“Sure thing, I—”
Fritz hung up.
Hannes realized Fritz had already hung up and quickly started the patrol car. Fingers trembling, he tapped the destination address into his GPS and raced toward the city.
Since Hannes had no idea what kind of car Ms. Kustermann drove or if she would need it to get to the meeting place, he realized he would have to catch her as she left her home. He also had no idea what she looked like and hoped she would walk, because he didn’t see how he could tail her in his blue-and-white police car without being noticed. Unsure what to do, he pulled into an open parking spot, which was fortunately obscured by a van but still allowed a reasonably clear view of the front door of her building.
Hannes turned down the radio. He couldn’t just follow the first woman who left the apartment building. Since Fritz wasn’t picking up his phone anymore, he couldn’t ask him for advice either. Hannes hoped the unknown meeting place was closer to Ms. Kustermann’s apartment than Schneider’s whereabouts. Otherwise, he had already missed her.
At that moment, a large garage door creaked open to the right of the building, and a silver Peugeot slowly pulled out. He leaned forward in excitement, but just as quickly relaxed when he realized the driver had gray hair. Nevertheless, seeing the car gave him an idea. His colleague Sven, who was also a competitive boxer, worked in the traffic division. Hopefully he was on duty today!
The switchboard put through his call, and Hannes’s hope waned after the eighth ring. Just as he was about to end the call, Sven picked up.
“Sven! I’m glad I caught you! It’s Hannes. Can you do me a big favor?”
“What kind of favor?”
“I’m supposed to shadow a suspect, but I have no idea what she looks like. I was hoping she’d use her car and that I could recognize her that way. Can you give me the license plate for a Leonie Kustermann who lives at 20 Post Street?”
“Um, yeah. Hold on.”
Hannes heard Sven put the phone down and did his best to stay patient.
After several minutes Sven said, “What’s the woman’s name again?”
“First name: Leonie. Last name: Kustermann. Her address is 20 Post Street.”
In the background, he heard the faint clicks of a keyboard. As Hannes looked at his watch, he groaned to himself. The real estate agent and his assistant were due to meet each other in less than ten minutes!
“Find anything? Man, I’m running out of time here,” he prodded Sven and prayed that Ms. Kustermann actually owned a car.
“Okay, here we go. Leonie Kustermann, 20 Post Street. It’s a blue 2006 Golf.” He gave him the license plate number. “Looks like she has quite the lead foot and has received several speeding tickets. She was also recently caught running a red light.”
“Yeah, and?”
“Not only was she caught, but she was photographed. It happened just a month ago.”
“Seriously? That’s awesome! What does she look like? Young? Old? Hair color?”
“It’s only a grainy black and white. She looks somewhat young, mid- to late twenties. She has long, light-colored hair. She also wears glasses and is smoking a cigarette in the photo.”
“Sven, you’re the greatest! I owe you a beer sometime, or a protein shake, if you’d prefer.”
“Beer’s fine with me,” said Sven with a laugh. “Good luck tracking her down!”
Hannes exhaled and took another look at his watch. Seven minutes left!
Then the garage door started up again. Maybe this was it.
Fritz had managed to track down Schneider. In addition to Marko’s help, fate had also smiled on him: Schneider’s black BMW 3 Series, which Fritz had recognized from the incident at the fishing harbor, had passed him in the opposite direction. Fritz had clearly spotted it on the bridge that led to the new housing development where the former container terminal once stood. But when he used the access road to a construction site to make a U-turn after the bridge, a truck rumbled up behind him and blocked the way back to the main road.
Fritz jumped out of his car, waving. He stormed over to the truck and yanked the driver’s door open.
“Move! I have to get back on the road,” he said.
Two bearded faces turned to him. “You want to see house? House not finished yet.”
“No!” shouted Fritz. “Road! I want to get onto the road!” He shoved his badge in the two construction workers’ faces, and their eyes widened.
