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

by Hendrik Falkenberg

  “I know,” said Elke. “They talked about that. You called all the members. But don’t worry, I only wanted to see what it was all about. A choir group meets on Tuesdays. I might try that out once or twice.”

  “Did you mention at all that you know me?”

  She shook her head. “Should I have?”

  Hannes thought for a moment. “No, it’s better if you don’t. No one should feel as though everything they say could come back to me. But if you hear that someone feels threatened or if you notice anything strange, please tell me immediately.”

  “So you want me to infiltrate the group?” Elke joked, and her blue eyes sparkled.

  “I’d prefer it if you didn’t go there at all, but I can’t talk you out of it. If you’re already attending, then you might as well keep your eyes and ears open. I want to protect these people.”

  Elke’s joke about being an undercover agent left Hannes wondering if he had approached the issue the wrong way. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might be attracted to New Way and the latent danger because she thought her life had recently been a bit boring.

  “I’ll be careful.” Elke hugged Hannes good-bye. “Focus on your date and enjoy the evening.”

  Anna’s small one-bedroom apartment was located in a new three-story building. The open hall led straight into a simple but tastefully decorated living room. Nothing seemed to have changed since Hannes’s brief visit several months ago, except the atmosphere. In addition to a single floor lamp, a veritable armada of candles lit the room. And from the front door, Hannes could see two glasses of red wine waiting on the table.

  Embarrassed and nervous, Hannes stood in front of Anna. He had to steady himself against the doorframe when he caught sight of her radiant green eyes and tanned face. Her short brown corduroy skirt and light-blue blouse highlighted her figure. Anna seemed to look at him admiringly. Her smile widened as Hannes, his ears beet red, awkwardly handed her a colorful bouquet.

  “Welcome home again,” he said in husky voice and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. He caught a subtle whiff of perfume. “And of course thank you very much for inviting me,” he added and hoped his socks weren’t sweaty as he took off his shoes.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Glad you could make it. I hope I don’t bore you with my photos from Asia. I kept telling myself it was a bad idea. But to compensate, I cooked something delicious.”

  Hannes of course would have accepted her invitation even if there weren’t photos or food. He toddled behind her to the little table. Anna was a little flushed, but that could be because she had just been standing in front of the stove.

  The meal began with a curry-lemongrass soup, followed by a Thai curry that was somewhat too spicy for Hannes. His battered tongue was soon soothed by her mango pudding. The conversation was slow at first since both of them tended to be shy.

  After Hannes had checked his teeth in the bathroom mirror, they moved to the sofa, where Anna showed him pictures on her laptop of her five-country Asian tour.

  “These are just a few of them,” she said. “I took more than a thousand, but I saved the best ones in a separate folder.”

  There were two hundred and fifty photos to look through. Hannes could have listened to her vivid descriptions for hours—and gazed at her for hours too. His eyes kept slipping from the screen to her as she leaned forward to click on the next image. Her long brown hair was draped over her left shoulder, and her neck glistened in the candlelight. As they simultaneously reached for their glasses of wine, Anna’s fingers brushed his wrist and his whole body tingled.

  Hannes kept wondering if she really had invited him over just to look at pictures. He’d had a few girlfriends before, but flirting had never been his strong suit. He was always unsure whether or not he was missing signs or crossing signals. But there wasn’t much danger at that moment, because all he had to do was listen, ask a few well-timed questions, and gasp.

  The slideshow came to an end, and Anna smiled as she closed her laptop. She turned to look at Hannes. Her knee touched his leg.

  “I hope it wasn’t too boring for you,” she said. “I love to travel so much that I get caught up in the memories. Of course that’s not very interesting or fair to everyone else who wasn’t there.”

  “That wasn’t boring at all. I’d love to go on a trip like that.”

  “Maybe I’ll take you sometime.” Anna smiled mischievously, and 99 percent of men would have correctly interpreted the look in her eye. Hannes watched with fascination as she played with a strand of hair.

  “Yeah, that would be awesome.”

