“How high is the coverage?” she asked.
“Three million euro.”
Lina swallowed and then wondered whether the sum sounded as enormous to Katja as it did to her.
“You know, I’d almost forgotten the insurance. At least, it wasn’t the first thing I thought of when I heard about my brother. But this morning Katja called my parents. I was there and answered the phone. First she wanted to know what kind of funeral we, especially my parents, had in mind. But then she asked me about the insurance, what documents she had to submit to get the money, and how long that might take.” The man inhaled deeply, and Lina thought he was suppressing tears. “My brother isn’t below the ground yet, and she’s already asking for the money.”
Lina heard him blow his nose. There were voices in the background, either the television or maybe the Birkner parents, talking quietly.
“Thing is, she really hadn’t wanted the insurance! Philip persuaded her; he told me so, later on. It was all his doing. I hardly knew Katja then, before the child was born.” He was silent for a moment. “Not that I know her much better now. All I know is that she has tons of money, from her parents, you know. And now she can’t wait to get this money.” The indignation in the brother’s voice was obvious now. “Nasty business, really bad.”
They were silent for a moment. Then Lina asked, “And you consider this suspicious?”
“You bet I do. You should grill this lady a bit. She’s a cold bitch, I can tell you that.”
“I thought you hardly knew Katja Ansmann.”
“Well, I don’t, but my brother has told me a thing or two. Did you know, for instance, that the two haven’t slept together once since Leon was born?”
No, Lina hadn’t known that, but she wasn’t overly surprised—if it was really true. “Your brother told you that?”
“Yes. We’re . . . We’ve always been close. We’re only eleven months apart, you know. I saw the whole thing . . . How he fell in love, how thrilled he was when Katja was pregnant. But you should see how she treats the boy: to the daycare early in the morning and then to the babysitter. She often got rid of him even on weekends, or left Philip alone with him. He had to cancel get-togethers all the time because he’d have to stay home with the little one.”
“Do you know whether they ever fought?”
“Philip didn’t mention that, but he isn’t . . . Oh, damn it. He wasn’t the arguing type. He’d rather give in and did so more often than was good for him.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, who do you think wore the trousers in the relationship? He did what Katja wanted, period! The apartment in Rothenbaum, for example . . . Don’t think for a moment that was something Philip needed to have. Katja insisted on it. Money was no problem; she got it from her parents.”
“Do you know whether they thought about splitting up?”
Lukas Birkner was quiet for a while. Finally he said, “I think Philip considered it, especially lately. But I guess he didn’t want to leave Leon.” He sighed. “Katja often left him alone with the boy in the evening. Philip was afraid that without him, his son would only be around governesses, nannies, and babysitters.”
“And Frau Ansmann? Did she want to continue the relationship?”
Birkner hesitated. “What reason should she have for a separation? You don’t just leave a man like Philip.” Lina frowned. All right, she understood that one shouldn’t talk badly about the dead, but such gushing praise—it was a bit too much. “You can ask anyone you want. I swear, nobody’s going to say a bad word about him.” He sobbed and then cried quietly. Finally he sniffled and said, “I’m sorry. But I miss him so much.”
Lina said nothing and the man on the other end was silent, as well. “Herr Birkner, do you know by chance whether your brother had a girlfriend? I mean, other than Katja Ansmann?”
“No.” The answer came fast, like a shot. Of course, a perfect man doesn’t cheat—impossible. But then Birkner said, “Even though . . .The last time we got together, I noticed he was flirting aggressively with the woman behind the bar. He’d never done that before.”
“Where was that?”
“In the Blue Motion, I believe. About six weeks ago.”
“Do you remember what the woman looked like?”
“Young, slender, with long blond hair, rather tall. I think she was almost as tall as Philip. Heavy makeup, miniskirt, tight top . . . Almost slutty. Absolutely not Philip’s type.” So it hadn’t been the unknown woman from the Waldschänke. It might fit the description of Tanja Fischer—or not.
“So you can imagine that your brother might have had an affair?” Lina asked.
