Time Heals No Wounds (A Baltic Sea Crime Novel)

by Hendrik Falkenberg

  “Heavy stuff, right?” said Fritz, rubbing his scar.

  “What’s he got in his mouth?”

  “Banknotes and they're not just in his mouth. Forensics tells me they were crammed all the way down his throat. He suffocated to death. Slowly.”

  Goose bumps ran down Hannes’s arms, and he turned away from the gruesome sight. “But . . . why didn’t he resist? His hands aren’t tied. Was he knocked out?”

  Fritz shook his head. He had a sallow complexion but otherwise appeared in control. “The medical examiner guesses a strong sedative was used. He must have been given a high dosage so he was unable to defend himself.”

  Hannes glanced at the body again. “The tattoo. Are they the same numbers that were on his sister’s arm?”

  “We don’t know yet. We haven’t compared them, especially since it was so hard to make out what was on her arm. But we found something else over in the corner.”

  They rounded a large conference table, and Fritz pointed to a small object on the floor. It reminded Hannes of a small hairdryer but was significantly narrower and had a metal tip.

  “What is that?” Hannes asked.

  “A tattoo machine, and according to our medical examiner, a fairly new one.”

  “How could anyone be so stupid to leave this here?” Hannes asked.

  “Maybe he—or she—was in a hurry and was afraid of getting caught? But you’re definitely right: that was a major mistake. Our forensics team found fingerprints on it.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Did we find a match?”

  “We don’t work that fast!” Fritz stepped aside as a colleague from forensics came by and carefully placed the tattoo machine in a plastic bag.

  “We’ll be done shortly, Fritz,” he said. “The body will be brought to the medical examiner’s. Maria’s already on the way there and will conduct an autopsy. We couldn’t find his cell phone.”

  “Thanks! Hannes, please see to it that Ms. Stahl gets home safely. But under no circumstances should she stay in her own apartment. If she received that death threat from the same person responsible for this, then we have to keep a careful eye on her.”

  “Sure,” Hannes said. “What should I do after that?”

  “Get some sleep! Tomorrow some clues will hopefully turn up. Try not to sleep in this time. Meet me in my office at nine.”

  Hannes left without protest. Anna was still as he had left her and looked at him with big eyes. His stomach was in knots, and when he saw the distraught look on her face, he was overcome with sympathy.

  “I’ll take you home, okay?”

  She nodded. He helped her to her feet; she seemed completely numb. “I just want to go to bed.”

  They walked out to his car. When Hannes got in and started the engine, she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.

  “It’s good you’re staying with your friend,” he said. “You shouldn’t go back to your place.”

  Anna opened her eyes. “Tina’s at a wedding and won’t be back until tomorrow.”

  He shifted in his seat. He didn’t want Anna staying alone in her friend’s apartment. He weighed the options until he had worked up enough courage to propose an alternative.

  “If you want, you can sleep where I’m staying tonight. I’m sure Ben won’t mind another guest. I can sleep on the couch in the living room and you can have the guest room.”

  Anna looked relieved. “That would be really nice,” she said. “Tina’s apartment is quite large and I don’t want to be there alone.”

  “I can understand that. Let’s pick up some of your stuff and head to Ben’s.”

  As Hannes opened the door to Ben’s cottage, Socks ran toward them and jumped around. The house was completely dark; evidently, Ben wasn’t back yet.

  “Do you have any alcohol?” Anna asked. “I could use something before bed.”

  “There should be beer here,” he said and went to rifle through the fridge. When he returned to the front door with two beer bottles, he found Anna snuggling with Socks on the patio.

  They sat in silence for a while, lost in thought. The garden radiated a peaceful serenity and seemed to have a calming effect on Anna.

  “I’ve never seen a dead person before,” she said. “It’s a strange feeling when you’ve just seen these people alive, and then suddenly they’re lying there lifeless and . . . there’s nothing left in them.”

  Hannes nodded. “I just don’t understand why . . . Now Mr. Ternheim too,” he said. “I was almost certain he had something to do with his sister’s death.”

