Dead Woods (16 page)

Finally Igor—a tanned, trim man—showed up. “What happened? Why did Kalle have to go to the hospital?” he asked. He glanced at Max and for a moment his face registered shock. He, too, had a nose for representatives of the law. “Is that why you’re here? I mean . . . on duty?”

Lina shook her head. “No, we’re here on our own time. Kalle attacked Max and for that he paid the price.”

Igor measured Max critically. “That so?”

Lina sighed. “Have Lutz tell you about it, or ask Kalle. Even if you believe only half of it, you’ll get the picture.”

She got ready to leave and pulled Marcel along. “We still have to take care of this one. See you on Thursday?”

Igor nodded. “At half past seven.” He looked at Marcel. “You’re joining us?” The boy nodded. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” He disappeared into the dojo, sweeping a latecomer in with him. The heavy iron door crashed shut.

Lina fumbled for her phone in the knapsack and said her name. Max didn’t understand more than “Hm” and “Okay” and “Thank god,” as he focused on the traffic. Then Lina said, “I don’t know. I’m kind of pooped. Doubt that I’ll still come by.” Another pause. “Okay, I’ll let him know. You, too.”

She stuffed the phone back. The motor hummed quietly as they drove back to headquarters on the multilane road. They had delivered Marcel to his mother. She hardly recognized her son, enthused as he was about the dojo, about Lutz and Max—and all that in front of cops, whom he usually hated.

“That was Lutz. Kalle is back home,” Lina said to Max. “The shoulder wasn’t dislocated, just badly bruised.”

“Good.”

“I’m sure he’ll rethink the reporting bit. After all, he’s the one who attacked a police officer, and in front of witnesses, too. It could backfire.” She looked at Max. “Officially it’s a training accident. Unfortunate fall. Nobody touched him.”

Max nodded as if he hadn’t expected anything else. He was probably okay with that version and Lina, too, preferred to make as little fuss about it as possible. He said calmly, “In case he runs into any kind of problem, I mean healthwise, and needs treatment he can’t afford—”

“Forget it,” Lina said, waving it away. “He won’t take your money.”

Max nodded again and said after a while, “What about you? Will it land you in trouble?”

Lina shrugged, turned away, and looked out the window. “Not more than I already am.” They drove silently for a long time. It was still light out even though it was after eight in the evening.

“Marcel’s not the first kid you brought to Lutz, is he?” Max asked.

“What makes you say that?”

“You didn’t need to explain anything. Lutz knew right away.” Max was silent as he turned left at a large intersection. “He did a great job; knew exactly how to capture the boy.”

Lina nodded slowly. “Whenever I have the feeling that someone isn’t too far gone, I bring him to the dojo. You saw where it is. Not the best neighborhood. Lutz took on the responsibility to help those who are the worst off and we divide the membership fee for the club between us for most of them.” Why was she telling Max about this? Why had she taken him along in the first place? It was none of his business. But it felt good. Until now, she had strictly separated her private life from her job. Maybe she had even disguised herself a little. She didn’t want to think about this right now, but she knew that she needed no camouflage in front of Max.

“And you and Lutz, are you together?” Max held the steering wheel loosely and only glanced at her briefly. Lina felt his interest and liked it, somehow.

“Lutz is . . .” She laughed. “. . . my other brother.”

Good god
, she thought,
that means incest
. But she liked the description. It fit Lutz just as it fit Max, though with some differences. Lutz was more of a buddy who always had her back and with whom she could pull all-nighters. Lutz was always there for her without ever demanding anything. Lutz simply belonged in her life; she couldn’t and didn’t want to imagine living without him. Max, on the other hand, was the quiet, reserved one, who unobtrusively knew her well, like siblings sometimes do. Lately she had felt that he watched her intensely, looked deeper than she was comfortable with—maybe deeper than she could see herself.

Max winked at her. “Another brother? Quite an interesting family you have.”

Lina almost choked.
If you just knew
, she thought.

