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

by Hendrik Falkenberg

  Once again, the members exchanged sheepish glances.

  “Frankly, we asked him to leave,” Mr. Schweiger said. “He poisoned the atmosphere with constant fights. Then came—”

  “There were some financial irregularities,” Bernd Graf said. “I took over as treasurer, and I’ve never seen such messy bookkeeping in my life. Receipts were missing or incorrectly filed. He couldn’t explain what had happened to 2,000 euros. Maybe it was just sloppiness, but . . .”

  “You mean he embezzled the money?”

  “We have no proof,” Mr. Beck said. “Since Carlos was unable to give a satisfactory reply and on account of the general negative feeling toward him, we suggested he reconsider his membership.”

  “How did he react?” asked Marcel.

  “Um, well . . .” Mr. Beck stared at the ground. “There was an ugly scene, and he said things he perhaps shouldn’t have said. We haven’t heard much more from him since. Maybe we should have been more sensitive . . . After all, he was depressed and—”

  “We dealt with him for far too long,” Mrs. Schweiger said. “If it had been up to me and my husband, we would have kicked him out long before that. Maybe then the 2,000 euros wouldn’t have gone missing.”

  She glared at the chaplain, who obviously felt bad about it. Isabelle joined them too and nodded to her colleagues. Marcel and Hannes caught the signal, and the investigators excused themselves and moved off to the side to share what they had learned.

  Marcel pointed to the group’s new member. “I find it strange that this Elke Weber is just now joining the group, even though there’s speculation in the press about a crusade against New Way.”

  Hannes cleared his throat. His colleagues’ eyes bulged when he told them about Elke.

  “That could play perfectly into our hands,” Marcel said. “Nobody here knows she’s friends with you, right?”

  Hannes nodded.

  “Do you think she could ask a few questions without raising suspicion? We need to know if there have been any other incidents. It’s in these people’s interest.”

  “She already sees herself as an undercover agent,” Hannes said. “But I’m uncomfortable with the idea. Elke’s gay, and I don’t think we should play with fire. Not after Mr. Lück.”

  “Then tell her to be cautious about what she tells people,” Isabelle said. “The best thing for her to do is come across as morally irreproachable.”

  “I’d advise the same,” Marcel agreed. “Anyway, we confirmed that Rebecca Köhler was in fact the leak. I’m satisfied with our results.”

  Marcel addressed the gathered members. Although he confirmed the need for increased vigilance, his thoughtful and reassuring choice of words succeeded in dispelling the feeling that the police were in the dark. It was thanks to him that the evening ended so successfully.

  After that, the board members stood up and announced that the group would be canceling all public activities. This also included the play. Even the traditional Christmas bazaar was axed. The members seemed glad that appropriate action was finally being taken in light of the murders. Only the group’s regularly scheduled activities would continue, as well as the choir getaway.

  Exhausted but satisfied, the detectives stood in front of New Way. There was an ugly cloud on the horizon.

  “We can forget about our weekends,” said Marcel. “We have a ton of work to do. I’ll call Clarissa and Per . . . and Henning. We’ll meet tomorrow at ten, then divvy up duties.”

  “We can at least still enjoy Friday night,” Isabelle said to Hannes as Marcel called Federsen. She was surprisingly well dressed and even wore a touch of makeup.

  But Hannes shook his head. For him, there was only one way to enjoy the evening, and Anna was waiting for him at her apartment. He quickly ran off to hail a taxi and didn’t notice the disappointed look on Isabelle’s face as she watched him leave.

  CHAPTER 19

  I’ve done so much already. All in your name. Exactly according to your will. All to set them back on the right path. To fight depravity. But they don’t understand. Don’t want to understand. Was I not clear enough? In the beginning, I was too kind. That’s over now. Those who do not seek mercy deserve none. Those who deserve no mercy, receive none. I will judge on your behalf. If only they knew what I know. Lord, I will not let them drag your name through the mud. I will not let them challenge your glory. I am your instrument. May I do your will.