  “I’d protect you from snakes,” Anna teased. She knew about his snake phobia. Then she eyed him coyly and moved a little closer. Her arm slipped, spilling wine onto Hannes’s white shirt.

  “Oh damn,” she said and jumped up. “I’m so sorry!”

  “It’s no big deal,” Hannes said and dabbed himself with a napkin. “I almost never wear shirts like these. I won’t notice if it goes missing.”

  “Still, it’s a shame. You look great in that shirt. I hope I didn’t get any on your pants.” Anna walked to the small kitchenette. “The best thing to do is to sprinkle salt on the stain. Take your shirt off.”

  Hannes’s hands shook as he unbuttoned his shirt and walked over to the sink. Anna turned around, and her gaze fell on his muscular torso illuminated by the warm glow of the candles. Then her eyes wandered back up to his unique eyes. Like magnets, Hannes and Anna moved closer to each other until Hannes could feel her breath on his skin. Her fingertips grazed his stomach and ran slowly up his chest. Hannes gently touched her cheek, and she leaned her head into his palm and looked up at him. Their lips drew closer, and when at last they touched, their bodies were overcome by a warm sensation. Button by button, Hannes undid her blouse and caressed her body. Their tongues playfully explored each other, and Anna pulled Hannes down onto a small, somewhat rickety kitchen stool.

  For a few minutes, the world around them disappeared, and only the creaking of the stool—followed by its collapse—brought them back to reality. Laughing and breathing heavily, they lay on the ground surrounded by pieces of wood.

  “Maybe we should go into the other room,” whispered Anna. He followed without protest. The shirt with the red-wine stains lay forgotten on the kitchen counter.

  CHAPTER 17

  Fritz had managed to get a second weekly visit approved for Tuesdays. Unfortunately, it wasn’t in the afternoon, which meant that Hannes had to rush his training. He found it frustrating that he couldn’t go full throttle in the final stages of his sporting career. After all, there was nothing more exciting for an athlete than competing in the Olympics. On the other hand, he was determined to solve the case as quickly as possible, and the mornings spent at the gym gave him the perfect cover—he wouldn’t be able to slip away from the station so easily in the afternoons. Nevertheless, it was still risky. If word got out that he was discussing the investigation with his former boss instead of working out at the gym, he’d find himself in a tight spot.

  At the moment, however, Hannes wasn’t wasting his time thinking about it. He was floating on cloud nine. He had skipped boat practice to spend Sunday with Anna. He grinned as he relived the events of their day together.

  “What are you smiling about?” Fritz asked.

  “Oh sorry. What were you saying?” Hannes struggled to pull himself together.

  “Just that I find what’s happened to some New Way members disturbing,” Fritz repeated, shaking his head.

  Hannes had given him a rundown of his phone calls, and Fritz had frowned as he took notes.

  “Some of them really laid it on thick, though,” Hannes said. “I doubt Mr. Hartmann’s phone calls or Mrs. Reichert’s stolen mementos are really cause for concern.”

  “This Wolfgang Hartmann,” Fritz said in a feverish voice, tapping his pen on the table while he pondered what to say next. “Isn’t he the owner of a department store?”

  “Yes. He’s also
said to be a socially conscious individual and very popular with his employees. He’s been described as your typical Hanseatic merchant who runs a tight ship, but doesn’t forget the needs of his employees. Sounds nice, right?”

  “Perhaps. He’s a member of the chamber of commerce. I forget what his position is, but I’ve interviewed him a couple of times before. The group’s been lobbying for years to do away with restrictions on business hours, specifically on Sundays. The tourism board supports the push. They want visitors to be able to shop all weekend.”

  “Maybe that’s why he received those harassing phone calls? An employee who doesn’t want to work on weekends?”

  “It’s possible. Sunday’s also supposed to be a day of rest for Christians. Don’t want to prevent the flock from going to church, right? I’m sure the Church of the Creator isn’t a huge fan of Hartmann’s campaign. Have you looked into that?”

