Tidal Shift

by Dora Heldt

  “Oh, but Renate’s not really a redhead,” Kalli assured feebly. “They all get their hair dyed nowadays.”

  They reached a small, run-down old house, almost buried in the sand. One of the windows was ajar. Heinz looked at Walter. “So, what now? Are you going to tell him that Inge is too old for him? Or that she’s not rich? Or what?”

  Walter jutted his chin out defiantly and went over to the front door. The other two followed him, but kept a little distance. Walter pressed the doorbell. When nothing happened, he pressed again. This time, the door was flung open. A sleepy-looking man stood before them. Walter looked at him curiously.

  “Are you Mark Kampmann?”

  The man looked at them hesitantly. He cleared his throat.

  “Yes. Why?”

  Walter lunged forward and punched him.

  Chapter 37

  * * *

  Inge lowered the letter and wiped her eyes.

  “Sorry,” she said, her voice raw. “But I’m a little lost for words right now.”

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” answered Peter Sorensen. “I’ll tell you the rest. We’ve suspected for a long time now that there was a connection between the management company and Mark Kampmann. I’ve had three cases in the last two years where both Kampmann and Guido Schneider have played a role. I’m bound to confidentiality, but there are already investigations underway.”

  “We know that,” Christine interjected. “My aunt already had a visit from a Herr Martensen from the CID. But what else are you able to tell us? What were Anna Nissen’s suspicions?”

  He turned to Inge, who was looking more composed now. He cleared his throat. “Peer was my father, too, and Sinje was my half sister.”

  “What?” Inge’s eyes widened in shock.

  Peter Sorensen leaned back in his chair. “My father had a heart attack about ten years ago. All of a sudden, completely out of the blue. When he regained consciousness in the hospital, he kept asking for a woman called Anna. But my mother, who had died a year before, was called Marianne. So once he was on the mend, I asked him about it. He gave me the key to a safe deposit box in a bank, where he had collected everything to do with Anna Nissen and their daughter. He died two weeks later.”

  Christine sighed and expressed her sympathy for this kind man. “I’m very sorry to hear that. What did you do?”

  “I phoned Anna Nissen, and then went to visit her. We saw each other a lot in the last ten years. She was a wonderful woman.”

  Inge shook her head in disbelief. “Anna never mentioned it to me.”

  “Well, she never spoke to anyone about my father. It was her secret, and I was part of it. But she did give me the documents for her house last summer, which brings us back to the topic at hand. I also notarized and submitted her last will to the probate court. So that makes you the legal owner of the house.”

  “But what about the second will?” asked Inge. “At the court in Niebüll they told me there was another one.”

  “Yes,” answered Sorensen. “That’s why the court has engaged the state prosecution service. Everything is underway.”

  Johann crossed his arms. “And what’s going to happen with Kampmann? And Schneider?”

  “As I said, the investigations are underway. There’s not much more I can tell you at this stage. The problem is that Kampmann has gone off the radar. Martensen told me yesterday. They searched the offices of the management agency last night, and it seems they found some evidence. But they can’t find him.”

  “So is my aunt really the legal owner of the house?” Christine reached for Inge’s hand. It was stone cold.

  The lawyer nodded. “It seems that way, yes.”

  Inge looked first at him, then Christine, then Johann. “I’m feeling really dizzy all of a sudden. I’m going to give Walter a call. After all, he’s the one who’ll be living there with me.”

  She opened her bag and pulled her cell phone out, smiling at the others even with her eyes brimming with tears.

  “I think he might faint when I tell him. But since I’ve been away from him on Sylt, I’ve given a great deal of thought to how to make the idea of moving appeal to him.”

  She was just about to tap in Walter’s speed dial number when the display lit up: Walter calling. Inge pressed the loudspeaker button by mistake. “Hello, Walter. Great minds think alike, I was just about to…”

  “Inge, I just knocked out this Kampmann guy of yours. I mean, he’s much too young for you.” Walter’s voice sounded tinny. “He didn’t even put up a good fight. What a sissy!”

  Johann, Christine, and Peter Sorensen jumped up in shock.

