‘Exactly, coincidence!’ Böhm thundered. ‘The Winter and Fastré cases have nothing to do with each other!’
‘…this curious coincidence,’ Gennat continued, ‘and such coincidences always make me uneasy.’
‘We should be concerned with facts, not feelings,’ Böhm said.
‘We might collect facts, but we should nevertheless allow ourselves to be guided by our instincts,’ Gennat said. ‘I wouldn’t have solved half the cases I have if I had limited myself to simply collecting the facts.’
‘I’m not talking about limiting ourselves. I’m saying we shouldn’t be abandoning ourselves to wild theories,’ Böhm grumbled.
‘If you mean Rath’s theory that it was staged,’ Gennat responded, ‘then I have to tell you that, of all the observations made by colleagues this morning, it’s still the most plausible. We are dealing with a perpetrator who loves putting on a show – perhaps he has a background in theatre or film, which would explain his preference for actresses. If the killer is trying to tell us something with these murders, and the way he presents his victims, then there are a number of questions we need to ask ourselves. Why are the corpses in these cinemas specifically? Why are they in cinemas at all? Why film actresses, and why does he remove their vocal cords? We know that he kills them first. So why does he dress their corpses so beautifully afterwards, make them up and deck them out in fine clothes, perfume them even?’
‘One way or another we’d have to answer all those questions,’ Böhm objected, ‘whether the whole thing has been staged, as you believe it has, or not.’
‘Then we are in agreement, Böhm,’ Gennat said.
‘At any rate, he treats his victims better once they’re dead,’ Rath said. He was thinking out loud, but Buddha listened attentively all the same. ‘To me it looks like he loves and hates them in equal measure.’
Gennat nodded his agreement. ‘Let’s leave the cinema killings to one side for a moment,’ he said at last, ‘and turn our attention to the Winter case. You both have ground to make up there. If you had collaborated more effectively with one another, gentlemen – and I don’t want to hear any excuses, from either of you – then perhaps we would have made more progress.’ He took a carefully folded piece of paper from his jacket.
‘The search order for the offices of La Belle Film and Heinrich Bellmann’s private quarters,’ he said, waving the paper. ‘I’d like you to lead the operation jointly. You’ll head out there today, I’ve placed a squad of duty officers at the ready.’
Rath and Böhm were both taken equally by surprise and looked at each other in horror. They had to resolve their differences. Buddha had spoken. There was no getting around it.
They couldn’t even work separately. Heinrich Bellmann’s offices and private quarters were housed at the same address, which was typical of Bellmann. It was just another way of saving money – dispensing with the representative office in Kantstrasse and residing in Pistoriusstrasse, where the rents weren’t nearly so high.
The cars rolled up at five on the dot, an Opel containing the CID officers, with Böhm in front next to the driver, Assistant Detective Mertens, and Rath in the rear next to Gräf, whom Gennat had also forced to take part despite being on late shift in the Castle. A police van of squad officers followed, and a pick-up truck to stow the confiscated articles.
Bellmann lived in a solidly middle-class tenement flat in the front building, while the La Belle office was located in the first rear building. A discreet brass plate pointed the way to a kind of studio with large windows that looked as if it had been built for a sculptor who needed a lot of space. Now it was home to desks and a conference table, everything more untidy, old-fashioned and thrown together than in Oppenberg’s uncluttered modern office in Kantstrasse.
Rath left it to the higher-ranking Böhm to dangle the search order in front of the astounded producer’s face. Bellmann was soon on the telephone to the lawyer he so enjoyed threatening people with, probably the same one who had earned him a load of money in his running battle with Manfred Oppenberg. Barely quarter of an hour later the lawyer arrived, but there was nothing he could do except watch as the officers packed files and reels of film into crates and carried them outside. Time and time again Bellmann protested that if the Liebesgewitter premiere had to be postponed he would be holding Böhm and Rath directly responsible, but the protests were half-hearted. For some reason Bellmann’s mind seemed to be elsewhere.
