Birgitta set the patterns down and walked over to Elsa who still stood with her arms out. “Elsa, I couldn’t be happier to be marrying Joseph, and that includes having you and Anno as part of my family.” She tucked a stray strand of red curls behind the younger woman’s ear. “Your mother would be so proud of you,” she smiled, “just as I am. I’d be more than proud to someday give you away to a man who will love you as Joseph loves me. I’d be ever so proud to call you daughter.”
Elsa’s green eyes misted over, and she couldn’t stop the smile that burst forth on her full red lips. She threw her arms around Mahler and hugged her tight. “Thank you.”
Birgitta dabbed at a single tear escaping her own brown eyes. The two women, who’d been through so much together, in so short a period of time, made it official—they were now family.
“Lift!” The seamstress tapped Birgitta on the shoulder and held her arms out indicating she must do the same. “I don’t have all day. If you want your dress completed on time, stop all this tearful nonsense in my shop and assume the position.”
Elsa giggled, and Mahler shushed her. “Don’t piss off Frau Kluge or she’ll deliberately ruin my dress out of spite.” Birgitta looked over her shoulder at the sour-pussed seamstress. “Is that not so?”
“Humph!” she grunted.
“Old-school is this one, Elsa. She survived the bombing of Berlin.”
Elsa’s eyebrows climbed with surprise, and more than a little skepticism.
Frau Kluge stopped and looked up at Elsa from where she knelt measuring the length of Birgitta’s legs noting the younger woman’s expression. “You think you know tough, Red? I knew tough. I survived war. I held my own when my family and I were interrogated by the Gestapo. Didn’t even break a sweat, and they knew when you broke a sweat. Made us all sit on hard cane chairs with paper beneath us while they grilled us all hour after hour without food or water or even a piss break.”
Elsa’s eyes widened. “What was the paper for?”
Frau Kluge’s expression hardened. “For absorbing the sweat of our palms and asses. The more wet the paper, the guiltier you became in their eyes. My own paper? Ha! I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. I stayed as cold as Siberia, and as dry as a virgin’s cu—”
“Frau Kluge! Language!” Birgitta interrupted.
Elsa chuckled. “I see. My hat’s off to you, Frau Kluge.”
“For what?” she asked, irritation in her voice.
“For surviving those assholes.” Elsa didn’t mince words.
Birgitta looked down at the seamstress. “Elsa here helped take down Yuri Ivchencko and the psycho who kidnapped the Russian girls from Charlottenburg. She’s a survivor too.”
The Frau’s gray eyebrow raised up in disbelief as she surveyed the slender young woman from head to toe. She pointed to the back of the room. “You’ll need to change. Strip down to your underwear so I can begin with the lining of your dress.”
Elsa walked behind the curtain in the corner of the small shop and removed her jeans, blouse, and belt. She looked down at her body still wearing her under things.
“Well, are you going to stand back there all day?” Frau Kluge called out.
Elsa walked out, and stood on the small, round dais set before the three-way mirror. Frau Kluge stepped forward and stopped. Her eyes caught sight of hundreds of small white scars criss-crossing the younger woman’s torso and the front of her thighs. They were fading, but still visible. Several ran straight across her breasts disappearing beneath the fabric of her bra, but it was obvious they continued over the very sensitive areolas. Kluge looked at Elsa, and her expression softened. She nodded slowly, acknowledging the evidence of torture. “My hat is off to you, Officer Kreiss,” she said softly.
The rest of the afternoon was spent finishing the initial fitting, and then shopping for shoes, gifts for the bridesmaids, and finally, picking out flowers. All in all, the day was productive. The wedding of Detective Joseph Heinz to Birgitta Mahler was on track. It was going to be perfect.
JOSEPH PACED THE SHORT length of the cluttered corner office. “Denied? How can this be denied? We have credible evidence, Herman!”
Direktor Herman Faust sat with his hands folded on top of his desk watching his long-time friend, KriminalKommissar Joseph Heinz wear a path through his already threadbare carpet. “I am aware, and so are they, but the case is nearly nine years cold, and now that both Ivchencko and Koslov are dead, the state is not willing to poke the bear, not for this. I’m sorry, my friend.”
