by C. A. Larmer
“How can we speak to him?”
“Why has he not come back?”
Roxy was seated beside Caroline at a large table in a small conference room at the Kreuzberg police station. Officer Hann sat across from them but it was this older man with the bushy brown beard and a name they could not pronounce who was doing all of the interrogating, leaning across the table towards them. It was clear to Roxy that Mr Beard Man was playing with the idea that Max was somehow involved in Jake’s death and she could hear her tone turning surly as she retold the story and insisted Max was nowhere near his apartment when Jake was murdered.
“But how can you say zees?!” Beard Face demanded. “You do not know where he is. Or do you?”
Roxy slumped. “No, we do not.”
“We think he might be in Brazil,” Caroline offered and the look she got from everyone in the room showed that nobody, not even Roxy, believed that anymore.
“Let us go back to zee message you got from Mr Conway,” Beard Man said. “We now know this was left just after midnight on Friday, Berlin time, which was while you were on zee airplane, correct?”
They both nodded and he pulled out his chair and sat down, then opened a file and began to read from it, Jake’s Californian twang completely lost as the German spoke:
“‘Hey, Max’s sister. Call off zee hounds, baby. There is a stack of messages from you guys. You clogged up zee message bank. Max is cool. Man. He has got it all under control. I have just seen him. He is ...” He stared hard at the file, looking confused.
“A-O-K?” Roxy offered.
“What is AOK?”
“It just means everything’s fine. Everything’s okay.”
He looked at her uncertainly then turned his bushy face back to Caroline and said in a very slow, deliberate voice, as though he were dealing with a textbook “dumb blonde”: “Zees tells me that Mr Conway has just seen your brother. In person. So he could not have seen him in Brazil and be back in Berlin in zat time frame. Do you agree with zis, Miss Farrell?”
Caroline shrugged. She was holding onto that scenario and they could all go to hell.
After several more questions along the same vein, the detective changed tack and asked them if Max spoke Italian.
That’s more like it, Roxy thought, remembering what Holly had said about hearing Italian spilling through the corridor outside Jake’s apartment not long before he died.
“No, he absolutely does not,” Caroline said. “We both learnt a little French at school. Not a word of Italian. Not one.”
“So he would not know zis word, ‘benvenuto’?”
Caroline hesitated, glancing at Roxy and back. “Well, I don’t know for sure, I mean, maybe.” She glanced uncertainly at Roxy again. “Australians are more likely to say ‘ciao’. That’s kind of better known, you know?”
He stared at her like she had finally flipped then changed tack again, asking questions related to Max’s belongings: Did he own anything precious? Was he in the habit of keeping large amounts of cash at home? Clearly they were now on the burglary track and this relaxed Roxy even further.
“Don’t know about any cash,” Caroline was telling him, “but he owns some decent cameras: a pretty fancy Nikon, and a video camera, I think.” She glanced at Roxy again, as if for confirmation, and Roxy squished her lips to one side and shrugged.
She couldn’t provide any more details than that and felt a surge of guilt. How little did she really know about the man she professed to love?
Eventually, after realising the two jetlagged Aussie women could be of no more assistance, Beard Man finally let them depart, but not before ordering Officer Hann to photocopy their passports and organise a local SIM card for Roxy’s mobile phone. This wasn’t charity, he explained. “We need to know how to reach you. Just in case.”
In case of what, she didn’t dare ask, and they eventually made their way back through the station and out into a gloomy Berlin afternoon. All around them traffic was roaring, cyclists were zipping past, and pedestrians had their heads down, going about their business as if someone had not just had the life beaten out of him by his 1920s Gibson guitar.
“Where the hell are we going to go now?” asked Caroline, looking blankly around.
Roxy pointed to a café across the road with a black and white awning and a set of tables on the pavement. “Let’s start there. I need to wake up the brain cells.”
