Dead Woods (27 page)

“What can I do for you?” the physician asked them pleasantly once they had sat down. All he knew was that Lina and Max were with Major Crimes, and as a doctor practicing in St. Pauli close to the Reeperbahn, he was obviously used to visits from the police.

“We’re investigating a murder case you might have heard or read about,” Max began, while Lina watched the doctor. “Do you remember Philip Birkner? As far as we know, you went to school together.”

“Yes, I remember Philip,” Boysen said slowly, but his tone was more reserved than before, as if he were wary. “But we didn’t go to the same school. I only knew him through my then-girlfriend, Miriam Haase. We were hanging out, for a time.” He looked from Max to Lina and back. “Why do you ask? Did something happen to him?”

Max nodded. “He’s dead and we are trying to find out why he was murdered.”

Björn Boysen inhaled audibly and let himself fall back in his chair. “What is it you want to know?” he finally asked.

“Is it true that your clique used to bully another student, Daniel Vogler?”

“Yes, that’s true.” Björn Boysen looked at Max but quickly looked away again. “Even though, to be accurate, it wasn’t my clique. I only was along every now and then, as Miriam’s friend.” He was silent for a while and then said, “So his name was Daniel Vogler? I didn’t even know his last name. I only knew that he was in the same class as Julia and Maike and was considered a geek. Had I known his name . . .” He didn’t elaborate on what he would have done. “What do you want to know?” he repeated.

Max studied the doctor. The man apparently wanted to talk, as if he had carried a burden for years, which he now finally wanted to get rid of. “We’re especially interested in one summer evening seventeen years ago—when the clique ran into Daniel Vogler in City Park.”

Björn Boysen nodded. He had turned pale, averted his eyes, and looked out the window. He finally turned to Max again, but couldn’t look him in the eye now, either. “I haven’t talked about this with a soul,” he said softly. “But it had to come to light eventually.” He took another deep breath. “As you said, it was summer and the clique—which I actually never considered my clique—met in City Park. There were six of us: Julia and Philip, Maike and Christian, and Miriam and I. Three couples aged sixteen and seventeen who wanted to have fun. It was warm. We had brought drinks and something to eat, and we had looked for a secluded spot a little away from the large meadow.”

Max nodded, but didn’t say anything. Lina’s pencil scratched across her notepad.

“It was twilight and all of us had had more to drink than we could handle when Maike suddenly shouted, ‘Look who’s over there! Our brainiac!’ She was talking about Daniel. I’d only seen him once or twice before and didn’t really know him except from what the others had told me about him. I did know, however, that he was their favorite victim when they were in the mood for bullying someone. So this boy was walking in our direction. He hadn’t seen us yet, but he seemed to be talking to himself. The girls made comments about that and started to screech, and it was only then that Daniel noticed us.”

He had slowed down, coming closer rather suspiciously, and he held on to the straps of his knapsack. When he was closest to his classmates on the path, he tried to rush by them, but Julia jumped up and stood in his way. She was plastered. She put her hands on Daniel’s shoulders and slurred, “Hi, Daniel. All by yourself?” The group found that hilarious. Meanwhile the other two girls had gotten up, too, and pressed themselves against Daniel on either side of him. He was mumbling something that no one could hear since the girls were giggling so loudly. Julia stroked his chin, which showed no sign of facial hair yet, and Maike grabbed his arm and pressed his hand against her breasts. Daniel tried to tear himself away. It was a grotesque picture, as these three stylish girls pretended to seduce the pale boy in jeans and a totally uncool striped shirt. Philip and Christian were laughing and also got up, and, hesitating, Björn joined them.

“Well, come on, already,” Philip told Daniel, “Do it. You’ll never get another opportunity like this. The school’s three beauty queens have the hots for you, Daniel the brainiac.”

Daniel was trying to get away and mumbled something like, “Leave me alone,” but the girls started to tug on his jacket and his shirt. They were staggering across the meadow in one big heap of bodies, away from the path, on which people still out for a walk were smiling and looking away, and toward the bushes, which promised privacy. Björn heard Daniel’s repeated cry of “Leave me alone! Stop it!” and his voice became more and more weepy. The girls’ hands were all over him, on his cheeks, his neck, his chest, his ass. Philip and Christian had joined in by then. They held Daniel while Julia slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

“Let’s see what you got here,” she said and then, “I don’t believe it, finest Schiesser underwear.” Again, loud laughter that drowned out Daniel’s pleading. Björn stood there and tugged, halfheartedly, at Philip’s and then Christian’s sleeve, but they shook him off and paid no attention to him.