  “Well, that’s definitely been sorted out,” Anna said. “Don’t you have any other suspects?”

  “Not really. But maybe we overlooked something. What do you think?”

  She shrugged and held Socks tighter. “I have absolutely no idea. I especially don’t get the tattoos. What are they supposed to mean?”

  Hannes almost told her that Ms. Ternheim’s forearm also bore the black numbers, but he didn’t.

  “Do the tattooed numbers mean anything to you?” he asked.

  “No, why?”

  He explained his suspicions.

  “You’re right! The photos I saw in Ms. Ternheim’s office had concentration camp prisoners with numbers tattooed on them. And that was the reason for tonight’s protest! Maybe they didn’t stop with their little film screening.”

  Once again, Hannes’s thoughts returned to Ben. He seemed to lack any sense of respect and had staged his protest as planned. He would have to ask Ben some extremely uncomfortable questions in the next few days.

  “I don’t think so,” he said and was surprised at his certainty. “But you’re right about one thing. Someone’s definitely targeting Lagussa. Would any competitors resort to this?”

  “You seem to have a pretty poor opinion of the pharmaceutical industry. We’re not the mafia!”

  Anna insisted, despite his protests, on sleeping on the couch in the living room and let him have the guest room. As she closed the door behind her, it was already well past midnight and Ben was nowhere to be found. As a precaution, Hannes wrote a note explaining Anna’s presence and hung it on the door. He left the patio lights on so Ben would see the warning. Then he quietly closed the door to the guest room and undressed down to his new underwear.

  Exhausted, he turned on his side and shut his eyes. He heard footsteps on the patio. Then the door opened and someone quietly entered the hall. A little later, water running in the bathroom and the sound of a closing door confirmed that Ben had made it home.

  He couldn’t even think of sleep. For a long time, Hannes tossed and turned. Then he heard a noise at the door. The knob turned, and a faint light streamed into the room.

  “Hannes? Are you awake?” Anna whispered.

  He sat up in bed. “I’m awake. Having trouble sleeping too?”

  He could hear the sound of bare feet getting closer, and then Anna sat down on the bed. “No, I fell asleep immediately, but then I had a bad dream.”

  “I’m not surprised. Anything I can do?”

  “No. Well. It’s just . . . I don’t want to be alone. I have this constant fear that someone will come and . . . and do something to me. Can I sleep with you? Don’t take this the wrong way. And if you’d prefer not to, that’s perfectly fine. Then I’ll get Socks to join me on the sofa.”

  “Uh, sure. No, that’s fine, no problem!” He found it difficult to keep his voice under control. “Socks is probably in Ben’s room, anyway.”

  He slid to the side and lifted the blanket. Anna quickly slipped into bed.

  “Thanks, you really did save me today,” she said.

  Despite the long day, her hair smelled fresh. Hannes struggled to control his breathing. What was she expecting? Was this an invitation? Then he noticed Anna had fallen asleep. This new sleeping arrangement was not very conducive to his efforts to get some rest. Anna muttered something in her sleep and shifted. Her breath hit his cheek, and her hand res
ted on his bare chest. She winced and moaned softly without changing position. Obviously she was still plagued by bad dreams. He put his arm around her. Anna instantly calmed down and began to breathe deeply again. Hannes slowly began to relax and enjoy the situation. It had been a long time since a woman had curled up next to him.

  FRIDAY NIGHT INTO SATURDAY MORNING

  Finally awake! From a dream that could not be shaken off for years. However, relief is short-lived. The sadistic director of these dreams has just devised a new variant: a nightmare embedded in another nightmare.

  The eyes peer from a face dripping with sweat at the beloved body lying peacefully sleeping under a blanket only a few inches away. The face is relaxed, the hands folded.

  Suddenly this body struggles to breathe, hands clutch at the chest, and then—cruel immobility. The ever-familiar chest rises and falls no more.

  Fear, chaos, panic, screams. Someone shakes the motionless body. Strange men in orange jackets, electrodes of a defibrillator placed on the bare chest, the lifeless body jolts. Again and again.

