The Body on the Beach Page 6

‘Was Frau Bohlen at home?’ asked Johann.

  Isabel Müller thought for a moment. ‘No, I’m pretty sure she was on the mainland that day, visiting a friend in Hamburg. At least I think it was that day . . .’

  ‘How long before Bohlen’s death was this?’

  ‘Four or five days – a week, tops.’

  Johann scribbled something in his little book.

  ‘Was there anyone else in the house? The cook, perhaps?’

  ‘No idea. I really can’t remember.’

  ‘Do you remember any details of the number plate?’ asked Lena.

  ‘Hamburg – yes, I’m pretty sure the licence plate started with HH.’

  ‘Make? Colour?’

  ‘Some kind of big, dark limo. I’m not much into cars. BMW or Mercedes? They all look the same to me.’

  ‘Was Herr Bohlen different from usual when you got back to the home that afternoon?’

  Isabel Müller nodded. ‘Yes. Remember the incident I told you about?’

  ‘With Jonas?’ asked Lena.

  ‘Yes. It happened that afternoon.’

  It’s high time I did something. I made a promise – to myself and to him.

  Am I too weak? Was my first step the last? No! I waited much too long, kept putting it off until it was too late. I won’t make that mistake again. It will all have been for nothing if I give up now.

  That man deserved to die. That’s what I told myself a thousand times, and I was right a thousand times.

  No, I’m not sorry for him.

  But I killed someone.

  I imagine him sitting in that beach chair, gasping for breath. He can’t understand what’s happening to him, but there’s mortal fear in his eyes. He screams without making a sound. He’s begging me to help him. But I just stand there and watch from a safe distance.

  Every night I watch him in my dreams. Over and over.

  But he deserved to die. If I don’t carry on now, it was all for nothing. No one would ever learn the truth. Everything would be forgotten. Everything! The pain, the screams, the tears, the awful, never-ending nightmares.

  I made a solemn promise.

  I have to see this through to the end.

  Or I’ll never sleep again.

  7

  Back in the car, Johann jotted something down in his book and then put it aside. ‘Shame the cook has the day off. We could have got her interview over and done with.’

  Lena started the car. ‘Actually, I prefer having a little time to digest the details of each interview. Sometimes parts of a conversation can take on an entirely new meaning over time. We’ll question her in the morning.’

  She drove back on to the main road, passed through Norddorf, and continued south.

  ‘Let’s pay the accountant a visit and then swing by the funeral home. With a bit of luck, someone will be in.’

  ‘OK,’ Johann said. ‘By the way, the accountant wasn’t very cooperative over the phone. He didn’t want to speak to us at all until I threatened to interview him down at the station in Husum, although he still insisted that he’s bound by his pledge of confidentiality.’

  ‘Interesting. One confidentiality clause a day is usually enough for me. We could apply for a court order, but God knows how long that would take – and then the great trawl through the books would begin. I suggest we take a hard line with this one.’ She sighed.

  Johann nodded. ‘Will we be interviewing anyone else today?’

  ‘Once we’ve done the accountant and the funeral director, you mean? Not at this stage. But you could try to get a bit of background on Isabel Müller. Just the usual to begin with: where she grew up, parents, siblings, university. See what you can find out. And the same for Sabine Bohlen, please. And before I forget, add Anna Bauer to the list, Frau Müller’s predecessor. I’d really like to know why she quit her job so suddenly.’

  ‘OK, that should keep me busy for a while.’

  ‘I know, but we have nothing solid so far. And I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than murder or manslaughter – or whatever it was.’

  ‘Do you want me to run a background check on Sergeant Reimers too?’

  ‘No, I’ll take care of that.’ Lena glanced at Johann. ‘One more thing. Not one word gets out to anyone without my knowledge. Not to anyone! Not to your colleagues in Flensburg, and not to your boss.’

  Johann swallowed. ‘I wasn’t going to.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong. I trust you, but I know how easily something can slip out, especially with workmates. And if your boss wants to know anything, tell him I told you to keep your mouth shut. He can contact me.’

  ‘O–K,’ Johann said, drawing out the syllables.

