Time Heals No Wounds (A Baltic Sea Crime Novel)

by Hendrik Falkenberg

  “That’s what I’d like to know. Maybe it was about money? Evidently, you can’t get enough of it.”

  “So now envy’s a reason to arrest an innocent man?”

  “I’m not envious, and certainly not of you. Who do you think we are? The Keystone Cops? I hate to disappoint you. I’ve made inquiries about you, and we discovered something very interesting. Because of the agreement of sale with Ms. Ternheim, or rather because of unpaid taxes on the commission, you got into quite a lot of trouble. Suddenly the sale doesn’t seem to have gone too smoothly.”

  Schneider’s face turned white. “That . . . that was years ago. I was convicted and paid my fine—not without any difficulty, I might add. Besides, I had a deal with her. Unfortunately, she wanted to double dip and save money on my commission and on her taxes.”

  “Ms. Ternheim told a different story. Why did you issue an invoice if there was a deal?”

  “I was naive. She told me she needed the invoice to keep her finances in order.”

  “Weren’t you pretty mad at her? Maybe even to this day?” Fritz said.

  “Of course I was mad at her, but not enough to wait three years to kill her.”

  “There are one too many coincidences, don’t you think? So who was this blonde on your boat?”

  Schneider stared at Fritz.

  “Well? You don’t want to tell me?”

  “It was me” came the answer from behind him.

  Fritz turned and looked at Ms. Kustermann. “You don’t need to lie for your boss and get yourself in trouble.”

  “I’m not . . . I was the one on board.” Hannes noticed that Leonie, in spite of her impressive bust size, had a very girlish demeanor.

  “Why?”

  “What kind of a question is that?” the private detective asked. “They’re clearly having an affair!”

  Suddenly, the young woman burst into tears. “We’re . . . we’re not having an affair . . . We love each other. We’re a couple.”

  “Leonie, please,” Schneider said, but she slapped his hand away.

  “And we were fighting because I’m pregnant, and he wants me to have an abortion!” She crouched into a ball and cried uncontrollably.

  Fritz remembered Tom’s description of the fight on the boat and cleared his throat.

  “Is that true?” he asked Schneider.

  “Yes, it’s true.”

  Fritz rolled his eyes. “Why have you been hiding from us?”

  “It wasn’t from you! I got the feeling I was being watched. I was afraid Leonie and I hadn’t been careful enough and my wife had become suspicious.”

  “And as it turns out, she was right about her suspicions,” said the private detective.

  “So what do you know then?” Schneider said. “My wife’s been screwing our gardener for a while now. Do you think I don’t know that? But she probably didn’t blab about that to you, did she? She started sleeping with the guy long before there was anything between Leonie and me.”

  “So why are you playing hide-and-seek?” Fritz asked.

  Schneider took a deep breath. “My wife and I have a prenuptial agreement. The money I used to start my real estate firm was hers. If we were to divorce, I would have to pay her out; but I don’t have the money, because, among other things, I had to pay off a significant fine not too long ago. I need another year or two. But thanks to that guy,” he said, pointing to the private detective, “she has me right where she wants me, and I can’t prove her affair with our gardener.”

  Schneider wiped his face, and Fritz took a deep breath. Then Hannes intervened.

  “How long have you been following Mr. Schneider?” he asked the private detective.

  “Since last Wednesday.”

  “Did you follow him to his boat on Saturday?”

  “Of course! I take my job very seriously.”

  “I’m sure. Did you follow him on the water?”

  “How could I? I didn’t know where he was going, and I didn’t have a boat.”

  “Then you must have at least seen who was with him. Was Ms. Kustermann on board?”

  “Yes, I saw him get on the boat and leave with Ms. Kustermann.”

  “Well, there’s always a silver lining,” Fritz said to Schneider. “This man may have invaded your privacy, but he also saved you from being taken into custody. Take down the private detective’s information, Hannes, and have him show you his ID.” He turned to Schneider and Ms. Kustermann. “As for you two, I have one last question. When you dropped anchor, did you see anything on the beach or in the water that looked unusual to you? Another boat or people on the beach?”

