The Northern Cross (A Baltic Sea Crime Novel Book 2)

by Hendrik Falkenberg

  The front door wasn’t locked, and Hannes followed Marcel inside. The vestibule was empty except for a coatrack and two brochure racks. Opposite the two restrooms on the left was a locked office. Marcel leaned into the double wooden doors of the large, plain-looking main room. The space could easily seat three hundred. The floors were dark oak, while the rest of the room, with the exception of the curved wooden beams on the ceiling, was completely white. At the far end, three steps led to a raised platform with a plain wooden altar on the right and some musical instruments on the left. Behind the altar was a gigantic wooden cross; otherwise, there were no pictures, no gilding, and no pulpit.

  A single person was in the room, bent over and adjusting a few chairs. Marcel cleared his throat. The man turned around. Indeed, it was the minister. He wore a striped tie and a dark shirt, and his pale, ascetic face showed little warmth. He approached the two detectives.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Ahrendt,” Marcel said. “This is my colleague, Johannes Niehaus.”

  “We’ve met briefly,” Hannes said and shook the minister’s hand.

  “Yes, you were the young man who assumed this was New Way. I remember your eyes. Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “I did. But as I said before, I’m not interested in their religious aspects.”

  “Religious? Pfsh. If those people are religious, then I’m the Devil. They’re no Christians, no matter what they say.”

  “Is that so?” Marcel asked.

  “Yes. They invoke the Ten Commandments to lure people in. Why can’t they just admit they’re atheists? That would be honest. Those people are a disgrace to Christian values.”

  “So you wouldn’t have a problem if they identified as atheists?”

  “No, I would, but at least they’d be admitting that they don’t share our values. Of course I consider atheism dangerous. After all, it’s the ultimate denial of God. The Devil created this movement so real Christians would falter. The true faith and the true Word of God can only be found with us.”

  The minister’s eyes were fixed on the detectives. Hannes looked at him in fascination. It was the first time that he had met such a fervent believer, and he wondered if this man actually believed what he was saying. The fanatical glint in his eyes certainly suggested so. Amused, he wondered what Mr. Ahrendt would say if he could see New Way’s chaplain onstage wearing a Mephisto mask. Mr. Ahrendt noticed the smirk on Hannes’s face.

  “There’s no need to make fun,” he said in anger and pointed to the exit. “I can see that you’re more inclined to accept their nonsense over the true faith.”

  “We don’t wish to discuss any theological questions with you,” Marcel said, trying to calm him down. “Actually, we just wanted to ask if you’ve heard from David Bach. We’re still looking for him.”

  “What do you want from him? He’s a faithful member of our church. He’s mended his ways. Forget about his past and let him enjoy his new future.”

  “It’s not his past but his present we’re interested in,” Hannes said. “Have you seen him or not?”

  “No. And if he comes, I’ll tell him to confess his sins. It’s only by confessing that he acknowledges the one true authority.”

  “Are you implying that your religious rules take precedence over the law?” Marcel asked.

  “God’s laws supersede any worldly court,” said the minister.

  “How many members does your church have?” asked Hannes.

  “Around two hundred. Why?”

  “Do all of them share your theological beliefs?”

  “Of course. What kind of question is that? If they didn’t, they wouldn’t be members. We don’t preach some feel-good gospel here. We don’t bend God’s rules to suit our own. Here you will find deep faith and eternal laws. It may be tough, but it’s the only way to salvation.”

  “Mr. Ahrendt,” Marcel said, “three people who belonged to New Way have recently died. At least two of them were murdered. Last Friday, someone smashed a stone sculpture by their entrance and graffitied the building. What do you think about that?”

  “Anyone who invites sin should expect punishment.”

  “But New Way is no den of iniquity,” Hannes said.

  The pastor glared at him. “It’s not surprising you see it that way, but I’ve heard otherwise. I don’t wish to go into details. The worst sin is their claim that their behavior is compatible with the Ten Commandments. That’s outright blasphemy.”

