The Ice Queen: A Novel (30 page)

Bodenstein brooded on the way down to the lobby of the hospital. “Does he really not know, or is he just scared?”

“Neither,” Pia said firmly. “He’s hiding something from us; I can feel it. I’d hoped that—”

She broke off, grabbed her boss by the arm, and pulled him behind a pillar.

“What is it?”

“That man over there, the one with the bouquet,” Pia whispered. “Isn’t that Elard Kaltensee?”

Bodenstein squinted and looked across the lobby.

“Yes, that’s him all right. What’s he doing here?”

“I wonder if he’s going to see Nowak,” said Pia. “But if he is … why?”

“How could he even know that Nowak is here in the hospital?”

“If the Kaltensees are actually behind the attack, then he’d know for sure,” Pia replied. “I had our guys check his outgoing calls—last night he phoned Nowak—perhaps to keep him there until the thugs showed up.”

“Let’s ask him.” Bodenstein headed for the man. Elard Kaltensee was busy reading the signs and spun around in shock when Bodenstein addressed him. His face turned even paler.

“You’re taking your mother some flowers.” Bodenstein smiled amiably. “I’m sure she’ll be happy with them. How’s she doing?”

“My mother?” Kaltensee seemed distraught.

“Your brother told me that your mother is in the hospital,” Bodenstein said. “You’re going to see her, aren’t you?”

N—no, I … I’m on the way to see … an acquaintance.”

“Mr. Nowak?” asked Pia. Kaltensee hesitated a moment, then nodded.

“How do you know that he’s in this hospital?” Pia asked suspiciously. In Bodenstein’s presence, Elard Kaltensee was not nearly as sinister as he’d seemed Saturday afternoon.

“From his bookkeeper,” said Kaltensee. “She called me this morning and told me what had happened. You must know that I arranged a big commission for Nowak in Frankfurt, the renovation project of the Old Town. In three days, an important deadline is coming up, and Nowak’s people are afraid that their boss won’t be allowed to leave the hospital in time.”

That sounded believable. He seemed to be slowly recovering from the shock, and the color was coming back to his waxen face. He looked as though he hadn’t slept since Saturday.

“Have you already talked to him?” Elard asked.

Bodenstein nodded. “Yes, we have.”

“Well? How’s he doing?”

Pia gave him a mistrustful look. Was it merely polite concern about the health of an acquaintance?

“They tortured him,” she said. “His right hand was smashed so badly that it might have to be amputated.”

“Tortured?” Kaltensee turned pale again. “Oh my God!”

“Yes, the man has very serious problems,” Pia went on. “You must know that your mother still owes him a six-figure sum for the work on the mill.”

“Pardon me?” Kaltensee’s surprise was genuine. “That can’t be!”

“Mr. Nowak told us that himself just now,” said Bodenstein.

“But … but that can’t be true.” Kaltensee shook his head in bewilderment. “Why didn’t he ever say anything about it? My God, what must he think of me?”

“How well do you know Mr. Nowak, actually?” Pia asked. Kaltensee didn’t reply right away.

“Not that well,” he replied guardedly. “When he was working at Mühlenhof, we talked a few times.”

Pia waited for him to go on, but he did not.

“Shortly before he was attacked, you made a thirty-two-minute phone call to him,” she said. “At one o’clock in the morning, mind you. An odd time to chat with a casual acquaintance, don’t you think?”

For an instant, utter surprise was apparent on the face of the professor. The man had something to hide; that was obvious. His nerves were frayed. Pia had no doubt that he would break down in a real interrogation.

“We spoke about the renovation project,” Kaltensee replied stiffly. “It’s a very big undertaking.”

“At one in the morning? I don’t believe a word of it.” Pia shook her head.

“Your mother has also begun legal action against Mr. Nowak for inflicting negligent bodily harm,” Bodenstein put in. “She has filed three lawsuits against him.”

Elard Kaltensee stared at Bodenstein in bewilderment.

“What’s your point?” He seemed nervous but still didn’t grasp what they were getting at. “What does all this have to do with me?”

“Don’t you think that Mr. Nowak would have plenty of reasons to hate your family from the bottom of his heart?”

Kaltensee remained mute. Sweat was beading on his brow. It didn’t look like he had a clear conscience.