  Fritz’s expression darkened when Hannes reeled off what the investigators knew. He also shared Isabelle’s and Clarissa’s impressions from Sunday’s service. Over one hundred members were in attendance, including Bach’s friend, Frank Meister, and the carpenter, Ludwig Obermann.

  “It was the most absurd thing I’ve ever been to,” Clarissa had said. “I didn’t think church was all fire and brimstone anymore. You could practically feel the flames of hell. Sin, punishment, the need for repentance—that’s all he spoke about. But the people hung on the minister’s every word and kept shouting out, ‘Amen!’”

  “New Way also came up,” Isabelle had added. “As an example of how the Devil tries to lead vulnerable people into temptation. I doubt they were happy when this alleged Antichrist moved in across the street.”

  “Have you questioned any more people from the church?” Fritz asked.

  “Of course. But it seems like they’ve coordinated their responses. They tolerate New Way, even if it’s not a Christian organization. No one claims to have been in contact with David Bach recently. Their alibis seem coordinated too.”

  “And still no trace of Bach?”

  “Unfortunately, no. We searched his apartment again yesterday. We didn’t find Mrs. Reichert’s stolen items. He did have a printer, though, and our tech specialists think it could have been used to print the picture of the Devil that Mr. Beck found stuffed in his mailbox. Fortunately, Mr. Beck saved it.”

  “The way I see it, you should definitely focus on the religious angle and forget about the previous suspects,” Fritz said, “especially if they don’t show any fundamentalist leanings. It’s true that Mr. Böhm has a convincing motive and is a strict Catholic, but the Church of the Creator is in a completely different league.”

  “Besides, he has an alibi for his wife’s murder. Federsen won’t let us rule out the others, including Alexander Kramer’s rival, Manuel Birkholz.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Fritz said. “I wouldn’t bother with the dealer or Birkholz. You should focus on the Church of the Creator and maybe Mr. Böhm too. Forget about the others. Don’t waste your time chasing false leads.”

  That was easier said than done, since Federsen still had the final say. He decided which detectives explored what leads, and Hannes was currently sidelined. Evidently, his boss feared that the young detective could put another witness in danger with his reckless comments.

  “Speaking of which, Anna got me thinking about the killer’s possible religious motives,” Hannes said. “There’s a movie called Seven about a serial killer who is obsessed with the seven deadly sins and slaughters his victims for their respective transgressions. Maybe someone’s copying the movie?”

  “The seven deadly sins,” Fritz said. “What are they again?”

  “I wrote them down.” Hannes pulled out a piece of paper. “Pride, avarice, envy, wrath, lust, gluttony, and sloth.”

  “Hmm. Lust might apply to Sylvia Böhm and Alexander Kramer. But what about Kramer’s sister? The way you’ve described her to me, none of the seven deadly sins apply to her. Still, it’s an interesting idea . . . So, there’s still something between you and Anna?”

  Fritz watched in amusement as Hannes’s ears changed color. He winked when Hannes told him they were dating.

  “Took you long enough. So when’s the wedding?”

  The distance between cloud nine and reality could be pretty short, as Hannes learned that afternoon.

  Groaning, he wiped his mouth and looked at the remains of his lunch on the ground. The reason for this acute episode of nausea lay, his face blue, only a few feet away behind a bush. The shrubs grew on the edge of a parking lot which belonged to a paint manufacturer located in an industrial area near the highway.

  This industrial park was ideally suited for the discreet disposal of a body. Hardly anyone wandered around this area after hours. Maria had no doubt that the body of Benjamin Lück had been lying there for several hours before it was found. And this time, the forensics team was lucky enough to discover several shoe prints in the soft ground which didn’t match those of the corpse. It was, after all, very unlikely that New Way’s public outreach coordinator had lain down behind that bush.

  His tongue had been cut out with a blunt instrument while he was still alive and then shoved down his throat like a plug. There had been no chance for survival. He had on a suit. His eyes were closed, while the mouth still seemed to gasp desperately for air.

  “Feeling better?” Federsen shot him a dirty look.

