The Ice Queen: A Novel (44 page)

At the point, Ritter interrupted Auguste Nowak’s narrative to ask, “
How did you get to where Goldberg and Schneider lived?
” She then explained what she had done.

“I took one of my grandson’s vans. That was also the biggest problem with Maria. I had found out that there was going to be a theater performance at the old folks home, with fireworks afterward. But that evening I had no car, so I went there on the bus and had to ask my grandson to pick me up later. The boy never wondered what I was doing at the elegant Taunusblick; he was too wrapped up in himself and his problems. I gagged Maria in her apartment with a stocking and then pushed her in the wheelchair through the park and into the woods. Nobody paid us any mind, and during the fireworks no one heard the three shots.”

Auguste Nowak fell silent. It was deathly quiet in the room. The tragic life story of the old woman and her confession had shaken even the most experienced Criminal Police officers.

“I know that the Bible says ‘Thou shalt not kill.’
Then Auguste Nowak resumed her story, her voice all at once sounding brittle.
But the Bible also says ‘An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.’ When I realized who they were, Vera and her friends, then I knew that I couldn’t let this injustice go unavenged. My little sister Ida would have been seventy-one today; she could still have been alive. I had to keep that in mind the whole time.”

Thomas Ritter then inquired,
“So Professor Elard Kaltensee is your son?”

“Yes. He’s the son I had with my beloved Elard. He is the baron of Zeydlitz-Lauenburg, because Elard and I were married on Christmas Day, 1944, by Pastor Kunisch in the library at Lauenburg Manor.”

The K-11 team sat for a while in silence around the table when the tape ended.

“She was here today and wanted to talk to me,” Pia said, breaking the silence. “I’m positive she wanted to tell me this same story, so that we wouldn’t suspect her grandson anymore.”

“And her son,” Bodenstein added. “Professor Kaltensee.”

“And you let her go?” asked Nicola Engel, uncomprehending.

“How was I to know that she’s our murderer?” Pia retorted. “Nowak’s cell phone had just been located, and we had to go to Frankfurt.”

“She probably went home,” said Bodenstein. “We’ll go pick her up. And it’s likely that she knows where Elard is now.”

“It’s much more likely that first she’s going to kill Vera Kaltensee,” Ostermann ventured. “If she hasn’t done it already.”

*   *   *

Bodenstein and Behnke drove to Fischbach to arrest Auguste Nowak, while Pia read the biography of Vera Kaltensee on the screen, searching for an explanation for Katharina Ehrmann’s relationship to Eugen Kaltensee. The life story of Auguste Nowak had shaken her deeply, and although as a police officer and the ex-wife of a pathologist she knew plenty about the dark side of humanity, she was stunned by the ice-cold cruelty of the four murderers. This crime could not be justified by the will to survive in an extreme situation; rather, they had even put themselves in mortal danger in order to commit their atrocity. How could they repress something like that and live with such a bloody deed on their consciences?

And Auguste Nowak, what she had been through! Her husband, her parents, her best friend, and her little sister had all been shot before her eyes. Then her son had been abducted, and she herself had been taken away by the Russians. Pia couldn’t comprehend how the woman could have summoned the will to survive labor camps, humiliation, rape, hunger, and illness. Was it the hope of finding her son again that had kept her alive, or the thought of revenge? At the age of eighty-five, Auguste Nowak would have to accept responsibility for a triple murder before the court, as the penal code demanded. And now, when she had finally found the son she’d thought was lost, she would have to go to prison. There was no proof that could justify her actions in any way.

Pia stopped reading. But maybe there was. The idea at first seemed crazy, but the more she thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. Just as she dialed the number of Henning’s private line, Bodenstein came into the office with a glum look on his face.

“We have to instigate a search for Auguste Nowak,” he announced.

Pia put a finger to her lips, because Henning had just picked up on the other end.

“What’s up?” he asked, clearly in a bad mood. Pia didn’t pay any attention to that as she briefly gave him a summary of Auguste Nowak’s story. Bodenstein shot Pia a quizzical look. She put the phone on speaker and informed Henning that her boss was listening in.

“Can you still extract DNA out of bones that are over sixty years old?” she asked.

“Under the right circumstances, sure.” The irritated tone was gone from Henning’s voice; he sounded curious. “What have you got in mind?”