  Then, silence and emptiness. Forever.

  SATURDAY MORNING

  A loud knock roused Hannes from sleep. Anna was still asleep, but the pounding at the door finally woke her. She pushed the blanket aside. Hannes watched the rise and fall of her chest, veiled only by her shirt. He carefully climbed over her and walked to the front door. He was surprised when he opened it and found Fritz flanked by two colleagues in uniform.

  “Did I oversleep again?” asked Hannes.

  “No, I’m not here because of you. I’m here because of him!” Fritz pointed at Ben, who was just coming out of his bedroom.

  “What’s going on?” Ben asked and rubbed his eyes.

  “Yeah, Fritz, what is going on? What do you want from him?”

  “Mr. Sattler, you’re under arrest,” Fritz said. “Please put some clothes on.”

  “What?” Hannes gasped. “Why do you want to arrest Ben? Because of the protest yesterday?”

  “If you consider the murder of Mr. Ternheim a form of protest, then you’re absolutely right.”

  “I have nothing to do with a murder,” Ben said, outraged.

  “See to it that he puts on clothes and doesn’t escape through the bathroom window!” Fritz said.

  “Fritz,” whispered Hannes, “what makes you think Ben has something to do with Ternheim’s murder? Just because his group briefly hijacked the event doesn’t mean they killed the managing director.”

  “You may be right, but the fact that your friend’s fingerprints were found on the tattoo machine is pretty damning.”

  Hannes froze.

  “You heard right. Forensics examined the fingerprints last night. They were a little smudged, but could still be used against our database. Ben’s prints are a 95 percent match with those found on the machine. The remaining 5 percent you can attribute to the smudge. He probably tried to wipe it clean but missed a spot.”

  “But, I . . . I can’t believe it! Ben wouldn’t—”

  “How long have you known him? A week? And that’s enough for you to judge whether he’s capable of murder?” He forced a laugh. “I’ve arrested murderers who spent years leading normal family lives, and no one, not even their wives, had the slightest suspicion. Besides, I didn’t say he had to be the killer. But he at least held the tattoo machine in his hands, maybe while someone else stuffed Mr. Ternheim like a Christmas goose. Thirty banknotes were removed from his mouth and trachea.”

  The idea that Hannes had been fooled by Ben was unfathomable for him.

  “We were able to find out more about this group too,” Fritz said. “The boys managed to fake ID cards. It’s unclear how they came across an original to use as a template. They set everything up in the afternoon so all they had to do in the evening was plug in the cable and play their message in the hall. They probably hid somewhere in the building until the start of the event. Your friend is pretty recognizable, and an employee was able to recall a young man with blond dreadlocks.”

  Hannes leaned against the door frame.

  “You all right over there?” Fritz yelled to his colleagues in the hallway, who were waiting outside Ben’s bedroom door. “What’s taking so long?”

  The police officers shrugged. “Hurry up!” one of them yelled and pushed the door open. “Holy shit!” He ran into the room.

  Fritz rushed to the end of the corridor, followed by Hannes.

  Except for the officers, the bedroom was empty, and the window was wide open.

  “Watching the bathroom window doesn’t mean you can leave him alone in here! Damn it!” Fritz ran to the window and scanned the area behind the house. “He’s gone.”

  He led Hannes into the hall, while the other officers spoke frantically into their radios and gave a physical description. “It is unbelievable,” he said. “The guy was sitting in front of us the whole time, and when we finally realized who he was, those two idiots let him escape. Ben probably let you stay because he knew you were working on the case. He even helped with the investigation by giving you background information on Lagussa. He just wanted to find out what leads we were foll—”

  He paused as the door to the guest room opened and Anna came out in her underwear and a T-shirt. Fritz looked back and forth between her and Hannes.

  “That’s . . . I should . . .” Hannes said. “It’s not how it looks.”

  “It’s true,” Anna said. “I was afraid to be alone last night, and that’s all there is to it.”

