The Northern Cross (A Baltic Sea Crime Novel Book 2)

by Hendrik Falkenberg

  “Unfortunately, no. A cat got in the way.” He gave a brief summary of the failed chase and the so-called Jesus Murder. She was totally fascinated.

  “That’s incredible. The moment I leave, a murder straight out of Hollywood happens. Well, at least you can’t pin it on me.”

  “No, you have the perfect alibi,” Hannes said and grinned.

  “That reminds me of a movie I saw a long time ago,” Anna said. “A serial killer went around torturing people to death because they had allegedly committed one of the seven deadly sins. Each murder was made to look like one of the sins.”

  “Was anyone nailed to a cross?”

  “I don’t think so. But you said the dead man was a porn star. Maybe some maniac wanted to punish him. Isn’t lust one of the seven deadly sins?”

  “No idea, I’m not particularly versed in the Bible.” Hannes looked at Anna and thought about the “attack,” as Mrs. Schweiger had called the incident on Friday night, and David Bach with his iron rod. Was this guy some kind of copycat? It was worth considering.

  “If you ever wanted to change careers, you’d make a good detective,” he said. “Have you thought about what you want to do now?”

  Anna shook her head. Her brown hair fell into her face. Hannes liked the way it looked—it was considerably longer than it had been in the summer. He also liked that she wore little makeup, which set her apart from the other women in the bar. She shrugged and rubbed her nose.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard that the company’s new managers brought their own assistants. I was going to quit anyway, but at least now I got ten months’ salary, so I’m not in a rush. I’ll probably get another job as an assistant somewhere. I’d hoped that I’d think of something else while I was traveling. Unfortunately, I’d barely be able to afford rent with the ideas I came up with. I’ll start looking at job postings soon. Are you still half cop, half canoeist?”

  “Yes, but I plan on retiring from sports after next summer. I’ll have to think about what to do after that, because there’s no way I’m working full-time under my current boss.” He told her about Federsen.

  “So you were sent to a porn studio alone?” She giggled. “What was it like?”

  “Different than you might expect,” Hannes said and recounted his visit to Paradise Images & Productions. When he told her how the receptionist had mistaken him for the new porn star, Anna burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny? Do you think I couldn’t be one?” he asked with slight indignation and glanced at the large mirror behind the bar.

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that.” She continued to laugh and touched his forearm. “I’m just picturing the look on your face.”

  Then she became serious and blushed. Hannes squirmed in his chair. He finally relaxed, and Anna smiled.

  “If I don’t have a new boss by next summer, I’ll have to think about a new job too.”

  “That reminds me,” Anna said and nudged his shoulder. “You didn’t tell me about the world championships. You needed it to qualify for the Olympics, right?” She seemed embarrassed. “Or did you not make it?”

  “I did. I screwed up the two hundred meter, but I’ll be at the starting line for the thousand.”

  “That’s awesome.” Anna came around the table and hugged him. “And you’re only telling me now?” She jokingly tried to choke him, then signaled the waiter. “This calls for another drink.”

  Of course, it didn’t stop at one drink. Hannes felt as though the ice had finally been broken. For the next two hours, they talked about everything and nothing. In her presence, Hannes found it easy to forget about police work and enjoy the time.

  It was already after midnight when they stood outside the bar. The storm had died down. Hannes felt the effect of the numerous cocktails and doubted if he’d be able to practice in a few hours.

  “You’ll probably get seasick,” Anna joked.

  “Speaking of that, I’m getting my boating license. Fritz gave me his old shrimp boat. He renovated it completely. We should go out on the water once I get my license.”

  “Good idea.” Anna linked arms with him, and they headed to the taxi stand. “But maybe wait until spring? Or at least until I get used to the cold weather again.”

  Two cabs were waiting. “Lucky us,” said Anna, pointing to the beige cab. “We don’t have to fight over who takes the first taxi. I had fun tonight, Hannes. Do you want to go out again sometime?”

