“Do you know when she died?” he asked Andreas, who pulled up a chair and sat down.
“Sotny doesn’t want to be pinned down,” Andreas said, “but her death most likely occurred more than twenty-four hours ago.” The dead woman had been found at six in the morning, so when she was supposed to come in for questioning the day before, she was no longer alive.
“What other evidence did you find?”
Andreas shrugged. “Forensics is still out there, cursing and swearing. They’re collecting everything they can find, which means tons of garbage.” Ninety-nine percent of it had nothing to do with the murder. Jenisch Park was a public recreation area in the west of Hamburg, almost 104 acres and heavily traveled—a horror for the forensics team. On top of that, it had rained all day the day before, not very helpful when looking for tracks. “So far, we haven’t found any ID, a wallet, or a cell phone.”
Hanno told him that the phone was already in the forensics lab. “It’s doubtful that she went and got another one Tuesday night, but maybe she had an old one in a drawer at home.”
Lina shook her head. “As far as I recall, her cell phone was rather old. I don’t think she could even take pictures with it.” It didn’t seem that Franziska Leyhausen had been up to date with technology.
“Why were you looking for her in the first place?” Andreas asked, and Brita Michaelis gave him a summary of the Birkner murder case and the status of the investigation.
“But how does Leyhausen’s death fit into all that?” Sebastian asked. “If she killed Birkner . . .”
“I think that’s highly unlikely,” Lina said. “But she might have seen the killer.”
“Then why didn’t she say anything when we questioned her?” Alex objected.
“Because she knew him and wanted to protect him?” Hanno suggested.
“Daniel Vogler,” Alex said slowly. “He knew both Philip Birkner and Franziska Leyhausen. And he knew that Leyhausen would be in Niendorf Thursday night. She had told him about the concert.”
“And he lives in Großflottbek, quite close to Jenisch Park,” Lina added.
Brita Michaelis frowned. “Why don’t we grill this gentleman? Alex and Andreas, you are the liaisons between the two teams. Find out where Vogler is and bring him in. The rest of you go after the old murder case. Dig up old friends and classmates. Question former teachers and the victim’s family. Above all, find out how Vogler and Birkner got along back then.”
Lina plopped down on her chair and sighed. “The poor woman,” she said softly. It doesn’t happen often that an investigator meets a murder victim while she’s still alive. That’s why this case got to her. Two days ago, Franziska had sat here in front of her and allowed glimpses into her life—though not voluntarily. And now she was dead. Lina even felt the impulse that she had only witnessed in others so far when they heard about the death of a person they knew. “It can’t be. She was alive only two days ago.”
Max sat silently at his desk, with his eyes closed. Lina watched him curiously since she rarely had the chance to look at him that openly. He had a smooth forehead, a well-proportioned nose, and short dark hair, and she knew that the eyes behind his closed eyelids were brown. His face was slightly tanned, and he had tiny laugh lines around the eyes and a dimple on his chin. His lips were full and soft, and out of the blue Lina asked herself how it would be to kiss them. She quickly turned away as if caught, and started to look for the names and telephone numbers of previous witnesses.
She had entered the first name—Christian Bischoff—into the computer to check the current address, when Max moved again.
“How about paying Lukas Birkner a visit?” he asked.
Lina looked puzzled. Why didn’t she think of that? “Let’s do it,” she said, grabbing her knapsack.
The little storefront office was closed and the rooms behind the large windows were dark. A handwritten sign was displayed in the window. “Closed due to a death in the family.”
“Let’s try them at home,” Lina suggested.
Since the sun was shining, a not-very-common occurrence this summer, they walked the short distance. The apartment was near the office, in a building from the 1980s. Frau Birkner’s voice on the intercom was hesitant, but when she heard who wanted to speak with her, she clicked the door open.
Their apartment was on the third floor. Frau Birkner was waiting for them in the doorway. Lina could hear television voices in the background—it seemed to be a talk show—but otherwise the apartment was quiet.
“Who’s here?” Lukas Birkner shouted.
“The woman from Major Crimes and someone else,” his wife responded.
Max introduced himself politely and showed his badge. “May we come in? We would like to ask your husband some questions about his brother’s school years.”
The woman let them in reluctantly and went to the living room ahead of them. Light pine furniture, a seating set with burgundy upholstery, friendly curtains without net liners, and flowers on the windowsills. A toy bulldozer lay on one of the chairs and a children’s book on the sofa. Frau Birkner collected them and self-consciously held them in her hands. “The children are with my sister,” she said softly, “so Lukas can . . .”
Without paying attention to her, her husband got up from the sofa and turned the television off with the remote control.
“Did you find my brother’s murderer?” he asked by way of a greeting.
“No, not yet, Herr Birkner,” Max answered calmly. “We are right now looking for old schoolmates of your brother and hope you might help us along.”
Lina and Max sat down on the two chairs, while the Birkners let themselves sink onto the couch.
“Is it true that your brother was in the same clique as Julia Munz, who was later killed?” Max asked.
“Philip had nothing to do with her death,” Birkner snapped at them. He put a hand on his wife’s knee, but it wasn’t a tender gesture.