Chapter 11

The quiet, leafy side street with stately nineteenth-century houses was close to the university. The Grindelviertel, populated by students, felt much livelier than the more sedate Rothenbaum where Katja Ansmann lived nearby.

Lina arrived there shortly after ten in the morning. She had been at headquarters briefly, where Hanno had handed out the day’s assignments. Max had found out who was responsible for the mapping of the Niendorfer Gehege—Franziska Leyhausen, a freelance biologist, not an employee of the government agency. Lina had picked up the slip of paper with the woman’s name, telephone number, and address. A call would have been sufficient, but Lina took any opportunity to be outside in such lovely weather. A swarm of sparrows was incredibly noisy in the huge plane tree in front of the house. It was warm. Lina stood for a moment in the sunshine and relative quiet, before returning to work with a sigh.

It turned out that Franziska Leyhausen didn’t even have an office of her own, only a spot in a small office partnership, together with two other biologists and a geologist. A man opened the door and introduced himself as Klaus Beck after Lina had shown him her badge.

“Franka isn’t here,” he explained. “During the summer, biologists are usually outside most of the day.”

“Do you know where she is?” Lina asked.

“In the Niendorfer Gehege,” Beck replied. “Where there was a murder last week.” Finally the man got it. “Is that why you want to talk to her?” When Lina nodded, he added, “Then you have the right one to ask. She’s mapping the area there and can probably tell you everything about the place. You should be able to reach her on her cell phone. Hold on a moment. I’ll get the number.”

“That’s all right. I have the number.” She stopped the man who had already eagerly picked up his own cell phone from the desk.

“Do you want me to tell her anything?” Beck asked.

“No, thanks. That’s not necessary. I think I’ll try to catch up with her in the forest.”

Klaus Beck seemed sorry that he couldn’t be of any further help and was quite charged up when saying good-bye.

Back in the car, Lina plugged her phone into the hands-free equipment, started the car, and called the number of the biologist. It rang five times before someone answered. A woman’s voice responded hesitantly, “Yes?”

“Frau Leyhausen? This is Lina Svenson, from Major Crimes, Hamburg. I’m investigating the murder in the Niendorfer Gehege—I’m sure you heard of it—and would like to ask you a few questions.”

Silence. Then falteringly again, “What would you like to know?”

Lina turned into the Grindelallee, which leads directly to Niendorf, even though the name changes a few times. “If I understood correctly, you’re mapping the terrain there right now. This might be a strange question, but have you noticed any plants that have been replanted by someone?”

Silence again. Through the speakers, Lina could hear the noise of an airplane that must be flying over the forest right now. “Are you still there, Frau Leyhausen?”

The woman on the other end of the line cleared her throat. “I’m here. And, yes,” she added, “I’ve seen plants like that.”

Lina’s heart was pounding. Something in the woman’s voice irritated her. She pressed down harder on the gas pedal. “Frau Leyhausen, I’m on my way to the Niendorfer Gehege. Could we possibly meet there and could you show me the spots?”

“What do you mean?” Franka Leyhausen asked.

“Well, I mean that we meet and then go together—”

“I don’t mean you,” Frau Leyhausen interrupted. “I’m standing at the place where it happened and I also know who . . . NO!” The last word was just a cry. There was crunching and cracking and then the line went dead.

Lina grabbed the blue light she kept handy and put it on the roof of her private car, turned on the siren, and stepped on the gas. Cars moved to the right lane, except for an idiot in a black Audi who didn’t get it. She had to swerve to the opposite lane, where a silver Mercedes just barely avoided disaster. She hit a red on Siemersplatz, but instead of waiting for the cars in front to make room for her, she raced forward in the right-turn lane, scrambled over a small traffic isle, and turned, tires squealing, back onto Kollaustrasse. When she could drive more or less unhampered after the crossing, she radioed for backup. Luckily, she had the exact location where she wanted her colleagues to go. Then she called Hanno and gave him a brief report. The GPS directed her toward a relief road on the left and then through roads that became increasingly narrow, until she finally ended up directly at the Kollau, next to a railway underpass and couldn’t drive any farther. Cursing, she jumped out of the car and started to run—following the footpath between Kollau and the railroad embankment, across a narrow bridge, and then to the right for a while on top of an old fortification. A woman out for a walk watched her curiously, but Lina paid her no mind. She was breathing regularly and despite her short legs, bushes and trees just flew by. The whole time, she was wondering what the hell was going on.