Heinz stopped, his expression both tortured and exasperated. After all he’d been through since the day Marlessa Schubert went missing, all the countless missing girls cases thereafter, the kidnapping of Johann Kreiss, the Ivchencko/Koslov affair, and being shot and almost losing Birgitta, he’d finally stumbled upon a real clue. A ledger entry was found, documenting the girl’s kidnapping, and indicating where she’d been transported. Finally, there was a way forward, hope. To have such, and to have permission to pursue it denied, was wrong in Heinz’s eyes. The German State Police didn’t want to rock the boat by opening the cold case operating, he was sure, under direct orders from the chancellor herself. Germany sought to bring Russia, and its president, Mikhail Mishin, to heel, to reign in his attempts to take over Ukraine. A trade deal was tentatively offered at the start of the year, one that would bring Russia into the fold of the European Union, creating avenues for trade, but only if Mishin agreed to abide by the Minsk Agreement and commit to a cease fire in the Ukraine. So far, he hadn’t, but the negotiations would surely end altogether if the state authorized an international investigation into sex trafficking through Saint Petersburg. Heinz was no fan of Mishin or politics. He cared only about justice.
He took a deep breath and sat down facing Faust. “How long have we known one another, Herman?”
Faust leaned back, shrugging his shoulders. A lock of his rapidly graying blond hair fell onto his forehead. He reached up and pushed it back. “Over twenty-five years, I’d say, why?”
“And when in the last twenty-five years have you known me to abandon a case?”
“I don’t like where you’re going with this, Joseph.”
“Just answer me.”
The men stared at each other, neither blinking. Faust’s blue eyes held steady with Heinz’s determined brown ones. Finally, the Direktor sighed. “Never. Not once. You’re a stubborn son of a bitch, that’s for sure.”
Heinz sat forward. “I will do this, Herman, with or without you.” He paused. “But I’d rather it be with you.”
Faust pushed his chair back and stood up. Slipping his hands in his pockets, he walked to the window, and looked down upon the busy street below. “You know, I’ll be fifty-one in a month. Frau Faust is looking forward to my retirement in two years. I’ll have put in thirty years of service.” He turned his head, smiling, and added, “She wants to travel, would you believe?” He chuckled. “Can you imagine me as a tourist, Joseph? Tourists are the first to get ripped off wherever they go. Me? I’d be casing every place we checked into, reminding Helga to keep her valuables in the hotel safe instead of her toiletry bag like she seems intent on doing. The woman can’t seem to help herself; you know. She pulls money out of her wallet and counts it at the register,” he shook his head, “at the register, for Christ’s sakes! Nearly thirty years I’ve been telling her to never, ever count her money in the public eye, and she shushes me, Joseph! She says, ‘if someone steals my money, it’s only money, and maybe they just need it more than I do.’ What am I supposed to say to that?” He sighed. “She’s going to be the death of me, God bless her, that or sheer boredom. What’s an old cop like me supposed to do in retirement?”
Heinz waited in silence.
Finally, Herman faced him again, speaking in hushed tones. “No one can ever know, Joseph. And if you get too deep, I won’t be able to help you. There will be no official acknowledgement whatsoever of your presence there. If asked, I will deny you like Judas to save my own
ass, for Helga’s sake, of course.”
“Of course.” Heinz subdued a smirk.
“I can help get you in, but once you’re there, you’re on your own.”
“That’s more than I could have asked.” Heinz stood, extending his hand. Faust met him halfway and shook it. “Thank you, Herman.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Birgitta is going to be pissed at you if you fuck up her wedding day so you better make sure you come back in time.” He shuffled through his rolodex searching for a card.
“I wouldn’t dream of missing it. It’s my wedding day, too, you know.”
“Yes, but she’ll blame me.” He sat down and reached for the phone.
“Why do you say that?” Heinz lifted one eyebrow in amusement.