  Although he wanted to see her again the next day, Hannes reluctantly suggested that they see each other on Saturday. He didn’t want to come across as moving too fast. Anna seemed somewhat disappointed by his suggestion, but Hannes could have also imagined it.

  “I’ll dream of Asia tonight,” he said and hugged her. She placed her arms around him and held him for a moment longer than seemed necessary.

  “I will too. It’ll probably take some time before I’ve processed all the images and experiences. Everything was just so different. It was exactly what I needed. Meeting people who see things differently and live life differently is the most enriching experience,” she said.

  Hannes thought it was a very perceptive and uplifting note on which to end the evening.

  CHAPTER 13

  Hannes’s Tuesday morning training session didn’t go all that well. He felt as though the alcohol had taken up residence in his muscles. It took nearly twenty minutes for the stiffness to wear off. But it did just in time—the coach wanted to simulate racing situations with the team sprinting against each other in pairs. Hannes was partnered with his archrival Ralf, because old coach Fuchs knew that he could tease the most out of both athletes by making them compete. It was best of five. The temperature was around forty degrees. Fleecy tufts of cloud drifted across the sky, pushed by the chilly headwind.

  The other canoeists watched excitedly as both athletes threw their paddles into the water upon hearing the starting pistol. Their rivalry was legendary and had already resulted in a fierce wrestling match. Their coach had thought that wrestling would be a perfect way to teach them coordination and give them a better feel for their bodies. In theory, he wasn’t all that wrong. But after ten minutes of intense grappling, the outcome had been far from desired. They may have gotten a better feel for their bodies, but Ralf had walked away from the mat with a missing tooth and Hannes with a laceration above his right eyebrow. The coach had immediately scratched wrestling from his training schedule.

  Hannes had already won two sprints that morning. Now he wanted to set the record straight and capture the series with a third and final win. As the familiar burn warmed the muscles in his arms, he gritted his teeth and doggedly pushed himself through the dark water. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Ralf was just behind him. He could hear the recognizable sound of the athlete’s panting. As Ralf glided past him, Hannes was ready to write the sprint off and save his strength for the next round. Federsen was his saving grace. Normally Hannes’s head was empty during a race, but at that moment, the image of his boss’s face flashed before his eyes. He could almost hear the man jeering, “You just don’t got what it takes, Niehaus.”

  Hannes snorted in anger and summoned his last reserves of energy. He slowly closed in on Ralf’s red canoe. Water splashed as his boat cut through the waves raised by the wind. As he worked the paddle in the water, he imagined hacking his boss to pieces. Just before the finish line, he pushed his boat ahead of the red canoe with one last power stroke. Completely exhausted, he gasped for breath and slumped down. Ralf steered his canoe beside him.

  “That was a tie,” huffed the competitor, his face bright red.

  “My ass it was,” panted Hannes. With lightning speed, he shoved his paddle under Ralf’s canoe and flipped it over with a quick flick of the wrist, sending Ralf crashing into the ice-cold water. Then he calmly paddled back to the start, while a floundering Ralf began ranting and raving.

  “Who won?” the coach asked when Hannes reached the dock.

  “I did. By a nose
. Ralf disagrees.”

  “Okay, hit the shower. No need for another race. I’ll send Ralf to the finish line. He can be the line judge if there are any more close calls.”

  Hannes pulled his canoe from the water and carried it to the boathouse. If the two rivals ran into each other again that day, fists would definitely fly. With this in mind, he took a look at his face in the locker-room mirror and ran his finger along the wound David Bach had given him with the crowbar. He didn’t realize that he was imitating Anna’s gentle caress from the night before. He stared at his reflection and hoped there wouldn’t be a scar—for Bach’s sake.

  An hour later, Hannes stood opposite the red-haired doctor. He had gone straight from practice to the hospital in order to find out about Ms. Kramer’s condition.

  “Nothing’s changed,” the doctor said. “We’ll continue to keep her on dialysis, but I’m not hopeful.”

  “Is she conscious?”