A few feet away from the spot where Philip Birkner had lain dead in the underbrush four days ago, she saw a man and a woman wrestling with each other. Closely entangled, they were rolling from the gravel path into a green area, until the woman was under him. It seemed that the man had his hands around her neck. When Lina was about forty yards away, she saw the woman pick up a fist-sized stone and hit the man on the head with it. She heard a muffled scream and then was close enough to see blood trickling out of a wound on his temple. The woman was screaming and about to hit again.

Lina seized the man by the collar and pulled him away. He was tall but gaunt, and he offered no resistance but collapsed silently. The woman—Lina assumed that it was Franziska Leyhausen—was still screaming, her eyes closed. Lina grabbed her hand and cautiously removed the stone.

“What’s going on here?” Lina asked.

When Lina looked up, she saw a young man rush toward her. He had some kind of municipal insignia on his jacket, so she assumed he was the forest ranger. “I’m working in crime prevention,” she said. When she saw his puzzled face, she added, “Lina Svenson, Major Crimes, Hamburg.” She motioned with her head to the man lying motionless on the ground. “Could you please take care of this man?” The hair of the man on the ground was medium length, gray, and grungy. He wore a green jacket and green trousers, so that he resembled a ranger at first glance. But his shoes were simple and worn, and he smelled as if he hadn’t washed himself or his clothes for days. Lina guessed he was in his late fifties. While the ranger bent down to the man, Lina turned to the woman again. “Frau Leyhausen, can you hear me? Everything’s all right. You’re safe now.”

The screaming turned into sobbing and finally the woman opened her eyes.

“I’m Lina Svenson. We just talked on the phone. It looks as if I arrived in time.”

The woman said nothing, but she still sobbed quietly. Tears were streaming down her face. She had a scratch on her right cheek, and her light T-shirt was covered with twigs, leaves, and dirt. The jeans had dark spots on the knees and the shoelace of the left hiking boot had come untied. A shabby knapsack lay about six feet away, among nettles and ashweed, and Lina noticed a broken cell phone on the footpath. She only listened with half an ear to what the ranger said to the man on the ground. She also saw the woman she had just passed on her run to the crime scene. She stood cautiously at a distance and watched the spectacle with big eyes.

“Do you have a cell phone?” she asked in a gruffer tone than she intended. The woman nodded. “Then make yourself useful and call an ambulance.”

Franziska Leyhausen straightened herself with difficulty and looked over to the man she had whacked with a stone. She turned pale when she saw him motionless on the ground. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

An hour later, Lina was back at her office at Bruno-Georges-Platz. She had just gotten herself a cup of coffee from the cafeteria and sat down to recharge after the chaotic events when the door was flung open and Hanno came rushing in.

“Well done, Lina!” her boss exclaimed. “If ever there was perfect timing. One or two minutes later, and we’d have had another corpse.”

Lina could feel herself blush. To make matters worse, she saw that Max noticed, and her face got even redder.

“This Frau Leyhausen is sitting in the hall with one of our patrol officers. It seems she has a lot to tell us, and the doctor has no objections.” Hanno was bursting with energy. “Lina, go and question her right now, with Alex.”

“What about the man, Hinrichsen?” she asked. “Isn’t he the witness Max interviewed before?”