  CHAPTER 20

  Carlos di Santo, New Way’s former treasurer, seemed to have been expecting the police that Saturday morning. He opened the door as soon as Hannes flashed his badge in the hallway of the four-story apartment building.

  “Finally,” Mr. di Santo said as he shuffled back into the apartment.

  Isabelle and Hannes shot each other surprised looks and followed him through a dark hallway into a spacious living room. He must have been homesick, because evidence of his Argentinian origins were all over the room. Above the sofa hung the blue and white national flag, and since the World Cup wasn’t taking place at the moment, it seemed to be a permanent installation. An oversize map of Argentina hung next to the flag. Most of the colonial-style furniture was made of dark teak, and the already somewhat faded color photographs on the walls showed the diverse landscapes of home. Only the large Persian rug seemed out of place.

  The apartment was meticulously tidy. The unmistakable odor of cleaning agents hung in the air. Equally as immaculate was di Santo. His fingernails were precisely cut, and his pants had sharp creases down the legs. His patent leather shoes were polished to a brilliant shine.

  He pointed to a black leather sofa, and the detectives sat down. Di Santo fiddled with a glass carafe in which floated several orange slices. His hands shook slightly as he filled three glasses. He wore a salmon-colored sweater and gray slacks. His face was framed by a dark mane which faded into a trimmed beard. Melancholic brown eyes stared from under thick, bushy eyebrows.

  “Glad you take it seriously,” he said and sat down.

  “Of course we take this seriously,” a confused Hannes replied. “I’m surprised you were expecting us.”

  Di Santo took a sip from his glass and pursed his lips. “What do you mean? I called the police yesterday. I was beginning to think no one was coming.”

  “Wait. Why did you call?”

  “Because of my neighbors, of course. They keep making noise. I couldn’t sleep. Not only do they trash the hallway, but—”

  “Mr. di Santo, there’s been a misunderstanding. We’re not here because of a disturbance. We’re investigating four deaths and have a few questions for you.”

  Di Santo stared in astonishment. The trembling in his hands grew worse. “Doesn’t surprise me. No one will clamp down. I’ve tried.”

  “What have you tried?” asked Isabelle.

  “To maintain order. There’s no order here. The entrance is always blocked, kids are always screaming, people grill in the courtyard, there’s always drilling and hammering, fighting, shouting, and the basement . . .”

  “Mr. di Santo,” Isabelle said, but he stared straight ahead and continued.

  “Strollers in the stairwell, the trash is always overflowing, the laundry room . . .”

  “Mr. di Santo,” Hannes said.

  The man jumped. He turned to look at Hannes, his eyes framed by a pair of silver-rimmed glasses. He ran his trembling hand through his hair and blinked.

  “You’ve reported all that to the police?”

  Mr. di Santo nodded. “Over and over. In the beginning, someone from the police would come. Now nobody comes. The neighbors call me names, and nobody does anything.”

  Isabelle rolled her eyes and glanced at Hannes.

  “We’re not here about your problems with the neighbors,” Hannes said. “I’m sure you’ve read in the papers about the recent killings. It’s been mentioned that the victims were all members of New Way. You were treasurer there until March, and we hope you can help us.”

  “Some new way,” Mr
. di Santo said. “It was my way. I was a part of it from the beginning. I’ve always tried to help, but everyone just thinks about themselves.”

  “Why did you leave?” asked Isabelle.

  “I didn’t leave!” he shouted in a booming voice. “They claimed I stole money and wreaked havoc. They were the ones who wreaked havoc.”

  “Who wreaked havoc?”

  “The others. Sabine, Markus, Thomas, Sylvia, Antje . . . Benjamin.”

  “Benjamin? Benjamin Lück? What do you mean by ‘havoc’?”

  Mr. di Santo took a deep breath. “We wanted to do something different. No church, no religion. The Ten Commandments, fine, whatever, we kept those. But otherwise, we wanted to do things differently. But then they just did what they wanted. It became more and more like a church. They even got a priest. How’s that different from church? Some even wanted to have him hear confessions. Dangerous. I know how the Church is. I had to go to Mass all the time as a kid in Buenos Aires. I hated it. But the priest liked me. Really liked me. You understand? That shouldn’t happen.”

