“But that’s exactly what our society has forgotten how to do,” Fritz said. “You need someone to advise you on how to be ‘happy.’ At some schools, students can now choose Happiness as an elective. How sad is that? Have we become so far removed from real life that we have to introduce happiness as a school subject? How can society not understand something so fundamental?”
“Now some charismatic, eloquent politician appears who knows exactly how to appeal to people,” Ben said. “Do you really think we would be completely immune to a politician’s temptations and promises today?”
“Okay, okay!” Hannes laughed and raised his hands. “I give up. At the next neo-Nazi march, I’ll be standing in the front line of the counterdemonstration, I promise. But speaking of robots—I spent way too long spinning on the hamster wheel today. And Fritz has already given me a list of things to do tomorrow. It’s been lovely chatting, but I have to hit the hay.”
“Man! But we’ve only just started planning the revolution,” Ben joked.
“No, my young colleague’s right.” Fritz rose from his chair. “I just have to use the bathroom and then I’ll be on my way.”
“It’s straight ahead.” Ben showed him the way and handed Hannes another beer. “Come on, you Goody Two-Shoes. Let’s have a nightcap!”
Hannes hesitantly accepted.
“You’re not going to party all night again, are you?” Fritz asked when he came back out.
“I talked him into one last round. Let me get you one from the kitchen.”
“Thanks, but I have to go.”
“How far is it to your house?” asked Hannes.
“I’m usually only there on weekends. I still rent a room on the west side of the city. It’ll take me fifteen minutes to get there,” Fritz said, then hobbled across the lawn.
Ben watched in disbelief. “Cool guy! He has a funny way of walking.”
“Back pain,” Hannes said. “It seems to trouble him a lot.”
“Anyway, your boss isn’t half bad.”
“Yeah, I lucked out. Although we had a rough start, I’ve grown fond of the old guy. I’d run through fire for him.”
“Which brings us back to the subject of leaders,” joked Ben.
“Don’t start! I don’t think I can handle another ideological debate right now. On a completely different topic: I met an executive assistant today at Lagussa. She’s responsible for the charity gala tomorrow. What are you guys planning? She’s been a tremendous help to us and is really sweet too. You’re not going to give her any trouble tomorrow, are you?”
“Don’t worry!” Ben winked. “Only one person will be in trouble tomorrow, and it won’t be her.”
THURSDAY NIGHT INTO FRIDAY MORNING
A mother loves her child unconditionally. But what if that child is not the result of love but of violence and hatred? Does the innocent child also bear the burden of guilt?
At least, that is how it feels. Painful looks. Withheld caresses. Nonexistent affection.
Contempt, disgust, insults.
“You’re the product of Satan! The devil is in you too!” screams the trembling mother. She looks with hatred at the terrified child standing in front of the broken plate he had dropped. He had only wanted to help clean the dishes from his meager supper while standing on his tiptoes in front of the tall sink.
Her fist raised, the mother comes closer; the fearful child flees.
“You good-for-nothing!” she shouts and slaps the little head so hard that it hits the edge of the sink.
Red veils the child’s vision as it mixes with his hot tears.
FRIDAY MORNING
Fritz had a leisurely start to his Friday. Since his now daily medical checkup had been scheduled for nine, he didn’t get out of bed until eight, which was late by his standards. Although he had been an early riser all his life, he needed a few minutes to find his way around the small room of his city apartment.
Even though he often denied it, he had enjoyed his job most of his life. Only right now, he wished he was on the other side of the world. I can do it, he said to himself as he stared in the mirror at his bloodshot eyes and stooped posture. Pull yourself together and just see it through.
He turned on the cold water in the shower and got in. Afterward, he sat down and had breakfast. The morning paper was still wildly speculating about Ms. Ternheim’s death. He was glad the press didn’t know that the notorious Old Fritz was leading the investigation, otherwise his phone would be ringing nonstop. He could never get used to the public side of his job. And he despised tabloid journalists.
It was nearly eight thirty. Lauer should be at the office. Fritz gave him a call on his cell phone to avoid speaking with Mrs. Meier.
“Yes, Fritz, what’s up?” Lauer asked.
“Morning, Steffen. I want to give you an update on the Ternheim case.” He gave him a quick rundown of the facts.
“You’re assuming it’s a murder?”
“I never rule anything out until the case is solved.”
“Oh come on, Fritz. You wouldn’t be spending all this time on it if you thought she died of natural causes. And I already have an idea who you’ve set your sights on now.”
“Oh really? Who’s that?”
“Let me guess: you strongly suspect the brother. Am I right?”
“Maybe. But you have to admit he comes across as a very strange character.”
“After what you’ve told me, I agree. All right, pay a little closer attention to him, but be considerate and sensitive. After all, he’s an influential figure and could get us in a lot of trouble.”
Fritz didn’t give a damn whether a suspect was an influential person or not.
Lauer asked, “How’s your new partner?”
“Excellent, I have to say. He’s a quick learner and goes the extra mile.”
“You see! And you wanted to get rid of him. Can you two manage by yourselves?”
Fritz knew it was a rhetorical question, so he called Lauer’s bluff. “How much backup can you give me?”