“I haven’t talked with my boss about it yet,” replied Pia, looking over at Bodenstein. “But you and I need to go to Poland. Flying would be best, of course. Miriam can pick us up.”

“What? Right away?”

“That would be best. No need to waste any time.”

“I don’t have anything left to do tonight,” said Henning, lowering his voice. “On the contrary. You’d be doing me a favor.”

Pia understood the reference and grinned. DA Löblich was on his back.

“By car, it would take about eighteen hours to Masuria.”

“I was thinking of Bernd. He still has his Cessna, doesn’t he?”

Bodenstein shook his head, but Pia paid no attention.

“I’ll call him,” said Henning. “I’ll call you back soon. Oh—Bodenstein?” “The stat analysis of your blood sample showed traces of gamma-hydroxybutyric acid, GHB for short. It’s also called liquid ecstasy. According to my calculations, last night around nine o’clock, you must have ingested a dose of about two milligrams.”

Bodenstein looked at Pia.

“A dose of this size produces a restriction of motor control, similar to alcohol intoxication. Occasionally, an aphrodisiac effect is also noted.”

Pia noticed that her boss was actually blushing.

“What do you make of it, then?” he asked, turning his back to Pia.

“If you didn’t take it yourself, someone must have slipped it to you. Probably in a drink. Liquid ecstasy is colorless.”

“Now I understand,” said Bodenstein. “Thank you very much, Dr. Kirchhoff.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll call you back soon.”

“So,” said Pia, satisfied. “Jutta set a trap for you.”

“You can’t go to Poland,” said Bodenstein, changing the subject. “You don’t even know if this castle still exists. Besides, the Polish authorities won’t be happy if we ask for their cooperation in the middle of the night.”

“Then we won’t. Henning and I are flying there as tourists.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It
is
simple,” Pia said. “If Henning’s friend has time, he can fly us to Poland tomorrow morning. He flies businesspeople to the East all the time and knows the regulations.”

Bodenstein frowned. There was a knock on the door, and Nicola Engel came in.

“Congratulations,” she said. “You’ve solved three homicides.”

“Thanks,” said Bodenstein.

“How do you intend to proceed? Why haven’t you arrested the woman?”

“Because she wasn’t home,” said Bodenstein. “I’m sending out an APB now.”

Nicola Engel raised her eyebrows and looked suspiciously from Bodenstein to Pia.

“You’re up to something,” she said.

“That’s right.” Bodenstein took a deep breath. “I’m sending Ms. Kirchhoff and a forensic anthropologist to Poland to that castle. If possible, they are going to recover bones so that we can then analyze them here. If it turns out that Auguste Nowak is telling the truth—which I’m positive she is—we’ll have enough evidence to charge Vera Kaltensee with murder in a court of law.”

“That’s out of the question. We don’t have anything to do with this woman’s horror story.” Nicola Engel shook her head energetically. “There is absolutely no need for Ms. Kirchhoff to drive to Poland.”

“But then we could—” Pia began.

“You have two more homicides to clear up here,” said Engel, cutting off any further objections. “Besides, Professor Kaltensee is still at large, and now Mrs. Nowak is as well, a confessed murderer. And where are the diaries that Ritter received from Nowak? Where is Ritter? Why are six men sitting downstairs in the detention cells? You’d better talk to them before you drive off to Poland on a wild-goose chase.”

“But it’ll take only one day,” Pia argued, but her future boss proved intransigent.

“Dr. Nierhoff has authorized me to make decisions on his behalf, and that’s what I’m doing now. You will
not
drive to Poland. That’s an order.” Engel held a file in her carefully manicured hand. “Here are some new problems you have to deal with.”

“I see.” Bodenstein showed little interest.

“The lawyer for the Kaltensee family has filed an official complaint with the Interior Ministry regarding your interrogation methods. At present, he is preparing a lawsuit against both of you.”

“What nonsense.” Bodenstein snorted contemptuously. “They want to scare us off by any means possible because they know that we’re on their heels.”

“You have another much more serious problem right now, Mr. von Bodenstein. Mrs. Kaltensee’s lawyer has described it merely as coercion. If he wants to get nasty, it will soon turn into an accusation of rape.” She opened the file and held it out to Bodenstein. He turned beet red.