  “So you think blasphemy is a sin worse than murder?” Marcel asked. “Do you preach such views here?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Mr. Ahrendt was apparently aware that he had just walked onto thin ice. “Of course, murder is a sin. After all, it’s written in the Bible: ‘You shall not kill.’”

  “That didn’t deter the Crusaders from their bloody campaigns,” Hannes said. “But you probably have a justification for why killing in some cases is not a sin. I find your views to be very troubling. I also find them to be very dangerous when considered in light of the murders. We have since learned that David Bach smashed the stone sculpture and spray-painted the message against blasphemy on the wall. Moreover, there have been repeated confrontations between your people and the members of New Way. And Bach is not the only person implicated.”

  “Are you implying that we had something to do with the murders?” The indignant pastor began to walk away. “We wouldn’t dirty our hands with those people. What an outrageous accusation. I’ll be filing a complaint against you. Please leave the church immediately.”

  “All right,” Marcel said. “But you can be sure we’ll be investigating your church and its members.”

  He pulled on Hannes’s sleeve and motioned toward the exit. Mr. Ahrendt followed their every move until the heavy double doors swung closed.

  “Sorry,” Hannes said once they were outside. “I couldn’t listen to his nonsense anymore. I won’t listen to someone preach hate. I wonder what he says during his services.”

  “You’ll never know.” Marcel grinned. “If you ever showed up on a Sunday, he’d definitely kick you out. He probably considers your eyes a mark of the Devil.”

  “I wonder if the roles aren’t somehow reversed,” Hannes said as he glanced over at New Way and then back at the Church of the Creator. “You’re more likely to find Christian charity on the street than in his church.”

  “You utter nothing but blasphemy, you shameless heretic,” Marcel joked. “But seriously, if someone really is targeting New Way, there are probably several pews full of suspects in that church. If everyone there shares Mr. Ahrendt’s views, it’s possible someone could have been goaded into action.”

  “Especially Bach,” Hannes said.

  “Indeed. But there are still around two hundred other potential crusaders. We need to find out who was involved in the clashes with New Way.”

  “Should we interrupt the rehearsal again?” Hannes asked.

  “No, let’s call it a day.” Marcel had little desire to exacerbate the situation with his wife. “Beck and Lück could only name David Bach. I’ll put Clarissa and Isabelle on it first thing tomorrow. They can also visit the church on Sunday to get a better idea of its members. Besides, I’m curious what Ahrendt has to say in his sermons.”

  “I just hope he doesn’t convert them,” Hannes joked.

  Hannes looked around Ole’s apartment. The fisherman lived in a small house on the harbor and hadn’t forgotten his promise to help Hannes prepare for the test. Ole had lived alone since his divorce, and it was clear he didn’t have a very good grip on housekeeping. But the clutter must not bother him too much since he spent most of the day on the water.

  Ole sat next to Hannes at the wooden table. The instruments in question included a navigational triangle, parallel rulers, dividers, and a chart—plus a pencil, which Ole had mostly chewed to a nub. He was a patient and motivating teacher, which could perhaps be attributed to the regular contact he had with his grandson Fiete.

  Ole watched c
losely as Hannes worked on the last exercise of the evening: charting a course from Lübeck to Copenhagen. So that it wouldn’t be too easy, Hannes had to include stops at Kiel, Flensburg, and Svendborg, which meant navigating between small islands. After drawing the pencil lines and double-checking the distance, he presented his work to Ole.

  “One hundred percent correct,” Ole said. “You didn’t run onto a sandbank and reached Copenhagen without incident. And believe me, the girls in Denmark are worth it.” He grinned impishly.

  “Actually, it wasn’t so hard,” Hannes said with satisfaction. “What I’m more concerned about is all the other material for the test, because I don’t have very much free time right now to study.”

  “How many more classes are there?” Ole asked and tapped the ash out of his pipe.

  “Today’s basic maritime law, and that’s it. This weekend, we’ll go out on the water and practice everything we need to know for the test.”

