Dead Woods (22 page)

From the way he looked at her, it was obvious that he, too, was shocked by the meeting with his daughter. Lina had just discovered punk. She was wearing a leather mini, torn fishnet tights, and combat boots. Her hair was artistically arranged in red, yellow, and green spikes; her ears were all but hidden under a myriad of rings; and her brows, nose, and lips were pierced, as well. She no longer remembered when she had last dared to go outside without her makeup.

It turned out that neither of them wanted their family relationship made public. Lina because she had been taught from the cradle an aversion against those above her—she already felt like a traitor for just meeting him—and Meinhart Steinhagen because he didn’t want to risk his marriage by allowing his wife to find out about an affair that happened when she had been pregnant with her first child. Johanna Steinhagen was born a mere five months before Lina.

She was quiet and finished the rest of the foam in her cup.

“And then?” Max finally asked.

Lina shrugged. “There was no ‘then.’ We never met again after that. I had satisfied my curiosity. I had met my real father and didn’t like him. And he . . .” She shrugged again. “I think he was never really interested in me. He had just wanted to find out if I could threaten him. An illegitimate child isn’t something he needs or wants.”

“But it’s different nowadays?” Max asked.

“His wife died,” Lina explained, “so he has nothing to lose if it becomes known that he has an illegitimate daughter.”

“But why,” Max thought out loud, “did he suddenly call you last Sunday and tell you that the Ansmann Bank might be facing bankruptcy?”

He noticed how Lina changed as she switched from the past to the present, from memory to investigation. She pulled her legs under the chair and focused. “It wasn’t his first call. Shortly after the death of his wife, about five years ago, he started to call me every now and then. He always asks me how I’m doing and whether we could get together one of these days.” (He had also begun to call her
dear child
or
dear
, she thought but didn’t say.) “I already had an unlisted number at the time. I’m sure it’s no problem for someone with his connections to get such numbers, but he must have known I would notice. Maybe he wanted me to know how powerful he was. Was he trying to control me or to get information through me? I didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d use me, the way he uses everyone.”

Max gave her a doubtful look. “Couldn’t it be that he simply wants to get to know you better?”

Lina shook her head. “No. Meinhart Steinhagen does nothing without an ulterior motive.” She looked away. It was only a few years ago that her mother shared with her what she hadn’t told a soul before. When she had slept with the man whom she only knew as Marc for the third time, she had told him about the plans to occupy a specific house. It was a beautiful Hamburg Jugendstil building near the harbor. The action was planned for the morning after the next day and only those immediately involved and a few supporters knew about it, but maybe he’d like to be there. He could come by during the day, once they were inside and had secured the doors and windows.

When the squatters tried to enter the old house two days later at two in the morning, they were greeted by a bunch of construction workers, who threatened them with shovels and sticks. They decided on a strategic retreat. Outside they ran into policemen, who took them in and released them only toward evening. The house that fell victim to a wrecking ball a few days later belonged to Albert Steinhagen, Marc’s, or rather Meinhart’s, father.

“So the question is: Why did he tell me about the threatened insolvency of the Ansmann Bank?” Lina continued.

A young woman came to their table to clear the dirty dishes. She asked whether they wanted anything else, but both shook their heads.

The sky was still shrouded in clouds, but at least the rain had stopped by the time they walked back to the car. “My father only told me about the looming bankruptcy because he thought it would be an advantage to him. He never before talked about business matters with me.”

“Maybe he speculated that the press would find out about the threatened bankruptcy through you,” Max said pensively. “That would worsen the situation for the bank, its value would drop even further, and Meinhart Steinhagen could possibly make a killing.”

With a bitter laugh, Lina said, “And then he’d offer the position of general manager to his good friend Johannes Ansmann.” But then she shook her head. “No, to leak such explosive news, he doesn’t need me, for sure. He must have cronies to whom he could drop discreet hints about the matter.”

They arrived at the car and looked at each other over the top. Lina had to stand on her toes to see Max. “I’ve been wracking my brain since that call. What does it mean and what does he want from me? He must realize that we would have found out about the bankruptcy sooner or later, at the very latest when it becomes official. No, Meinhart Steinhagen had something else in mind.” She hit the hood with her hand. “Damn it, I just can’t guess what!”