  Hannes didn’t bother answering. Although he had yet to get used to the violent reaction of his stomach at the sight of a fresh corpse, he was now able to recover quickly.

  “The cause of death is clearly suffocation.” Maria pulled her gloves off as she walked over to the group. “It must have occurred last night. Like the other victims, there’s no evidence of a struggle. Presumably, he was sedated. I took a blood sample—maybe we’ll find something.”

  “We still don’t know whether or not it’s the same killer,” Federsen said and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Lück was gay. Maybe he was cruising for sex?”

  The rest of the group shook their heads. Apparently Federsen still thought gay men all met in secluded locations to have depraved sex.

  “This isn’t a known cruising spot,” Marcel said. He had stuck bits of tissues in his nose to stanch bleeding brought on by this new development. Everyone had his or her own way of dealing with the sight of a dead body.

  “Besides, he didn’t hide the fact he was gay,” said Hannes. “There are lots of other places where he could have found a partner.”

  “You seem to know what you’re talking about,” Federsen said. “I guess you’re the right guy to investigate Mr. Lück’s personal life. Find out if he had a boyfriend or arranged a hookup. But leave the members of New Way out of this one. We don’t want to start a panic.”

  “How am I going to find out about his personal life? Besides the theater, New Way’s the only clue we have. The group will find out soon enough once we talk to his stage colleagues.”

  “Well, talk only to a few key people, like maybe Mr. Beck and the manager of the theater where he worked. I want to wait until we get the autopsy report before we make people go crazy.”

  “Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Marcel asked. “We might lose time that could be spent gathering valuable information.”

  “There was no one around last night who would have seen anything. And if they had, they’d have contacted us already. The man who found him stumbled upon him only because he wanted to take a leak behind the bush,” said Federsen.

  Hannes looked at Clarissa. “I just realized I’ve been here recently.”

  “Yeah,” she confirmed. “Two Thursdays ago. We wanted to pay a visit to David Bach at his job and didn’t know he only worked Monday through Wednesday.”

  “The company he works for is only two blocks away,” said Hannes. “Coincidence?”

  “Coincidence or not, we should investigate,” Federsen said. “Dr. Stern, get this queer . . . um, this guy back to the lab
as soon as possible.”

  Clarissa and Marcel went to visit Bach’s work, while Isabelle and Hannes headed over to Mr. Beck’s house and the theater, and Federsen and Per left to question Ludwig Obermann and Frank Meister from Church of the Creator.

  Mr. Beck was just about to head to the group’s weekly choir practice when Isabelle and Hannes showed up on his doorstep. To say that he was shocked to hear the news would be an understatement. His powerful shoulders slumped. He reluctantly agreed to keep the murder a secret but insisted that his community had the right to know.

  “It’s clear we’re the target. Our members should be careful,” he said. As far as he knew, Mr. Lück didn’t have a boyfriend. He also hadn’t been in contact with his family for years. They saw his homosexuality as a disgrace.

  “Your theory isn’t panning out,” Isabelle said to Hannes as they headed from the Becks’ house. Isabelle had interviewed the victim a few days before and asked whether he had received any threats or experienced any unusual incidents. He had said no. “The murders aren’t obvious in advance. If they were, we’d be investigating the deaths of Mr. Beck or the Grafs today.”

  “Maybe it’s not their turn yet,” Hannes said. “Although Lück didn’t mention anything, there may have been an incident. Maybe something scandalous he was ashamed of?”

  “It’s possible. Anyway, I think Federsen’s decision not to inform the members of New Way is extremely dangerous. Four of them are dead. If someone drowns in a baptismal font tomorrow, he’s to blame.”

  The theater was located close to the movie theater where Hannes had met Ben last Friday. He’d never been inside the impressive Art Nouveau building before. The manager’s office, however, was a little more utilitarian. As expected, he reacted with shock at the news of Mr. Lück’s death.

  “Mr. Lück was supposed to star in Lars von Trier’s Antichrist. Opening night’s in two weeks,” he said. “It’s a tough piece, and he was given the lead. There’s no way we’ll find a replacement.”