  Meanwhile, they had arrived in Nebel. Lena slowed the car and pointed over to a whitewashed building identified as a church by its bell tower. The building had a thatched roof and stood in the middle of a cemetery.

  ‘That’s where I was christened. If we get time in the next few days, I’ll show you the talking gravestones. A big tourist attraction.’

  ‘Sounds pretty high-tech.’

  Lena laughed. ‘Quite the opposite. You’ll be amazed. And I’ll drag you up to the lighthouse too. It’s one of the few around the North Sea that tourists are allowed to go up. The view from the top is stunning.’ Johann didn’t say anything. ‘Only if it brings us nearer to the truth, of course. Who knows, we may yet have to question the pastor. Sadly, there hasn’t been a lighthouse keeper for a long time.’

  ‘Why are we checking up on Isabel Müller?’ asked Johann abruptly. ‘D’you sense anything suspicious about her? Absolutely nothing about her rang any alarm bells for me.’

  ‘Just a feeling. And since we have no firm clues of any type yet, we may as well be thorough.’

  ‘A feeling? That wouldn’t be enough for me to go on.’

  ‘I just thought she was a little too eager. I might be completely wrong, but a healthy dose of scepticism comes with the job. We have to speculate, double-check and dig around in the past. It’s the only way we can rule people out. I hate surprises when there’s something I should have figured out sooner.’

  ‘I understand,’ Johann said unconvincingly.

  They passed the first houses of Wittdün. Lena turned off the main road and parked outside a plain, two-storey brick building. They climbed out of the car and walked to the front door.

  ‘If Mr Accountant sticks to his pledge of confidentiality, we’ll apply a little pressure,’ Lena said. ‘The usual game.’ Johann nodded hesitantly. ‘You’ll be fine,’ she said with a smile. ‘Why don’t you play “bad cop” this time?’

  ‘But—’ Johann said, but Lena raised her hand.

  ‘You’ll be fine. Improvise. If I ask you to fetch something from the car, leave us for a while. Or just go anyway, if you reckon he’ll only talk to me.’

  ‘OK then,’ said Johann and rang the bell.

  ‘Tamme Lüschen,’ said the man in the beige suit, shaking Lena’s hand. He was of average height, around forty, with slicked-back hair. His smile looked studied. ‘So you’re here about Hein Bohlen.’

  Lena introduced herself and Johann. The accountant had met them in the reception area of his office and showed no intention of asking them in any further. ‘Is there anywhere we can talk in private?’ she asked.

  ‘Certainly.’ Tamme Lüschen stepped aside. ‘My office. It’s the first door on the right.’

  Once all three were seated, Tamme Lüschen asked if they’d like anything to drink.

  ‘No, thanks,’ Lena replied. ‘You were Hein Bohlen’s accountant?’

  ‘Yes, that’s correct. When the home opened . . .’ Tamme Lüschen paused to think. ‘Must be about fourteen years now. I’ve offered him my services ever since.’

  ‘Were you and Herr Bohlen friends?’

  Tamme Lüschen leaned back in his chair. ‘We were business partners and well acquainted. I wouldn’t go so far as to say we were friends.’

  ‘How often did you see him?’
/>
  ‘Well, once a year here in the office to discuss the year-end accounts, and every now and then in between if something came up.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Homes get audited too. When their audit was due, we’d meet up to discuss the details before and after.’

  ‘We still have a few gaps in Hein Bohlen’s last day. His wife thought he might have had an appointment with you. Is that right?’

  ‘No, we had no appointment. I didn’t see him that day.’

  ‘When was the home last audited?’ asked Lena.

  ‘I’m pledged to confidentiality. I neither want to nor am permitted to say anything on the subject.’

  ‘Do you have the results?’

  Tamme Lüschen leaned forward and smiled. ‘Have I not made myself perfectly clear? You know very well that I can’t give out any information without the client’s express permission. I assume Frau Bohlen hasn’t granted it, and I would strongly advise her not to do so. I think we’ve finished here.’

  Lena ignored his last comment and smiled back at him. ‘That’s a pity.’