  “Nothing,” Schneider said, “absolutely nothing.”

  Ms. Kustermann shook her head but seemed distant. Her long lashes were wet with tears, and her mascara had run.

  Fritz walked over to Hannes, took the private detective’s business card from him, and put it in his wallet. “So now we’re back to square one.”

  Hannes was disappointed. “Now what?”

  “Now we get the hell out of here. And take a shower. You smell like crap.”

  As a precaution, Fritz and Hannes accompanied the private detective to his car. Afterward, Fritz spread a towel over the front seat of his Jeep and made a show of rolling down the window.

  “At least you’re back in shape. Ole, the fisherman, can sleep easy tonight,” he teased. “Is your car in front of Ms. Kustermann’s place?”

  “Yup, it’d be great if you could drop me off there. I was lucky she took her bike. She would’ve noticed me immediately in a cop car.”

  “Say, how did you know who to look for? You had no description of her, right?”

  Hannes told Fritz how he had found out who she was.

  “Excellent work, Hannes! Maybe I’ll make a good cop out of you after all.”

  Hannes beamed, knowing Fritz rarely praised anyone.

  “What happened on your field trip?” Fritz asked.

  Hannes began to recount his visit to Hohenberg Farm but was quickly interrupted.

  “You can skip that; you already told me over the phone. Your question about Ms. Ternheim’s car, incidentally, was spot on. I’ve flagged the sports car as missing, but so far no one’s come across it. Tell me how it went with the wizard Merlin. Were you able to get him to talk?”

  “No, but I think I’ve found a way to get to him.”

  Hannes set the scene of his meeting with the old man.

  “Hold on!” Fritz said. “When you told him the tattoo on his daughter’s forearm was likely a series of numbers, did he react?”

  “Yes, a little oddly.”

  “How so?”

  Hannes told him about the painting of Helene Ternheim and tried to describe Merlin’s drawings.

  “Interesting. Then what happened?”

  Hannes had almost forgotten about his near miss with the art agent at the old lighthouse.

  “So there’s another player on the field? As a precaution, we should check his flights and hotel stays. It probably won’t get us anywhere, but he didn’t have anything particularly good to say about the brother even though he depends on him. People have been killed for less.”

  Fritz stopped in front of Hannes’s police car. “Look, just head home and take a shower! You can take the towel and put it on your seat. Just bring it back to me soon—washed! And bring the car back to the station after you meet with Anna.”

  “I just thought of something,” Hannes said and shared his theory about the tattoo on Ms. Ternheim’s forearm.

  Fritz rubbed his scar. “I understand the connection. But it’s probably a bit far-fetched.”

  His phone rang. He answered and immediately recognized Ms. Wagner’s voice.

  “Mr. Janssen! I’m glad I could reach you. Please don’t think I’m crazy, but I just had to call.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Mr. Ternheim has disappeared!”

  “What?”

  “Mr. Ternheim had a one o’clock lunch meeting with
our bank consultant. He usually takes these appointments very seriously. But he didn’t show up at Fish.”

  “Where?”

  “Fish. The restaurant where they were supposed to meet. Mr. Grundmann, the bank consultant, called and asked if Mr. Ternheim was running late. He had left here at twelve thirty.”

  “Maybe something’s come up?”

  “He would never skip a meeting with our bank consultant. I can’t reach him on his cell phone, which is extremely unusual. Please don’t think I’m being hysterical, but I’d only blame myself if I didn’t let you know as soon as possible.”

  “Ms. Wagner, calm down. You did the right thing contacting me, but I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. Let me know when you hear from him again.”

  Fritz hung up. Hannes looked at him quizzically. “What’s going on?”

  “Ms. Wagner believes Mr. Ternheim has disappeared.” Then he explained the circumstances. “He just lost his sister. Even though he seems in control, I’m sure he’s not made of stone. Maybe he just needs some time to himself?”