Max chose his words carefully. “I didn’t imply that he did, Herr Birkner. We are currently simply interested in students with whom your brother had contact then, who his friends were, and possibly who he might have quarreled with.”
“Philip had no arguments with anyone,” Birkner replied as fast as before. “He was liked by everyone.”
Lina saw that Sonja Birkner frowned briefly. Her husband didn’t notice.
Without responding to the remark, Max asked patiently, “Did you also belong to your brother’s clique?”
“Of course I did. Philip and I were very close and often did things together with the clique.”
“Who else belonged to it?”
“Christian Bischoff, Maike Haubach, Miriam Haase.” He thought for a moment. “Björn joined us on occasion. Björn Boysen, Miriam’s friend. But that was the nucleus; others joined in every now and then.”
“Was Daniel Vogler one of the people who occasionally joined in?”
“Daniel Vogler? That guy?” Lukas laughed briefly and smacked his hand on his wife’s knee, as if someone had made a bad joke. “Julia would never have tolerated that guy in the clique.”
Max tilted his head. “Why not?”
Birkner shrugged. “He just didn’t fit in with us. You know, we partied all the time. Something was always happening; we had tons of fun. Daniel, he was such a geek. He constantly sat in front of his computer instead of spending the afternoon with friends.” He grimaced. “Julia lived on the same street as he did, so it was inevitable that they sometimes walked to school together in the morning. She tried sometimes to have a conversation with him, but he simply wasn’t able to open his mouth. As I said, a nerd.”
Sonja Birkner got up abruptly, mumbled an excuse, and left the room.
Lina followed her with her eyes, but Lukas Birkner didn’t seem to notice his wife’s reaction. Max nodded slowly, as if he understood completely what Birkner had just descr
ibed.
“Did you know that Herr Vogler was employed by your brother’s company?”
It was the first time Lukas Birkner seemed rattled. “At Inoware? No, Philip never told me that. But sure, he never thought about anything other than computers, our little math genius.”
“Math genius?” Max asked.
“Yes. Daniel skipped two grades. He was some kind of super brainiac. You know, a champion in math and physics, but a loser when it came to sports.” He rolled his eyes. “He was in my class for a couple of years. You can’t imagine how our teachers constantly portrayed him as a shining example, especially after he won one of those math competitions. Just awful.” He shrugged. “And he landed in my brother’s firm? How funny is that?” But Lina could see that it gnawed at him, not to have known about it. He, his brother’s confidant.
“Can you remember the names of some students who were friends with Daniel Vogler?” Max asked.
“No idea. I don’t think he had any friends.” Lukas Birkner shrugged. “He liked to stay by himself. He isolated himself most of the time.”
“The party, the one after which Julia Munz was killed—did you attend that one?”
Lukas Birkner shook his head. “No. Philip and I were away with our parents, in Hohwacht. Our father celebrated his birthday in our vacation place, so we had to go with them.”
Max nodded and gave Lina a questioning look. She checked her notes. “Herr Birkner, do you have any idea what became of the other members of your clique? Do you know whether all of them still live in Hamburg?”
Birkner frowned. “Christian went to college after his community service; he didn’t do military service. I think he studied process engineering or something similar. I’m sure he’s finished by now. Maike went to study in the United States. I haven’t heard from her in ages. And the other two . . .” He shrugged. “I have no idea what became of them. You have to understand, they were all one year above me, so I never attended their class reunions or stuff like that.”
A short time later, Lina and Max were on the street again. They walked to the busier street where they had parked and where Lina had seen a bakery.
“I wonder what Frau Birkner would have told us if her husband hadn’t been there,” Lina said while they walked toward the car. She was chewing on a croissant and had a cup of coffee in the other hand. Max clicked the key fob and the car in front of them flashed.
“It must have been something about Daniel Vogler,” Lina continued, “and about Philip. She doesn’t seem to agree with everything her husband says.”
Max nodded. “But she doesn’t want her husband to know.” They looked at each other. “Do you think she’ll call us on her own?” As always, they had left their business card, along with the request to call if they remembered anything else.
“I doubt it. She’s had my card since Monday.” Lina looked around. “Doesn’t Frank Jensen live around here?”
Max nodded. “Let’s go and ask him if he knew that Birkner and Vogler knew each other.”
Less than five minutes later, they were standing in front of the semidetached house on the quiet side street. It looked just as depressing as it had last time, but Frank Jensen opened the door after the first ring. He was clean-shaven and wore clean clothes. He must have noticed Lina’s astonished face because he said, with a shrug, “Hard to believe, I know.” As he had done before, he disappeared into the house without bothering to check whether his visitors followed him.
The house smelled of cleaning solutions. Lina could see two large cardboard boxes through the open living room door, a broom was leaning against a wall, and in front of it was a full garbage bag. The kitchen was tidy and clean, but the little camping table and stool were still the only furniture.
Frank Jensen raised his shoulders apologetically. “Sorry I can’t offer you a seat. My wife took everything when she moved out.” But instead of taking the only seat himself, as he had last time, he remained standing. “Have you checked my alibi?”
Max nodded. “Yes.” He didn’t mention that it did not completely clear him.