“We done nothing! Have papers! Everything okay!”
Fritz stamped his feet. Luckily for him, another worker from the construction site wandered over.
“What’s going on?”
Fritz held out his badge. “These two idiots are blocking me! I’m chasing a suspect!”
The man quickly addressed the two men in Czech. With a deafening roar, the truck shifted into reverse and the driver backed it out into the street. A thankful Fritz patted the man on the shoulder and ran back to the Jeep. Gravel flew everywhere as he made a quick U-turn and sped off in the right direction.
Fortunately, this stretch of road wound its way through a desolate former port area. Fritz ignored the 35 mph speed limit as the quivering needle in the speedometer approached eighty-five. He couldn’t get much more out of his old car. A light flashed, and Fritz pulled his hair. A speed trap. Damn it.
A few minutes later, he entered an industrial zone, but Fritz reduced his speed only slightly. A truck exiting a refinery was just barely able to stop in time and slammed on its horn. Fritz dropped back down to 55 mph. At the first intersection, he made the spontaneous decision to continue following the main road because the other roads dead-ended at industrial facilities. Two minutes later, his suspicions were confirmed. Directly in front of him was a moss-green Toyota, but about two hundred yards ahead, he saw the black BMW convertible.
Hannes paid close attention to the garage door as it came up. He eagerly reached for the ignition in anticipation of a blue Golf. But instead of a car, a bicycle appeared. Discouraged, he pulled his hand away from the key. But the person pushing the bicycle caught his attention.
Female, since he could easily see her large breasts, probably in her late twenties, long light-blonde hair, a cigarette in her hand, and a bag slung over her shoulder. Yet she wasn’t wearing glasses. Hannes’s doubts vanished as the woman cautiously looked around. Maybe Ms. Kustermann only wore her glasses when driving. With only two minutes left, he had very little choice. Either he had missed Ms. Kustermann or she was leaving late. He preferred risking a mistake rather than sitting around doing nothing.
He quietly opened the door. Of all the possibilities, a bike was the worst! It was impossible to follow her in the police car without being noticed, and if he walked, she would easily lose him.
As the young woman got on her Dutch city bike and slowly rode away, Hannes began trotting after her along the sidewalk. The cyclist repeatedly turned and looked around, forcing Hannes to pay attention to the distance between them and use the parked cars as a screen. Given her odd behavior, he was absolutely certain he was following the right person.
Hannes was relieved that his knee was not causing him any problems. At the end of the street, Leonie turned down a narrow path that ran along a small creek and flicked the cigarette away. After looking at her watch, she began pedaling harder. Hannes picked up his pace.
The straight, narrow path didn’t offer him any camouflage, but she apparently felt safe now and only looked ahead. At the end of the path, the stream disappeared under a small bridge, and she swerved the bike to the left back onto the road. Hannes also turned left but jogged down the sidewalk on the other side of the road. Sweat was pouring down his face, leaving a taste of salt on his lips. Pedestrians turned around to look in surprise at the young man running in the summer heat in jeans.
Hannes glanced down a side street and spotted Leonie dismounting in front of a row of shops. He turned and smacked right into a jogger, causing them both to fall. He tried to get his bearings and foun
d himself half lying on top of a young woman. She moaned and pushed Hannes away. She had a bloody knee.
“Are you blind or what?” she snapped.
Hannes turned to look at her and froze.
“It’s you!” cried a familiar voice, and Hannes’s ears turned red.
“Maria! I’m so sorry. What are you doing here?”
Maria looked at her elbow, which had also been grazed, and then at Hannes. “I’m off this afternoon and was on my way to see a friend. What are you doing jogging around here? Don’t you have a murder to investigate?”
Hannes had momentarily forgotten the reason for his jog, and now he peered cautiously around a parked car. The bike was still standing in front of the shops, but Leonie was nowhere to be found. He carefully got up and explained the reason for his bizarre appearance.