They made their way across with some difficulty. The cyclists here seemed to have right of way and a death wish, flying past with lightning speed, while Caroline struggled to wheel her suitcase across, watching it topple over several times in the process.
“Really, Caro, did you need to bring quite so much crap?”
“Oh zip it, woman. I’m not travelling all the way to one of the coolest cities in the world without a few decent outfits.” Her eyes fixed pointedly at Roxy’s black leggings.
She sighed and made her way to an outdoor table, collapsing into a chair with relief. A waitress promptly arrived and they ordered what they hoped were two lattés, then Caroline leaned back in her chair, folded her arms and said, “So what happens now?”
“God knows,” Roxy said.
She had not thought much beyond arriving in Berlin and heading straight to Max’s flat. She had mentally prepared a list of questions to ask Jake, had determined that he was the key to this and would know exactly what Max was up to. But he was no longer talking and she was stumped. She felt that twinge of disappointment again and then another flash of guilt. The poor guy was dead and all she was thinking about was a lost contact for Max.
Caroline pulled out the packet of cigarettes Holly had given her and Roxy must have frowned because she said, “Oh lighten up. We’re not in a nanny state anymore. You’re allowed to smoke at cafés here, you know.”
“That wasn’t what I was worried about. Didn’t you give up those death sticks?”
Caroline cocked her head to one side, the cigarette unlit in her mouth. “You really aren’t going to lecture me about smoking at a time like this, are you, Rox?”
She looked away. No, it didn’t seem to matter so much anymore.
“Miss Emo didn’t think to give me her lighter, though, did she?”
Caroline glanced around as if a match would miraculously appear and, oddly enough, it did. An older, blonde man, who had been watching them from a nearby table leapt up to produce a lighter, and leaned down to light her cigarette. Caroline inhaled deeply than rewarded him with a glowing smile and he smiled back, almost falling over the waitress as he returned to his table. Roxy watched it all with mild amusement. Caroline’s charm clearly had global appeal.
The waitress handed over their coffees and they sat silently for a few minutes, Caroline blowing smoke straight into Roxy’s face, Roxy pretending to ignore her as she dumped several spoonfuls of sugar into her cup. She wondered again why she’d let Caroline come along. It felt like she was escorting a child half the time. She wondered, too, how Caroline could continue to be so blasé. Perhaps she was doing it for her own sanity but it only left Roxy feeling more rattled, as though she had to do the worrying for both of them.
“Oh, I suppose I should check Facebook again,” Caroline said, reaching into her bag for her iPad then looking around. She caught the waitress’s eye and waved her over. “I’ll see if they’ve got Wi-Fi.”
As she spoke to the waitress, Roxy pulled her mobile phone out and realised it was now all in German. She found her way to the settings and changed the language back to English then sent a quick text message to Max’s neighbour Holly, just giving her their new local number should anything crop up. Next, she scrolled through her phone book for a number she had logged in before leaving Sydney. It was for Max’s boss, Gunter, at Mercedes’ Berlin office. She knew it was Sunday, she knew he was unlikely to be in, but she wanted to try.
A few minutes later, she was being put through to the marketing department and the voice of Britt Gelsing came on.
“Oh, Roxy Parker, hallo! Gunter
eez not in today. He only works Monday to Friday.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“You still looking for Max?”
“Yes. I’m now in Berlin, with Max’s sister.”
“You have come all ziss way! My goodness, now I am getting worried.”
“You obviously haven’t heard anything from him?”
“No.” There was a slight pause. “Zee police have been calling, too, looking for Max. Do you know what is going on?”
Roxy shut her eyes, felt her shoulders slump. “Yes. Max’s flatmate is dead.”
“Dead? Did you say dead?”
“I’m afraid so, he was found murdered this morning, in their apartment.”
“Oh my, my. Is Max okay?”
“We don’t know. He’s not back, which is why I’m calling. We’re still trying to find him.”