“Because she’s smarter than you. She’ll know I helped you, and then it will be shit sandwiches for me from here until eternity. You think Helga won’t help her plot her revenge? Ha!”
Heinz grinned. He knew it was true, but he had no intention of missing his own wedding. He would get into Saint Petersburg with Faust’s help, find the warehouse, follow the clues, and somehow, bring Marlessa Schubert home, dead or alive. Then, maybe, he would find peace.
Chapter Two
“BUT WHY NOW?” BIRGITTA calmly sipped her coffee as she watched Joseph search his closet for the dark green suitcase.
“Because now is when this seminar is being offered. If I miss it this year, I will have to wait two more years before I can apply for my A16.” His voice sounded muffled from within the small space. Finally, he backed up carrying the worn travel case over his head successfully removed from the top shelf. Joseph set it down and kicked a few items back inside the closet before shutting the door. He looked at his fiancé. “I know it’s cutting it close, but it’s only for two weeks, and the wedding is still four weeks away.” He walked over and sat down next to her on the sofa. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. His voice dropped lower. “We’ve already settled the details, Birgitta. The venue is booked, I have my suit, and Elsa assures me your dress is being hand-stitched by an angel.”
Birgitta laughed outright at the description of old Frau Kluge as an angel. More like a foul-mouthed devil woman, but she was gifted with the dress making skill of Vera Wang and the vision of Versace. “Yes, I know, but that doesn’t mean you should be rushing off. It’s in Stockholm, for goodness sakes!”
Joseph smiled. “Worried I might run off with some tall, blonde, Swedish model?”
She hit him in the arm nearly spilling her hot coffee. “No! Worried some freak Swedish snowstorm might trap you in the land of smoked mackerel and Absolut Vodka. I’d never see you again.” She half-joked, but it was clear she was worried.
Joseph had never seen his love agitated. Even when she’d been kidnapped by a Russian sadist, and tied up onboard his ship, she’d kept her cool, had even managed to escape. Still, here she was on the verge of becoming Mrs. Joseph Heinz, and his unflappable woman was ...flapping? He found it adorable. “It’s two weeks. It will be sheer hell without you, but when I come back, I can put in my formal application for Direktor, and we will be set to begin our very happy life together. It’s a desk job, and you know how I’ve looked forward to that. No more haunting cases at two in the morning. I will get to hand them out to subordinates and sit back growing fat.” He grinned down at her, smiling into her large, brown eyes.
“You’re not allowed to get fat, Joseph Heinz. That is not part of our deal.” She poked his ribs with a manicured fingernail.
“Well, then, maybe you can help keep me fit. Let’s see...,” he began ticking off possibilities on his fingers. “You can walk me every day like a pet dog.”
She giggled.
“No? Okay. Um, you can feed me only carrots and hay like a horse?” He raised his eyebrows at her.
“When did you get so silly? What happened to the cynical grump I first met and fell in love with?” Birgitta asked, laughing out loud.
“I know!” Heinz snapped his fingers, grabbed her coffee cup from her hands, and set it on the table in front of them. He quickly leaned her back into the couch cushions, his expression suddenly very serious. His voice dropped lower still, growing husky with desire. “You can let your hair down and make love to me every day,” he whispered hotly before claiming her lips in a sizzling kiss.
Birgitta melted. Her heart fluttered as the kiss deepened. Her body felt hot and needy as Joseph buried his fingers into her thick, curly hair effectively loosening her carefully placed pins. He slid one leg between hers and pulled her closer. Hands roved over each other’s bodies as they passionately made out on the sofa.
“Maybe we can—” he began between kisses.
“No! Not until after the wedding.” Birgitta turned her face away trying to cool down. She, too, felt the desperation between them. It was naughty, and oh so wonderful all at the same time.
“Birgitta, you make me feel like a fifteen-year-old boy,” Joseph moaned into her exposed neck. He proceeded to cover the sensitive skin there with hot kisses and nibbles that made her squirm all over again.