“And now I’ve probably lost track of Ms. Kustermann,” he said in frustration.
“Well, I’m sorry I got in your way,” Maria said sarcastically and gently picked a small stone from the wound in her knee.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I was just so focused on chasing the suspect. I’m probably just a bad cop,” he said.
“I’d say so,” teased Maria as she pushed a strand of hair from her face. “Because if you’re trailing that green bike, you just missed the owner coming out of the pharmacy.”
Hannes looked just in time to catch the bike turning down a side street. “Sorry, but I have to follow her. Let me make it up to you! How about dinner?”
“I’ll think about it,” Maria said.
Hannes sprinted toward the side street. He sensed Maria watching him from behind and hoped she appreciated her view of him as much as he had of her.
Fritz was careful to track Schneider’s BMW without being noticed and initially stayed behind the green Toyota, which seemed to be following Schneider’s same path.
A few moments later, the black convertible suddenly accelerated and made a series of quick turns onto several side streets only to end up back on the main road. Fritz was surprised to note that the green Toyota was still following Schneider’s car and had also picked up the pace. Apparently, someone else was interested in following him, but who and why?
Schneider accelerated and blew through the intersection by the old water tower before disappearing behind a bend in the road. A moment later, the light turned yellow and Fritz accelerated and swerved into the opposite lane. Fortunately, the driver coming from the opposite direction had stopped at the traffic light, so the road was clear. Fritz easily passed the Toyota, glancing at the driver—a man with his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
Fritz zoomed by and was relieved when he saw Schneider’s car in the distance. Schneider made a sharp left onto a street of row houses on one side and a public park on the other. Fritz cautiously turned down the street and stopped behind a parked Jeep. He watched as the black BMW slowed and eventually pulled into a parking space. Schneider got out, glanced around, and trotted across the street to the park.
Fritz opened his door and followed, staying behind the parked cars in case he needed to take cover. He was so focused that he didn’t notice the green Toyota turn down the same road and pull into the last free parking space.
Hannes was running out of breath and wondered whether his break from training had taken its toll. It was already well past three o’clock, and the cyclist struggled to pick up her pace. She turned down a dirt path in the public park. The path wound through a small forested area, and Hannes was glad to escape the sun. His jeans clung to his legs, and his shirt was drenched in sweat. Birds chirped all around, and he could hear the laughter of children in the distance.
Suddenly, the bike turned onto a small path that led down to a hollow. From previous jogs, Hannes knew the path snaked around a shady pond before heading uphill again on the other side. Up ahead, on the shore of the small lake, stood a man in white linen pants and a red polo shirt. He was looking at the water, so Hannes could only see his profile. When the woman stopped and got off her bike, the man turned to her, and Hannes was now absolutely certain it was Florian Schneider. The past two days had clearly taken their toll on him. His once-straight posture and arrogance had given way to sagging shoulders and an exhausted face.
Hannes was surprised to see Leonie Kustermann wrap her arms around him. Schneider tried to push her away in embarrassment. She pulled a manila envelope out of her bag and handed it to him. He took out a small stack of papers and leafed through it while Ms. Kustermann watched.
Hannes took advantage of this opportunity to sneak closer, using the bushes as cover whenever possible. He forced himself to breathe quietly so as not to betray his position. His pulse gradually returned to normal, but after the long run he felt hotter and sweatier.
He gently pushed a branch aside to get a clearer view. They talked in hushed voices. Schneider stuffed the papers back into the envelope and affectionately stroked Ms. Kustermann’s arm to calm her. Unfortunately, Hannes was too far away to overhear them.
He noticed a small movement near a thick oak tree, which stood directly opposite him on a slope behind the couple. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, chose the camera function, and zoomed in on the tree. A grin crept over his face as an owl-like head appeared on the screen, peering from behind the mighty tree trunk. Old Fritz had managed to track down Schneider. He was certainly one tough cop!