“Not an affair,” said Birkner. “I could imagine that he met another woman, started something—but it would have been something serious. He thought too much of himself to have affairs.”
Obviously—the golden boy. How could she have forgotten?
“One more question, Herr Birkner. What do you know about the bankruptcy of your brother’s company?”
“Not much. Sorry. He didn’t talk much about it. I only know that one of his employees messed up an important project and that was the end of it. It seems that industrial espionage was somehow involved, too. The idiot who made the mistake was a pain in the neck for a while, called Philip all the time, and blamed him for his being unemployed. Can you imagine?” Lukas Birkner snorted derisively. “But over time that calmed down.”
“Do you know any of your brother’s friends? I mean, you’re almost the same age. Maybe you had the same circle of friends.”
“In the past, Philip had tons of acquaintances and friends, in school and later in college. You know, he was popular; everyone liked him.” Lina rolled her eyes. “But the last two years, since the child arrived, Philip hardly had time anymore. I was practically the only one who could lure him away every now and then. The rest of the time he just sat around at home or went on elegant dates with his Katja: opera, theater, concerts—for that he always had time. But just to go for a beer with his brother?” Birkner paused as he seemed to notice that he was scratching at the golden image of his brother. “Not that I blame him,” he added hastily. “That’s what Katja wanted, and he always did what she wanted. He loved her.”
About an hour later, Lina was in front of the Art Nouveau building in Rothenbaum. She doubted that Katja Ansmann was home since it was hot and everybody seemed to be outside, somewhere in a shady spot or near the water. Driving on one of the bridges crossing the Alster in Winterhude, she had seen the crowds on the grass along the river.
She rang the bell and a moment later heard “Yes?”
“Lina Svenson, Major Crimes, Hamburg. I’d like to talk with Frau Ansmann.”
She heard whispering followed by a loud click when the receiver of the intercom was put down, and then the buzzer.
Today Katja Ansmann did not wear a robe, but a short, wavy skirt and a light-colored blouse. Despite the summer clothes, and even though she was wearing sandals, Katja Ansmann appeared to be dressed formally. Properly. Was it because she wore her hair up? Was it the perfect makeup or the stern expression, which made her mouth no more than a thin line?
She scrutinized Lina. The three-quarter slacks, the simple T-shirt, the light cotton shoes, and the knapsack. “Are you alone?” Katja asked.
Lina nodded. “I have a few additional questions.”
Katja Ansmann raised an eyebrow, something Lina hated, especially when, as was the case here, the gesture implied contempt.
She could hear Leon chatter in his room, and there was another voice, a woman’s voice. Had Frau Ansmann called the babysitter to have some time for herself?
Katja Ansmann stepped reluctantly aside to let Lina in and led her to the living room. A cardigan was hanging on one of the chairs, a stuffed lion was resting comfortably in a corner of the sofa, and two coffee cups stood on t
he table next to a glass with apple juice that showed signs of a child’s mouth. So maybe not the babysitter?
Lina sat down. “Frau Ansmann, our investigation has raised a couple of questions.” She took out her writing pad and pretended to be looking at her notes.
“As we now know for sure, Herr Birkner did attend a concert in the Waldschänke. Can you tell me whether it was planned from the start that he’d go there by himself?”
Katja Ansmann sat very straight, her bare knees next to each other and her hands on her lap. “Yes, as I already told you, I attended a lecture at the Chamber of Commerce. Work comes first for me.” A tight smile.
“Oh yes, that lecture. What was the topic?”
“Sonja Richter, a prominent personnel manager, lectured on corporate culture and social media,” Katja Ansmann said without the slightest hesitation.
“How long did the talk last?”
“About an hour and a half. Afterward I went to a nearby bar, Tell’s, with a client I met at the lecture.”
Lina studied the woman across from her. What arrogance power gives you, she thought: the steady gaze, a slight smile, proper posture signaling a self-confidence that nothing can shake. She seemed very relaxed for a woman whose partner had just been killed. “You’re lying,” Lina said after a brief pause.