“Ms. Kaltensee led me into a trap, so that—”

Engel cut him off. “Don’t make a fool of yourself, Chief Inspector. You invited State Representative Kaltensee to a tête-à-tête and then forced her into sexual intercourse.”

The veins visible at Bodenstein’s temples showed Pia that it was costing him a great effort to avoid losing his self-control.

“If this matter in any way becomes public,” said Engel, “I will have no alternative but to put you on suspension.”

Bodenstein stared at her furiously. She stood her ground.

“Whose side are you on anyway?” he asked. Clearly, he had forgotten that Pia was present. Nicola Engel had also stopped paying attention to anyone else.

“Mine,” she replied coldly. “You should have realized that by now.”

*   *   *

It was 11:15
P.M.
when Henning showed up at Birkenhof with his suitcase and complete equipment. Bodenstein and Pia were sitting at the kitchen table, eating tuna pizza from Pia’s deep-freeze reserves.

“We can take off tomorrow morning at four-thirty,” Henning announced, leaning over the table. “I can’t believe that you still eat this junk.”

Only then did he notice the oppressive mood.

“What’s wrong?”

“How do you commit the perfect murder?” Bodenstein asked glumly. “You probably have a few good tips for me.”

Henning gave Pia a quizzical look.

“Oh, I’m sure I could think of something. Above all, you have to avoid having your victim land on my table,” he said lightly. “Who are we talking about?”

“Our future boss, Nicola Engel,” said Pia. Bodenstein had told her in strictest confidence why Engel disliked him so much. “She’s forbidden me to drive to Poland.”

“Well, to be precise, we’re not driving; we’re flying.”

Bodenstein looked up. “That’s right.” He grinned hesitantly.

“That clears that up.” Henning took a glass from the shelf and poured himself some water. “Now bring me up to speed on the latest developments.”

Bodenstein and Pia took turns relating the events of the past twenty-four hours.

“We definitely need proof of what happened on January sixteenth, 1945,” Pia concluded. “Otherwise, we can forget about a murder charge against Vera Kaltensee. On the other hand, she will try to bury us under legal proceedings and complaints. And no court in the world would convict her on the basis of Auguste Nowak’s testimony. In the end, she would simply claim that she did not personally fire any shots. Besides, we don’t know where the diaries are, and Ritter hasn’t surfaced yet.”

“Vera and Elard Kaltensee have disappeared, as well as Auguste Nowak,” Bodenstein added. With effort, he stifled a yawn and glanced at the clock.

“If you fly to Poland tomorrow morning, please leave your service weapon here,” he told Pia. “Not that there won’t be other difficulties.”

“Check.” Pia nodded. Unlike her boss, she was wide awake. Bodenstein’s cell phone rang. He took the call as Pia put the dirty plates in the dishwasher.

“A female skeleton has been found on the grounds of Mühlenhof,” he said in a weary voice once the call had ended. “And our Swiss colleagues called. Vera Kaltensee is not at either of her houses, not in Zürich or in Ticino.”

“I hope it’s not too late,” said Pia. “I’d give anything to bring her to trial.”

Bodenstein got up from his chair.

“I’m going home,” he said. “Tomorrow is another day.”

“Wait and I’ll close the gate behind you.” Pia followed him out, accompanied by her four dogs, who’d been waiting by the front door for the signal for their late-night walk. Bodenstein stopped by his car.

“What are you going to tell Engel tomorrow when she wants to know where I am?” Pia asked. She had a bad feeling that Bodenstein was still on the brink of being suspended.

“I’ll think of something,” he said with a shrug. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Just say that I simply got on a plane.”

Bodenstein looked at her for a moment, then shook his head.

“I know you mean well, but I’m not going to do that. Whatever you do, you’ll be doing it with my full backing. I’m your boss, after all.”

They stood there looking at each other in the floodlit courtyard.

“Take care of yourself,” said Bodenstein in a hoarse voice. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you, Pia.”

It was the first time he’d ever called her by her first name. Pia didn’t know quite what to think of it, but something had changed between them in the past couple of weeks. Bodenstein was no longer keeping his distance.

“Nothing’s going to happen to us,” she assured him. He opened the car door but didn’t get in.

“The conflicts over those investigations are not the only things between Nicola Engel and me,” he finally admitted. “We met in law school in Hamburg and were together for two years. Until Cosima crossed my path.”