“Oh my goodness me.” There was another long pause in which time Roxy glanced across at Caroline who was shaking her head, indicating that she could find no messages from her brother. “Oh my goodness,” Britt said again. “Zis is no good. No good at all. I think, perhaps, you should call Gunter at home. Do you have zee number?”
“No.”
“Wait a second.” A blast of elevator music came through the phone line for a few minutes and then Britt was back rattling off a series of numbers, which Roxy repeated aloud indicating for Caroline to tap them into her iPad. She did as instructed and then Roxy thanked Britt and hung up.
“The cops have been calling Max’s office and they suggest I try and get in touch with his boss. What was the home number I just read out?”
Caroline read it back to her and Roxy placed the call, waiting a few rings before it picked up.
“Guten Tag,” came Gunter’s deep voice and Roxy identified herself, telling him what she had just told Britt. “Apparently the police have been calling your office, also looking for Max.”
There was a deep intake of breath at the other end. “This is bad news, Roxy. We have to try to find him.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“After you called, I sent him an e-mail but he has not replied to me either. He is due back at work tomorrow, we could wait until then.”
“We could,” Roxy agreed, closing her eyes wearily. “But I’m starting to get more and more worried.”
“Yes, me too. What can I do? How can I help?”
Roxy opened her eyes. She knew now exactly what she had to do. “You could get us a car, Gunter, if that’s at all possible.”
“A car?”
“Yes,” she said, glancing at Caroline’s look of confusion. “I think it’s time to head for the hills.”
Chapter 8
The hills were certainly alive with music but none that either woman wanted to hear.
“They have dodgy radio stations over here!” Caroline announced after many minutes trying to find a decent station on the car stereo system. In the end she gave up and settled on an Usher song as she stared out the car window in a huff.
The road from Berlin towards Switzerland was also not as picturesque as Roxy had expected, but it was fast. They were on the infamous German autobahn where speed limits were generally open, and while Roxy stuck to 130 kilometres per hour in the middle lane, she was flabbergasted as other cars went whizzing past her at such break-neck speeds she never saw them coming and barely saw them pass.
“They have to be going 200!” Caroline cried, her eyes wide as she watched them disappear up the freeway.
“Crazy,” Roxy said, wondering quietly about the accident toll. Even if she’d wanted to, she wasn’t sure Mercedes-Benz would be too thrilled with her flogging the shiny new compact SUV they had loaned her for the drive. She wondered, too, if it was the same car they had loaned to Max.
Soon after telling Gunter of her intentions, he had rung back, not only confirming the car loan, but offering to put them up for the night at a Berlin hotel, a very plush one just a block from Max’s apartment. “We feel bad,” he told her. “We lose Max on our watch.”
“Well, he was on holidays when he vanished,” she reminded him. “You guys can’t really take any blame.”
“Still, you enjoy our guilt, you get nice hotel room and car, so take it. We will get the car to you this afternoon, and you can have as long as you need. Make the most of it I say!”
Roxy intended to, but first she needed a good night’s sleep. She’d already used Google Maps to find Mt Pilatus and discovered that they had a long drive ahead of them. No matter how fast they sped up that autobahn, they were never going to make it in time to catch the last train to the top from the Swiss village of Alpnachstad at the base of the mountain. Plus there was the small matter of being severely jetlagged. Caroline might be fresh as a daisy, but Roxy was the designated driver and in dire need of a good night’s kip.
“In that case,” Caroline had suggested as they made their way to the hotel, “how about we check out the Chemical Club?”
“The what?”
“The hottest bar in Berlin, darling! They have these drinks there that come in test tubes and are bright blue with, like, little bubbles that sort of pop out or something. That’s what my friend Lexy told me. Says they are to die for!”
Roxy stared at her. Could she hear herself? “Caroline, we’re not here to party. We’re here to find your brother.”
She blinked back at her. “And we can’t do both?”
“No! Well, at least I can’t. You do whatever you like.”
