by Brian Peters
“What do we do now?” asked Luke.
“There’s a caretakers office down stairs, let’s see if we can find him, he might know if Kohler is away during the week or not.”
They walked downstairs and found the caretakers office. The name on the door stated ‘H Schülte’
The caretaker was a white haired, unshaven man in his seventies, heavily built, slightly stooped and with a limp. He wore a pair of dark blue tracksuit bottoms stained with cigarette ash, a grubby white t-shirt and trainers with no socks.
Fortunately Asil remembered enough German from her days at university to speak to Herr Schülte, and ask about Herr Kohler’s whereabouts. He frowned and looked puzzled by her question, looking from one to the other.
“But that apartment has been empty for several months. Herr Loewe, the tenant, has been abroad since February. I don’t know of any one named Kohler.” His manner was gruff and aggressive.
Asil looked at Luke and then back at Schülte.
“But my husband saw Herr Kohler here a few weeks ago.”
Schülte seemed startled by this information, looked at Luke and took a step back into his office. “I told you the flat is empty. You must have been mistaken.” He slammed the office door shut.
Asil looked at Luke, dumbfounded. “Are you sure that was the right apartment?”
“Of course I’m sure. Why, what did he say?”
“He said it doesn’t belong to Kohler and that you must be mistaken. He looked decidedly uncomfortable when I mentioned Kohler’s name.”
“That man’s hiding something. Of course I’m not mistaken. So what do we do now?”
There were several notices stuck on the window of the caretaker’s office.
“Asil, look, can you translate this?” He pointed to one of the notices.
She pored over it for several seconds.
“Yes, I think so. Well done, Luke. It has the name of the letting agents.”
She fished in her handbag, pulled out a pen and a small diary. She noted the address and phone number.
“The address is here in Lüdenscheid. Let’s find a newsagent and get a local street map. The agents might be able to tell us something.”
They went out into the street and looked up and down. There didn’t appear to be any shops nearby. Fortunately Asil remembered the way the taxi had brought them and was sure that she’d seen some shops not that far away. It took them about five minutes walk they came to them. They purchased a local map at the newsagents and located the road where the agents were situated, right in the centre of the town. Asil phoned a taxi and they were there in fifteen minutes.
They found the offices of Bähr & Milz in Knapper Strasse in the town centre. The woman, Frau Milz, was very helpful and spoke perfect English. Asil explained that Luke had visited a Herr Kohler in, according to Herr Schülte, a man named Loewe’s apartment a few weeks ago. But that the caretaker had denied that Kohler had ever been there.
Frau Milz looked puzzled. She turned to a filing cabinet and extracted a folder. She read it and said: “Yes, Herr Loewe has rented that apartment for just over two years. I know him, he’s away for several weeks and isn’t due back for some time yet. Perhaps Herr Kohler is a friend of Herr Loewe? I could check that for you but that could be embarrassing for us. You see, it is possible that our caretaker, Schülte, may have let Kohler use the apartment and pocketed the money for the rent. If we contact Loewe he may not take kindly to the fact that this might have occurred. And it would be very difficult for us to prove that Schülte had committed a crime without any firm evidence. Do you see my difficulty?”
Asil thought for a moment, nodded and said: “Yes, of course. Schülte certainly appeared to be hiding something. He slammed his office door in our faces when we asked about Kohler.”
“Oh dear, I’m so sorry Mrs. Lomax. I realise that this is very unsatisfactory. We have suspected that this has happened before; but it’s very hard for us to do anything about Schülte without any real proof. I’ll contact him and see if he will be more forthcoming. But I don’t hold out too much hope. Where are you staying? I can phone you if I get any more information.”
“We’ve only just arrived from England today. Could you recommend a hotel fairly central?”
“The ‘Stadt Lüdenscheid’ in Honseler Strasse is very good and central, not too far from here. It’s a bit expensive though.”
“Oh that’s alright. OK, thank you, we’ll see if we can get a room and phone you as soon as we settle in.”
“Then I will phone you there when I have some information for you.”
They thanked Frau Milz and left the office.
“We better find that hotel and be prepared to stay a couple of days. Are you happy to do that Luke?”
“Yes, we haven’t got much choice, have we? The police may catch up with us soon. We need to find Kohler before they do. But I’ve no idea what to do next. I do remember Kohler saying that he had a large house in Werdohl. According to the map, it’s a small town not far from here. We could check that out.”
They walked into the main square, found a restaurant and ordered a meal.
A telephone directory failed to show a Kohler listed in Werdohl. “Another one of Kohler’s lies,” said Luke.
“He might be ex-directory, Luke. Calm down, we’ll find him somehow.”
They booked into the ‘Hotel Stadt Lüdenscheid’ and found it very comfortable. Asil rang Frau Milz late that afternoon to give her the hotel room number. However, she was surprised when Frau Milz said that she had already contacted Herr Schülte and he had apologised to her over the Kohler business. And apparently he wished to see both Asil and Luke as he had some important information for them concerning Herr Kohler. They were to visit him at the address in Von der Mark Strasse at five the following afternoon.