He heard the ripping of fabric, the striped shirt suddenly flew through the air, and Daniel’s white undershirt was pulled up with much noise and laughter. The boy was sobbing now, and he tried to ward them off as well as he could and cried out again and again, saying they should please stop, please. But, of course they didn’t. Spellbound, Björn watched as Julia unbuttoned his fly, pulled down the zipper, and pushed down the jeans over his slim hips. Everyone commented on his light blue underpants with loud oohs and aahs.

Björn wanted to shout, “Stop it!” but not a single peep escaped his mouth. He wanted to look away, but when Julia pulled down Daniel’s briefs with slow, lascivious movements, he was unable to look away. Daniel was thrashing with his legs, but they were constrained by his pulled-down trousers. Philip and Christian held him down, while the girls touched, stroked, scratched, and licked his naked body. His skin was very white under the light of the streetlamp—that was a detail Björn clearly remembered. Another was Daniel’s muffled cries—Philip held Daniel’s mouth shut from behind. Still laughing they dragged their victim to a nearby park bench. Julia sat down, pulled up her skirt, opened her legs and leaned back. The others pushed and shoved Daniel onto the girl. The other boys still held him by his arms. Philip stood behind Daniel and Björn couldn’t see at first what he was doing, until Maike, Miriam, and then Christian started chanting excitedly, “Yeah, put it in. Put it in!” All Björn saw was a black mass amid which Daniel’s white naked backside was visible, but then a second naked, whitish form appeared, Philip’s naked ass, which started to move rhythmically accompanied by the screaming and clapping of the others. Daniel’s screams went unheard in a park filled with people.

It was deathly silent in the small room. The only sound was the doctor’s labored breathing. “I ran away. I just ran. At some point I had to stop and throw up. I swear, I heaved my guts up. I finally straightened up again and listened. I heard quiet steps, but it was just a couple that passed by and looked at me, partly worried and partly afraid. From the meadow, I heard quiet laughter and music. I looked around and was ashamed. Ashamed, because I’d simply run away; ashamed, because I’d been a coward and had done nothing to prevent what happened. I briefly thought about going back and helping Daniel, but I knew at that very moment that I wouldn’t.” Björn Boysen looked to the ground and didn’t dare look at Max or Lina. “I wanted to call the police, but cell phones didn’t exist then, and I didn’t know where the next public phone was. And so I just went home.”

Max was sitting up straight in his chair, both feet on the ground, breathing in and out slowly. “Did you see any of the participants after this evening?” he finally asked. His voice was as friendly as always, maybe with a hint of more warmth and authority.

The physician shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t have been able to face them. Since I went to a different school and was a year older, it wasn’t that difficult to avoid them. None of them got in touch with me, either, not even Miriam. From one day to the next—silence.” He took a deep breath. “I took the exit exam a year later and started to study medicine. I got involved with Doctors Without Borders and worked in Africa for a few years, in Mali and Nigeria.” Boysen looked out the window. “And this here isn’t necessarily a place where you gather glory and riches as a doctor, either. In the beginning, I didn’t realize it, but I know now that I’m trying to make amends for the mistake I made then.” He shrugged. “I’m afraid, though, that it doesn’t work that way. Five times a chivalrous knight can’t be exchanged for a one-time filthy pig.” He shook his head. “Once a pig, always a pig.” He wiped his eyes.

Lina studied the man who slumped in his chair in front of her.
Once a pig, always a pig? No,
she thought.
That doesn’t sound right
. She remembered words such as repentance and atonement, which surprised her since she wasn’t religious at all, never had been. But was Boysen really the repenting sinner he portrayed? His service in Africa—she’d bet that a thirst for adventure was a good portion of that. Nevertheless, Lina was willing to buy his regret at not having intervened, and she felt sorry that the memory still haunted him. She was ready to assume that Philip hadn’t had such pangs of regret.

