on the water. According to him, his sister would instantly get seasick and avoided boats like the plague. So why would she have been on Schneider’s boat? She would never have willingly boarded, at least when she was alive.”

  When he saw Hannes’s disappointed expression, he offered rare and encouraging praise. “Still, your information helps. We can rule out the big ships, and thanks to the sea chart, we have a more accurate picture of the situation. Who knows, maybe we’ll take another look at it later.”

  Hannes dabbed a ketchup stain on the chart with a napkin and gathered the papers. “What was the outcome of your visit to the drug company?”

  Fritz speared the last piece of sausage and stared at the plate, then told Hannes about his visit to Lagussa.

  As Fritz had exited the bus, the steel-and-glass facade of the company’s headquarters towered before him. The forecourt was spacious and attractively laid out with trees, planters, and seating. There were several covered bicycle racks in addition to a fountain.

  Fritz had entered through one of the building’s revolving glass doors. He glanced down at himself and realized that he in no way fit into this environment. He was relieved to have at the very least polished his leather shoes that day.

  “Can I help you?” a woman had asked.

  “Yes. I’m Detective Fritz Janssen. I’d like to speak with Mr. Ternheim.”

  “Do yo
u have an appointment?”

  Fritz shook his head. “It’s very important that I see him.”

  The receptionist did not seem convinced. “Do you have a badge?”

  Fritz had held his badge out without saying a word.

  “All right. Would you please come to the reception desk? I’ll see if Mr. Ternheim has time for you now. But I cannot make any promises, since he has a very busy schedule.”

  “I’m sure he’ll spare time for me,” said Fritz, following the young woman. She was dressed formally and balanced atop a pair of high heels. She picked up the phone at the reception desk. While she negotiated with Mr. Ternheim’s secretary, Fritz looked around the huge hall.

  Lagussa’s specialty lay in the manufacture and distribution of psychotropic drugs. The walls were covered in oblong banners with descriptions of the company’s products. Dispersed throughout the hall were thematically appropriate art installations, like the sculpture of a brain made from iron. Large planters and rippling water flowing through glass at the end of the hall were intended to create a friendly atmosphere. However, Fritz felt uncomfortable and completely out of place.

  “Mr. Janssen?”

  He turned around and saw a lean elderly lady with a stern face and gray hair pulled into a bun. She scrutinized him through her glasses, and Fritz noticed that her green eyes were set too close together.

  “I’m Ruth Wagner, the executive assistant. Mr. Ternheim is waiting for you in his office. If you would kindly follow me.” She pointed toward the glass elevators next to the fountain.

  While the elevator zoomed up, Ms. Wagner said, “Have you found Ms. Ternheim? I couldn’t sleep last night. It’s not like her to not call.”

  Fritz ignored the question. “Are you the assistant to both Ms. and Mr. Ternheim?”

  She nodded. “There are actually three assistants. The other two are subordinate to me and work more behind the scenes.”

  Fritz noticed her firm tone and the pride that emanated from her. “How long have you worked for the Ternheim siblings?”