The Body on the Beach

by Anna Johannsen

  ‘You have personal experience?’ asked Lena.

  There was a pause while Johann looked out at the Wadden Sea. At last he said, ‘My mother suffered from severe depression after my sister was born. I’m ten years older than her, so I experienced it at close quarters.’

  ‘I can imagine. But you do realise that you can’t let that influence our investigation. We’ll have another chat with Isabel Müller when she starts her shift this afternoon. Let’s see if she gives us any clues relating to the rape theory. Anna Bauer also plays a part here. Maybe she left so abruptly because Herr Bohlen assaulted her as well.’

  Johann nodded, but Lena could tell his mind was still on Frau Bohlen and his childhood memories.

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘We can’t concentrate solely on the victim’s immediate environment, in any case. I suggest we split up. I’ll visit this Herbert Bergendorf and you go and start on Sabine Bohlen’s list.’

  ‘Visit them rather than ring?’

  ‘Do a bit of both. Sometimes an unannounced visit is better than a phone call, but it’s easier to play-act on the phone. We need to learn more about Bohlen’s personality. Was he really just a touch short-tempered? What was he like around women? You decide what approach to take.’

  They were on their way back to the car by now. The sun had fought its way through the clouds and covered the Wadden Sea with a warm glow. Lena stood for a moment, gazing out at the landscape of her childhood and youth, then turned abruptly and walked to the car park.

  Quarter of an hour later, they pulled up outside the Bergendorf mansion. It was a new structure modelled on the old Frisian style and too large for her taste. The red-brick building with its thatched roof and white windows looked unnatural and out of place to her. Lena got out and walked up to the door. Johann waited in the car until they knew whether Herbert Bergendorf was home.

  A man in his early seventies opened the door. His grey hair was neatly combed back and he wore dark trousers, a striped blue shirt, a plain tie and expensive-looking oxblood leather shoes. He looked at her expectantly.

  ‘Herbert Bergendorf?’ asked Lena, holding up her police pass.

  The man stepped forward and studied it. ‘CID? How interesting. How can I be of assistance to you?’

  ‘Am I speaking with Herbert Bergendorf?’

  The man smiled benevolently. ‘Indeed. Did you expect someone else?’

  Lena turned to Johann and gave him a nod. He started the engine and backed out.

  ‘I’d like to ask you a few questions regarding Hein Bohlen. Your name popped up during our investigation.’

  Herbert Bergendorf stepped aside and waited for Lena to enter. ‘Down the hallway, second door on the right,’ he said, leading the way.

  Lena had watched him closely when she mentioned Bohlen’s name but not even a flicker had registered on his face. The elderly man seemed completely unfazed. He neither asked what made her think that he’d known the dead man nor denied having known him.

  Bergendorf led her through to his library and asked her to take a seat in one of the black leather armchairs.

  ‘Can I get you something to drink?’ he asked and sat down when Lena declined. ‘How can I be of assistance to the police?’

  ‘It’s concerning the death of Hein Bohlen. Were you acquainted with him?’

  ‘You’re from the CID? I thought Hein Bohlen had died of a heart attack. On what grounds are you investigating?’

  ‘We have reason to believe that Herr Bohlen did not die of natural causes. Were you acquainted, or even friends?’

  ‘Not of natural causes? You mean murder?’

  ‘Herr Bergendorf, would you please answer my question?’

  For a brief moment, resistance flared up in his eyes then he raised the corners of his mouth to hint at a smile. ‘Friends? No, I wouldn’t call it that. We were acquainted, yes. That’s all.’

  ‘How were you connected?’

  ‘I’m not sure if that’s any business of the CID, but since you’re here . . . I knew Herr Bohlen from back in Hamburg. We ran into each other here by chance one day and after that would share the occasional bottle of wine and reminisce about old times.’

  ‘How exactly did you know each other in Hamburg?’

  ‘We were personal acquaintances, DI Lorenzen. In my circles, it’s quite normal to have a large number of associates, and one of those many people happened to be Hein Bohlen. If we passed in the street in Hamburg, we’d wish each other a good day and nothing more, but it’s different on holiday here on Amrum. It’s a small place, and if someone like me spends long parts of the year here, you do tend to run into one another regularly. It was good to meet someone from the old days and because of that, he and I would get together every now and then.’