“So we’re asking ourselves,” Bodenstein continued, “how far Mr. Nowak would be willing to go to get his money.”

“What … what do you mean?” The conflict-averse professor was clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

“Did Marcus Nowak know Mr. Goldberg or Mr. Schneider? And maybe also Mrs. Frings? A car with a company name on the side, such as Nowak has in his fleet, was seen in Schneider’s driveway at around twelve-thirty the night of his murder. Mr. Nowak has no real alibi for this time period, because he claims he was at home, alone.”

“Around twelve-thirty?” Elard Kaltensee repeated.

“Nowak worked for quite a while at Mühlenhof,” said Pia. “He knew the three victims and he also knew that they were close friends of your mothers. For them, a hundred and sixty thousand euros might not be a lot of money, but for Mr. Nowak it’s a fortune. Maybe he thought he could put pressure on your mother if he killed her friends, one after the other, in order to underscore that he was serious.”

Kaltensee stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. He shook his head vehemently.

“But that’s utterly absurd. What are you thinking? Marcus Nowak is no killer. And none of that is a motive for murder.”

“Revenge and fear for one’s livelihood are very strong motives for murder,” said Bodenstein. “Only a small percentage of murders are committed by hardened killers. Mostly, they’re quite normal people who see no other way out.”

“Marcus never shot anybody!” Kaltensee retorted with surprising vehemence. “I can’t imagine how you came up with such a ridiculous idea!”

Marcus?
The relationship between the two was probably quite a bit closer than Kaltensee would have them believe. Pia had an idea. She recalled the indifference with which he had reacted to the news of Herrmann Schneider’s death a few days earlier. Was that because he already knew about it? Was it conceivable that Kaltensee—a well-to-do, influential man—had used Nowak by enticing him with a million-euro contract, and then demanded three murders in exchange?

“We’re going to check out Nowak’s alibi on the night of Schneider’s murder,” said Pia. “And we’ll also ask him where he was when Goldberg and Mrs. Frings died.”

“You’re totally wrong, I can tell you that.” Kaltensee’s voice was shaky. Pia looked closely at the man. Even though he now had himself well under control, she couldn’t ignore how agitated he seemed. Did he realize that she was on his trail?

*   *   *

Pia’s cell rang just as she came out of the hospital.

“I’ve been trying to call you for an hour.” Ostermann sounded reproachful.

“We were in the hospital.” Pia paused while her boss kept walking. “There was no reception inside. What’s up?”

“Listen to this: Marcus Nowak was stopped on April thirtieth at eleven-forty-five
P.M.
by a police patrol in Fischbach. He had no driver’s license and no ID with him and was ordered to present both the next day to our colleagues in Kelkheim. As of today, he has not done so.”

“That’s interesting. Where exactly did the stop occur?” Pia heard her colleague typing on his keyboard.

“Grüner Weg, corner of Kelkheimer Strasse. He was driving a VW Passat that’s registered to his company.”

“Schneider was murdered around one o’clock in the morning,” said Pia, thinking out loud. From Fischbach to Eppenhain by car takes around fifteen minutes. Thanks, Kai.”

She put away her cell and went over to her boss, who was standing by his car and staring into space. Pia told him what she’d learned from Ostermann.

“So he was lying about where he was at the time of the crime,” she concluded. “But why?”

“Why would he murder Schneider?” Bodenstein asked in turn.

“Maybe at Professor Kaltensee’s instigation. He had brokered a huge construction contract for Nowak and maybe demanded a favor in return. Or maybe Nowak wanted to put pressure on Vera Kaltensee by murdering her best friends.”

“Forget about Elard Kaltensee as the perp or instigator,” said Bodenstein. His forbearing tone of voice suddenly made Pia furious.

“No, I will not!” she exclaimed. “This man has the strongest motive of all the people we’ve spoken to. You should have seen the way he acted at his apartment. He said he
hates
anyone who has prevented him from learning more about his origins. And when I asked him whom he was talking about, he said, ‘those who know.’ He would have preferred to kill them all. I didn’t let up. I kept asking questions, and then he said, ‘They’re all dead now.’”

Bodenstein gave her a contemplative look over the roof of the car.

“Kaltensee is in his early sixties,” Pia went on, somewhat calmer now. “He doesn’t have much time to find out who his biological father was. He shot the three friends of his mother when they refused to tell him. Or else he incited Nowak to do it. And I’m sure that his mother is next on the list. He hates her, too.”