The entire team spent the rest of the day gathering every possible bit of information about Franziska Leyhausen and her possible whereabouts. Alex and Sebastian had found her passport in her apartment, but her identity card, wallet, and keys were missing. It couldn’t be determined whether the woman, who had become the prime suspect, had packed clothes for a few days. Alex said that the wardrobe didn’t seem emptied. They had found an address book and had copied down the saved numbers in Leyhausen’s phone. Her cell phone, which Niels Hinrichsen had stomped on the day before, was still in the forensics lab. Everyone was now calling her friends and acquaintances, many of whom stated that they hadn’t heard from her in ages. One man couldn’t even remember the name until Max jogged his memory by mentioning that she was a biologist and was possibly politically active. That switched on a light, but the man, who sounded very indifferent, claimed that he had only briefly met Franziska Leyhausen five years ago and had heard nothing from her since. He was surprised she had kept his number.

In the memory of her landline phone, they found the number of Barbara Schönbek, most likely the friend who had also been at the concert at the Waldschänke on Thursday. Alex had called right away, but only reached the answering machine of a natural healing clinic. He had left a message and phone number and requested to be called back. Alex and Sebastian were in the cafeteria when Barbara Schönbek called, so Lina answered. She introduced herself and asked straightforwardly whether she knew where Franziska Leyhausen was at the moment.

“No. No idea. All I know is that she wanted to go to the police this morning . . . Or rather, she had to go.” The woman spoke very softly and Lina found it difficult to understand her. “She told me what happened yesterday. That she was in a fight with someone in the forest.”

“When did she tell you that?”

“Last night. She called me around seven thirty. Poor woman. She was beside herself, but I had an important appointment and couldn’t get together with her.”

“Did she also tell you what caused the scuffle last night?”

Barbara Schönbek hesitated. “You mean the situation with Philip?” When Lina didn’t answer, she sighed. “She told me on Friday that she went into the woods late at night, drunk, with the man we met at the concert, that she kicked him, and that she left him there by himself, more or less helpless. When she heard that a dead man had been found in the Niendorfer Gehege, she couldn’t take it. She felt responsible for what happened.” Lina could hear a door opening and the quiet creaking of a hardwood floor. “I told her to go to the police, but she didn’t want to. She was afraid they’d arrest her and then she made the excuse that it wasn’t even definite that the dead man really was the Philip she’d met at the bar.” She paused again and then asked, “And why are you looking for her now? Didn’t she come by this morning?”

“No.” Lina closed her eyes. “When she spoke with you yesterday, did she maybe hint that she . . . might go on a trip?”

The woman on the other end of the line laughed briefly. “You mean that she’d go underground? No, she said nothing like that, and I can’t imagine that she’d go on a trip right now.” She sounded worried, but Lina wasn’t sure how authentic it was. After all, this was the friend of a murder suspect. It was quite possible that Barbara Schönbek was covering for her friend and was telling tall tales to the police.

“Could you give me names of other friends or relatives with whom Frau Leyhausen might stay? Maybe there’s a vacation home somewhere she’d use. Does she have siblings—”

“Forget about family members. Franka has almost no contact with them. She visits her parents once a year, if at all, and hasn’t seen her brother in ages.” There was a swooshing noise, as if Barbara Schönbek was filling an electric kettle. “I’d try Daniel Vogler if I were you, her ex-boyfriend. They still do many things together. Maybe he knows something.” Lina didn’t let her know that she had already talked with him. “There’s also Marlies, Iris, maybe Jens, yes, and Michael. Franka knows quite a few people, but I only know the first names of most of them.” Lina had jotted down the names. She could look for the phone numbers later, in Franziska’s address book or the phonebook. She tapped her pencil against the notepad and overheard Max on the phone, thanking and saying good-bye to someone before he put down the receiver. He’d probably drawn another blank.

“Anyone else?” she prodded, and when Barbara Schönbek said no, she thanked her and asked her to call if she happened to hear where Franziska Leyhausen might be. Her “Yes, I’ll call” didn’t sound very convincing.

Lina put down the receiver. What did Franziska Leyhausen do last night after she and Alex had left? That was around seven in the evening and she had called her friend shortly afterward. And then?