In his years of service, Rath had developed an instinct for house searches. He had learned to read the guilty consciences of people who protested about their four walls being turned upside down, and could distinguish genuine anger from feigned outrage. Bellmann had something to hide, that much was clear. Rath and Böhm took care that no one disposed of anything secretly.
There was a great deal to pack up, mainly document files, and he felt like he was part of a tax investigation. In his private residence, Bellmann had a little study from which they seized all papers and files, as well a few old appointments diaries, notebooks and screenplays. Next to the study was a small projection room, and Rath instructed that all film cans be secured, including the reel that was still in the projector.
They were almost finished when a woman in a grey winter coat swept through the front door, looking around frantically until she recognised Rath. ‘What’s going on here?’ Cora Bellmann asked.
‘House search,’ Rath said. ‘DCI Böhm has the warrant.’ He gestured towards the adjoining room where Böhm was currently signing a list of confiscated articles for the lawyer.
‘If anything important should go missing,’ Bellmann cursed as he scanned the inventory, ‘or your people should have broken anything, then…’
‘…then the Free State of Prussia will naturally reimburse you for the damage,’ Böhm interrupted. ‘This is a summons. Please make sure you present yourself at police headquarters tomorrow morning at ten.’
‘You’ve a nerve! I’ve got an important meeting tomorrow at ten.’
‘You’ll have to postpone.’
Cora Bellmann cut in. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ she asked first her father, who shrugged his shoulders, then Böhm. ‘Can you explain to me why you are treating my father like a criminal?’
‘If we were treating your father like a criminal he’d be in handcuffs and heading for a night in the cells,’ Böhm said.
‘We don’t have to stand for this!’
‘Actually you do.’ Böhm remained calm. ‘You may accompany your father to the station tomorrow morning should you wish, Fräulein Bellmann. Any questions you have will be answered there. Now you must excuse me. Our work here is done.’
Böhm lifted his hat and pushed his way outside. Emerging through the door he gave Rath a wink before cocking his head to one side, a gesture that could only mean one thing: let’s get out of here!
Gräf and Mertens stayed behind to shadow the producer, ‘…but conspicuously, so that he notices,’ as Gennat had said. Thus the Opel stayed where it was, and Rath and Böhm were obliged to head back to the Castle in the pick-up, squashed beside each other on the front seat next to the driver. The return journey was a little rough in places, and the pair were shaken around so much that there was no way they could avoid bumping into one another.
Böhm maintained an icy silence, as he had on the journey out. The driver sensed the tension and said nothing. The man was far too easy to offend, Rath thought. If they had to work together then they should at least try to make the best of it. He decided to give it a whirl.
‘I know I acted improperly the day before yesterday when I set the whole disused cinema business in motion,’ he said. ‘Lange had told me expressly that it was against your wishes.’
Böhm continued to stare at the Greifswalder Strasse evening traffic, saying nothing.
‘I’m sorry,’ Rath said. ‘I thought the idea was right and wanted to put it into action. If I’ve offended you by doing so, then I’d like to apologise.’
‘It’
s fine,’ Böhm growled. ‘The fact it was successful proves you made the right choice.’ He turned his head and looked Rath sternly in the eye. ‘But if you should disregard a single one of my orders today, even if all you do is refuse to make coffee, I’ll slap a disciplinary hearing on your arse so hard you won’t be able to recover from it. Is that understood?’
‘Understood.’
Despite the serious threat, Rath couldn’t help but grin. The atmosphere in the car was suddenly more relaxed. The driver sensed it too, and was noticeably calmer behind the wheel.
When they arrived at Alex, only the late shift was still on duty in Homicide. Henning, who had to step in for Gräf, and Lange, as well as a little black dog. Kirie jumped up as Rath came through the door.
‘What’s the dog doing here?’ Böhm asked.
‘Fräulein Voss brought her just now,’ Henning said. ‘For Inspector Rath, she said.’