  Hannes nodded in embarrassment and tried to make sense of what happened. He could imagine that the group’s books were a total mess because of this man, who had evidently just indicated that he had been abused as a child by a priest—which would explain his pronounced aversion to ecclesiastical institutions.

  “You mean that some members wanted to turn New Way into some kind of church?” Hannes asked. “But it’s supposed to be an alternative. Live and let live.”

  “Pfsh.” He snorted. “It used to be like that. They were so clever that no one noticed. It happened bit by bit, surreptitiously. The Ten Commandments became increasingly important. They’re all hypocrites. No one’s perfect.”

  “Who tried to make the group more religious?”

  “A lot of people. I have to think about it.”

  “Who do you think killed the members?”

  “I can’t say. There are a lot of people who don’t like New Way.”

  “But no one specifically comes to mind?”

  He shook his head. “I have nothing more to do with the group. But let me think about it. Maybe something will come to me.”

  “That would be good,” said Hannes and handed him his card. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I have to ask you where you were last Monday evening.”

  “I am always here. I only go out to go grocery shopping. There are a lot of bad people out there.”

  Mr. di Santo had no verifiable alibis for the times of the killings.

  “Don’t you work?” asked Isabelle.

  He stared at the floor. “I used to be an engineer, but I’ve been unable to work for two years.”

  Isabelle and Hannes asked about his relationships with the murder victims, but it was impossible to tell whether he liked them or not on account of his gibberish. In any case, Alexander Kramer had joined after Mr. di Santo’s departure. The man appeared frustrated to have been forced out of New Way, and Hannes realized Mr. di Santo had lost the one thing he could hold on to. There was little help for a person incapacitated by depression. The twenty minutes of questions seemed to have exhausted him. As Isabelle slipped on her brown suede jacket on their way out, she suddenly stopped.

  “Take a look at that photo,” she whispered as they stood in front of a small dresser. Hannes gasped in surprise.

  They headed back to the station, where they told their colleagues about their visit.

  “There was a series of small photos on the dresser in his hallway,” Hannes said. “Guess who was in them.”

  “Out with it already,” said Federsen. “This isn’t a quiz show.”

  “There were four portraits of Benjamin Lück,” Hannes said.

  “Did you ask him why he had the photos?” Per asked.

  “Of course. But either he really does just talk gibberish or he’s a master dissembler. He babbled on about some sort of gift and seemed flustered. He ripped the picture frame out of our hands.”

  “That’s strange. Did he have any photos of the other victims?” Clarissa asked.

  “No, but we did get a look at his shoes. He’s a size nine, so the footprints at the scene didn’t come from him. But it occurred to me: Benjamin Lück supposedly had a partner named Karl or Carlo. The breakup coincided roughly with di Santo’s departure from New Way. I suspect the name of Lück’s boyfriend wasn’t Karl or Carlo, but Carlos.”

  For a moment, there was silence, then they all started talking over one another. Only Marcel remained silent, pensively rubbing his short beard. Finally, he hushed everyone.

  “The other club patrons would have known.”

  “Not necessarily,” Hannes said. “The witnesses stated that Lück never went anywhere with his boyfriend. It’s possible di Santo isn’t out. Lück would have had to keep his boyfriend’s identity a secret.”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Federsen said. “Ask around. See if the ex-boyfriend could have been Carlos di Santo. Maybe Lück mentioned that his boyfriend came from Argentina, or the people at New Way noticed something. You can tackle that this afternoon.”

  “But Isabelle and I are going to see that fitness trainer,” said Hannes.

  “Then Per can ask around,” Marcel said.

  “Someone has to visit that bouncer again tonight. Per?”

  “No way. I’m not going there alone, besides—”

  “I’ll do it,” Hannes said. “I’m meeting up with friends anyway. I can stop by.”

  The gym was ultramodern and located in a glass building next to a fast-food restaurant. From the treadmills, the exercisers could see what the restaurant customers were eating. Melissa Vogt was still wrapping up a Pilates class, so Hannes examined the state-of-the-art equipment.

