by Inge Löhnig
Meo aimed the pointer at a cluster of green dots. ‘There’s an anomaly. His mobile connected several times with the Münsing radio cell during this period.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Later.’ Meo pointed at the map. ‘Let’s take a look at Tuesday, 7 October, to Sunday, 12 October.’ He pressed a key. An array of colourful dots appeared. All were concentrated in Munich. ‘As you can see, Albert, or his mobile, spent the whole week in the city. Only on Monday, 13 October, did he travel back to Münsing.’ Meo reached for the keyboard behind him. The colourful dots vanished, replaced with red. ‘At 7.28 p.m. Albert phones the emergency services. He’s found his father dead. His mobile, however, connected to the Münsing cell at 7.06 p.m.’
Twenty-two minutes. Dühnfort contemplated the map. ‘So Albert and Bertram were at the cabin at the same time.’ All at once, Dühnfort knew what the fingerprints on the window frame had come from. Bertram was in the house. He heard the car and realised it was Albert. For understandable reasons he didn’t want to bump into him, so he climbed out of the window. Albert entered the house, while Bertram crouched in the garden . . .
Slowly Dühnfort began to understand. He looked at Meo. ‘All those radio-cell connections from Albert’s mobile on 6 October, what’s their significance?’
Meo clicked all but the green dots away, leaving the ones that marked Albert’s location on 6 October, the day his father had been attacked. ‘His mobile first connected in Münsing at 7.11 p.m., then at twenty-minute intervals until 8.11 p.m. That means there were no significant changes in location. Afterwards it connected four times within half an hour. So the phone was moved, but remained inside the same cell.’ Meo gestured with the laser pointer at the map on the wall.
Now Dühnfort understood.
*
They had left the city behind them and were heading down the motorway to Wolfratshausen. Furrowed meadows, harvested cornfields and green squares of grass flew past, interspersed with the occasional copse of autumn-coloured trees. Babs looked at Albert. ‘I’m meeting with Dühnfort anyway – we’ve got an appointment at Münsing. Best you come with me and tell him about the key and watch,’ he’d said. Now he sat behind the wheel, his hands gripping it firmly, lost in thought. When he noticed her gaze, he returned it. His mouth smiled; his eyes didn’t. ‘When Dad bought his first convertible, we drove this route. It was the end of the sixties, and I was allowed on its maiden voyage.’ He looked back at the road. ‘A Mercedes 280 SL Pagoda. Bright red, two-seater, leather upholstery. We drove into the mountains and bought a huge ice cream somewhere, with whipped cream and a paper umbrella. Bertram had to stay at home. And I felt awesome.’
Just like Wolfram. Unjust. ‘That wasn’t fair of him.’
‘So what? Life’s not fair.’ Albert was focusing all his attention on the traffic. ‘Neither was Dad. Bertram was absolutely right. Our father was a master manipulator. Even when we were kids, he made sure we were all vying for his favour. He played us off against each other, thought it was hilarious. He used us to boost his ego.’
Albert’s hands clenched more tightly around the wheel, his knuckles straining white. What was wrong with him? She’d never known him like this. Sarcastic, embittered. All at once she felt sorry for him. ‘Why did you do it for so long? I mean, as a child, sure, you don’t see that sort of thing. But later . . .’
The tendons in his neck protruded. He said nothing, eyes fixed rigidly on the road. Only after a while did the tension dissipate. ‘I didn’t see it. It’s something I’ve only just come to realise. He saw something in me, something special, a kind of trophy.’
‘A trophy?’ Again she sounded like an echo. What did he mean? ‘Mum cheated on him the year before I was born; she planned to leave him. But you don’t cuckold a Heckeroth. That’s not someone you betray. That’s someone who takes what belongs to him.’
Babs was shocked by what Albert was hinting at. Had Wolfram raped Elli when they conceived Albert? That would be horrible. Worse still, however, was letting Albert know. ‘Did Wolfram tell you that, or . . .’
Again he glanced over at her. In his eyes was a mixture of sorrow, bitterness and rage. It was a look that frightened Babs and stopped her saying anything else.
Soon afterwards they saw a signpost for the motorway services at Höhenrain. Babs needed the loo, so she asked Albert to pull over. He nodded.
