‘If there’s one thing I don’t want, it’s to stay at home.’
‘Then what have you been doing these last few weeks? Because you certainly haven’t been at work!’
‘Maybe that’s why I’ve been in such a good mood!’ She turned on her heel and slammed the door.
Rath shook his head. What on earth was wrong with her? At least this time she hadn’t slapped him. Or gone to Greta’s, just back into the living room.
The doorbell rang and he opened to Fritze grinning at him with Kirie in tow. ‘Well,’ the boy said. ‘Together again at last?’
94
The day Rath had been dreading came as a perfectly ordinary Tuesday afternoon.
‘Sounds like Gräf will be rejoining us soon,’ Erika Voss said.
‘Has Levetzow given him his marching orders already? After just two weeks?’
‘I’m afraid he has been rather more successful than you, Sir,’ she said, with a distinct lack of sympathy. ‘He’s found Benjamin Engel. Which means he’ll be back as soon as they close the Alberich file.’
‘He’s found Engel?’
‘Dead or alive, the commissioner said. Well, dead it is. They found his corpse in the Spree.’
Rath didn’t have to wait long for the full story.
Heinrich Wosniak’s mortal remains hadn’t made it as far as the Mühlendamm Lock. They had been washed ashore just beyond the Schilling Bridge, when an eagle-eyed pool attendant noticed a white shape floating near the public baths. Using long sticks, he and a colleague reached for the strange, ghost-like bundle, but the fabric ripped, and the corpse broke free and floated to the surface. Forensics took it from there.
The disfigured face, the burn wounds, the clothing, all pointed towards the mystery killer, and the sheet the body was wrapped inside also contained several cobblestones and a trench dagger with triangular cross-section. Gräf had no hesitation in notifying the commissioner and declaring the case closed. The mass-murderer Benjamin Engel had surfaced, in the truest sense of the word, from the depths of the Spree.
Much as Magnus von Levetzow advocated caution in dealings with the press, he had no less performance instinct than his predecessors, and a press conference was arranged for that afternoon. Rath decided to tag along uninvited and mingle with the journalists. Towards the back he spied a familiar face for the second time in recent days. ‘Berthold!’
‘Gereon! Shouldn’t you be up there?’ Berthold Weinert pointed to the podium.
‘It’s not my case anymore.’
‘Sorry… didn’t mean to offend.’ Weinert was whispering now. ‘Was it political?’
‘Just a difference of opinion.’
‘Sounds like maybe we should meet for a beer.’
‘Let’s see what this lot have to say first.’
They were all there, even Gennat, hauling his heavy frame up the double step. Buddha hated acting as a figurehead for Commissioner Levetzow, whose sole interest for weeks now had been catching Benjamin Engel and parading him before the public. The commissioner took his seat in the middle, flanked by Gennat and Gräf. Last to take to the stage was Achim von Roddeck. A murmur passed among the journalists. Most recognised his face; many would have been present at the Adlon launch.
Levetzow opened proceedings, announcing the discovery of the corpse before introducing Gennat. Buddha, in turn, handed the floor to Detective Gräf who, nervously at first, gave a detailed report of the discovery, the trench dagger and the similarity between the corpse and the man who had been sighted around several previous murders.
‘We had good reason to proceed on the assumption that we were dealing with the disabled war veteran Benjamin Engel. To eradicate any lingering doubt, only moments ago, we invited someone to identify the body. This man not only knew Benjamin Engel, but has written about him: Lieutenant Baron Achim von Roddeck to whom I bid the warmest of welcomes.’
Roddeck rose to his feet and made a bow as if he were being applauded, which, Rath was pleased to note, he was not. These journalists had their plus points.
‘If Herr von Roddeck would care to provide his own impressions.’
‘Gladly, Detective,’ said Roddeck, as his gaze wandered over the room. When he caught sight of Rath he looked momentarily confused, but continued. ‘Though heavily scarred by an explosion sixteen years ago, I am almost certain the corpse is that of Captain Engel.’
Rath wondered if, were it not for his own presence, the lieutenant might have said absolutely certain as opposed to almost certain. On hearing the almost, Gräf made a surprised face. Roddeck must have been less equivocal in the morgue.
Gräf went on to explain that the investigation into Engel’s death was still in its infancy, and journalists would be kept abreast of developments.
‘From what we know so far, he was stabbed with his own trench dagger. Forensics have discovered seven stab wounds, of which three could have been fatal. As yet we have been unable to reconstruct the precise sequence of events, nor have we isolated the crime scene, although we are looking at an area somewhere in the vicinity of the Brommy Bridge. One hundred emergency officers, along with a canine unit and several forensic technicians, are combing both sides of the Spree.’
Rath hoped he and Charly had left nothing incriminating behind.
‘Feel free,’ Gräf continued, ‘to report that we are seeking witnesses. If anyone noticed anything suspicious in this area between two and two-and-a-half weeks ago, they should contact police headquarters and ask for the Alberich team. We will be issuing a press release to this effect.’
Rath looked at Weinert’s notepad. He hadn’t written much but raised his hand. ‘One question! Do you have any idea who might be responsible?’
Gräf left this to Levetzow. ‘Whether or not to go public with this has been a matter of careful consideration,’ the commissioner said, ‘since it looks as though we are not dealing with murder, but with self-defence.’ Magnus von Levetzow glanced at Gennat, who ignored the look. ‘We are proceeding on the assumption that Benjamin Engel underestimated his intended victim’s skill in hand-to-hand combat. The man’s only mistake was to dump Engel’s corpse in the Spree rather than notify the police.’
‘It sounds as if you have a name, Commissioner,’ Weinert said.
‘Indeed, I do,’ Levetzow said. ‘The name of the man responsible for Benjamin Engel’s death, and who – let me emphasise this – has nothing to fear from the criminal prosecution authorities, is…’ The journalists reached for their notepads. ‘…Heinrich Wosniak.’
More than just a murmur passed through the room as the journalists talked over one another.
‘Wosniak?’ someone shouted. ‘Wasn’t he the first victim in this series of murders?’
‘Apparently not,’ Levetzow said. ‘Detective Gräf?’ He handed Gräf a note and the detective looked as if he had been blindsided.
‘What the commissioner is referring to is…’ He cleared his throat. ‘For a short time we have known that Benjamin Engel’s first victim was not Heinrich Wosniak, as… Detective Chief Inspector Böhm’s team wrongly stated.’
Rath suspected Gräf was smearing Böhm on Levetzow’s orders and, for the first time in his life, was angry at hearing his former DCI’s name being dragged through the mire.
‘Rather,’ Gräf continued, ‘his name was Gerhard Krumbiegel, a man with whom Wosniak lived for many years as part of a begging gang, and who, like Wosniak, sustained serious burns in an arson attack carried out on New Year’s Eve 1931.’