“And later? Did you ever see anyone from the clique again? Maybe met someone by chance?” Max asked.

Björn Boysen shook his head again. “No, and I’m happy about that. I don’t know how I would have reacted.” With a shrug, he said, “I guess it could have gone all the way from puking to beating the shit out of someone.” Seeing Max’s frown, he added, “Excuse the language—the neighborhood rubs off on you.” With another shrug, he added, “But it’s also refreshingly honest.”

Lina couldn’t help smiling.

Both were silent on their way back to the car. They let Björn Boysen’s story percolate. Neither doubted its veracity. It gave Daniel Vogler a strong motive for having killed not only Philip Birkner, but also Julia Munz. But part of the puzzle was still missing. If Daniel had indeed been the victim of a gang rape that night, why had the others let him alone afterward? Were they so aghast at their own behavior that the clique broke apart?

Lina couldn’t imagine that a bad conscience had turned Philip Birkner into a good person. Everyone she had discussed the man with so far, except Lukas Birkner, had painted a picture of an arrogant, charismatic egoist who only looked out for himself. Such a man wouldn’t allow a bad conscience to interfere with the fun he derived from bullying a fellow student.

Yet Daniel Vogler must have had something on his tormentors. “Isn’t it strange that officially Philip Birkner never suspected Daniel as the cause of the software mistake?” she said slowly. “Though we now can clearly see that Daniel might have wanted revenge.”

Max nodded. “Daniel must have threatened to come forward with what Philip had done. And he must have had evidence, or he couldn’t have blackmailed Philip.”

Lina felt an uncomfortable cramping in her stomach, which then rumbled so loudly that Max looked at her critically. A glance at her watch showed her that it was already four in the afternoon and she hadn’t eaten anything since the morning. She suggested a quick stop at a Thai place close to the Reeperbahn. A short time later, they were sitting on simple wooden stools in front of the fast food place and silently eating their rice and vegetables. Max’s cell phone beeped to inform him that a text message had arrived, but he calmly finished his dish before looking at the display.

“Daniel Vogler was sent to prison,” he said and then dialed Hanno’s number to get the details. Lina meanwhile went to get another lassi. Max had just finished his call when she came out again. “Our colleagues found the restaurant where Franziska Leyhausen had eaten, and especially had drinks, Tuesday night,” he explained. “She was with Daniel Vogler, who was considerate enough to pay with his credit card. The employees there reported that the woman seemed distraught and had a lot to drink. Vogler apparently had been completely calm.”

“And . . . did he confess?” Lina asked.

Max shook his head. “He’s digging in his heels. But CSI is working at full speed to analyze the evidence from the crime scene. It’s probably just a matter of time before we can prove that he murdered Franziska Leyhausen.”

“And Philip Birkner? And Julia Munz?”

Max shrugged. “Hanno ordered a DNA analysis, but that takes time.” He dabbed his lips with a paper napkin. “I told him what we found out. He wants us to question Vogler about it and then come to headquarters.” He grimaced. “I guess it’ll be a long evening.”

The imposing building on the Holstenglacis dated back to the nineteenth century and never looked inviting, not even when the weather was fair. Hamburg’s detention center stood right next to the criminal court with which it was connected by subterranean corridors. A number of conference rooms were available for consultations between prisoners and their attorneys or with police investigators.

Lina and Max had to wait in one of those rooms for a short time until an enforcement officer brought in Daniel Vogler. Lina looked at him with mixed feelings. He not only was a murder suspect but also the victim of severe abuse. It wasn’t the first time Lina asked herself when the transformation had started, when the victim had become a perpetrator, and when someone who deserved empathy had turned into someone who brought suffering.

Daniel Vogler had been brought before a judge shortly after noon, was transferred to the detention center, and was interrogated by their colleagues from Team 5, and all of that had left traces. His pale face showed a dark five o’clock shadow and his hair fell into his face. As on the day before, he was looking down, studying his fingernails. Nobody said anything for a long time, which left Vogler unruffled at first, but the longer the silence lasted, the more nervously his fingers began to move. But he remained silent.

Max looked at him calmly and took a deep breath. “Herr Vogler, we just talked with a witness, with someone who saw how Philip Birkner and some others attacked and abused you in City Park seventeen years ago.”