  “Walter, where are you?”

  “In Kampen. He’s got an old house here, more of a shack really—there’s no way you could live there with him! It’s more like a rabbit hutch than a love nest. There’s a terrible draft, and everything is completely flea-bitten.”

  “Walter, are you there alone?”

  Sorensen frantically wrote on a piece of notepaper: Address?

  “No. Kalli and Heinz are here too. Kalli’s holding the sissy’s legs up in the air to stop him from feeling light-headed. He was unconscious after all, and Heinz was worried that I might have killed him. But I didn’t even hit him that hard.”

  “Where exactly are you?” Inge tried to keep the tone of her voice as calm as possible.

  “Heinz, where are we again?” roared Walter. “Right, okay…We’re at Pück Deel, out in the middle of nowhere. Why? You don’t want to come here do you? There’s no need. Where are you anyway?”

  Now Inge was starting to tremble. “Walter, I need to hand you over to Christine.”

  While Sorensen hurried into the waiting room to call Martensen, Christine took the phone from her aunt.

  “Hello, Uncle Walter,” she said in a deliberately cheerful voice. “Listen, have you tied this Kampmann guy up at all?”

  “Christine, sweetheart, you read too many crime novels,” answered her uncle, confused. “We had no intention of attacking him. We just wanted to talk to him. He isn’t completely conscious yet, but he’s slowly coming around.”

  “Uncle Walter…” Christine tried to interpret what Johann and Inge were signaling to her. “It’s too complicated to explain over the telephone, but it’s possible that Kampmann might not be as…how shall I put it…harmless as you think.”

  “This sissy? Ha!” Walter didn’t seem to be grasping the severity of the situation. “He’s lying there like a limp rag, and there are three of us. I’d like to see him try anything. What a joke! He didn’t even put up a—”

  Abruptly, the line went dead. Christine tried to redial, but it went straight to voice mail. She looked up at the others in despair. Inge was still trembling, clearly beside herself with worry.

  Ten minutes later, the cell started ringing again. Christine picked up, giving a sigh of relief as she heard Walter’s voice.

  “Christine, is that you? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes. What happened?” she asked breathlessly. She was still frantically debating how to convince him that Kampmann could be dangerous when she suddenly heard police sirens at the other end of the line. Almost faint with relief, she nodded at Sorensen, who had come back into the room a few moments ago.

  “Uncle Walter,” she said quickly. “Listen to me. The police are about to turn up on the doorstep, so please let them in.”

  She heard Kalli’s voice in the background. “The doorbell’s ringing. And I can see flashing lights. Can someone see what’s going on? I hope there’s not a fire.”

  Renate strode along the red carpet on Walter’s arm, past the paparazzi, and toward the entrance. She gathered up her silver dress as they reached the steps.

  “Here comes the new finance minister,” called out the young blonde TV presenter, whose name Renate couldn’t remember, “accompanied by his new girlfriend, the breathtaking Frau von Graf. What a beautiful couple! Let’s find out what their plans for the future are. Frau von Graf,
Herr Müller, hello…”

  Renate wanted to stay and talk, but Walter pulled her on. The TV presenter, however, didn’t want to take no for an answer. “Hello, could you…Hello?”

  Her voice became more and more penetrating. Renate tried to free herself from Walter’s grasp. She had always wanted to be interviewed. But he wouldn’t let go.

  “Hello! Are you deaf? Wake up!”

  Renate opened her eyes. Before her stood not the famous TV presenter, but Charlotte. And it was Charlotte, Walter’s sister-in-law, who had her arm in a tight grip, not Walter.

  “Could you please explain to me why you’re sprawled out half naked in my backyard?” Charlotte’s voice sounded dangerously calm.

  “Let me go, you’re hurting my arm!” Dazed, Renate pulled herself up and rubbed her upper arm. “I’m bound to get a bruise now.”

  Charlotte gave her a disdainful look. Renate was wearing her best and most expensive bra, a lacy red number with yellow flowers. She had kept her skirt on. After all, some areas looked better covered up. But her cleavage was on display for Charlotte to see, along with two empty Piccolo bottles of champagne on the ground beneath the chaise. Renate pulled on her blouse and slowly buttoned it up, and said woozily, “What are you doing here?”