How had he suddenly come to learn about Elli’s affair, and that Wolfram had used violence to . . . Wolfram would never have admitted Elli’s betrayal, nor would he have taunted Albert with the rape of his mother. Or would he?
Babs gazed out of the window. Her mind wandered back over the watch, the key; Bertram, that arsehole. Unexpectedly a thought pressed its way forward, like a door slowly opening. She threw herself against it with all her strength, but it was too late. She’d already glimpsed the abyss that lay beyond it: what if it wasn’t Bertram at all . . . but Albert. She grew cold.
Albert flicked on the indicator, entered the services and pulled up directly outside the toilet block. ‘Hurry up. We’re late.’
Numbly, she climbed out and entered the flat-roofed building next to the petrol station. She felt like someone had hit her over the head with a hammer. How could she suspect her own husband? But he was behaving strangely, and on the evening of Wolfram’s attack he’d come home late, all worked-up and aggressive. It couldn’t be . . . why would he? She took a breath, blocking out those unspeakable thoughts. Albert had got on incredibly well with his father. He’d loved him.
She went to the toilet. A moment later she heard someone enter the room and bolt a stall door. After Babs had relieved herself, she washed her hands and let warm water run over her wrists. Her nerves were shot; no wonder, after everything that’d happened. She surveyed herself in the mirror. Wan skin, flushed patches of red, a haunted gaze. She tried to breathe calmly. Of course Bertram had hidden the key and the watch. But what about the dead bird? If Bertram hadn’t been lying, how did the watch get into Albert’s desk drawer? Babs stared at her reflection in the mirror. Maybe Dühnfort wasn’t waiting at Münsing. The tension grew, her nerves vibrating like ropes stretched taut by some monstrous force. Her hands began to shake. She didn’t believe her husband . . . she thought he was . . . Babs pulled herself together, squared her shoulders and shook her head. Why would Albert kill his father? He didn’t have the least shadow of a motive.
A stall door was pushed open. A young policewoman stepped out. Babs wheeled round, dropping her handbag as she did so. Lipstick, mobile, purse – everything tumbled out onto the dirty floor.
The policewoman eyed her. ‘Everything all right?’
Babs bent down, gathering up her things with flying fingers. ‘Yeah, fine. I’m just in a hurry.’ She stuffed everything into her bag and forced a smile.
*
Dühnfort understood what the proliferation of green dots inside the Münsing radio cell meant. ‘Albert drove his dad’s car to the hotel.’
‘Looks like it. And there’s something else.’ Meo clicked the dots away. Orange ones appeared instead. He let the laser pointer wander across the map. ‘One week later, on the day the body was found, Albert set off home shortly after nine, presumably after you asked him whether he could cope by himself.’
Dühnfort remembered. I’ll be fine, Albert had said.
‘He took the motorway towards Munich, but then turned west at the Starnberg junction and drove into Starnberg itself. Only then did he go back to town.’ Meo looked at him. ‘I bet he had Bertram’s bike in the boot the whole time you were talking to him, and while Buchholz was working with his crew inside the house. Pretty cold!’
‘That explains the twenty-two-minutes between his arrival and the call to the emergency services. It wasn’t Bertram, it was Albert who used that time to get rid of evidence.’ Suddenly all the information converged into a single picture. ‘Bertram, worried about his dad, shows up at the cabin just before Albert. He has his own key. He enters the house and
finds the body. A car pulls up. The brother he hates gets out. Bertram panics – Albert’s going to think he killed his father. So he escapes through the window.’ Dühnfort spun the thread further. ‘Bertram must have been watching under cover of darkness how Albert reacted. And what he saw must have surprised him.’ The next piece of the puzzle fell into place. ‘Bertram took photo or video evidence on his mobile, which would explain why he didn’t clear up the mistake about the bikes. He was blackmailing his brother.’
‘I don’t understand the bike thing,’ said Meo. ‘Why did Albert take Bertram’s bike to Starnberg?’