  At first glance, Melissa appeared to be a typical fitness trainer. She was slender and perfectly defined without overdoing it. Her form-fitting pants and pink top emphasized her figure. She had a thin face and dark-brown hair tied into a ponytail.

  It turned out that Antje Kramer was the reason she had joined New Way. The sculptor had taken a class taught by Mrs. Vogt, who had a soft spot for meditation and spirituality. The connection she had with Antje Kramer was obvious. She hadn’t attended New Way since her friend’s death, because she wasn’t particularly close with any of the other members. She seemed to strongly dislike Sabine Schweiger.

  “She attended all my classes. She’d constantly complain whenever something didn’t go the way she imagined it. She’s overly opinionated and always gives unsolicited advice. She’s a domineering figure at New Way, and people listen to her.”

  “Can you give an example?” asked Isabelle.

  “When people share something about themselves, she explains how they should do it differently. She makes snap judgments and always knows best.”

  “Does she get along with anyone particularly well?”

  “I always got the impression that people feared her more than liked her. She can have a very sharp tongue. Her husband’s no different. I stayed out of their way. I think they’re friends with the Grafs.”

  That made perfect sense to Hannes, who found both couples equally unpleasant. It wouldn’t have surprised him if the Grafs had temporarily moved in with the Schweigers following the fire. But, as evidenced by their friends’ extended stay at a hotel, the Schweigers probably weren’t as charitable as they claimed.

  “What do other members think of the Schweigers?” Hannes asked. “Is there any resistance to them?”

  “Open resistance, no. Well, maybe the Becks, Mrs. Beck in particular. I don’t think she can stand either of them. The Schweigers keep forcing her husband into the role of chaplain. The last time I went, some of the members were even asking him to hear their confessions. It was Sabine’s idea. Everyone has something they want to get off their chest, she said. That’s when it got a little too bizarre for me.”

  “You said Mrs. Schweiger likes to moralize. Did she target anyone in particular?”

  “P
ractically everyone. She’d constantly be reminding us of the Ten Commandments. Yes, they’re the principles of New Way, but most people saw them in a more general light. She, on the other hand, was very dogmatic. Mr. Beck would reiterate the spirit of the commandments in his speeches, but he mainly appealed to emotions. In her mind, some things were just unacceptable. Alexander Kramer, for example. She was displeased with his lifestyle.”

  “Because he starred in pornos?”

  “Yes. She wasn’t cool with that. Maybe she was jealous—he was a nice guy and had a knack for women. The female members adored him, but he steered clear of Sabine.”

  “Was there anyone he got along with particularly well?” Isabelle asked.

  “You mean Sylvia Böhm, right? It was an open secret. Mrs. Schweiger caught them in the storage room and made sure the word got around. But he got along with everyone else—purely platonic, of course—despite Mrs. Schweiger’s bad-mouthing him.”

  “For example?”

  “Oh, it’s completely ridiculous. This young girl, for example. I forget her name.”

  “Rebecca Köhler?” Isabelle prompted.

  “Yes, Rebecca. She was being harassed by an ex-boyfriend, and Alex protected her. He probably felt like her big brother. She might have interpreted it as something more, but he was just being nice. He also got along well with Mrs. Beck, but it’s completely absurd that Christine would cheat on her husband. Sabine caused some pretty bad blood with her accusations.”

  “Did she openly complain?” Isabelle asked.

  “She’s not one to mince words. Once a month, the group holds an open discussion. Members can say what bothers them and who they have a problem with. Matters are supposed to be resolved as a group. Sabine always seemed to have something to complain about. A lot of people would roll their eyes whenever she spoke up.”

  Isabelle and Hannes looked at each other. David Bach had squeezed much of his background knowledge out of Rebecca Köhler. The rest he had apparently researched himself, if what was found in his apartment was any indication. Rebecca would have never known that Mrs. Brinkmann had lied to her children about their father. And Bach could have hardly found out this story himself. But Elke had said that Mrs. Brinkmann was very close with the Schweigers.