“Oh,” she moaned. When his lips found her ear, tingles skipped down her spine. “We have to stop, Liebling.” Her whispered words filled the air, but they sounded unconvincing.
“Must we?” He licked her ear.
Tingles shot lower to her core. “Yes, we must.” She grabbed his ears and lifted his head to look into his eyes. “Just think how much better our wedding night will be?”
“But it’s not like either of us is still a virgin, my love. We’ve both been married before. There are children, mine and yours. The cat’s out of the bag.” He smiled, amused at her insistence on no sex until they were officially married.
“I know, but we can pretend. And we are virgins, Joseph, to each other.” She dropped a quick kiss on his lips.
He couldn’t argue with her logic. Even though he was in man-pain at the moment, it was exquisite man-pain, and he had to admit that all of their make-out sessions had been like a shot of youth serum because he felt like a young man when he was with her. All he could think about anymore was getting her naked. It didn’t help that he’d already accidentally seen her naked, or maybe it did? He didn’t know or care. All he knew was that he was head over heels in love with her, and if she wanted to wait until their wedding night, then he would oblige. Anything Birgitta wanted, Birgitta would get. He just hoped she never found out the real reason for his trip to Stockholm because if she did, she might never forgive him. Whether or not it was for putting himself into unnecessary danger or for lying would not make a difference. She would see it as one in the same, and then his new, glorious life with her would become a living hell. He and Faust would both be eating shit sandwiches in the doghouse together wondering where they went wrong. But for now, he needed to keep her happy while pursuing the only other thing in his life that held meaning; finding out what happened to Marlessa Schubert. He needed to know, needed to somehow bring the girl home even if it was only by way of news of her passing if that was the case.
He kissed her tenderly, then pulled back. “You’re right, of course. But it will be difficult to keep my hands off you. Maybe this seminar is a good thing after all. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, does it not?”
She sighed. “I suppose, but I will miss you. Promise you’ll call me.”
“I will.” He entwined his fingers with hers, holding her hand up to place a tender kiss on her knuckles.
They stared into each other’s eyes, smiling, and enjoying a quiet moment alone.
The phone rang.
“Damn.” Joseph groaned, and then shot her a half-smile before reaching for his cellular. “It’s Herman,” he said, eyeing the number.
“I’ll go make us some dinner.” She stood, turning toward the kitchen. “That is, if you have anything in your cabinets.” She tossed him a look that said she knew him well, and that the possibility of finding enough ingredients to create a meal might be stretching it. “
Otherwise, we may be calling for takeout.” She left him alone in the living room.
Heinz hit the answer button. “Tell me you’ve planned my itinerary.” He spoke in cryptic terms while glancing toward the kitchen.
On the other end, Faust cleared his throat. “Hello to you, too, you ingrate. Of course I have. You’re booked on AirBerlin tomorrow morning to Stockholm. Once you’re there, you will be meeting with a rather brilliant young woman who is making your fake passport as we speak.”
Joseph blinked. “Is that necessary?”
“You cannot rightly go into Russia as Detective Heinz. They would be suspicious of any law enforcement coming into their country, but a simple Austrian tourist is another matter. She will meet you at the airport by the way.”
“How will I know her? What’s her name?” Joseph pulled a pen out of his pocket and reached forward grabbing his electric bill to write on the envelope.
“She will know you. Don’t worry. She doesn’t ever give out her real name. All I know is a contact hashtag, HackTwice.” Faust grunted.
“You don’t know her name? What about what she looks like?” Joseph was astonished.
“I have no idea. We’ve never met in person, but she came to my attention a few years back—highly recommended, and she’s never failed to come through. Her work is perfect, undetectable from the real deal no matter what type of document is required. I trust her. She’ll find you. From there, you’ll purchase your ticket with your new documents to board the Air Baltic red eye to Saint Petersburg. I have your ticket for the first leg. I’ll give it to you when I pick you up tomorrow. I’m driving you to the airport in case you hadn’t figured that out. What lie have you concocted for your bride-to-be so I won’t screw it up?”
The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set Page 47