“Let’s see: Werner’s on sick leave; Willi’s working with Johanna and Robert on the two construction murders; I had to assign Laura to Bastian and Frank, who are both up to their necks in shit with this hanged junkie case; Manfred’s on vacation starting today; Birte is—”
“All right, I get it! Just wanted to tease the offer.”
“If you need support, you’ll get it. You know that,” Lauer said.
“Good to hear. There’s one thing I could actually use some help on.”
“What’s that?”
“Can you have someone do a background check for me? It’s a man Ms. Ternheim was recently in touch with, a Mark von Wittenberg. I’d like to know more about him and his contact info. I have to go to the doctor right now and then do a little more investigating.”
“All right, I’ll put one of the new guys on it. Oh, and Fritz?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve been watching you lately and I’d have to be blind not to realize something’s not right. If you need a break . . .”
“I’m fine! At least, fine enough to solve this case. Then we can talk.”
“Okay.” Lauer sounded relieved. “Keep me posted!”
“Only if you keep the press off my back.”
Fritz left the doctor’s office around ten, convinced the doctor couldn’t really help him. He had faithfully gone to him for decades, but that was mainly due to laziness and familiarity.
Fritz had lain awake the night before, his thoughts consumed by Christian Ternheim. Now he decided to pay the managing director of Lagussa another visit, this time unannounced. And this time he also wanted to take Ms. Wagner to task. He was annoyed that these two were hiding behind a wall of silence. He would find a way to make them cooperate.
As he entered Lagussa’s lobby, he paused at the reception desk, which was manned by the same young woman as before. She had just received a call. She apparently recognized the detective because she nodded and gestured fo
r him to wait.
“I know the way,” Fritz said and walked to the elevator.
As the doors opened, the young woman came rushing up to him. “Excuse me, but you can’t just go up like that. I have to sign you in and—”
The doors closed, cutting her off. As the elevator started to move, he looked through the glass walls as the woman rushed back to the reception desk and frantically picked up the phone. Fritz was greeted on the twentieth floor by Ms. Wagner, who was already expecting him. She stood with her arms crossed in front of the elevator.
“Mr. Ternheim can’t speak at the moment! Why didn’t you schedule a meeting?”
Fritz had had enough. He pushed past Ms. Wagner and looked around the room. Ms. Maler’s and Ms. Stahl’s desks were empty. Alarmed, he turned around.
“Where are your two colleagues?”
“Ms. Maler called in sick again today, and Ms. Stahl’s discussing the final details for this evening with Mr. Ternheim. I’m afraid you came here for nothing.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Fritz said and grinned. “You’re one of the reasons I’m here.”
Ms. Wagner nervously played with her fingers. She then retreated behind her desk and sat upright in her chair. “I have other things to do. Besides, I don’t know what else to tell you.” She made a point of turning to her computer screen and typing at random.
“If you don’t want to talk to me, I’ll just have to start with Mr. Ternheim. I’d be more considerate given that he’s in a meeting, but unfortunately my time’s running out, and you leave me no choice!” Fritz marched to the managing director’s door.
Just as he was about to turn the knob, he heard Ms. Wagner clear her throat behind him. “Wait! What is it you wish to ask me?”
Fritz grinned. He had outwitted her. He grabbed an office chair from Ms. Maler’s desk and rolled it in front of Ms. Wagner’s desk. He looked at her in silence and considered what was going on inside her head. She kept glancing between his pale eyes and her chair.
“Ms. Wagner, I understand that you wish to protect the Ternheim family and business. However, you mustn’t forget one thing: the CEO of this company is dead, and I’m only trying to figure out why she’s no longer here and who may have played a role in her death. Your understandable loyalty to Ms. Ternheim should not be a reason to run me around. You’d be a greater help to her if you cooperated.”
Ms. Wagner had turned pale. “So it’s true?” she said. “You think she was murdered?”
“There’s some evidence suggesting murder. However, I can’t evaluate the evidence properly unless I learn more about her. You have worked closely with her for years and should therefore know more about her than what you’ve shared so far.”
“I told you everything I know! Ms. Ternheim wasn’t someone who involved her employees in her private life. She was careful to keep her work and private lives separate.”
“I don’t believe that,” said Fritz.
“And what makes you say that?”
Fritz decided to attack head-on. “Ms. Wagner, as you can imagine, we’ve been questioning people in several departments. There are always lots of rumors going around. Often, people love to gossip about what goes on at the management level, and it’s no different at Lagussa. We learned something very interesting, and that’s why I don’t believe you.”
Ms. Wagner was visibly nervous and avoided his gaze. “You shouldn’t put much faith in rumors,” she said and fumbled with her gray bun.
“Don’t you want to know what the rumor is?”
Ms. Wagner pursed her lips.
“There is, for example, a very credible rumor that you and Ms. Ternheim had a relationship for years,” Fritz said.
Ms. Wagner’s facade immediately collapsed. All color drained from her face.
“But . . . how . . . how can . . . but we were so careful,” she whispered.
“Apparently not careful enough,” said Fritz. “A colleague saw you outside the office and shared his observation with us.”