Lina got up and went two offices down the hall to the one that Alex and Sebastian shared. Alex wasn’t back yet, but Sebastian had just picked up the receiver and looked up when she came in.

“Barbara Schönbek just called,” Lina explained. “She talked on the phone with Franziska Leyhausen last night, around seven thirty.”

Sebastian looked at her as if he didn’t know why that should concern him.

“Do you know whether Leyhausen called anyone else after that?” she asked.

Her colleague frowned. “How should I know? Am I Jesus?”

“Checking the call history of a phone doesn’t require divinity,” Lina replied. “So, did she?”

“Her phone has no call history. She has one of those ancient ones; it still has a cord.”

“Did you already request the data from the telephone company?”

Sebastian groaned, as if her dumb questions hurt him. He rummaged among the papers on his desk and said at last, “I think so. Alex looked into that.” He stopped searching, brandished the receiver, and pointedly looked at Lina. “Anything else?”

She shrugged and left him to it.

Chapter 14

Franziska Leyhausen hadn’t shown up by Thursday morning. She had neither used her bank card to get money, nor booked a flight abroad, nor rented a car. None of the people whose addresses and telephone numbers were found in her apartment had seen her or knew where she might be—if one assumed they all told the truth and weren’t covering for her. The phone records had been requested and would probably arrive soon. Then they could establish whom else she had called Thursday night besides Barbara Schönbek.

After this short summary, Hanno looked at his colleagues assembled around the large table in the conference room. Reiner Hartmann from forensics and the district attorney, Brita Michaelis, had joined the regular team, so his office was too small for the meeting. Photos of the crime scene and the dead man hung on the wall behind Hanno. Next to them were photos that had been taken of Franziska Leyhausen the day before yesterday.

Forensics had confirmed with almost absolute certainty that both Franziska Leyhausen and Niels Hinrichsen had been at the crime scene. Their shoes matched tracks at the scene. Furthermore, hair from Philip Birkner had been found on Frau Leyhausen’s jacket and her slacks, even though they had been washed at least once since Thursday. There were traces of vomit, most likely from the dead man, but it would take a couple of days for forensics to get the test results. Niels Hinrichsen’s clothes were a treasure trove of traces, which they were still examining: ordinary dirt, dead skin tissue, soil, milk, food particles . . . Reiner Hartmann’s list didn’t sound very appetizing.

“And whether you believe it or not,” he said, “we even found traces of Aaron’s rod, the plant that was replanted at the crime scene.” He reported that evidence from the weapon secured at the scene, the one with which Birkner had received two blows, though not the fatal one, was being compared to evidence related to Hinrichsen and Leyhausen.

“Did you find out anything more about the other footprints?” Max asked. “Can you tell us who they belong to?”

Hartmann shook his head. “No, but we still cannot rule out that in addition to the dead man there were three people at the scene of the crime.”

“And we have two of them,” Sebastian added.

“I wouldn’t exactly say that,” Hanno said, somewhat peeved. “One is on the lam and the other’s in the nuthouse and can’t be approached.”

“We actually don’t know whether Franziska Leyhausen really went underground,” Max replied. “She could have killed herself.”

“There’s no report from hospitals and no female corpses have turned up,” Hanno replied.

Lina spoke up. “Maybe it just hasn’t been found yet. Or she’s left Hamburg and is looking for a quiet place in the countryside.”

Nobody around the table commented.

“By the way, how’s Hinrichsen doing?” Hanno finally asked.

Max took a deep breath. “He’s still in the secure psychiatry unit and is kept heavily sedated because he starts to scream that he wants to go home whenever he’s awake. They’re arranging for someone to become his legal guardian. The doctors can’t understand why that hasn’t happened before.”

“So our second suspect is mentally incapacitated, and no one can get a straight answer out of him,” Hanno said with a sigh.

“Suspect or possible witness,” interjected the DA, “if Frau Leyhausen told the truth and Birkner was still alive when she left, and if it wasn’t Hinrichsen who killed him. Just consider the tracks of the third person.”

“That’s if we assume those tracks belong to the killer,” Hanno said. “There’s always the possibility that someone discovered the dead man, looked him over, and then took off without telling us about it.”

Brita Michaelis was checking her files. “The weapon that actually killed him hasn’t shown up yet either, has it?” When Hanno shook his head, she made a note and continued, “So that’s what we have about the crime scene. What about the victim’s social circle?”