  Charlotte spluttered indignantly, “I live here. And I should be asking you the same. Where are my husband and brother-in-law?”

  “They’re off taking care of some business.” Holding a hair clip between her teeth, Renate gathered together her wild mane and pinned it up loosely. “With Kalli. They were planning to be back here by late afternoon, in time for the barbecue.”

  “Business? Barbecue?” Charlotte shook her head in confusion. “And where’s my sister-in-law?”

  “Inge?” Renate’s voice went up an octave. “That’s what we’d all like to know. But some things are gradually becoming clear, such as the fact that she’s up and left Walter. And she doesn’t care a fig about her family and friends. She’s just doing whatever she wants. I’ve never met such an egocentric woman in my life. Walter is completely done in, a broken man—not to mention his poor broken behind! It will be a long time before he feels ready to love again.”

  Charlotte listened to her in silence, her eyebrows raised, but if smoke could have come out of her ears, it would have by this point.

  “And you’re not much better.” Renate was talking herself into a frenzy now. “While Heinz and Kalli are trying to stand by your brother-in-law at such a difficult time, you just hop on a train and run off to frolic around in Hamburg. The men were left here without any food and with no one to look after them. They begged me to help them. They simply couldn’t cope by themselves. I went shopping for food, tidied up a bit, and…who’s that?”

  The blonde woman who had suddenly appeared next to them looked like Inge, but about twenty years younger. She gave Renate a startled look, then said to Charlotte, “Your kitchen looks like a bomb site. I know my father isn’t exactly an expert when it comes to housework, but I’ve never seen anything quite like that.” She turned to face Renate. “Hello, I’m Pia Müller.”

  She stretched her hand out toward Renate, who ignored it. Instead, Renate heaved herself up awkwardly and smoothed out her skirt.

  “Afternoon,” she said curtly. “You’re Walter’s daughter?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t quite catch who you were.”

  “Renate von Graf.” She threw her head back haughtily. “I’m a close friend of your…parents.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Pia, clearly doubtful and unimpressed. “Charlotte, shall we see if we can clean up your kitchen, then set off in search of the rest of the family?”

  Charlotte was still rooted to the spot next to Renate’s chaise. “I’m this close to—” she hissed, but her cell phone rang and interrupted her. Without tearing her gaze away from Renate, she took the call.

  “Yes, Christine…I’m back home and in the backyard. Renate’s here. She was…sunbathing. Where are you all? And do you know where Dad, Uncle Walter, and Kalli are? What?” The last question was so loud that Pia and Renate both jumped. But the concern in Charlotte’s face immediately receded, so they quickly relaxed again.

  “Then they’ll be here soon…Pia is here too…Yes, we came here on the train together…Good, then I’ll see you soon. Until then.” She put the phone down on the terrace table. “Well, I’m not sure I understood all of that, but never mind. Christine, Johann, and Inge are on their way back from seeing a lawyer in Flensburg. And Heinz, Walter, and Kalli are at the police station in Westerland, because apparently Walter knocked someone out. But for some reason that I absolutely did not get, he’s being congratulated rather than arrested. And Anika is about to come by with some Jörn guy. By the way, Anika is some woman who got drunk with your mother a few days ago, Pia. I unfortunately didn’t figure out who Jörn is, Christine always talks so quickly. Right, then. I’m going inside to make myself a hot chocolate.”

  She went slowly off into the house. Before Pia could follow her, Renate held her back by the wrist. Pia cocked her head, taken aback.

  “Yes?”

  “Does your father know you’re here?”

  “No.” Pia shook her head, and when she saw that Renate seemed genuinely interested, she explained, “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision after speaking to my mother yesterday evening on the phone. I had no idea what was going on with my mom and dad—why she came here without him, why he ended up following. Anyway, I’m glad I called her. She wants to tell my father everything and wanted me to be here.”