  “Uh, sure,” Fritz said, scratching his head. “Anyway, Hannes, put something on, I’ll be out here.”

  “What’s going on?” Anna whispered as Hannes ushered her back into the room and closed the door.

  He tried to explain the new twist in a whisper.

  “You mean I spent the night in the murderer’s house? That he was the one who stuck that note on my bike?” She collapsed on the bed and stared at Hannes in disbelief.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Evidently, I’m not so good at reading people. I’ve only known Ben a few days. I probably should’ve wondered more why he was so quick to offer me the room. Now I’m going to look like a complete moron to everyone at the station.”

  He put on some clothes. Anna watched him in silence.

  “Where should I go now?” she asked. “Certainly not home. But I can’t stay here either.”

  “Can you stay with another friend for the day?”

  “Probably. I’m beginning to feel like a criminal myself, running from one hiding spot to the next. Can’t I get some personal protection—from you?” She gave a mischievous grin.

  “In extreme cases, yes. I don’t think you’re at risk. Ben knows we’re on his heels, and you’ve already told us everything you know. Spend the day with friends, I’ll contact you later, and then we can decide what to do.”

  “All right. Let me put some clothes on first.”

  Hannes left the room and walked over to Fritz in the living room. Suddenly, the young police officer ran in.

  “Fritz, you have to look at what we found in the bedside table.” He waved a plastic bag, which Hannes immediately recognized.

  Fritz picked up the bag and looked inside. He showed the contents to Hannes. “Those are twenties. The notes removed from Mr. Ternheim were all twenties.”

  Colleagues from forensics had arrived and began to comb the house.

  “Is there a café near here?” Fritz asked. “I skipped breakfast today.”

  “There’s a bakery down the street. Should I go get us something?”

  Fritz looked at Hannes in irritation. “What do you mean ‘get’? Do you think we’re just going to sit out on our main suspect’s patio and have a leisurely breakfast? I hope you realize you’ll have to move back into your apartment today.”

  “There’s a small café on the way to my apartment. They do a good breakfast,” Hannes said. “Let me get my stuff out of the guest room.”

  “Do that,” said Fritz. “And bring B
en’s laptop, which we’re seizing as evidence.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be catching this Ben guy instead of sitting here having breakfast?” Anna teased as she sat down opposite Hannes and Fritz at the small café.

  “Can’t catch criminals on an empty stomach,” Fritz said as he sliced a croissant down the middle. “Besides, we have guys on it. Everyone’s keeping an eye out for him, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll put his picture in the paper and on television. Hannes, do you know anyone from Ben’s activist group? He could be holing up with one of them.”

  “Nope. They’re kind of just a random group.”

  Socks looked at Hannes with sad eyes and whined.

  “There, there, it’s all right.” Hannes patted Socks. “I don’t know where Ben is either, but we’ll find him soon.”

  “I think the poor guy’s hungry,” Anna said, and Socks licked his lips and barked twice.

  “You’re right! He wasn’t given anything to eat.”

  Hannes quickly ran to a small supermarket and returned with a pack of dry dog food. Anna had asked the waiter for a bowl of water, and Socks scarfed down his breakfast.

  Hannes suddenly had an idea. He grabbed Ben’s laptop and started it up.

  “What are you doing?” asked Fritz.

  “There’s Wi-Fi here. I want to show Anna the documents about Lagussa’s Nazi past collected by Ben’s network.”

  “And what good will that do?” she asked.

  “If they’re the same images and documents that were also in Ms. Ternheim’s bag, then we can assume the material came from Ben’s circle.”

  “Or from Ben,” said Fritz. “Maybe he even passed himself off as Mark von Wittenberg.”

  “You once accidentally saw Ms. Ternheim meeting with this mysterious von Wittenberg guy, right?” Hannes said. Anna nodded. “I know you only looked briefly, but was he a tall young guy with blond dreadlocks?”

  “Definitely not. He stood with his back to me, so I couldn’t see his face, but he definitely didn’t have blond dreadlocks. He also didn’t look too young.”