Katja Ansmann’s cheeks got some color, but it was not clear whether it was because she was embarrassed about having been caught or indignant about such brash confrontation.
“The lecture was canceled on short notice.” Lina shrugged. “Too bad.” She suppressed a grin and leaned back. “So, where were you, really?”
Outwardly, Katja Ansmann showed almost no reaction. Her shoulders did not droop, and her facial expression showed no sign of guilt. This woman was in complete control of her emotions. She turned to the window and was silent. Lina had to pull herself together, but she knew that pushing wouldn’t bring her anywhere right now. Finally the woman said, “I was with my girlfriend.”
At first, Lina was disappointed. That was it? What a lame explanation. On the other hand, what had she expected? A confession that she shadowed and killed her partner? The admission that she loved someone else? Then the lightbulb lit up.
“By that you mean . . . a woman with whom you have a relationship?”
Katja Ansmann nodded silently.
Lina scrutinized her. It was the first time she noticed a touch of vulnerability. But why? Was it such a big deal to be a lesbian? We have gay mayors and a gay foreign minister. Who cares if two women . . . But that’s how she thought. Maybe Katja Ansmann saw it differently, and that was the only thing that counted when trying to explain her motives. “I’ll need the name and address of the woman,” she said.
Katja Ansmann paused. Then she looked toward the door and shouted,“ Could you please come here, Evelyn?” Steps sounded in the hallway and then a slender woman appeared, older than Katja Ansmann, but as perfectly groomed as the management consultant. She wore wide-legged trousers and a tight top that oozed elegance and quality. Lina thought she knew the face from somewhere but wasn’t sure. Leon trotted along, holding her hand.
“This is Evelyn Riemann.” Frau Ansmann sighed. “Councilor of State in the Ministry of Economic Affairs and Innovation. Please keep this confidential.”
Lina nodded slowly, not because she wanted to assure Frau Ansmann of her discretion, but because she now realized why Philip Birkner’s partner had kept the affair secret. In Hamburg, a councilor of state had no one above her other than the senator. But senators were quickly exchanged, while councilors often stayed in office for years and might have had even more possibilities to influence matters than senators, their formal superiors. Evelyn Riemann’s high position obviously made the affair a delicate matter, but was it sensitive enough to warrant lying to the police?
Lina let it slide for the moment and asked the official how one could reach her, very discreetly, of course. Evelyn Riemann gave her the number of her cell phone.
“How long . . . have you known each other?” Lina asked, looking at the boy.
The two women exchanged a glance. “We’ve been friends for about four years,” Frau Riemann finally said.
“Oh,” replied Lina, looking at Katja Ansmann. “So you’ve known Frau Riemann longer than Herr Birkner?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
After exchanging another look with Katja, the councilor left with the two-year-old boy. Katja followed them with her eyes as they returned to the child’s room and said, before Lina could ask, “Philip knew that . . . that there was someone other than him, but he didn’t know who. Evelyn didn’t want him to.” She looked at Lina. “Philip and I had a very open relationship. I know that he, too, had an occasional lover.”
Lina studied the woman. She knew two couples who lived in open relationships, who satisfied their sexual needs with several partners while at the same time being committed to each other and acknowledging their bond. However, she’d never have expected such an arrangement from Katja Ansmann. This was a woman who, by all appearances, met all social conventions to a tee, a woman operating within a very conservative environment that frowned on deviations from the norm.
“Why did you lie when asked where you were Thursday night?”
Katja Ansmann shrugged. “Out of habit. Evelyn and I don’t want our relationship known. Whenever we meet, we always have an alibi—a lecture, an event—for the family, for friends, for strangers. I didn’t know that the IHK lecture was canceled. Otherwise I’d have told you the truth then.”