  Johann cleared his throat. ‘Herr Lüschen, we’ve heard rumours that the home is in dire straits financially.’

  Tamme Lüschen pretended to be shocked. ‘Is that right? It’s amazing what people gossip about. And where did you hear this rumour, may I ask?’

  ‘We can always apply for an official court order, if you’d prefer,’ Johann said, ‘and then it’s just a matter of time. And you know what that means, don’t you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ The accountant looked a little less sure of himself.

  ‘A court order covers access to all files in your office. In other words, several police officers will sift through all your documents for hours. I’m guessing you’d rather avoid that kind of PR?’

  Tamme Lüschen looked from one detective to the other. ‘You’re not serious?’

  Lena Lorenzen straightened up a little. ‘I was hoping we might find a way to avoid that particular scenario.’

  ‘An accountant’s pledge of confidentiality is a serious business. I just can’t see any leeway.’

  ‘I didn’t want to have to tell you this,’ Johann said. ‘But according to the rumours, you helped Hein Bohlen doctor the books. I’m talking about more than mere tax evasion.’

  ‘How dare you?’ exclaimed Tamme Lüschen. ‘That’s outrageous!’

  Johann shrugged innocently. ‘We rely on tip-offs from concerned citizens. The accusations sounded plausible to us. Like I said, we’ve heard the rumours and we need to check them out. I had hoped you’d prove more cooperative and we could get this all sorted here and now.’ He rose. ‘Never mind. Please excuse me for a moment. I’m expecting a call from the chief prosecutor.’ He gave Tamme Lüschen a curt nod and left the office without waiting for a reply.

  ‘What just happened?’ said Tamme Lüschen, more to himself than to Lena.

  ‘Oh, my young colleague can be a little gung-ho. If it were up to him, he’d bring a special unit along to every single assignment. But his success rate speaks for itself and state prosecutors do love a case to be solved.’

  ‘Special unit?’ Tamme Lüschen seemed utterly confused.

  ‘You know, the ones with guns and vests and helmets. Young people these days, eh? Herr Lüschen, don’t you think we can look for a compromise? I understand completely that you’re bound by your pledge, but you must understand our position too. We have a duty to find out the truth.’

  ‘Compromise? What are you suggesting?’ Tamme Lüschen asked hesitantly.

  ‘Easy. You answer a few questions – off the record – and I promise that no one will ever learn about it. If I decide that a court order is necessary after all, however, you’d have to hand over the information officially.’ Tamme Lüschen glanced at the door. ‘My colleague’s sitting in the car and will be speaking with the prosecutor any minute. Or I can send him a text saying that we no longer need the order. It’s your call!’

  The accountant groaned. ‘What do you want to know?’

  Lena nodded and texted Johann to wait in the car. Then she looked up and asked, ‘When was the audit?’

  ‘About six weeks ago.’

  ‘Do you have the results?’

  ‘No, not yet. For some reason, the tax office is taking its time.’

  ‘Are there irregularities?’

  Tamme Lüschen hesitated. ‘That’s a matter of interpretation. I don’t know if they’ll come back with anything – but even then, it’s not usually a problem. They name a sum for back payments and the issue is sorted.’

  ‘What’s the home’s financial situation?’

  ‘Not too bad. The house is paid off and the home almost always operates at capacity.’

  ‘But?’

  Tamme Lüschen took his time. Eventually, he said, ‘There have been several large personal withdrawals lately.’

  ‘Cash withdrawals?’ The accountant nodded. ‘How large?’

  ‘Around eighty thousand euros in total, over a period of about six months.’

  ‘The business account is in the red?’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘What has the bank got to say about that?’

  ‘You’d need to ask them.’

  ‘Herr Lüschen! I thought we were aiming for a compromise?’ Lena cleared her throat. ‘I’m guessing the bank hit the brakes?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking.’

  ‘Was the audit conducted because of the cash withdrawals? Had someone tipped off the tax office?’

  Tamme Lüschen didn’t reply.

  ‘I understand,’ said Lena. ‘OK, another question: the house Herr Bohlen bought for the home must have cost at least a million. Am I right?’