  “So why is he not answering his phone?”

  “Because he wants to be left alone. Or maybe his battery died.”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like he would just skip an important meeting.”

  “Okay, I’ll look into it. Now go shower. When are you supposed to meet with Ms. Stahl?”

  “We said six.”

  Fritz glanced at his watch. “It’s just after four. I’ll take care of Mr. Ternheim, and you can do whatever you want until six. Give me a call when you’re done. Maybe I’ll have some news by then.”

  Even though he was becoming more and more invested in the case, Hannes was ecstatic. If he hurried, he could still do a quick lap in the canoe before he met with Anna at Chameleon.

  Merle had struggled for hours with hunger. She had been able to resist the tray of food that had been shoved into the room after the flashes of light, which, along with the clicking, she was convinced had been produced by some kind of camera. First her clothes had been taken off, then she had been photographed. What would happen next? Whatever it was, Merle wasn’t going to let it happen while she slept.

  The hatch had been opened again a few minutes ago, and as a tray with the obligatory bottle of water was shoved in, this time a pizza followed. Merle had heard a cough. A male cough? Or was it an illusion? She had also noted in surprise that a gray wool blanket had been set next to her food. A sign of sympathy and human compassion? She had tried again to establish contact with the unknown person, but her questions and pleas went unanswered.

  Merle began to worry about her mental state. That afternoon, she had spent an hour banging on the door, screaming, crying, and hitting her head against the wall until blood dripped into her eye. She was suffering from fear, light deprivation, exhaustion, hunger, and lack of human contact.

  Another panic attack threatened to overwhelm her. She could not endure the darkness any longer. Her stomach began to cramp and she felt dizzy. She gasped for breath while tears ran down her cheeks. What if this tiny space ran out of oxygen? Logic, however, saved Merle from a hysterical breakdown. If the air couldn’t be replaced, she would have already suffocated. There must be a supply of fresh air coming from somewhere. Then she thought she felt a slight breeze coming from the ceiling above her bed.

  After several more minutes, her breathing sped up. In order to distract herself from her fears and hunger, she began to recount another episode in her life. She wrapped the blanket around herself and imagined that Björn, her favorite teddy bear, sat beside her on the bed and looked lovingly at her with his black button eyes. He had been a gift from Aunt Amber and had accompanied her throughout her entire childhood. Merle had left Björn behind when she had started out on her new life because she had thought that she could do without his protection. But she needed him now more than ever.

  “You know, Björn,” she said in a quivering voice, “when Aunt Amber finally called to tell me my father’s name, I didn’t know if I really wanted to find out. After all, he had abandoned me as a baby and never tried to get to know me. Do you think he ever wondered about me? Still, I’m glad I met him. Now at least I know who I am and where I come from.”

  In her mind she could see Björn’s comforting grin and bundled up part of her blanket to create the illusion of a teddy bear. She stroked the fabric and giggled like a child. The blanket was a little rougher than Björn, but it almost felt like him. She then asked herself if she was finally beginning to lose her mind and if that was the reason why she was conducting a conversation with an imaginary teddy bear. But with the soothing image of her old companion, she immediately dismissed the thought and continued to pet the imaginary fur, while the memory of the first time she met her father flashed before her eyes.

  The meeting hadn’t gone as Merle had hoped. Under the pretext of writing an article about depression and appropriate treatment options, she had managed to schedule an appointment with him through his assistant. His face had remained utterly devoid of emotion when she confronted him about her true identity. His air of detached coolness was deeply unsettling. Were it not for the birthmark under his right eye, Merle wouldn’t have been able to detect any resemblance between them.

  Even now the anger grew inside her. “What a jerk! All he said was he and my mother had come to an agreement and that I should not delude myself into thinking I could squeeze any more money out of him. As if that had been my intention! He seemed to feel almost threatened. Fortunately his sister had walked into his office and was flabbergasted when she found me crying. She was so different from him, compassionate and kind.”