The conversation between Schneider and Ms. Kustermann became more heated; Hannes directed his attention back to the pond. She was furiously waving her arms and violently pushed him. And then it happened: there was a loud crack opposite Hannes, and Schneider and Ms. Kustermann turned around. A man, who had apparently lost his footing, skidded down the slope and landed only a few feet from the water.
“I knew it!” shouted Schneider. “I told you I was being followed, but you wouldn’t believe me!”
Enraged, he dropped the envelope and stomped over to the fallen man. He leaned down and angrily grabbed him by the shirt collar, then shook him so forcefully that Hannes became seriously worried and wondered who the man was.
“How long have you been spying on me?” Schneider yelled, his fist raised.
Then there was another loud crack followed by the sound of rustling leaves. “Police! Let go of him immediately!” Fritz made his way down the slope, aiming his gun at Schneider. Ms. Kustermann let out a scream and clapped her hands over her mouth.
Schneider stood up and glared at the detective. “You again! At least you came at the right time. Arrest this guy immediately!”
“Why?” Fritz asked as he slowly approached.
“Because he’s probably the one who’s been following me for days! Here!” Schneider kicked at a digital camera that the small pudgy man was holding. “He’s been taking photos!”
Hannes left his hiding place and walked up. Fritz looked at his sweat-soaked clothes. “Glad you could make it,” he joked but could not hide his approval.
“It just keeps getting better and better,” Schneider said. “So three people have been following me this whole time!”
“Apparently,” Fritz said. “And I bet you know why.”
“No, I have no idea why!”
Hannes picked up the discarded envelope and pulled the papers out. “Property Description” was written at the top of every one. He realized the documents were for a simple real estate deal.
Fritz took a closer look at the stranger for the first time. His wire-rimmed glasses were slightly crooked as a result of Schneider’s attack, and grass and mud were stuck to his sweaty bald head.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Fritz asked him.
The man timidly fixed his glasses. “I’m a private detective,” he said, and an angry Schneider immediately started punching him.
“Enough!” shouted Fritz. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”
Blinded by rage, Schneider continued to pummel the man. Hannes rushed forward and pulled Schneider off. He dragged him away and tossed him into the small po
nd. After a few seconds, a sputtering Schneider emerged from the water.
“You have my respect,” Fritz said behind him. “That side job of yours certainly doesn’t hurt your athletic prowess. But handcuffs probably would have sufficed.”
“Would you really have fired on him?” Hannes asked.
“At my age, I’m not going to throw myself in front of some deranged man. See to the private detective. He needs medical attention.”
Hannes determined that the whimpering detective hadn’t suffered any major injuries.
“What do you want from me?” Schneider asked Fritz in an exhausted voice.
“The same as yesterday. I want to talk to you about the dead woman we found on the beach. We had planned to visit you yesterday, but you vanished.”
“Listen, I already told you the other day that I didn’t—”
“Well, since then, there have been some crucial developments. A witness has come forward and identified you and your boat. He claims he saw you at the aforementioned stretch of beach. You dropped anchor and argued with a blonde woman on board. A few hours later, a blonde woman was found dead on that very beach. The victim was Helene Ternheim, and you’ve done business with her before.”
“That’s quite the story you got there. I don’t even know a Helene Ternheim.”
“No? Then how is it that you sold this supposedly unfamiliar Ms. Ternheim a penthouse on Sun Street down by the harbor three years ago?”
“Ah, I remember that penthouse, what a unique place! But I don’t remember the name of the buyer. All I heard was that she worked for a large corporation.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Fritz said. “You’re claiming it was purely by chance that you were at the same spot where Ms. Ternheim was later found dead?”
“Why would I have killed her? The sale went smoothly. And since then, I’ve had nothing to do with this woman. So what reason would there have been?”
Time Heals No Wounds (A Baltic Sea Crime Novel) Page 15