Hanno nodded. “He’s still in the hospital. He needed stitches, but the wound’s not dangerous. They want to keep him for observation until tomorrow.” He scratched his head. “But there might be some problems with the guy. He’s completely freaked out and they can’t get a sensible word out of him. He’s also quite obstinate. When they wanted to take off his filthy clothes in the hospital, he resisted vehemently.” He looked at Max. “I think you should probably talk with him. You already know him and besides . . .”—Hanno paused, seemingly unsure how to express himself—“. . .you’re our go-to guy for difficult cases.”

“Is that so?” Max raised his eyebrows, but Hanno had already disappeared, with as much bluster as when he had arrived—an unusual sight for the pot-bellied man who was more than six feet tall. Max and Lina looked at each other.

“Well, well. So you’re our man for difficult cases.” Lina grinned. “How did he figure that out?”

Max shrugged. “A vivid imagination.” He grabbed his jacket. “By the way,” he said with a grin of his own when Lina had already thought the danger was over, “you look good in red.”

The female police officer who had waited with Franziska Leyhausen in the hallway brought the witness to Lina’s office. The biologist was in her midthirties, of medium height, and she had long dark brown hair peppered with the first streaks of gray and healthy, lightly tanned skin. She had washed her face and hands, but her T-shirt and jeans were still soiled from her time in the forest. She was holding a paper cup, though the coffee was probably cold by now. Lina asked whether she wanted anything else to eat or drink, but she shook her head.

“Now then, Frau Leyhausen,” Lina began, “please tell us what the altercation with Herr Hinrichsen was all about.”

Franziska Leyhausen put the cup down and wiped her face with her hands. “I . . . think that he saw me with Philip in the woods Thursday night.” She didn’t dare look at either Lina or Alex, who had commandeered Max’s desk chair.

The two exchanged a glance. Lina’s heart was pounding. “So you’re the woman who went into the forest with Herr Birkner after the concert last Thursday?”

Franziska Leyhausen lifted her head. “You didn’t know that?” She looked at both of them in surprise. “But why else did you want to speak with me?”

“I explained it to you on the phone. I wanted to ask whether you came across anything unusual in the course of your work.”

Suddenly Frau Leyhausen started to laugh. She snorted a few times and then the laughter turned into sobbing and she covered her face with her hands. Eventually she got hold of herself, cleared her throat, and straightened up. “Please forgive me, but it all started—yes, it actually started with the fact that I found something unusual, an Aaron’s rod.”

“An Aaron’s rod?” repeated Lina.

“It’s not a rare plant, but it’s mostly found in Southern Germany and the Central German Uplands. I didn’t expect to find it in a much-frequented wooded area like the Niendorfer Gehege.” She laughed out loud again, but it sounded bitter. “So it really was something unusual.”

She had just discovered and photographed the Aaron’s rod when a man approached her. That man was the same who attacked her today. “A strange guy, like a troll,” she said. “Well, you saw him. I showed the Aaron’s rod to him because I was so delighted with it, and we talked for a little while. The man is obviously slightly mentally handicapped, but he seemed to like being in the forest. At some point, though, I started to feel uneasy, so I gathered my things and took a break, even though I still had a lot to do.” She had gone to the Waldschänke to have a bite to eat, and she saw the announcement that the band Ingenia was giving a concert.

“When was that?” Alex asked.

Franziska Leyhausen didn’t have to think about it. “On Wednesday. That evening, I asked two friends whether they’d come to the concert with me. It sounded interesting. Babsi agreed immediately. Daniel said he wasn’t sure he could make it, but he wanted to go.

“On Thursday I drove to the concert with Babsi—I mean, Barbara Schönbek. We chose a table from which we could see the door, in case Daniel came, but he didn’t show up all night. Instead, a vaguely familiar man sat down next to me. And wouldn’t you know it, he turned out to be Daniel’s former boss, Philip.”

Lina sat up straight. “Hold on a sec. This Daniel, is he Daniel Vogler, who used to work for Inoware?”

“Inoware . . . It’s possible that was the name of the place. Daniel is a computer scientist and used to work for a company that went under a few years ago. Is that the one?”