  ‘When did you last meet?’

  ‘Good question. I don’t note down personal appointments in my diary, but I’d say it was about four weeks ago.’

  ‘Did you meet here?’

  ‘I think so. Sometimes we would meet at the Strandhalle restaurant in Norddorf or here in Nebel, depending on the season.’

  ‘What sort of things did you talk about?’

  Herbert Bergendorf flashed his benevolent smile again. ‘I honestly wouldn’t remember. Small talk, I’d say. I really don’t see how this is relevant.’

  ‘Who initiated the meeting?’

  Herbert Bergendorf shrugged. ‘I did, perhaps. I’m not sure, really.’

  ‘Did Herr Bohlen seem any different compared with your previous get-togethers?’

  ‘Different? No, I would have noticed. Then again, I didn’t really know him well enough to judge. But generally speaking, he was as polite and sophisticated as ever.’

  ‘You live here on your own?’

  ‘Basically yes, although I have many visitors – friends and former business partners.’ He cleared his throat. ‘But I’m guessing you mean a wife. There’s no one, or rather not any more. I’ve been divorced for fifteen years. Are you sure I can’t offer you a tea or coffee?’

  ‘Thank you, but no, Herr Bergendorf. Getting back to your last meeting with Herr Bohlen, how long did you spend together and when exactly did you meet up?’

  ‘One or two hours one afternoon. That’s right, it must have been a Wednesday – Wednesday four weeks ago.’

  ‘How did you organise getting together in general?’

  Herbert Bergendorf scowled. ‘DI Lorenzen, I may not know much about police investigations, but your questions do seem a little all over the place. What exactly is this about?’ He smirked. ‘Am I under suspicion? Of . . . murder?’

  ‘Standard procedure. We’re interviewing everyone who knew Hein Bohlen.’

  ‘Standard procedure. Isn’t that what detectives always say on TV? Very well, I see you’re waiting for an answer. I think we tended to arrange our meetings by phone. I had his number and he had mine. It’s the easiest way.’

  ‘And where were you on the evening of the twenty-ninth of May between nine and eleven p.m.?’

  Herbert Bergendorf smiled in amusement. ‘Ah yes, the alibi. I know, DI Lorenzen – standard procedure. Now let’s see. That was a Tuesday, if I’m not mistaken – Tuesday a fortnight ago. I can’t say for certain, but I assume I was here at the house and no, I don’t have witnesses. As I said, I live alone and my housekeeper isn’t here at night.’

  He checked his watch and stood up. ‘Look, I’m sorry, but I have an appointment. If you have more questions, we’ll have to continue on another occasion.’

  Lena rose and shook his hand. ‘Thank you for your time. One last question: how long had you known Herr Bohlen?’

  Herbert Bergendorf looked irritated. ‘I really don’t understand how that has anything to do with your investigation.’ Before Lena could reply, he continued, ‘Standard procedure, yes. We’ve known each other for twenty years or more – I can’t say exactly.’

  Lena smiled. ‘That’s close enough. If I have any more questions, I know where to find you.’

&nbs
p; Herbert Bergendorf walked her to the front door. ‘Goodbye, Inspector. Give my regards to Chief Prosecutor Lübbers in Kiel. I’m sure you must run into him every now and again.’

  Lena tried not to show her surprise, nodded at him and walked away.

  13

  ‘Oh Christ, not you again,’ Leon muttered when he picked up Lena’s call.

  ‘Herbert Bergendorf,’ Lena said.

  ‘The deleted mystery email?’

  ‘I need to find out more about him.’

  ‘What are you after?’

  ‘If only I knew. Just sift through his emails and anything else you can find, would you? The works. He has a house on Amrum and another in Hamburg.’

  Leon hung up without saying goodbye. Lena knew this was a good sign. He’d get straight to work.

  After leaving Bergendorf’s mansion, Lena walked back to the main road and headed towards her aunt’s house. She’d texted Johann to pick her up from there once he had finished his interviews.