“So what brought about this admission from Herr Schülte, Frau Milz?” asked Asil.
“Oh, he became very distressed when he realised that you had been to see me. He hadn’t expected that. He admitted that he had hired the apartment out to Herr Kohler for one day and charged him 90 euros. He had used his master key to access the apartment. I’ve told him that if he repays the money to us we will overlook the matter, but that if it occurs again he will lose his job and his flat.”
“Do you think that he knows where Kohler is then?”
“I really don’t know Mrs. Lomax, and I don’t really want to get involved. It is up to you and your husband now to pursue the matter. Do you want me to tell Herr Schulte that you will meet him tomorrow?”
”Oh yes, and thank you Frau Milz.”
Once out of the shop, Luke said: “We are going to meet him tomorrow then? So why can’t we see him today?”
“I don’t know, Luke. We must do as he says. We need to find Kohler before the police find us; and we’re running out of time already.”
At that very moment, back in England, D I Currie was enjoying his plate of sandwiches and a pot of tea in Monks Eleigh.
CHAPTER 5
Every Sunday morning, Kohler would take a walk in the forest with his dog, Strölschen, a handsome bronze coloured Weimeraner. He looked forward to this respite from his wife, Elka, a demanding, avaricious and sharp-tongued woman whose stunning good looks belied her shrewish nature.
Their marriage was almost doomed from the start. Both young and immature at twenty years old, he was infatuated with her good looks and intelligent conversation; and she with his tall athletic figure, lovely blue eyes and charming disposition.
It took just two years for the magic to wear thin. He became utterly engrossed with his work and spent less and less time at home; she spent more than they could both earn on a luxury lifestyle designed to impress their, or rather her, friends.
For the last twenty odd years they had very much gone their separate ways. He was earning enough money to satisfy her demands without getting into debt, turning a blind eye to her occasional affairs. As a wife
, she took pleasure in entertaining his business acquaintances at dinner parties, cooking fantastic meals and going to a lot of trouble to put on the façade of a happily married couple when required. She knew which side her bread was buttered!
It was on one of his Sunday walks that he heard the footsteps of a jogger approaching from behind, unusual as this part of the forest track was not often frequented by anyone let alone joggers at this time of the day. He called Strölschen and held him by his collar until the jogger had passed. But she stopped beside him and held her sides while recovering her breath. She smiled at him and patted her chest before saying good morning and apologising for stopping him. She bent down and held out the back of her hand to the dog. Strölschen sniffed her hand and wagged his tail.
“He won’t bite, will he?” she asked. Kohler laughed.
“No he won’t bite. He knows who likes him instinctively. You held out the back of your hand to him. You know about dogs obviously.”
She didn’t comment, only made a fuss of Strölschen who stood still wagging his tail with pleasure.
He studied her while she was fondling the dog and recovering her breath. Late twenties, early thirties he assumed, very attractive, dark hair held back in a ponytail, trim figure encased in a light, tight-fitting jogging suit.
She put a hand on his shoulder to steady her while she took off her right running shoe and emptied a small stone out of it and then put it back on. “Thank you,” she said with a flashing smile, looking directly into his eyes so that he felt slightly embarrassed. “May I walk with you a little way till I get my breath back? I’ve over-done the running this morning; this jogging is quite new to me. Trying to lose weight.”
“You don’t need to, do you? Lose weight I mean, not jog.”
She laughed and looked at him sideways.
“What a charmer you are! We women always like to lose weight.”
They fell into easy conversation for the next half a mile and then she said that she had better be off again. She held out her hand and shook his.
“Sabine Szabo. Thank you for your company, Herr -?”
“Kohler. Klaus Kohler.”
“Tschüss, Klaus Kohler!” she said and ran off, looking back over her shoulder and waving goodbye.
The following Sunday he was careful to leave at the exact time that he’d left the previous week, in the vague hope that he might meet the charming Sabine Szabo again. He was not disappointed. She appeared about the same time, jogging up behind him and taking his arm, laughing. “You again!” she said. “Now why was I expecting that I would meet you again, do you think?” she said teasing.
“Oh, I’m not at all surprised. It’s my natural charm. Women can’t resist it!”
She laughed out loud, released his arm and jogged off.
“Hey, come back here!” he shouted. She stopped, turned to face him with hands on hips. He caught her up and she took his arm again.
“I’m sorry but I really must go,” she said. “I have to get home, I have a friend coming for lunch who won’t be pleased if I’m not there to greet her.”
“Lucky friend!” he said. She smiled at him, shaking her head.
“Look, take my number and perhaps we can have a coffee together sometime?”
“I don’t carry anything when I’m out with the dog. Tell me, I have an excellent memory,” he said.
She told him her mobile number that he repeated twice.
“Call me soon!” she said and ran off along the path.
He called her a few days later and they arranged to meet for afternoon coffee and cakes in the Hotel Wilhelmshohe on the outskirts of Neuenrade, just a few kilometres from Werdohl. They spent three hours together and agreed to meet again the following week, this time at her flat in Lüdenscheid. After a couple of months he was staying the odd night with her. It wasn’t long before he was seeing her two or three times a week.