“You don’t have a single piece of evidence to back up your theory,” said Bodenstein.

“Damn it!” Pia slammed her fist onto the roof of the car. She would have preferred to take her boss by his shoulders and shake him, because he refused to see the obvious. “I’m positive that Kaltensee has something to do with it. Why don’t you go back in the hospital and ask him about his alibis for the times of the crimes. I’ll bet he tells you that he was at home. Alone.”

Instead of answering, Bodenstein tossed her the car keys.

“Send a patrol car to pick me up here in half an hour,” he said, and went back into the hospital.

*   *   *

Christina Nowak was waiting in the foyer of the station and jumped up when Pia came in. She was very pale and visibly nervous.

“Hello, Mrs. Nowak.” Pia extended her hand. “Please come with me.”

She signaled the officer inside the glass partition to let her in. The door buzzed. At the same time, Pia’s cell rang. It was Miriam.

“Are you at the office?” Her friend’s voice sounded excited.

“Yep, just walked in.”

“Then look at your e-mails. I scanned the items and sent them as attachments. And the archivist gave me a few tips. I’m talking to a couple of people and I’ll call back later.”

“Okay. I’ll take a look right away. Thanks.”

Pia stopped at the door to her office on the second floor.

“Would you please wait here for a moment? I’ll be right back.”

Christina Nowak nodded mutely and sat down on one of the plastic chairs in the hall. Ostermann was the only one of her colleagues in the office. Hasse had gone to Taunusblick to talk with the residents, Fachinger was searching for possible witnesses in the apartment building in Niederhöchstadt, and Behnke was doing the same in Königstein. Pia sat down at her desk and opened her e-mail program. Among the usual spam, which the police server’s firewall was apparently powerless to stop, she found an e-mail with a Polish sender. She opened the attached documents and looked at one after the other.

“Wow,” she murmured with a grin. Miriam had really done good work. In the city archives of Wegorzewo, she had found school photos from 1933 that showed the graduating class of the gymnasium in Angerburg. Also a newspaper article about the presentation ceremony for the winner of a sailing regatta, because back then Angerburg on the Mauersee was already a stronghold of water sports. David Goldberg was included in both photos, and he was mentioned several times in the paper: as regatta winner and son of Angerburg merchant Samuel Goldberg, who had endowed the prize. That was the genuine David Goldberg, who would die in Auschwitz in January 1945. He had curly dark hair and deep-set eyes. He was a slight young man, no taller than five seven. The man who was shot in his house in Kelkheim must have been six one in his younger days. Pia bent over the printout of a newspaper article from the
Angerburger Nachrichten
of July 22, 1933. The winning team of the sailboat with the proud name of
Prussian Honor
consisted of four young men, who were laughing happily into the camera: David Goldberg, Walter Endrikat, Elard von Zeydlitz-Lauenburg, and Theodor von Mannstein.

“Elard von Zeydlitz-Lauenburg,” Pia muttered, enlarging the picture with a mouse click. That must have been Vera Kaltensee’s brother, the one who had been missing since January 1945. The similarity between the youth barely sixteen years old in the photo from 1933 and his sixty-three-year-old nephew of the same first name was unmistakable. Pia printed out the file, then stood up and asked Christina Nowak to come into her office.

“Please excuse me for making you wait.” Pia shut the door behind her. “May I offer you some coffee?”

“No, thank you.” Christina Nowak sat down on the edge of a chair and set her purse on her knees.

“Unfortunately, your husband has had very little to say to me, so I’d like to hear a bit more from you about him and those closest to him.”

Christina Nowak nodded calmly.

“Does your husband have any enemies?”

The pale woman shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

“How are things in your family? The relationship between your husband and your father-in-law doesn’t seem to be so good.”

“There are always tensions in any family.” With a distracted gesture, Mrs. Nowak pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “But my father-in-law would certainly never do anything to hurt Marcus or me and the kids.”

“But he resents your husband for not expanding the construction company back then, right?”

“The company was my father-in-law’s life work. The whole family worked there. Naturally, he and my brother-in-law hoped that Marcus would help them out of the crisis.”

“And you? What did you think when your husband refused to do that and instead went into business for himself?”