  Renate encouraged her. “Don’t worry, dear, these things happen to even the best of families. Your father is taking it very well, if that reassures you at all. We’ve had some very intimate chats, you know, and he’s not the kind of man to see this as the end. I hope I’ll be able to help him a little with that. I’d really like to, and he doesn’t seem averse to the idea himself.” She leaned forward with a coy twinkle in her eye. “That’s in your interest, too, my love. Your father is much too young and much too full of vim and vigor. He’ll come to terms with your mother’s decision sooner or later. I’m sure of it.”

  Pia had been listening to her in complete confusion. “What decision is that?”

  “Well, your mother is leaving your father for another man. I thought you knew? I’m a close friend of Inge’s, so that’s how I know. But your mother’s behavior over the last few days has really annoyed me—it’s really out of order. I had to take a stand, and then I got to know your father. We really hit it off…”

  She waited eagerly for Pia’s response. It could have been anything: rage, tears, jealousy—Renate was prepared. But Pia just laughed. She actually threw her head back and roared with laughter.

  Grief displacement, thought Renate. It must be the shock. In her softest voice, just like a therapist, she said, “It’s not a nice thing, I know, but every cloud has a silver lining.”

  “For heaven’s sake!” Pia was so convulsed with laughter that her words were barely intelligible. “What gave you those silly ideas?” She shook with laughter. “My mother and another man? God, I’m getting a stitch…and you and my father…?” She gasped for air.

  Renate was starting to get annoyed. She was the only person talking frankly around here, and this was the thanks she got. Well, young girls like Pia didn’t have her experience. What a silly cackler! “If you want to suppress it all, then go ahead. But why do you think your mom was with a lawyer? And why did she ask you to come here? Just wait until you see the sadness in your father’s eyes.”

  Pia bit her lower lip in desperation and wiped the tears of laughter from her cheeks. “Oh, Frau von Graf…”

  “Renate.” After all, Renate might need to have this girl on her side, depending on what happened between her and Pia’s father.

  “Okay, Renate, you may have misunderstood, because my father can be a little cryptic at times. The truth is that my mother has inherited a house here on Sylt. That’s why she went to see a lawyer, and the
re were some complications. I don’t know any more just yet. She’ll fill us in when she gets here. But it has absolutely nothing to do with my father. I’m going inside now to help my aunt sort out the chaos in the kitchen. By the way, who made all that mess anyway?”

  Still giggling, she went off into the house. Renate took a deep breath and wondered whether she should call out after her. She decided to let it go. She was the one who really knew what was going on, and this haughty Pia would soon realize that. But first she would go into the bathroom and powder her nose.

  Ten minutes later, as she stood in the bathroom putting on her lipstick, Renate heard loud voices from the hallway.

  “Charlotte!” That was undoubtedly Heinz’s voice. “You’re back! How wonderful. When did you get here?”

  “About an hour ago. Pia phoned and told me what was really going on. After Inge finally told her.”

  “Why? What’s going on?” Heinz was talking more softly now. Renate had to press her ear to the door to hear everything. Luckily, Charlotte’s voice was louder.

  “Inge will tell you herself soon. She’s on her way over here with Johann and Christine now. Oh, by the way, is there some reason why that Renate woman seems to be living here now?”

  “Oh, she’s still here?” It was Kalli’s voice now. “See, Walter, I told you she was interested in you. Why are you looking at me like that, Charlotte? It’s not like I said she was interested in Heinz. Renate helped us out with cooking a little—it was really nice of her. And she wants to look after Walter after his divorce. That’s what we think at least.”

  Renate nodded to herself contentedly in the mirror before she heard Charlotte’s answer. “Don’t be stupid, Kalli. Why would Walter get divorced?”

  “Well,” answered Heinz, “Inge seemed to be going off the tracks, as they say. But that may all be over now. Walter dealt with the problem. We’ll tell you about that later in more detail. By the way, a Herr Martensen from the CID will be dropping by, said he needs to talk to us. We didn’t want to have to wait around for him at the Westerland police station for ages. He can join us for the barbecue. There’s enough food to feed an army. By the way, do you know whether Renate made the potato salad?”