He deliberately sought to point to a male figure so Ms. Stahl would not get in trouble. It was then that Ms. Wagner finally lost her composure. She hid her face in her hands and began to sob. Embarrassed and slightly guilty, Fritz looked at the wall.
He handed her a handkerchief and changed tactics. “Ms. Wagner, I’m very sorry. I lost my wife many years ago. I know how you feel. And I promise to keep your relationship confidential.”
“Relationship? It was love, not just a ‘relationship.’” Her voice was filled with contempt. “Over the years, something grew between us until it finally became more than just friendship. You can’t imagine how much I’ve suffered because Helene didn’t want to be open about our love. She was so afraid of the public reaction and what her brother might do. He’s so conservative that he probably would have never spoken to her again. He completely controlled her.”
“Does that mean he still knows nothing?”
“Unless the rumor got all the way to him, then no, he knows nothing,” she said. “But I suppose he’ll hear about it from you. And in that case, I can clear my desk.”
“This matter will remain confidential, even with Mr. Ternheim,” Fritz said. “Provided, of course, you finally give me some insight into Ms. Ternheim’s life.”
He could feel the relief that now radiated from Ms. Wagner. “Agreed,” she said. “But let’s go into the next room, I don’t want Mr. Ternheim to see me like this.”
Fritz followed her into a small meeting room. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked. Fritz requested a glass of water and a cup of coffee before he settled into a comfortable swivel chair. Ms. Wagner handed him the water. Her hands shook so much that some of it dripped onto the mahogany conference table. She sat down beside him. The coffee machine gurgled in the corner of the room. After placing a filled coffee cup in front of him, Ms. Wagner explained how the two women grew closer on a business trip and what pain it caused them to live their love in secret.
“What was Ms. Ternheim’s private life like?” he asked. “So far, we have no names of friends or acquaintances. You surely must know something about her social life?”
“You’ll find it hard to imagine,” said Ms. Wagner, “but Helene was a very, very lonely person. She had no friends or other people close to her. Just like her brother. Helene was only close with him and her father—and that was precisely her undoing.”
“What do you mean?”
“The two of them completely monopolized her! Her father was very strict and overbearing. Their mother died of a disease at a young age. Violence was a constant presence during their childhood. It must have been a joyless existence. They attended a Catholic boarding school, which is still known for its discipline. Immediately after graduating high school, their father sent them to a private university in England where they completed their degrees in record time. Even at school, Helene and her brother were outsiders because they’d been conditioned to be that way since early childhood and never learned how to have a casual social interaction. Christian is two years younger than Helene, so when they were in school, she always took care of him. All they had was each other. That probably explains why they had such a close relationship.
“After college, their father put them to work here at the company. Their whole lives were geared toward their taking over the family business. But no matter how hard they tried, they could never make their father happy. Heinrich Ternheim was so distrustful of his children that he didn’t retire until he was eighty-three. But he continued to exert his influence on them and kept coming by to check on things. How frustrating and humiliating this must have been! It was only when their father devoted himself to his painting that they finally got some breathing room. Despite this, Christian tried to prevent the public from seeing his father’s pictures. I’ve seen a few in the paper; they’re sickening—a reflection of his soul, in my opinion.”
“And yet Ms. Ternheim regularly looked after her father,” Fritz said.
“That’
s true. She always defended him, although she never experienced any love or affection from him. Once she told me her father didn’t choose to be that way because he had grown up in a heartless family. For the Ternheims, it was always about the business and money. Helene was the exception. For example, the company’s commitment to the fight against childhood leukemia was her initiative. She had to force her brother into it. I think he now sees this activity as a clever PR stunt, but for Helene, it was a cause close to her heart.”
“But then isn’t it surprising she got along so well with her brother?”
“That depends on what you mean by ‘got along.’ She had no one else! Family was it for her. And in a family you have to stick together. That was her motto and how she had been brought up. It took me a long time before I could teach her about life’s joys. In recent years, she began to blossom, and we were happy together until . . . until that man entered her life.”
“What man?” Fritz asked, thinking of Mark von Wittenberg.
“She only spoke of him once. But she repeatedly called a man and arranged to meet with him. She became more standoffish and shunned my presence, and our dates became less frequent. When I asked her what was going on between her and this man . . .” She started to cry. “Excuse me,” she whispered. “She told me it was nothing, and that I shouldn’t get involved. I was furious because I realized she wasn’t being open, and she reacted harshly. She screamed at me, saying it was a private matter and I shouldn’t stick my nose in it. And just like that, she changed. As if the years we’d spent together never existed.”
“Have you seen the man? Or do you know his name?”
“No. But take a look at her cell phone. You should be able to find his number.”
“Unfortunately, Ms. Ternheim didn’t have her phone on her when we found her. Does her brother know about this man?”
“I couldn’t tell you. Their relationship changed in recent months. They argued frequently. Helene went totally nuts. She even started taking a sedative, which she’d never done before. This man must have done something to her. She sometimes seemed outright terrified. But I could no longer get to her.”
Time Heals No Wounds (A Baltic Sea Crime Novel) Page 20