“And? Where was I?” Jensen asked, attempting a grin. When there was no answer, he raised his shoulders again, slightly embarrassed. “Dumb question. You’re probably not allowed to tell me. But in all honesty, I still don’t remember.”
Max said calmly, “You were in one of the bars you told us about.”
Lina made a show of looking around. “Things have certainly changed here,” she said with a smile. “So things are looking up for you?”
“Yeah, well . . . ,” the man replied. He ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous gesture that reminded Lina of the picture of misery he had been just a few days ago. “You know, when you showed up here that time, it scared me. And then this blackout . . . Not to know whether I killed someone or not.” He shook his head. “That was a wake-up call.” He looked from Max to Lina and back again. “I didn’t kill Philip, did I?”
Max hesitated, not long but long enough for Jensen to go pale. “We are not absolutely sure yet, but in my opinion, you don’t have to worry, Herr Jensen.”
That didn’t seem to calm the man. He patted his shirt pockets for cigarettes, took one out, and lit it. He took a few deep drags before calming down. Then he looked at Lina and finally, belatedly, answered her question. “I’m moving out next week.” With a crooked smile, he said, “This house isn’t the right place for me, you know . . .” Smoking hastily, he added, “By the way, I’m moving away from Hamburg. I hope that’s all right. My parents own a house with a separate apartment near Hannover. That’s where I’ll stay for a while. Who knows, maybe I really can start over again. New city, new happiness, or something like that.” He looked around as if his failure were the kitchen’s fault. “Around here I can’t recover. Funny, actually. You’d think that in a large city like Hamburg you could always find a niche.” He shook his head. “But, no, Hamburg and I just don’t click.”
Lina and Max looked at each other. It was possible that the man was deceiving himself big-time, but a hopeful new beginning was certainly better than drinking oneself to death.
Frank Jensen noticed that he was the only one talking. He stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray and said, “Now then, if you didn’t come to arrest me, why are you here?”
“When you were questioned on Saturday, you mentioned a former colleague, Daniel Vogler,” Max said. “How did he get along with Philip?”
Jensen looked surprised. “Good. Why?”
“So there were never problems? Quarrels? Never bad vibes?” Lina chimed in. “Think about it a little.”
Jensen looked out the window at the garden. A sandpit sat abandoned in the sunlight in front of a privet hedge. “I never noticed any bad blood between them. Once, when I came back from lunch early, I heard them discuss how to best solve a particular programming problem. Daniel occasionally had a know-it-all attitude, you know, and in the end Philip gave up, irritated. ‘Oh well, you’ve always been the one who knows it all, haven’t you?’ When they saw me, Philip explained that they knew each other from school. I hadn’t known that before.” He looked at Lina pensively. “Now that you ask me, I remember that the two never quarreled, but . . . they were always very reserved with each other. What I mean is that Philip always treated Daniel very politely and correctly, as if he wanted to make sure he didn’t alienate him—or as if he felt uncomfortable in his company.” He was thinking some more. “At the time, I thought it was because he didn’t want to lose him, because Daniel was a true genius. Awkward in dealing with people, but with computers . . . incredible.”
Lina leafed through her notepad and found the key words she had written down about Vogler. “Do you know what he’s doing now?” she asked. When Jensen shook his head, she said, “Something with high-dimensional Markov network processes in nonergodic spaces. Something like that. I didn’t understand a word.”
Frank Jen
sen looked at Lina. “What is he doing?”
“He works on Markov network processes in nonergodic spaces.” She shrugged. “Sorry, I couldn’t take notes fast enough.”
“And where does he work?”
“At the university. As a mathematician.”
“Hm.” Frank Jensen scratched his head. “Are you sure?”
Max and Lina exchanged glances. Nobody had checked Vogler’s testimony so far. “Why would that be unusual?”
Frank Jensen frowned. “Honestly, I can also only guess what those words mean, even though I did come across them when I was a student. But I’m surprised that a computer scientist would spend his time doing that. If I’m not mistaken, we’re talking about basic mathematical research here, and that has as much to do with his work at Inoware as the development of space travel has with driving a compact car.”
“Daniel Vogler isn’t just a computer scientist, but also a mathematician,” said Lina.
“Well . . .” Jensen shrugged. “Then it’s even more strange that a mathematician ended up in Philip’s little firm.”
Max and Lina looked at each other again. “After you found out that the two had gone to school together,” Max asked, “did the topic ever come up again?”
Jensen shook his head. “Not as far as I know.”
“Would some of your other colleagues know more about it?” Max asked. “Maybe they found out during breaks, or over a beer after work, or something like that?”
Jensen was contemplating. “I can’t imagine that with Daniel. He’s your classic loner. He mostly kept to himself and hardly ever talked about personal matters with colleagues. Philip, on the other hand, he was a communication talent, had charm, and could win you over in no time. It’s possible that he told someone.” Then he brightened up. “You should talk with Tanja, Tanja Fischer. She was the girl Friday, a secretary, but she called herself assistant to the manager since that has a better ring. She and Philip got along well.” He paused for a moment. “Unusually well. At least until Philip took up with the Ansmann woman.”
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