‘On the day of the attack, Albert stowed his father’s bike in the boot of the jeep so he could cycle back from the hotel to his car. Then, for whatever reason, he put it back. On the day the body was found, he planted false evidence and covered his tracks. He wanted to make his dad’s bike disappear but took the wrong one – Bertram’s.’
Dühnfort’s phone began to ring. He took it out of his pocket. ‘Sergeant Meingast,’ came a woman’s voice. He remembered the officer who’d responded to Albert’s call from the cabin with her colleague Fischer. ‘I don’t know whether this is significant. But the man who recently discovered the body of his father, that Dr Heckeroth – I just bumped into him at the Höhenrain motorway services. He has a woman with him, and she’s a bundle of nerves. I thought that might interest you. I’m tailing him at a discreet distance, just to be on the safe side.’
‘What does she look like?’
Meingast’s description fitted Babs Heckeroth.
‘Where are you?’ Dühnfort hurried to his office and slipped on his coat.
‘On the A95, heading south. Next exit’s Wolfratshausen.’
‘Probably he’s driving to the cabin. Follow him, but keep your distance. He mustn’t see you. And keep me in the loop.’
‘OK.’ Her voice sounded pleased and excited.
‘Don’t do anything – you’re to stay invisible, is that clear?’
*
Albert turned off the main road onto the bumpy forest track that led to the cabin. There was no car outside. ‘Dühnfort seems to be late,’ said Babs.
‘Looks that way.’ Albert got out and made for the cabin. Babs followed him hesitantly. She didn’t want to go inside. In there . . .
‘Have a seat on the terrace. I’ll just go and see if everything’s in order,’ said Albert, as if reading her mind. ‘Can I leave you alone that long, pet? Or are you scared?’
Babs breathed a sigh of relief. There he was again, her Albert. ‘It’s just . . . you understand.’
‘Of course. Sit in the sun. I’ll be right back.’
She went round the corner of the house and settled down on the veranda. It was a gorgeous autumn day. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sunshine on her face, until she heard a noise behind her. Albert opened the window. ‘Can you come in and give me a hand? The fridge is still going. We’d better clear it out and let it defrost.’
Babs overcame her disgust. Dühnfort would be arriving soon, so she couldn’t lounge around much longer anyway. As she entered the house, she noticed the torn police tape at the door. Had Albert done that?
She was struck by a revolting stench, and tried to breathe as shallowly as she could. The bedroom door stood open. Ignoring the chaos, Babs went in and opened the window. Then she went into the kitchen. Albert had already taken a bin bag from the cupboard and was chucking out the spoiled food. Now he pushed the bag into her hand and left the room. Hearing him lock the front door, she spun round. The realisation of what that meant settled in her stomach like an icy chill.
Albert came back and gestured towards the chair by the kitchen table. Then he took the watch out of his trouser pocket and placed it on the pine surface. ‘Sit down.’ His voice sounded weary.
*
He had no plan.
Before, when Babs had reached for the telephone in their apartment, his heart had practically seized up. He wasn’t sure where the story about meeting Dühnfort had come from. He only knew he had to stop her. But how? Take her into his confidence? If he told her how it had happened . . . she’d understand. But the price was too high. He wanted to be free. Free, at last. In any case, he’d humiliated her. She wouldn’t forgive him that, not with her high moral standards. And even if she did understand, she’d force him to face what he had done.
Then there was the problem with the policewoman. Turning up at the service station like that – what did it mean? Had she spoken to Babs? Had it been coincidence, entering the toilet block shortly after her? It was the same officer who’d arrived at the cabin with her partner after he phoned the police. He hoped she didn’t recognise him. She hadn’t followed him, at least.
And why would she? he reassured himself. No one had the least suspicion.
But Babs knew it. He saw it in her eyes.
*
So her intuition had been right. It wasn’t Bertram who’d put that watch in the desk drawer. ‘Dühnfort isn’t coming.’
‘You should sit down.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ll explain. Just sit down, for God’s sake!’
She obeyed.
Albert took a seat opposite her, reached for the expensive timepiece and turned it over. On the back he’d had something engraved, words that even at the time had struck Babs as excessive, almost histrionic. To the world’s best father, in everlasting love and affection. ‘I didn’t want this. You’ve got to believe me.’