  ‘Including renovations and fittings, you’d need to add half as much again.’

  ‘You said the house was paid off. How big was the loan?’

  ‘Not very big.’

  ‘Herr Lüschen, do I have to drag everything out of you? As soon as I’ve got what I want, you’re rid of me. So?’

  ‘A hundred and fifty thousand.’

  ‘Wow! And where did the rest come from?’

  Tamme Lüschen shook his head. ‘I honestly don’t know.’ When Lena still didn’t respond, he said, ‘You have to believe me! I never asked. I only became his accountant once the home opened.’

  ‘One last question: where were you on the night Herr Bohlen was found dead? Between nine and eleven p.m. in particular?’

  Tamme Lüschen stared at her in shock. ‘Why are you asking me? I had nothing whatsoever to do with Hein Bohlen’s death.’

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘At home. Like I am almost every night.’

  ‘Can anyone verify that?’

  ‘My wife, of course. Feel free to ask her.’ Tamme Lüschen scribbled a number on a piece of paper and handed it to Lena. ‘That’s my home number so you can get hold of her.’

  Lena pulled a card with her own details from her bag and placed it on the table in front of the accountant. ‘Just in case you think of anything else. Our arrangement still stands. Better you come to us instead of us coming across your name again during the investigation.’

  Tamme Lüschen stared at the card, an unhappy look on his face. ‘Can you find your own way out?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Lena. ‘Break the news gently to Sabine Bohlen. Her nerves aren’t the best at the moment.’ She left the office without waiting for a reply.

  ‘So, did it work?’ asked Johann as soon as Lena got in the car.

  Lena grinned. ‘Bang your fist on the table next time – literally – and we’ll truly be the dream team.’ She told Johann briefly what she’d learned.

  ‘Interesting,’ he said. ‘Gambling or blackmail?’

  ‘We’ll have to find out. Can you take care of the tax office tomorrow and let them know we’re after some intel? I’ll try to get a court order. They must have the source of the money in their records. Hein Bohlen can’t previously have earn
ed that much as a social educator and manager of a children’s home.’

  ‘Inherited, perhaps? Or a private loan?’

  ‘We’ll see.’ Lena started the car. ‘Off to the realm of the dead we go.’

  8

  The funeral home lay on a quiet side street. A large showroom had been tacked on to a small townhouse. They went in by the main entrance and were met by a serious-looking man in his mid-fifties wearing a black suit. His balding head gleamed. He looked back and forth between the two detectives.

  ‘Lars Meiners,’ he said. ‘How can I help?’

  ‘Detective Inspector Lorenzen,’ Lena said and held up her police pass. ‘This is DS Johann Grasmann.’

  ‘Lorenzen? Are you the daughter of—?’

  ‘This is not a social call, Herr Meiners. We’re investigating the death of Hein Bohlen. Is there anywhere we can talk?’

  The man nodded and led them through to his office. ‘So how can I be of assistance?’ he asked, once he’d closed the door.

  ‘You collected Hein Bohlen’s body from the beach, is that correct?’ asked Lena.

  ‘Yes, that was me. It’s my job.’

  ‘Who called you?’

  Lars Meiners looked at them in surprise. ‘You don’t know that? It was your colleague from the island, Walter Reimers.’

  ‘What time did he call you?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t remember. It was late and I was about to go to bed.’

  ‘You can’t give us a time?’

  ‘No, definitely not. It was over two weeks ago.’

  ‘Herr Meiners,’ Johann said, ‘I’m guessing you don’t get a call like that every night, do you? Let’s have a think about this. What were you doing when the phone rang?’

  ‘I was watching TV.’

  ‘Then you probably remember what was on, don’t you?’

  ‘One of those boring whodunnits, I think. You know, piles of dead bodies – and that red-headed detective.’

  ‘Was the programme over by the time our colleague called you?’

  ‘Why do you want to know, anyway? Walter can tell you much better than me. He’d have noted—’ He paused. ‘What exactly is this about?’

  ‘Routine questions,’ Johann said in a bored tone. ‘Had the programme finished?’