‘I read that you studied the theory of social education,’ Johann said. ‘I think it’s most impressive how you offer the children an environment that many kids living with their parents wouldn’t be receiving.’
Sabine Bohlen looked pleased. ‘Yes, well, we want to give the children more than just a roof over their heads. When I started here six years ago . . . let’s just say, there was still room for improvement, but I’m proud to say we’ve since been rated as outstanding by the inspectors.’
‘So I guess you’ll stay on, in spite of your husband’s death?’ Lena asked casually.
‘Of course. I owe him that much, and the children too. We’ve created a refuge here for tortured little souls. I would never forgive myself if I gave up now.’
Lena nodded. ‘If we might get back to the afternoon in question. So, you’re not entirely certain whether your husband was at home?’
Sabine Bohlen shrugged. ‘No, I’m not.’
‘And from four o’clock onwards? You said the children are busy with other things then.’
‘I think he worked in his office and later had dinner with us. That’s how it was every day. I then attended a parent–teacher evening at school. We take turns with those, or else they soon get too much.’
‘And your husband stayed home?’
‘I assume so, although he wasn’t here when I got back.’ Sabine Bohlen swallowed and blinked away her tears. ‘I didn’t think anything of it because he likes to go for walks in the evening.’ She paused and again stared down at her hands. ‘Liked.’
Lena signalled Johann not to ask any more questions for now. He stood up, took a glass from a cabinet and filled it with mineral water from a bottle on the table.
‘Here you go,’ he said, handing the glass to Frau Bohlen. She shot him another grateful look and drained the water in one go.
After a few moments, Lena continued, ‘Your husband was found in a beach chair. Was he—?’
‘We rent two beach chairs so we can take the kids down to the sea any time we want. My husband liked to sit there in the evenings.’
‘I see,’ Lena said. ‘The death certificate issued by Dr Neumann states that your husband died of a heart attack and that he’d been suffering from a heart condition for a long time. Was he on any medication?’
Sabine Bohlen nodded.
Johann cleared his throat. ‘Would you mind showing us his medication, Frau Bohlen?’
Sabine Bohlen hesitated briefly, then stood up and left the office. She returned a short while later with four boxes of pills, which she handed to Johann.
‘Did your husband have acute symptoms?’ asked Johann.
‘No, not as far as I know. Dr Neumann examined him about every six months, unless something else came up in between, like a bad cold or back pain.’
‘You demanded a post-mortem following your husband’s death,’ Lena said. ‘Did you suspect that his death wasn’t from natural causes?’
‘Suspect? Demanded? You make it sound so bad! I’m not a detective and no doctor. I simply struggled to believe that all of a sudden . . . I merely voiced my doubts. What else could I do? And I didn’t insist on the post-mortem, they just did it.’
Lena nodded. ‘Did your husband have enemies?’
Sabine Bohlen scowled at Lena. ‘Enemies? What an absurd thought! Ask anyone on this island and they will all give the same answer. My husband was kind, supportive and always there for other people. Someone like that doesn’t have enemies – certainly no one who would wish him dead.’
‘Well, unfortunately, it looks as though he did not die of natural causes,’ Lena said as calmly as she could. ‘And there is evidence that the perpetrator must have got very close to your husband.’
Sabine Bohlen stared at her. ‘What do you mean exactly?’
‘We can’t discuss the details from the post-mortem for reasons pertaining to the investigation,’ Johann said. ‘I’m sure you understand, Frau Bohlen. It’s very important that you tell us about anything unusual you might have observed lately.’
Sabine Bohlen didn’t look happy. ‘Pertaining to the investigation? What does that mean?’ she asked. ‘Are you trying to pin something on my husband?’
‘Of course not, Frau Bohlen,’ said Johann gently. ‘It’s simply that we’re not permitted to repeat certain things during interview: rules and regulations, you know.’
Sabine Bohlen seemed somewhat appeased. She shrugged and looked out of the window.
‘Do you know if your husband still owed anything on the house?’ asked Lena.
‘A mortgage, you mean? I’m not sure. I have an appointment with our accountant in two days.’
‘How would you describe your marriage? Any problems?’ Lena tried to sound casual.
Sabine Bohlen scowled at her again. ‘What sort of question is that?’
‘Purely routine, Frau Bohlen, so please answer the question,’ Johann said in an attempt to mollify her.
‘If I must. We were happy – don’t forget, we didn’t just share a house, we worked side by side every day.’
‘So you never argued at all?’ asked Lena.
‘I really don’t understand how that’s any of your business. We loved each other. Isn’t that enough?’
‘I’m sorry, Frau Bohlen, but everything becomes our business in the course of an investigation like this,’ Lena said. ‘Did you notice anything out of the ordinary about your husband’s behaviour in the days or weeks preceding his death? Was he particularly nervous, agitated or irritable, perhaps?’
‘Out of the ordinary? Our work with the children here can be exhausting. My husband had been doing this job for many years, and it’s only natural that things get a little heated from time to time. He may have been a little more highly strung than usual. One of our boys has been a headache, and my husband was worried about him. But other than that – no, nothing out of the ordinary.’
