Фолькер Кучер - The Silent Death

‘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.

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 .’