His wife learned from a friend that he had been seen with the same attractive woman several times so she hired a private detective who soon had enough evidence to put before a solicitor. Within two months she had filed divorce papers, delighted that he had been so foolish as to give her the opportunity to take everything she could, financially, from him.
Kohler moved into a flat of his own in the centre of Neuenrade. Sabine visited regularly and they alternated between their two apartments. Sabine was fascinated by what Kohler had told her about his upbringing, although he was careful not to be too specific as to what he did for a living, other than hinting that it was to do with social problems related to drugs. She also candidly admitted to being on drugs when she was in her late teens. He was flattered to have an interested audience after the barren years of marriage to Elke, who couldn’t care less about what he did as long he provided the money to fund her lifestyle.
Sabine was a very able personal assistant to a director of a company that manufactured military insignia in Lüdenscheid and which exported them worldwide.
Her parents had come to Germany in the late seventies from Poland. As well as her native language Sabine spoke German without the trace of an accent. She also spoke English and French very well, almost to the point of being fluent.
****
Lambert knocked on Andrew Currie’s door and walked in.
“Sir, the garage has examined the Merc.” He consulted his notebook. “They found a compartment had been manufactured and fitted behind the rear seat. A metal box 75 cm wide, 75 cm high and 5 cm deep. It had been welded in and covered with the same carpet that’s used in the boot. Very cleverly done. The top cover of the compartment had been removed. Traces of heroin were found inside.”
“So this murder is drug related then. But why in Monks Eleigh, for heavens sake? Have we been able to find out who owns the car yet?”
“No sir, still waiting to hear from the German authorities.”
“Why is it taking them so long? We’ve lost a day already. Get back on to them, Lambert. Tell them to hurry up and that this is an investigation into drug dealing that looks as if it originated on their patch.”
Currie was angry now and threw his pen down on the desk. Lambert sensed that his anger would be taken out on him if he didn’t get a move on and made a quick exit without saying another word.
It was the next morning before they found out that the car had been purchased in Lüdenscheid and was registered to a Herr Lomax, a local man who had given an address in the town; but the information was apparently false. No one of that name had ever lived there and the occupant of the apartment had been abroad since February.
“That’s a fat lot of good, Lambert. So presumably the dead man is this Lomax character? How far have we got with identifying the body?”
“I don’t know sir. Would you like me to find out?”
Currie picked up a book from his desk and hurled it at Lambert.
“OF COURSE I DO! DO IT NOW!”
Currie sighed and shook his head in disbelief as Lambert scurried off. This case looked like being the biggest challenge he’d had this year and he wasn’t at all happy about being reliant on a foreign country for information.
Lambert returned to Currie’s office an hour later, looking apprehensive.
“No matches on our data base to either the DNA, dental records or finger prints from the body unfortunately. I’ve forwarded them to the Polizei in Lüdenscheid and asked them to give it top priority.”
Currie had recovered his composure.
“Well done son. Keep me posted.”
“One more important thing, though. Apparently the body had been dead long before it was found. Probably twelve hours before. And by the entry of the knife to the heart, the blow was struck while the man was standing, not carried out in the car as we first thought.”
“As you thought. Lambert.”
“And the shirt and jacket had been changed since he’d been stabbed. No sign of the knife having penetrated either jacket or shirt. No sign of a struggle, s
ir. So it looks as if the dead man knew his assailant.”
“I suspected that when there didn’t appear to be any blood in the car. A really professional job, Lambert. It is odd, though. I better talk to Miss Brodie again. Get her on the phone, will you?”
Five minutes later, Lambert put Miss Brodie through. Currie said: ”Ah, Miss Brodie, sorry to trouble you again, Currie here. Tell me, do you lock up in the evenings?”
“Yes I do Mr. Currie”
“And what time would that be, on the evening before you found the body?”
“We usually close around eight o’clock, but it’s about nine before I leave. I like to clear up so I don’t have much to do when I get here in the morning.”
“And that night before you found the car and the body, had you looked in the car park at the back before you left?”
“Yes, that’s where I park my car at the back. There was no other car there then. It was about ten or quarter past nine that night.”
“I’m looking at my notes from when I first interviewed you Miss Brodie, and you said that you didn’t see the car with the body in it until you unlocked the door to the rear car park that morning. Yet you told me that you always parked your car at the rear of the premises. So why didn’t you on that morning, Miss Brodie?”
“Oh yes, sorry, my car was in for service and I got a lift in to work. So I was dropped at the front door and went in that way.”
“Thank you Miss Brodie, you’ve been most helpful. I hope that will be all for the time being.”
“Have you been able to find out who did it Mr. Currie? The staff are a bit concerned that the murderer might still be around.”
“There’s no need to worry about that. The crime appears to be drug related and not connected in any way to anything or anyone local. And we think that the man may have been killed elsewhere and the car dumped at your place later. We also think the dead man was German. No, please re-assure them that they are in no danger.”