‘If I follow correctly, you only saw your husband very briefly that day. How did he seem?’
‘The same as always. Maybe a little absent-minded – yes, I think he was. We went for a walk along the mudflats the day before, and normally we’d talk about the children – there’s always something to discuss – but that day, he was quiet, deep in thought.’
‘I understand. Now, we need to know where you were on the evening of your husband’s death.’
Sabine Bohlen stared at Lena aghast. Then she snarled, ‘Here. Where else?’
‘Can anyone verify that?’ asked Lena.
‘I don’t know. We have a separate flat within the house. I may have gone back to the office or checked on the children at some point.’
‘You don’t know for sure?’
‘No, I already told you.’
‘Were you asleep when Sergeant Reimers called you?’
‘I was on my way to bed.’
Johann cleared his throat. ‘Do you remember what time that was, Frau Bohlen?’ He smiled at her.
‘I usually go to bed at around eleven. It was a little later that night, around twenty past to half past eleven.’ Sabine Bohlen got to her feet. ‘Look, I’m sorry, but I really must get back to work now before our entire routine’s mucked up for the day.’
Lena rose slowly. ‘We also need to interview the rest of the staff. Can we start with your teacher, Frau Müller?’
‘No, Isabel won’t be here for at least another couple of hours,’ Sabine Bohlen said coolly. ‘She’s gone shopping with our cook. But the cleaner is here.’
The police are on the island. CID. They don’t believe he died of a heart attack: murder or suicide. As if it mattered. He’s dead, that’s all that matters.
That dumb island copper thought he was so clever. Natural causes, he said. And the doctor believed it too.
But now those detectives are here to stir everything up. They’ll have to ask the right questions to get the right answers.
But this whole country’s corrupt – why should the police be any different? They’re part of the syst
em and have to function, carry out orders, serve, just like everyone else.
He’s dead. He deserves to be dead. Dead as a bloody doornail. It’s the only right and fitting punishment for an evil person.
There are far too many evil people like him. They’re everywhere – in the police force, the tax office, the council – anyone could be one of them.
I won’t ever fail again.
I promised.
5
‘So?’ asked Lena once Johann had climbed into the car. ‘What do you think about our little talk with Frau Bohlen?’
They’d spent the last ten minutes interviewing the cleaner. She’d only worked at the home for two months, and she’d had the day off when Hein Bohlen died. Lena knew after a few questions that this woman had nothing to contribute to the case.
‘Hard to say,’ Johann replied. ‘I’m struggling to read Sabine Bohlen. At times I felt like she had no interest in seeing her husband’s death explained, but then a few moments later she’d be all cooperative again.’
‘Yes, I agree – some conflict of feelings there. I also got the impression that she knows more than she’s letting on. She could be trying to protect her husband’s reputation, or that of the home – or herself?’
Johann pulled the list Sabine Bohlen had given him from his briefcase. It held around a dozen names.
‘A nice move to ask for the list in advance,’ Lena said, ‘and you’re also very good at playing the “good cop”. We’ll make the most of that.’ Johann didn’t reply. ‘That was a compliment, by the way. I must admit I underestimated you a tiny bit. Like I said, I think we’re on the road to becoming a good team.’
Johann ran his hand through his hair. ‘Thanks!’
‘You’re welcome.’ Lena nodded in approval. ‘OK, let’s talk about Frau Bohlen later and head off to see Dr Neumann in Wittdün.’
‘He’ll claim doctor–patient confidentiality.’
‘Of course he will, but we still have to interview him.’ She started up the engine. ‘Call and let him know we’re coming, will you?’
After driving across the island, they pulled up outside a newish building in the centre of Wittdün. Hein Bohlen’s GP, tall and good-looking with blond hair, emerged from his office shortly after their arrival. He shook Lena’s hand and introduced himself.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Lena Lorenzen, CID Kiel, and this is DS Grasmann from Flensburg.’
‘Oh, representatives from right across Schleswig-Holstein. Shall we talk in my office?’
Once they were all seated, Dr Neumann looked at them expectantly. ‘I’m guessing this is about one of my patients, Hein Bohlen?’
Lena nodded. ‘That’s correct. You—’
‘I’d like to point out right away that I’m bound by doctor–patient confidentiality, but you’ll be aware of that already.’
‘Of course. We only have a few questions. You noted on the death certificate that Hein Bohlen died of a heart attack and that there was a relevant previous condition.’
‘That’s right.’
‘You had no doubts over the cause of his death?’
‘No, none at all. As his doctor, I was familiar with his medical history and had no doubts whatsoever.’
Lena placed the four boxes of medication on the table. ‘Frau Bohlen gave us these. Can you please tell us what they are?’
‘Simply put, they’re all drugs to prevent a heart attack.’ He picked up one of the boxes. ‘This one’s the most important: it’s an anti-platelet drug, which means it inhibits the blood’s ability to clot and therefore reduces the danger of vascular obstruction. I always prescribe them in such cases.’ He opened the box, took out the half-empty blister pack and studied it. ‘Yes, they’re the right ones.’
He pointed to the next box. ‘Beta blockers and ACE inhibitors, both of which treat high blood pressure, and then, lastly, this one: a drug to control high cholesterol levels.’ He pushed the four boxes back over to Lena.