  “And when’s the test?”

  “At the end of November. If everything goes smoothly, I can celebrate Christmas on the Baltic Sea.”

  “With the right first mate, that sounds like a great idea.” Ole laughed, while Hannes wondered if Anna would feel comfortable on a boat. But before he could even answer that question, he needed to know if Anna actually felt comfortable with him.

  “Well, who knows,” Hannes said. “I’ll probably have to sail to Copenhagen to find the right first mate to spend Christmas with.”

  CHAPTER 14

  I do not doubt you. Never again. But why were they not found in time? They could have been. They did not have to die; there was enough time. I know why. Because it was not your will. Yes, it was not your will. They should have died. I know the enemies. I watch them. I know where they are. Who they are. I no longer doubt you. Not with you by my side. I could do nothing else. And you take pride in me. Do you? Of course you do. For too long I have turned a blind eye. I will not give up hope halfway. I knew the way before, but I was too weak. Today, I know the way, and I am strong. Your way. I thank you for that. I will not be stopped—by anyone. I follow my destiny. I do what you ask of me.

  CHAPTER 15

  Hannes had been really looking forward to visiting Fritz that Friday. Although an argument was still inevitable, present circumstances now far outweighed memories of the past summer. He was curious to learn what theories the experienced detective had come up with. He was also so racked with guilt over the supposed mistake he had made when questioning Manuel Birkholz that he would have gladly accepted any help imaginable—and that included Old Fritz’s. To increase his chances of solving the case, he was even prepared to divulge more details than he had been a week ago. Who would tell?

  Certainly not the guard. Although four tables were occupied that day, she leafed through a magazine in boredom and rarely looked up. Fritz seemed like a wind-up toy in comparison to her. His mood had continued its upward trend. His voice was chipper as he greeted Hannes.

  “Ole was here for half an hour today. He’s confident you’ll pass your test on the first try.”

  “I hope he’s right,” Hannes said.

  “Why the long face? Is the stupid test getting to you?”

  Hannes was silent for a moment before he pulled himself together and anxiously recounted the mistake he made while questioning Manuel Birkholz and the subsequent death of Ms. Kramer. “Do you think I put her life in danger? If so, then I should quit the force.”

  “Listen,” Fritz said, peering through the rectangular lenses of his glasses with an almost paternal look on his face. “Honestly, I don’t see the problem. Henning’s making a mountain out of a molehill. Of course you shouldn’t have mentioned her name, but everyone’s messed up during an interview. The question is whether this Birkholz is the actual perp. I have my doubts.”

  “Why?” Hannes already felt a little calmer.

  “Intuition,” Fritz said, pointing to his forehead. “I mean, obviously I haven’t met him, but his possible motives seem weak, even in the case of Alexander Kramer. Ditto for Mrs. Böhm.”

  “True. Mr. Birkholz denies knowing her. And there’s no evidence to suggest he’s lying.”

  “Tell me about Mrs. Böhm, so I can get a better picture.”

  Hannes hesitated and looked around the room as if Federsen might turn the corner at any moment. All the other people were engrossed in their conversations, and the prison guard was flipping to the next page. Hannes lowered his voice and gave Fritz a rundown on what they had learned about Mrs. Böhm so far.

  “That doesn’t sound like a woman who would hire a call boy. Even if she had needs which weren’t being met, she already had Alexander Kramer to satisfy them. Not to mention that he was better in the sack—at least according to the women at the film studio. They’re professionals, so they know what they’re talking about.” He had a lecherous grin on his face.

  “Right.” Hannes’s continued to grow more and more relieved and grateful to Fritz. “So you think Birkholz is innocent?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just strongly doubt he’s guilty, at least in the case of Sylvia Böhm. If it turns out we’re wrong and it was multiple perps, then he of course could be behind the crucifixion. In that case, it would be possible that he feared Alexander’s sister might pose a danger.”

  “But only theoretically.”