‘I’m looking after her,’ Rath explained. ‘She belonged to Jeanette Fastré, the poor thing.’
‘Doesn’t it belong in a home?’
‘She was beside herself with fear when we found her, I had no choice but to get her back on her feet.’
‘Just make sure the damn thing doesn’t eat any files, and that bringing dogs into Homicide doesn’t become a habit.’
Kirie refused to be intimidated and started barking when the first uniformed officers entered with the heavy crates. She sniffed nosily at the pile, and Rath seized her by the collar to pull her back.
‘Enough,’ he said. ‘Sit down and be good!’
The piles grew as more and more crates were brought in. At last, an officer placed the final crate, which contained only reels of film, at the top. ‘That’s it, Sir,’ he said to Böhm.
The DCI nodded. The officer shrugged his shoulders and took his leave.
‘That’s a lot of timber,’ Lange said, examining the contents of a crate. ‘Did Buddha…I mean Superintendent Gennat, say we have to plough through all this tonight?’
‘I’m saying it,’ Böhm growled. ‘We’ll search until we find something.’
‘And who’s going to watch the films?’ Henning asked.
‘We’ll take care of that tomorrow. The files are more important. Anything that’s linked to Betty Winter or her new film. Contracts, fee statements, insurance documents, what do I know…? Anything that provides information about Bellmann’s finances and the commercial success or otherwise of his film company.’
‘Someone should get to work on Bellmann’s private notebooks and appointments diaries,’ Rath said. ‘Perhaps he made a note of the fact that Peter Glaser’s real name was Felix Krempin.’
‘You can take care of that,’ Böhm said.
‘I take it that’s an order.’
It was meant to be a joke, but Böhm wasn’t laughing. ‘Shall we, then?’ he said, heaving the first crate onto a desk. ‘A crate each. That’s the quickest way.’ The three men did as they were told.
‘I still don’t understand,’ Lange said, opening the first lever arch file. ‘What are we actually looking for here?’
‘Ammunition for Superintendent Gennat,’ Böhm said.
45
Tuesday 11th March 1930
Heinrich Bellmann hadn’t brought his daughter but his lawyer. He appeared in Homicide at ten on the dot, closely followed by Gräf and Mertens, both of whom looked as if they had spent the night in the car. The pair appeared through the glass door unshaven and with rumpled suits, while Bellmann looked spick and span as he took his seat on the wooden bench outside Gennat’s office. Trudchen Steiner requested that he wait a little longer.
Gennat had coffee brought for Gräf and Mertens in the outer office, but continued to keep Bellmann in suspense. ‘How was your night in Weissensee?’ he asked.
‘The man was home all night,’ Gräf said, blowing on the hot coffee. ‘His lawyer left around eight. The daughter stayed in the house.’
‘She lives there too,’ Gennat said. ‘The man made no attempt to escape?’
‘Difficult to say.’ Gräf shrugged his shoulders. ‘He sneaked a look through the window a few times, but probably sensed we wouldn’t let him get away so easily.’
‘You must have been conspicuous.’
‘We didn’t have to toot the horn. He saw us anyway,’ Gräf said. ‘Why didn’t you have him remanded in custody if you thought he might try to escape?’
‘Because I wanted to see what he would do, and because we don’t have anything to justify holding him.’
‘Still not?’ Gräf gestured towards the chaos of document files and boxes that had spread across the main Homicide office.
‘Not what we were looking for, but enough to give him a good grilling.’ Gennat went through the connecting door into his private office. ‘We’ll get going in half an hour. Send Böhm and Rath in,’ he said, and closed the door.
They were still working away feverishly in Homicide. Although they had found a few things that would create difficulties for Bellmann, they still hadn’t found anything halfway sufficient for a murder charge. That morning they had started again at eight, even though Rath had got home at just before twelve the previous evening.
They had even postponed the daily briefing to the afternoon. One half of Homicide was following up on the few leads they had on the cinema killings, while the other continued to sift through contracts, fee statements and insurance documents, looking for the decisive find. At half past eight Buddha made himself comfortable behind his desk to feed on fresh insights from his colleagues, think and eat cake.