  Her hands tensed and she stroked her imaginary teddy bear even harder. She then relaxed as she recalled the next few memories.

  Even though Merle’s father had refused to meet with her again, his sister had taken an interest in her and insisted that she call her Aunt Helene: “Because I am, after all, your aunt!” She had even introduced Merle to her father, whom Merle had continued to visit. Initially, she had felt repulsed by her grandfather and his silence, but he quickly broke the ice after he painted a lovely portrait of her. She had also been able to forge a warm relationship with her aunt. At that moment, she longed to be close to her.

  “I wonder if she’s reported me missing? We were supposed to get together on Sunday. She must be worried sick. What do you mean, Björn? Maybe the police are already looking for me?”

  She was distracted by her stomach growling again. She peeled the blanket off her and placed her bare feet on the cold floor. If she ate, she could be drugged again, but if she didn’t, she would inevitably starve.

  With a heavy heart, Merle took small steps through the darkness. She sat down on the floor and grabbed the pizza. Despite her doubts, she took a bite, followed by many more. As she pictured her aunt and grandfather, she felt overcome with love. But then Christian Ternheim’s face appeared in her mind and instantly scared her positive feelings away.

  “I know you hate me because I’m your daughter. And I hate you too,” she whispered between bites before she crouched into a ball.

  EARLY THURSDAY EVENING

  Hannes entered the Chameleon at six on the dot. The lighting in the glass-walled lobby transitioned from yellow to red, then brown to blue, before starting over again. The actual lounge was behind a heavy dark-red curtain and featured small groups of couches and chairs surrounded by walls painted in warm colors. The shelves behind the bar were also lit in alternating colors, which made the numerous bottles seem to constantly change hues.

  Despite the large chalkboard advertising happy-hour specials, there was only a moderate number of people at the bar. Hannes headed for a two-top table in the far corner of the room. Soft background music was playing, but he knew from a previous visit that this would change later on.

  The bored-looking bartender glanced at him but continued to polish a couple more glasses before he took Hannes’s drink order. He shortly brought over a bottle of bit
ter lemon soda and a glass, and Hannes ordered a plate of nachos. Practice had made him hungry and sleepy; he had pushed himself a little too hard. Fortunately, he had found clean clothes in his locker, so he had been able to head straight to Chameleon without stopping at Ben’s place.

  He took out a pen and a small notepad and whiled away the minutes sipping his drink. Had they overlooked anything in the case? Why was the body found in such a secluded spot? And why was the victim someone who seemingly had no friends or acquaintances? All they could focus on was the pharmaceutical company, since this seemed to be Ms. Ternheim’s only purpose in life other than visiting her father. Hannes’s mind kept coming back to the old man’s drawing of his son as the Angel of Death. But he was unsure whether it was merely a senile man’s fantasy or a valuable clue. He was equally perplexed by the tattoo and could only hope that the bar’s cozy atmosphere would keep Anna from stalling and that she would open up and provide him with valuable clues.

  It was already six fifteen when the nachos arrived. He was beginning to think the assistant had gotten cold feet. It was a rather unpleasant thought: if she stood him up, then he would leave empty-handed. Hannes dug in to the nachos.

  “Anything else?” asked the bartender a few minutes later.

  He looked again at his watch: Anna was half an hour late. But what else was there for him to do other than wait? He ordered a nonalcoholic Summer Delight. He hadn’t asked for the assistant’s address or number, or he would have called or headed to her place.

  The curtain by the front door was pushed aside. Anna walked in and looked around the room, and Hannes stood up and waved to her. Clutching her purse, she crossed the room. She was clearly a little upset or nervous.

  “Glad you could come,” he said. “I was going to get a table outside, but then I thought we’d be less disturbed inside. Besides, they have air-conditioning here. I hope it’s all right.”

  She nodded and sat down, completely tense. Her brown hair was slightly sweaty, and strands of hair stuck to her face. She kept glancing nervously around the room. Her body language exuded apprehension. But this was not normal apprehension: Anna was clearly terrified.