  “No. We’ve been able to analyze the mushroom sample. Most of it is so-called magic mushrooms, which contain the active ingredient psilocybin.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Psilocybin is converted in the body into psilocin, a substance that acts as a psychedelic hallucinogen.”

  “What are the effects?”

  “Similar to LSD—intense feelings, relaxation, heightened perception, and so on.”

  “Can you overdose on magic mushrooms?”

  “In theory, yes, but that wouldn’t explain such an adverse reaction like kidney failure. The active ingredient content is quite high, but an overdose usually results in a bad trip, so loss of control, massive panic attacks, or paranoia. We determined that the sample primarily contains Panaeolus cyanescens and Psilocybe semilanceata.”

  Hannes scratched his wound. Why couldn’t the doctor just speak plainly? “So most of what we found belongs to these varieties?”

  “We also identified Cortinarius orellanus, otherwise known as fool’s webcap.”

  “What are its effects?”

  “It is not hallucinogenic; it’s highly poisonous.” She arched her brow to emphasize the last point.

  “And that’s the reason for Ms. Kramer’s condition?”

  “The symptoms suggest it. Nausea and vomiting set in one or two days after consumption, followed by severe lumbar pain, then kidney failure.”

  “Well, she definitely suffered severe nausea. The evidence was all over her apartment. When would she have eaten these mushrooms?”

  “Due to the severity of her kidney damage, she must have ingested them a few days before her arrival here. I can’t give you an exact date, unfortunately. We spoke to her primary-care doctor, but he says she never contacted him. Presumably, the patient believed she just had a severe virus.”

  Hannes thanked her and walked down the hallway. He passed a woman pushing an infusion cart and hastened to leave the building. A contaminated batch of mushrooms. That little bastard dealer was in big trouble now.

  Ms. Kramer died late Tuesday night without ever regaining consciousness. Hannes thought of the many uncut stones at her workshop that would now never bear her mason’s mark. It was as if New Way’s destroyed sculpture had foreshadowed its creator’s death. Another picture with a black ribbon would have to be added to the wall.

  “The woman’s now dead,” a red-faced Federsen barked at Daniel Novak, “and you’re the one responsible for supplying her with the mushrooms that killed her. We’re no longer talking about assault, but murder—or at least manslaughter.”

  Novak looked up at the two policemen who towered over him in the interview room.

  “Tell us already. Where did you get the poisonous mushrooms?” Hannes asked. “If you didn’t give them to her, then they could only have come from your supplier.”

  “Antje must have gotten the poisonous ones from someone else,” Novak whined. “She also foraged for her own mushrooms. She once asked me about the best way to dry them.”

  “So you’re telling me she picked the poisonous mushrooms herself?” Federsen yelled, spraying spit across the room.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Hannes agreed. “Why would she ever buy mushrooms from you when she could pick them herself?”

  “Because they’re not very common, and you have to find them first. They don’t grow year round and aren’t the same as the ones she bought from me. Those are specially bred. Maybe she mistook the poisonous ones for harmless ones?”

  “We’ve consulted an expert. Fool’s webcap isn’t easily confused with other mushrooms. If she went foraging, then she’d have known better than to commit such a fatal error. Tell us where you got the goods. This is your one chance to save yourself, provided you tell the truth.”

  Novak kneaded his cramped fingers. “All right, all right,” he blurted out and reluctantly named a dealer in the Netherlands.

  “Well, it’s about time,” Federsen said as he stormed toward the door. Hannes followed, and Federsen slammed it shut after them, leaving behind only the smell of stale sweat. “Niehaus, contact our Dutch colleagues so we can shut down the supply operation. But I get the feeling it’s not going to do much good. This asshole’s bullshitting us.”

  “Who knows,” Hannes said. “For some reason, I don’t think he’s behind it. He lacks a motive.”

  “Motive? Maybe the guy’s just crazy. Maybe he takes pleasure in making other people suffer. Think of the crucifixion and the poison injected in Mrs. Böhm’s abdomen. It all fits.”

  “True. But what did Daniel Novak have to do with Mrs. Böhm? If the killings are related, we can’t rule out the possibility that someone else tampered with the mushrooms.”