He was still doing so at half past ten when Rath and Böhm joined him. Gennat made no move to admit Bellmann, but instead spoke to the inspectors about what they had learned so far. Rath had come across the name Borussia several times in the manual records. The shady film company Marlow had told him about, and in which Bellmann clearly had a stake, seemed to be a lucrative business. After that he had rummaged through the crates with the film reels until he found a few labelled Borussia, which they had then proceeded to watch after all. No one knew that they were doing Johann Marlow a favour in the process.
Rath and Böhm each had to have a slice of cake, and only then did Gennat signal to Trudchen Steiner that Heinrich Bellmann and his lawyer could enter. After waiting for three-quarters of an hour the producer was rather flushed.
‘This is an outrage,’ he said, before even sitting down, ignoring his lawyer, who tugged incessantly on his sleeve. ‘How dare you? Do you even know who you are dealing with?’
You couldn’t take that kind of attitude with Gennat.
‘I think I do,’ he said, leafing calmly through the file. ‘Heinrich Antonius Bellmann, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘Why have you kept me waiting so long? I’ve been sitting outside for an hour. Do you think I can afford to waste my time?’
‘I’m not interested in what you can and can’t afford.’
‘You had my office searched, and my private residence! Can you tell me why?’
‘We’ll come to that.’
‘My client has the right to know what you are accusing him of,’ said the lawyer.
Straightaway Gennat took the wind out of the man’s sails. ‘What makes you think we’re accusing him of anything? Now take a seat, so that we can talk things through sensibly.’
The lawyer had to positively drag Bellmann to his chair before sitting down beside him. The producer cast suspicious glances at Rath and Böhm as the pair stirred their coffees.
‘What’s all this about?’ he asked Gennat, gesturing towards Rath. ‘Up until now I haven’t complained about the way your colleague here hampered my shoot, but that can change.’
‘I’m afraid police work can sometimes be inconvenient,’ Gennat said. ‘If it has been in any way disadvantageous or caused you a financial loss, then I apologise.’ He closed the folder and fired off his first question as casually as he might remark on the weather. ‘Was that the case with Betty Winter’s death?’
; ‘Pardon me?’
‘Did you incur a financial loss as a result of her death?’
‘What do you think?’ Bellmann turned to his lawyer, who gave his client a nod. ‘Betty was my most important actress,’ he said.
‘Is that why you took out such a substantial insurance policy on her?’ Gennat reopened the file, leafing through it until he found the appropriate passage. ‘Five hundred thousand marks in the event of her death, accident and sabotage expressly included.’
‘You have to protect yourself. I still haven’t received any money!’
‘You pledged it as collateral to fund your advertising campaign for Liebesgewitter.’
‘That’s hardly a crime.’
‘Perhaps not, but it does give a pretty clear indication of how much you gained from the death of your star.’
‘What good are short-term gains against the loss of an irreplaceable actress?’
‘Her successor is already filming.’
‘You mean Eva Kröger? A promising talent, for sure, but what is she against an experienced actress on the verge of greatness?’
‘Your first talkie with Winter wasn’t exactly a hit.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? At least you could understand what she was saying! Unlike all those lisping, stuttering, screen beauties from God knows where.’
Gennat shrugged. ‘I’m in no position to judge her abilities. I’m just looking at the figures.’
‘You need to be patient with sound film, it takes a while before you make your money back.’
‘These foreign versions you’re filming seem rather expensive to me.’
‘In future we’ll only film one additional language version alongside the original. In English.’
‘It’s lucky that Frau Kröger speaks English so well then. Being able to employ a single actress for two language versions must save you an enormous amount of money?’
‘You can’t blame me for limiting costs. Do you have any idea how expensive a sound film can be?’
‘How you save on costs is your business. It only concerns the police when people are killed because of it.’
The Silent Death Page 38