  On her walk over to Beke, she tried to make sense of Herbert Bergendorf’s replies and demeanour. On the one hand, he’d seemed relaxed and quite normal, but she’d had the distinct impression that he’d been tense behind the blasé exterior, and very careful with his replies. He’d paused each time before speaking or repeated part of Lena’s question as though gaining time in order to avoid making a mistake. It wasn’t unusual for people to become nervous during an interview. They were, after all, being questioned by the police and it was a natural reaction to act as though they had something to hide. But Herbert Bergendorf was different. He’d observed her calmly, patiently, like a hunter waiting for the right moment to fire the fatal shot. Lena felt certain that she was on to something. Whether that something had anything to do with Hein Bohlen’s murder remained to be seen.

  Lena knocked on Beke’s door. Moments later she heard footsteps in the hallway.

  ‘Lena, what a nice surprise. I’m just preparing lunch. Are you in a rush?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said and checked her buzzing phone. A text from Johann. He’d be at least another hour. ‘I’ve an hour or so.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ said Beke, hugging her niece.

  Quarter of an hour later, Lena sat at the table with a plate of Labskaus in front of her: a dish of corned beef and potatoes with a fried egg on top.

  ‘Yum,’ said Lena. ‘How did you know I was coming for lunch?’

  ‘Because I made your favourite meal, you mean? I think it had more to do with the fact that you’re on Amrum at the moment.’

  ‘Delicious!’ said Lena after she’d tried a spoonful. ‘The best Labskaus in the whole world.’

  Beke smiled and said, ‘You’re exaggerating, deern.’

  After Lena had finished her second helping, she leaned back and grunted with satisfaction. ‘That’s exactly what I needed.’

  Beke cleared the table. ‘Tough day on the job?’

  ‘We’re still completely in the dark. We should have come here two weeks ago – the first forty-eight hours are crucial. Do you know a Herbert Bergendorf?’

  ‘That peculiar bank director fellow from Hamburg?’

  ‘He’s retired, but yes, he was CEO of a large Hamburg-based bank until a few years ago.’

  ‘Either way, I don’t care much for people of his sort. He’d be better off on Sylt.’

  ‘Sounds like he’s not too popular?’

  ‘Well, you know how long it takes for Amrum folk to accept an incomer. Generally speaking, I think it’s a bit over the top myself, but in his case I understand. He seems aloof and unapproachable. My friend Gesine worked as his housekeeper for a while. He often had wealthy types visiting him from the mainland. Gesine quit after a year.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘Not really. She didn’t want to talk about it. I think the man frightened her.’ She paused. ‘But don’t you go running to Gesine about him now, will you?’

  Lena laughed. ‘Don’t worry, my darling aunt, I won’t. Herr Bergendorf is a witness, that’s all. He knew Hein Bohlen.’

  ‘Really? They were so very different.’

  She’s right, Lena thought. That’s precisely what she’d thought when Bergendorf spoke of the old days in Hamburg. Beke had – as so often – hit the nail on the head.

  ‘Yes,’ she said at last.

  ‘You could do with a strong coffee, couldn’t you? At certain times, even the best cup of Amrum tea won’t hit the spot – but don’t you go telling anyone!’ said Beke, already on her way over to the coffee machine.

  Lena sighed. ‘I wish you wouldn’t wait on me so much.’

  ‘Don’t talk nonsense, child. You’re here for once so it’s my right to be able to spoil you.’ The old lady poured ground coffee into the filter and switched on the machine. ‘You met up with Erck?’ she asked casually.

  Lena chuckled. ‘I didn’t have a lot of choice since you kindly gave him my number.’

  ‘He told me you’d run into each other at the beach and that he’d given you his number. He was afraid you wouldn’t get in touch,’ Beke said by way of apology.

  ‘Don’t worry, Beke,’ Lena replied. ‘He’s right, though – I probably wouldn’t have.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And nothing! We talked about the old days, that’s all, and then went home. Separately. It was good to see him. Hasn’t changed much, has he?’

  ‘Oh yes, he has! He’s matured a lot. You both have. Are you going to see him again?’

  Lena laughed. ‘Beke, you honestly don’t need to worry about my love life. Men are practically lining up on my doorstep.’