Alex and Hanno looked at each other. Max looked at Lina.

“Apart from the evening in the Waldschänke that Franziska Leyhausen spent with Philip Birkner, she really should be counted among the very remotest of his friends, if that,” Max explained. “Her ex-boyfriend was a former employee of the dead man and she met Birkner at least once before, at his company’s anniversary celebration.”

“And who else?”

“There’s another former employee of Birkner, Frank Jensen,” Hanno said. “He has an alibi, though a rather flimsy one, but he does have a rather plausible motive.”

“And, of course, his partner, Katja Ansmann,” Lina said. “She has a strong motive and a weak alibi.”

“I don’t consider it very likely, however, that she killed Birkner herself,” Max added. “It could be that she ordered the murder.”

Brita Michaelis frowned, not convinced. Women who kill their men, whether married or not, were a rarity. Of course, it couldn’t be completely ruled out that this case might be the exception. “What about other friends or acquaintances of the victim? Were there old accounts or quarrels?” She leafed through her notes. “After all, Birkner was mentioned once on the fringe of a murder case”—she looked up—“a case that hasn’t been solved so far. Did you talk with witnesses from that case?”

“Yes and no,” Lina said slowly. “I spoke to Birkner’s brother and sister-in-law, Lukas and Sonja Birkner. They went to the same school, just one year below him. But I didn’t ask them about that case. What I wanted to know was if Lukas Birkner knew that his brother had a lover, or more than one.”

“And? Did he?”

Lina slowly shook her head. “He said he couldn’t imagine it, that Philip wasn’t the type.” She paused. “But my impression is that he idolizes his brother, excessively so.”

“And you didn’t ask them anything about the Julia Munz murder?” Brita Michaelis’s tone had a scolding tinge.

“Only briefly.” Lina shrugged. “We’re investigating the Birkner murder, not the one of Munz.”

“Besides, on Monday it wasn’t clear yet that Daniel Vogler attended the same school as Philip Birkner, his brother, and sister-in-law,” Max said, coming to her aid.

Brita Michaelis gnawed on her lower lip. “And he used to work in Birkner’s firm and is a friend of Franziska Leyhausen. Quite a lot of coincidences. Did you check his alibi?”

Max and Lina looked at each other. “No,” Max said. “But he told us he was logged in to the university’s computer center from home. As far as I know, this is recorded and retrievable.”

The DA made another note and said, “Check it out.” After a brief glance at the rest of her notes, she asked, “What about the incident with the youngsters?” She looked directly at Sebastian. “You were looking into this, weren’t you?”

Sebastian was shaking his head. “That went nowhere. They showed up at a fast food joint in Tibarg right after leaving the subway station. I talked with the snack bar operator and he described the five guys quite accurately, probably because they often show up at his place.”

“Five? I thought there were six of them,” said Hanno.

Sebastian looked at Lina. “You dealt with the sixth one, didn’t you?”

Lina nodded. “His mother got hold of him on her way home from work, just as the gang was on the way to the snack bar. She took him home with her.”

“Good. We tied up one loose end.” Brita Michaelis sighed. “There’re still lots of open questions. As long as Frau Leyhausen doesn’t show up, Niels Hinrichsen remains unfit to be questioned, and forensics has no news, I suggest that you concentrate on Birkner’s social circle and his past: friends from now and then, employees of this software firm . . .”She looked at her notes. “Inoware.”

“You really think that’s necessary?” Hanno asked in a disgruntled voice. “I mean, everything points to Leyhausen as the killer. Her disappearance seems like a clear admission of guilt, regardless of whether she’s on the lam or did herself in. Shouldn’t we focus on that?”

“First of all,” Brita Michaelis said with a look at Hanno over her reading glasses, “I’m not at all convinced that Frau Leyhausen killed Birkner. The perp could just as well be Niels Hinrichsen or a third, as yet unknown, person. It’s too early to make up your mind. No, we’ll continue to follow all leads, wherever they might—”

Someone knocked at the door. Andreas Wilhelms, a colleague from Team 5 in Murder Investigations, stuck his head in. “May I interrupt for a moment?”

Brita Michaelis grimaced. She hated it when someone burst in on one of her meetings.