  “Purely theoretically,” said Fritz. “To make a more realistic judgment, I’d need more information about the other suspects. That’s up to you. If you want, you can tell me more, and I promise that it stays between us. I do, after all, have a few wrongs I need to right by you. But if you don’t want to tell me anything, I understand.”

  Fritz looked earnestly at Hannes. Presumably, he already knew the outcome, because he took out several folded pieces of paper and a pen from his pocket. When Hannes finally decided to tell him, Fritz listened attentively and jotted down a few notes or corrected what he had previously written. Hannes’s face was flushed by the time he finished with his description of the pastor at the Church of the Creator. They only had a few more minutes.

  “That’s quite a mess of information,” Fritz said, almost out of pity. His face beamed with excitement. It was clear that his crosswords would have to wait. “I need to organize this information. Hannes, I have a bad feeling about this and wouldn’t rule out the possibility that more people are in danger. I’ll try to see if I can get more visiting hours on another day so we can swap ideas more often.”

  “But nothing jumps out at you so far?” Hannes was disappointed. He had hoped for more, especially since he had violated regulations and put his career on the line. But he realized Fritz was not a magician.

  “Up until now, you’ve only questioned the New Way members about the deaths and whether they noticed anything unusual. I recommend asking them about their own lives. Maybe something unusual happened to them in recent weeks. Maybe something presaged the murders.”

  “Do you suspect a religious motive?”

  “The evidence certainly suggests it, otherwise there would be a few too many coincidences. You should take a closer look at this Church of the Creator and see what kind of people belong to it. And you should definitely track down David Bach.”

  “What do you think we’ve been doing?” Hannes angrily replied. “Easy enough for you to say. Why don’t you snap your fingers? Maybe he’ll turn up then.” He lowered his eyes and returned to using his normal voice. “Clarissa and Isabelle are going to the Sunday service at the Church of the Creator, and we have an APB out on Bach. He’s the one we’ve got the biggest case against.”

  “Of course it could also be fanatics who don’t belong to this church,” Fritz said, ignoring Hannes’s outburst. “Just because the Church of the Creator set up shop across the street and there have been several confrontations doesn’t mean the church’s followers have resorted to such drastic measures. Religious sentiments can flare up easily. If that’s the case, then you’re standing knee-deep in a pile of shit, looking for that f
amous needle.”

  Fritz looked like he was ready to plunge headfirst into that pile to search for the missing needle. He finally had a challenge and was clearly happy. Old Fritz was back in business.

  “Where’s my esteemed partner?” Hannes asked when he arrived at the station.

  “He’s been with the boss for two hours,” Marcel said with a smirk. Although Steffen Lauer had succumbed to the office epidemic, the new developments in the case had driven him out of bed. Hannes could already picture Federsen tattling on him, denouncing the mistake he had made while questioning Manuel Birkholz. However, according to Marcel, there was another reason.

  “Their search of David Bach’s apartment proved very helpful. Although nothing there points to the murders, we have much better info on him. There were pictures of Rebecca Köhler all over his place. He’s still obsessed with her, so we got a restraining order on him and put her under police protection.”

  “How’s she handling all this?”

  “She’s scared but glad she’s protected. We also searched Bach’s computer. There’s a ton of religious material stored on it, and he’s collected all sorts of things on New Way. It seems like he’s been monitoring the group. He has notes on who does what, and he paid close attention to those who were in contact with Rebecca, particularly the Kramers.”

  “Damn it,” said Hannes. “And I almost caught him a week ago. Is there any evidence he’s been working with someone else?”

  “No, but it seems likely. This guy’s impulsive and aggressive. He’s not the type to plan something and carefully cover his tracks. Take the crowbar episode, for example. It’s a completely different MO than the murderer’s. If he’s the one, then he’s got help.”

  “Probably from the Church of the Creator.”

  “Per’s already researching it. Isabelle and Clarissa have begun calling New Way members to ask about other incidents with people from the church. We need to know which churchgoers we should take a closer look at. After all, nearly two hundred people belong to that church.”