The chill reached her chest and kept rising. Something inside her refused to understand the meaning of his words. It was as though the solid ground gave way beneath her, becoming a morass, a treacherous swamp.
‘Do you believe I didn’t want this?’ He was still staring at the engraving, but glanced up and looked her in the eye. She saw sorrow, fear and despair, but also helplessness. She couldn’t imagine him killing his father in cold blood, so she nodded.
His shoulders sank with relief. ‘Our anniversary, do you remember?’ As he spoke, he ran his thumb over the engraving. His eyes were fixed on his hands. ‘He could easily have fixed the drain himself. He told me so when I was finished and we were having dinner. Do you want to know why he called? He wanted to see whether I was really that much of a pussy, whether he really had so much power over me that he could spoil our anniversary.’
*
When Dad had phoned about the drain, he’d immediately felt a vague sense of irritation. As usual. And, as always, he’d dismissed it. He’d been annoyed with Babs because she simply didn’t understand, and as always he hadn’t realised the true source of his frustration. As if there were a wall against which all of it rebounded and deflected – onto Babs, whose attempts to get him on her side led to quarrels with the flawless regularity of clockwork. How could he have been so blind? How could he have failed to see the mechanism? Perhaps because he was a part of it, and thus could never get an overview? Because he didn’t have an outsider’s perspective. If he had, he wouldn’t have participated for so long. Only once, in early puberty, had he rebelled. To his astonishment his mother had taken up the cudgels on his behalf, though she gave up long before the battle was over. That Friday lunchtime he’d lost the battle, yet believed he’d won. He’d put his father on a pedestal, made him a saint, never recognising that he was the Devil. Bertram was the only one who’d seen through him – the master manipulator.
Still staring at the engraving, he lowered the watch onto the table. Why had he taken it and the key? He didn’t know.
Pale and jittery, Babs sat on the chair ready to spring, as if she were afraid of him. Should she be? Albert wasn’t sure. He just knew what he couldn’t let happen. There was only one chance. She mustn’t let him down. But how could he explain to her the inexplicable?
‘I don’t know if you noticed, but it started a few days after Mum’s funeral. Dad was acting oddly. He was ill at ease, constantly prowling around the apartment, aggressive and on edge. I knew it wasn’t grief. He never loved
Mum, he kept her like some exotic pet . . .’
‘Like an animal . . .’
Albert hated it when she parroted him. Rage sprang up inside him like a jack-in-the-box. ‘Don’t interrupt me!’ He slammed his fist on the table. Fine droplets of spit landed on the wooden surface. Babs flinched. He mustn’t unsettle her; with a deep breath, he tried to speak calmly. ‘Dad had a problem. That’s why he went to the cabin. He wanted time to think, to come up with a solution. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do.’
‘I can’t follow you, Albert. What was Wolfram’s problem, and what did it have to do with Elli?’
‘Dad’s problem was always his narcissism. He was vain and conceited. A self-satisfied arsehole.’ It did him good to say it out loud. He felt relieved, sensed himself gaining assurance. ‘It nearly killed him when he found out I wasn’t his son.’
*
It was almost half ten, and Marc was still asleep. He wasn’t due in the office until afternoon, and Caroline had decided to have breakfast with him. She’d already informed Tanja that she wouldn’t be in until noon, but would be contactable by phone.
Now she was sitting with her laptop at the breakfast table, trying to work on her presentation for the board meeting. But her mind kept wandering back to the memory that had returned to haunt her earlier that morning. How old had she been? Eight or nine? Quite little, anyway. No wonder she’d almost forgotten. Yet with the memory had come the old emotions. Fear and helplessness.
The kitchen door was opened. Marc came inside. He looked crumpled and drowsy. ‘Good morning, Caro.’ He gave her a kiss on the cheek and surveyed her. ‘What’s the matter? You look upset.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ Reluctantly she shook her head. She couldn’t bother Marc with that old tale, especially as it made her practically nauseous to think of it. She felt like a turncoat, too, though at that thought she felt a spurt of rage. No, she wasn’t going to prettify the ugly family portrait. ‘You’re right, there is something on my mind.’
Marc poured a cup of coffee and sat down. ‘Want to tell me?’