Caroline had slipped into a sulky silence then and by the time they’d checked into their room and freshened up, she’d forgotten all about the Chemical Club, or had at least given up on the idea, and they simply ordered room service and then headed for bed.
By 6:00 the next morning, the two women were looking and feeling brighter as they checked out of the hotel and into their swanky silver Mercedes. The car already had a Satellite Navigation system installed and someone had kindly keyed in directions to Alpnachstad in English. All Roxy had to do was remember to stick to the right-hand side of the road and they’d be there in roughly nine hours. They intended to do it in one hit, having already booked a room at the Hotel Bellevue for Monday night, and been informed that the last train to the top was at 5:10 p.m.
“We’re making it, if it kills us!” Caroline had announced, not aware of how her cavalier language pulled at Roxy’s heartstrings.
Still, as she watched the maniacal European drivers whizz past, Roxy felt her spirits lift, and it wasn’t just because the autobahn was smooth and the jetlag now easing. They were on their way; they were doing something to find Max. Better yet, with each passing hour, they were putting good distance behind Jake’s gruesome murder.
Before they left Berlin, they sent messages to their respective families and called Inspector Hann, explaining where they were going and why. Only Roxy’s mum, Lorraine, had tried to dissuade her, and Roxy tried not to think about her now as she focused on the road ahead.
The journey itself was fairly uneventful with endless fields of corn, solar panels and wind farms to keep them entertained, but both women’s minds rarely strayed from the task at hand.
“What are we hoping to find up there?” Caroline ventured at one point and Roxy squished her lips to one side.
“Good question. I don’t know but it was the last place Max was seen, so I feel like it’s the best place to start. Maybe somebody spoke to him, saw something, has some idea where he might have gone.”
She knew she was grasping at straws, Caroline knew it, too, but it felt good to be grasping at anything at this stage. Staying in Berlin and waiting for Max to show while the police circled asking pointed questions was not on her itinerary.
At 10:05 a.m. Berlin time, they received a text message from Gunter letting them know that Max had not yet turned up at work. “He was due an hour ago,” Gunter had written. “This is not like Max.”
At midday there was another text, this one sounding more alarmed: “Max still not here! Pls find
and bring him home.”
“And what if we don’t find him, or anything for that matter?” Caroline persisted, flicking through the radio channels in another futile attempt to locate something worth listening to.
“That won’t happen,” Roxy replied. “In my experience, there’s always something to find.”
And Roxy’s experience in this area was extensive. In her work as a ghostwriter and investigative journalist, she had helped crack several baffling mysteries, largely thanks to her dogged determination and gut instinct. Just a year ago, she had saved her agent, Oliver, from the proverbial gallows, and she was not going to accept failure this time, either. She knew that the more you dug about, asking questions and opening cans of worms, the more questions were answered and the more worms were uncovered. Secrets and information had a way of oozing out, and Roxy had a way of making sure they did.
The women stopped just twice on their journey, once to grab a strong coffee and some croissants (and cough up 70 cents for the privilege of using the service station restrooms) and a few hours later to fill up the tank and their stomachs again to fuel them on.
As they reached Switzerland, the endless fields turned to placid lakes and vibrant green hills with fairy-tale-like villages tucked into the folds, and Roxy made a promise to herself that she would come back one day under different circumstances. She would stop and idle about without a murder hanging over her head. Better yet, she would have Max by her side instead of his incorrigible sister and they would laugh and they would sing along to the truly terrible Top 40 tunes that were now blaring out from the radio. And they would reminisce about this time and how lucky it was that everything had worked out fine.
She felt a lump settle in her throat and choked back a tear just as the SatNav broke through a Lady Gaga tune: “In 2.2 kilometres, at the next exit, bear left.”
“That’s Alp-nack-stard!” Caroline announced clumsily as she peered at the small screen. “We’re almost there.”
Roxy checked the car clock. It was 5:01 p.m. They had made it by the skin of their teeth. Her tears evaporated and she felt a wave of joy.