“It’s possible that we’ve found your missing woman,” Andreas said and entered the room, several photos in his hand. They showed the pale face of a woman with wide-open eyes and stringy hair. She had dark, muddy spots on her cheeks. Andreas handed one of the photos to the DA. “This morning the body of a woman was found in Jenisch Park. One of the police patrols noticed that she met the description of your Franziska Leyhausen. We didn’t find any ID on the corpse, but the forensics guys are evaluating everything.”

Lina looked more closely at the pictures. There was definitely a similarity, but the faces of people who met a violent end were often hard to recognize, even for close relatives. She looked intently—the eyes, the hair color, the nose with its slightly upturned tip. Lina turned to Alex. “What do you think?”

Alex put the photos on the table in front of him. It was quiet in the room. Finally he nodded. “I think it’s her.”

“I think so, too,” Lina added.

Hanno let himself fall into his chair. One could see that the development did not please him. One suspect was dead and the second one was definitely not involved in her death. Niels Hinrichsen still lay heavily sedated in the psychiatric ward. That left the unknown third person, male or female.

“Do you know when she died?” he asked Andreas, who pulled up a chair and sat down.

“Sotny doesn’t want to be pinned down,” Andreas said, “but her death most likely occurred more than twenty-four hours ago.” The dead woman had been found at six in the morning, so when she was supposed to come in for questioning the day before, she was no longer alive.

“What other evidence did you find?”

Andreas shrugged. “Forensics is still out there, cursing and swearing. They’re collecting everything they can find, which means tons of garbage.” Ninety-nine percent of it had nothing to do with the murder. Jenisch Park was a public recreation area in the west of Hamburg, almost 104 acres and heavily traveled—a horror for the forensics team. On top of that, it had rained all day the day before, not very helpful when looking for tracks. “So far, we haven’t found any ID, a wallet, or a cell phone.”

Hanno told him that the phone was already in the forensics lab. “It’s doubtful that she went and got another one Tuesday night, but maybe she had an old one in a drawer at home.”

Lina shook her head. “As far as I recall, her cell phone was rather old. I don’t think she could even take pictures with it.” It didn’t seem that Franziska Leyhausen had been up to date with technology.

“Why were you looking for her in the first place?” Andreas asked, and Brita Michaelis gave him a summary of the Birkner murder case and the status of the investigation.

“But how does Leyhausen’s death fit into all that?” Sebastian asked. “If she killed Birkner . . .”

“I think that’s highly unlikely,” Lina said. “But she might have seen the killer.”

“Then why didn’t she say anything when we questioned her?” Alex objected.

“Because she knew him and wanted to protect him?” Hanno suggested.

“Daniel Vogler,” Alex said slowly. “He knew both Philip Birkner and Franziska Leyhausen. And he knew that Leyhausen would be in Niendorf Thursday night. She had told him about the concert.”

“And he lives in Großflottbek, quite close to Jenisch Park,” Lina added.

Brita Michaelis frowned. “Why don’t we grill this gentleman? Alex and Andreas, you are the liaisons between the two teams. Find out where Vogler is and bring him in. The rest of you go after the old murder case. Dig up old friends and classmates. Question former teachers and the victim’s family. Above all, find out how Vogler and Birkner got along back then.”

Lina plopped down on her chair and sighed. “The poor woman,” she said softly. It doesn’t happen often that an investigator meets a murder victim while she’s still alive. That’s why this case got to her. Two days ago, Franziska had sat here in front of her and allowed glimpses into her life—though not voluntarily. And now she was dead. Lina even felt the impulse that she had only witnessed in others so far when they heard about the death of a person they knew. “It can’t be. She was alive only two days ago.”

Max sat silently at his desk, with his eyes closed. Lina watched him curiously since she rarely had the chance to look at him that openly. He had a smooth forehead, a well-proportioned nose, and short dark hair, and she knew that the eyes behind his closed eyelids were brown. His face was slightly tanned, and he had tiny laugh lines around the eyes and a dimple on his chin. His lips were full and soft, and out of the blue Lina asked herself how it would be to kiss them. She quickly turned away as if caught, and started to look for the names and telephone numbers of previous witnesses.

She had entered the first name—Christian Bischoff—into the computer to check the current address, when Max moved again.