  That evening a report came from The Hague. Novak’s supplier operated a large mushroom farm just outside Amsterdam. Although the sale of dried hallucinogenic mushrooms was banned in the Netherlands, the sale of fresh ones at so-called smart shops was permissible. Daniel Novak insisted that he had purchased fresh ones.

  According to the Dutch police, the supplier was considered reliable, although the fact that he had built up an illegal side business distributing the goods abroad, of course, spoke against this. But the German investigators had to concede that it seemed virtually impossible that poisonous mushrooms would be accidentally grown on a farm, much less intentionally sold—there was no better way to destroy a business. So it was assumed that Antje Kramer was now the third person from New Way to be murdered. The urgency of solving the case grew, along with the fear that there could be more victims.

  The crucial question was whether Daniel Novak had committed the lethal tampering or whether someone else was behind it. Everyone found it practically inconceivable that Ms. Kramer would have accidentally picked and consumed the fatal fungi. Although fool’s webcap grew in the fall in deciduous forests, its occurrence was relatively rare.

  A thorough search of her apartment and workshop offered no new suspicious findings; a look at her phone records led nowhere; and interviews with her neighbors and friends weren’t helpful. Her death fit the perp’s MO perfectly. Like with Alexander Kramer and Sylvia Böhm, there was a delay between the crime and an agonizing death.

  The teams assembled later that evening. For Federsen, the matter was clear: “If it’s not some crazed serial killer, then I’m quitting.”

  On the one hand, Hannes was inclined to agree with him, but on the other hand, this hasty declaration made him hope for another resolution. In any case, he couldn’t see Novak committing the murders. Apart from a sound motive, he didn’t come across as cold-blooded.

  Clarissa raised yet another possibility. “Maybe Ms. Kramer ate the mushrooms on purpose?”

  “I didn’t get the sense that she was suicidal,” Hannes said. “And she certainly wouldn’t have chosen such an unpleasant way to go.”

  “Cut the crap,” said Federsen, and the red blotches on his face darkened. “We’re not going to get anywhere speculating like that, and let’s not indulge any of your fantasies.”

  “Pull yourself together, Henning,
” Marcel said.

  He was tired and had wanted to head home to his family three hours ago, fearing his wife’s reproaches. Police work and family life were difficult to reconcile. Now his youngest had come down with the measles, and he felt guilty. He also felt another nosebleed coming.

  “We have Matthias Böhm, David Bach, and Manuel Birkholz,” Hannes said. “All members of New Way have been questioned, as well as family and friends. None of them gave any cause for suspicion.”

  “Let’s start with Böhm,” Marcel said.

  “He does have the perfect motive for murdering his wife, but he also has an alibi,” Isabelle said, then glanced at her watch. It was pitch-black outside, which was hardly surprising given that it was already nine thirty.

  “But what would he have against Ms. Kramer?” Hannes asked. “Unless she supported her brother in his relationship with Mrs. Böhm.”

  “Too weak.” Federsen shook his head. “You wouldn’t kill someone for that unless you’re completely insane.”

  “Well, what isn’t insane about all this?” Hannes said. “Mr. Böhm not only knew about his wife’s affair, but he’s also very critical of New Way. Ms. Kramer was active in the group and even designed its symbol. Maybe he blamed his failed marriage on New Way, then punished Antje Kramer as its representative.”

  “That sounds like speculation,” Federsen said. “I’m not convinced.”

  Per raced into the room. “Bach’s car was found in a parking garage downtown. The tank was almost empty. And guess what was found in the trunk.”

  “Just spit it out,” Federsen said.

  “A hammer and a can of spray paint. The color matches the graffiti on New Way’s building. That proves he destroyed the sculpture and sprayed the message on the wall.”

  “So he hasn’t been targeting just his ex-girlfriend!” Clarissa cried. “He either thinks the group’s corrupting her or has actually become a religious fanatic. He might not stop at property damage and could be a danger to the other members. He did attack Hannes with a crowbar.”