  ‘Is that right?’ asked Beke and went over to the coffee machine again, returning to the table with two steaming mugs. ‘You made such a lovely couple.’

  ‘Beke! That was such a long time ago. I made my decision and Erck couldn’t and wouldn’t leave Amrum. I understood him then and I still do now, but I couldn’t stay. And, to be honest, I’m glad I was brave enough to take that step.’

  Lena didn’t mention how many times she’d regretted her decision and longed to be back on this tiny island in the North Sea. Because of Erck’s decision to stay on Amrum, she’d spent the first few months following her departure in a permanent state of shock. She’d plunged into her education and training and tried to forget about him. After a terrible one-night stand with a married supervisor from her unit, she’d steered clear of men altogether for a few years. She’d realised she hadn’t forgotten him entirely, however, when he appeared at the house by the beach – one very big reason she’d decided not to call him, in fact.

  ‘And why don’t I believe you, deern?’ asked Beke thoughtfully.

  ‘Because you’ve always worried about me, but I’m a big girl now and no one can hurt me any more.’

  Beke sighed. ‘That’s what you said when you were ten, and I didn’t believe you then either.’

  Lena leaned forward to kiss her aunt’s cheek. ‘And I already loved you then as much as I do now. Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine.’ Before Beke could answer, the doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be my colleague, come to pick me up,’ Lena said, rising to her feet. ‘Thank you so much for lunch. I promise I’ll have more time tomorrow. I’ll call you, OK?’

  ‘All good?’ Lena asked as Johann tossed her the car keys.

  ‘I spoke to five people on the phone and visited another three,’ he continued as they climbed into the car. ‘It’s quite obvious that Bohlen was often impulsive and did not always have a grip on himself, even around his friends. I got the impression it was his wife who kept the friendships going and he was more of an appendage. I mean, no one said so outright, but it was pretty clear, reading between the lines. I’ll email you the transcripts tonight, but I doubt our murderer is anyone from this lot. If there’s time tomorrow I’ll pay a call on the five people I spoke to on the phone.’

  ‘You’ve been a busy lad.’

  ‘Sure have,’ Johann said. ‘I also got hold of someone in Spain. Anna Bauer ha
ppens to be back in Germany on holiday at the moment. I’ve got her phone number, but no answer so far. Do you want to talk to her?’

  ‘Yes, I do. Do you know how long she’s been back and where she is?’

  ‘She’s been back for three weeks. The guy at the hotel didn’t know where she’s staying, though.’

  ‘Interesting – that means she’s a suspect, especially if our rape theory checks out, unless there’s something else linking her to the victim. We need to find out why she quit. Could be tough over the phone, though. If we reckon there’s any grounds for suspicion, one of us will have to go and visit Frau Bauer in person.’

  ‘Tricky with just the two of us. Should we ask for back-up?’

  ‘I don’t think they’ll grant us any at this stage. We need more facts and less guesswork.’

  ‘My colleague from Oldenburg’s been in touch, by the way. He took a closer look at the file regarding the suicide of Isabel Müller’s brother. The investigating officers back then concluded that the reason for his depression stemmed from his childhood years and his experiences at various homes. The doctor in charge dropped a few hints in that direction without going into detail.’

  ‘Nothing concrete?’

  ‘Good old doctor–patient confidentiality. Losing both your parents at a young age seems reason enough to me to cause significant damage. Apparently, his sister handled it better. She works at a home now, doesn’t she? She’d hardly be doing that if she was plagued by nightmares.’

  ‘Unless she’s doing it for that very reason,’ Lena said. ‘Let’s look at these three more closely. They’re an odd group, aren’t they? The wife of the victim, who suffered burn-out for whatever reason at a youngish age and now pours her heart and soul into the children’s home. Then there’s Anna Bauer, who up and left for Mallorca out of the blue and for no apparent reason. And finally, we have Isabel Müller, whose brother may have killed himself because of traumatic experiences suffered in children’s homes during his childhood, and who – formerly a troublesome child in just such a home herself – these days also works at this home for children in care. The burning question is what precise relationship each of these three women had with our victim.’