Or you’d have looked for another event on the Internet, Lina thought. It was possible that the lesbian management consultant with the stellar Hamburg family background indeed had reasons to provide a bad alibi, but Lina was not prepared to remove her from her list of suspects. She looked at her silently. If her father’s hint was true and the Ansmann & Son Bank really was going under, the consulting firm, a daughter company, would be affected, as well. That gave Katja Ansmann a strong motive to kill her domestic partner in order to cash in his life insurance policy. When Frau Ansmann impatiently cleared her throat, Lina pointedly looked around the room. “I’m sure this apartment doesn’t come cheap. Do you own it or lease it?” Lina asked.
Katja Ansmann seemed taken aback, as if such a question were inappropriate. “We bought the apartment about two years ago, shortly before Leon was born.”
Lina nodded slowly. “When one buys real estate, some owner’s equity is usually required. I assume you got a loan from a building and loan association?” She managed to say it with a straight face.
“A building and . . . No, of course not.” Katja Ansmann just barely avoided turning up her nose. “My parents helped us out. My father owns the Ansmann & Son Bank.”
Lina wore her poker face. “And what about Herr Birkner? Did he also contribute?”
“With what? His firm was doing quite well, but he had absolutely no assets.” She grimaced. “And then there was the bankruptcy.” It was apparent how much she had resented that. Lina could imagine its effects on their domestic life—so soon after the boy was born.
“Well, fortunately he found a job quickly,” Lina said with a smile.
Was it her imagination or did Katja Ansmann actually blush? “One of my business partners was looking for a new associate at the time. I made the contact.”
“And Herr Birkner really didn’t inherit anything unexpectedly? He didn’t win the lottery?”
“I don’t know what you’re driving at, but I can assure you that he didn’t contribute anything to the apartment. Yes, his firm landed some lucrative assignments”—the right corner of Katja Ansmann’s mouth drooped slightly, as if she pitied Lina, who never saw the kind of money she herself dealt with every day—“but he could never have afforded this apartment with his income.” With a quick laugh, she said, “He invited me to dinner, every now and
then . . . or to the opera.”
Lina studied Katja Ansmann again without saying anything. Could this woman have laundered the money her partner got for sabotaging a client? After all, she had lied, without blinking an eye, about her activities on Thursday night. And she had managed to keep her affair with another woman secret for four years, which pointed to some facility with deception. Maybe this woman had other secrets. On the other hand, would she have needed money from a data theft to bankroll this apartment? Two years ago, her father wasn’t close to bankruptcy yet. Or was he?
“Have you thought about what you’ll be doing with the life insurance money?” she asked amiably at last. Finally Katja Ansmann seemed stumped. Her face turned pale, then red, and she opened and then closed her mouth. Lina couldn’t deny that she felt satisfied.
Katja Ansmann took a deep breath. “No, I don’t know yet,” she said tersely. “It’s a little early for that.”
“Early? Lukas Birkner, the brother of your deceased friend, told me that you had asked him about the life insurance this morning.”
Frau Ansmann laughed contemptuously. “Oh, did he? I’d called Philip’s parents to discuss the funeral, but he picked up. He never liked me; the feeling is mutual. During the conversation, I remembered the life insurance, and so I asked him about it.” With a mocking smile, she added, “After all, he was the one who forced the policy on us. Eventually Philip relented and said we should sign it so his brother would leave us alone and collect the few euros of his commission.”
Lina nodded. “How was the relationship between your partner and his brother? Did they get along?” She wanted to find out whether Philip really would have shared his secrets with his brother, as Lukas Birkner seemed to assume.
“I have no idea.” Katja Ansmann shrugged. “I don’t think they saw each other very often. A few times Philip asked me to say he wasn’t here when Lukas called on the landline instead of on the cell phone. Or he simply forgot their appointments.” She thought for a moment. “Lukas was his little brother,” she said as if that said it all, as if little brothers were a necessary evil. Then she looked at her watch. “Do you have more questions, Frau Svenson? Otherwise I’d suggest we continue another time. Unless there’s something important . . .” With a weak smile, she continued, “You can imagine that my girlfriend and I don’t have much time together. It’s really annoying to lose some of it.”
Dead Woods Page 10