‘Is it unusual for someone to take this medication and have a heart attack anyway?’ asked Lena.
‘Well, they’re merely preventative. If the patient isn’t too far gone already, they should work pretty well, although there are other factors that can lead to a heart attack.’
‘Such as stress? Excitement?’
‘That’s possible.’
‘What happens if a patient fails to take the medication regularly, or not at all?’
‘Russian roulette, I’d say, with more than one bullet in the cylinder. But a good doctor can spot when a patient doesn’t take their medication regularly. I haven’t had it happen in all my years as a GP.’
‘So you can’t imagine that anyone would commit suicide that way?’
‘No, I can’t. It would take far too long, and then what? The patient would try and wind himself up on purpose to raise his blood pressure? No, I really can’t imagine anyone doing that.’
Lena nodded. ‘What if the patient was diagnosed with another, worse disease, such as terminal cancer? Mightn’t he consider ending it then?’
‘Perhaps, but this is getting very far-fetched, don’t you think?’
Johann had followed the conversation with growing interest and seemed to be holding back some questions of his own.
‘If you say so,’ Lena said. ‘Now, I’d like to ask a few things about the night in question.’
Dr Neumann smiled. ‘Go ahead.’
‘You received the call just after eleven, is that right?’
Dr Neumann frowned in consternation. ‘No, let me think . . . It must have been later. About twenty past, I’d say?’
‘Are you absolutely sure?’ asked Lena.
Dr Neumann crossed the room to pull a folder from a shelf and inspect its contents. ‘Here we go: five to twelve. That’s the time on the death certificate. If I count back from that . . . No, it must have been later – at least twenty past.’ He placed the folder back on the shelf and returned to his seat.
‘Who was at the scene?’ asked Lena.
‘Walter Reimers. He was the one who called me. Apparently, the couple who found Hein Bohlen left just before I got there. I never met them so I can’t tell you anything about them.’
‘How long did it take you to get to the beach?’
‘I was on call that night. About quarter of an hour, I’d say, perhaps a little less.’
‘How long had Herr Bohlen been dead by then?’
‘I’m not a pathologist, but from my experience I’d say at least an hour.’
‘How long were you at the beach?’
‘My examination only took a few minutes, then we waited for the hearse. I can’t tell you precisely, but no more than half an hour, maybe even less.’ Dr Neumann looked a little confused. ‘I don’t understand why you’re asking me all this. Walter Reimers can tell you much more than me and he’ll have it all noted down in his report.’
‘Just routine inquiries,’ Johann said, speaking for the first time. ‘What was your impression when you got to the beach? How was Hein Bohlen positioned? Was there anything to indicate that he wasn’t alone when he died?’
‘The questions you’re asking! I’m a doctor, not a detective, and I wasn’t on the lookout for anything like that. Like I said, ask your colleague. Is there anything else I can do for you? My patients are waiting.’
‘One last thing,’ Lena said, pulling a blister pack from one of the boxes of medication. ‘You said this was the most important drug. Would it be conceivable for someone to swap the tablets?’
Dr Neumann took the blister pack from her. ‘See here: the name of the medicine and the manufacturer are printed on the push-through packaging. If you try to remove the foil, it tears. Basically, you’d have to produce a whole new sheet of pills, and you’d struggle with that unless you happened to be the owner of a pharmaceutical company. In other words, it would be near impossible for ordinary mortals such as ourselves.’ He slid the pills back into the box and handed it over to Lena. ‘And like I said earlier,
it would be extremely tedious and unpredictable – not an ideal way to kill someone.’
Dr Neumann stood up and the two investigators followed him to the door.
‘You’ve been very helpful,’ Lena said, shaking his hand. ‘We know where to find you if we have any more questions.’
Johann Grasmann leaned back in the passenger seat. ‘Quite a nuisance, that doctor–patient confidentiality. Wouldn’t it be in the patient’s best interests to reveal all?’
‘I thought our island doctor was quite informative, actually. Any news from Hanover yet?’
Johann checked his emails on his phone. ‘Yep, a few minutes ago.’ He read the message and passed his phone over to Lena.
‘Well, would you look at that!’ Lena murmured. ‘We’d better pay Sergeant Reimers another visit. Can you call ahead, please?’
Ten minutes later, they pulled up outside Amrum police station. Lena got out of the car and waited for Johann, who was on the phone to his colleague in Hanover, checking that they’d understood the email correctly. He gave her a brief nod as he joined her. Just then, the door opened and they were greeted by Reimers, the same studied smile on his face as before.
‘Have you settled in all right?’ he asked once they’d all taken a seat in his office. ‘I heard you’ve been speaking with Sabine.’
‘And we’re fresh from interviewing Dr Neumann,’ Lena said.
‘Part and parcel, I guess,’ Reimers replied. ‘So where do you go from here?’
‘We’re slowly working our way through the list of interviews,’ Johann said, his face serious. ‘Dr Neumann couldn’t tell us much about the night of Hein Bohlen’s death. He wasn’t at the beach for long.’
The Body on the Beach Page 4