Craig Russell - The Valkyrie Song

‘I’m sorry. Maybe I should have. But the truth is most of police work is boring or depressing. Take my job. It’s one of the top jobs you can have in the police and because of all of the stuff you read and see on the TV, you’d think it was exciting and glamorous. Believe me, it’s not. Ninety-nine per cent… more than ninety-nine per cent of the murders I deal with are committed by people of low IQ, fuelled by drink or drugs, in seedy or squalid surroundings. The truth is that murder is vulgar. The vast majority of crime is. There are very few criminal masterminds or genius serial killers out there. Most of the time you end up with someone sitting across the table from you who is, in many ways, just another victim of their own crime. They sit there, probably only just sobered up, confused and wondering how the hell they ended up in the position they’re in.’

‘But not always, surely?’

‘No… not always. Then you get the sociopaths, the rapists, the drug dealers, the career criminals who have killed or maimed purely for personal gratification or gain. But again, Gabi, it’s not the way you see it on the TV. These are the dregs of society.’

‘I think I have a more sophisticated perspective than you seem to think, Dad. I live in the real world. I don’t get my ideas from the TV.’

‘Fair enough.’ Fabel smiled at his daughter. ‘I know you’re a bright kid, but it’s important that you know just what it is you’re getting yourself into. It’s a job that gets to you. No matter how hard or tough you think you are, something, somewhere along the way, will get to you.’

‘Are you talking about me or are you talking about Maria Klee? I know what happened to her. Is that what you’re worried about? Tell me, Dad, and I want you to be totally honest: would you be having this talk with me if I were your son and not your daughter?’

‘Yes. Absolutely. That has nothing to do with it. This is all to do with who you are, not what gender you are. Some people are cut out for the job, others aren’t.’

‘Do you think I am?’ Gabi asked, with more than a touch of defiance. At that moment, Fabel saw a hint of Renate’s fieriness in his daughter’s eyes.

‘I don’t know,’ said Fabel. ‘I really mean that. Even after all these years, I sometimes doubt that I am. I just want you to keep as open a mind as you can about your future.’ He paused for a moment, unsure whether to commit his next thought to words. ‘I’ve never said anything bad about your mother, you know that, don’t you?’

‘I know. I also know that you had good reason to but never did,’ Gabi said, her expression sad.

‘I’m not going to start now, Gabi, but I do want you not to let her sway you from whatever course you pick for yourself. Me neither. It’s up to you, and I know that your mother can be a little…’

‘Bitter?’ Gabi finished the thought for him. ‘The truth is it didn’t take her long to realise the mistake she had made. Ludiger never did match up to you for her. Despite all of his charm, he turned out to be a creep.’

‘I never did get the story about why they broke up. I’m guessing it was another woman?’

Gabi didn’t answer right away. ‘Didn’t you know, Dad? He knocked her about.’

‘Hit her?’

‘Not often. And not so badly that it would show. But once is too often.’

Fabel gazed at Gabi. ‘I had no idea…’ His expression suddenly darkened. ‘He never laid a hand on you, did he? If he did…’

Gabi held her hand up. ‘Take it easy, Dad. No, he didn’t. Trust me. He would only have got to try it once.’

‘The bastard.’ Fabel shook his head in disbelief. ‘I mean, Renate

… I would never have imagined her as a battered wife…’

‘Now, given everything you’ve just been telling me about police work, I think that’s a pretty naive thing for a policeman to say. You should know that you can never tell a victim of domestic violence by their appearance.’

‘You say it didn’t happen that often?’

‘I think it followed the usual pattern. He started to get violent more, for less provocation. I think Mum took the attitude that she had made her own bed so she’d have to lie in it. But eventually she decided to throw him out.’

‘Did you ever see him hit her?’

‘Oh, no — he was very careful about that. I didn’t know about it until Mum told me, after it was all over. She told me then that she wished she’d never split up with you; that when you and she were married it would never have crossed her mind that you could hit her.’

‘Shit,’ said Fabel. ‘I had no idea…’

‘Well, maybe you can understand a little better now why she’s always on your case.’

The waitress returned with their meal. As they ate, they fell into a more general conversation about school, friends, how things were going at home. Fabel always enjoyed his daughter’s company and he was glad to move on to lighter topics. But all the time he thought about his ex-wife Renate. How strong-willed and independent-spirited she had always been and how degrading it must have been for her to have been assaulted by Behrens in her own house.

The thought darkened his mood and he found himself also thinking about the brief look that he had exchanged with strong-willed, independent-spirited Christa Eisel. And every time he thought of her, it gave him a bad feeling.

Ute Cranz looked at her watch before casting one final glance over the carefully arranged table. Robert Gerdes would arrive in the next few minutes. Everything was ready: the table set, each course of the meal scheduled for readiness at exactly the right time. And the kitchen. Everything in the kitchen was prepared.

She walked across to the full-length mirror in the hall, by the door. Her deep auburn hair was gathered up, her lipstick and make-up were perfectly done. She was wearing a simple but expensive deep green dress that had a sharkskin lustre to it. For a moment she worried that it made her look reptilian, then laughed at her own insecurity: the dress’s colour and sheen simply complemented and highlighted the rich copper tones in her hair. She smoothed the dress over her hips and thighs. She looked great.

If Ute needed confirmation, she got it when Gerdes arrived, exactly on time.

‘Frau Cranz,’ he said when she opened the door to admit him, ‘you look… radiant.’ His eyes scanned her figure before settling on her face. His eyes were smiling. Knowing. ‘I brought these…’ He held up a large manila envelope. ‘These are the details of the lease. I’m sure yours are the same.’

Taking the envelope and placing it on the hall table, she picked up the glass she had left waiting there for his arrival. She smiled and handed it to him.

‘A little Prosecco… I thought it would be nice.’

‘Are you not joining me?’

‘I will in a minute,’ she said, parting her red lips to expose perfect teeth. ‘Would you mind making yourself at home? I’ve just a few things to finish in the kitchen.’

‘Not at all,’ he said, with a gracious bow. Ute thought Gerdes had an almost aristocratic look. He was wearing a blazer, a crisp white collar and a blue tie with fine red stripes through it. There was something about him that made him look as though he belonged in a different era. A past time.

She extended her arm in the direction of the dining table, indicating he should sit, excused herself once more and walked through to the kitchen. She closed the door behind her. From where he was sitting, Gerdes would not have been able to see into the kitchen when she opened the door. She had planned it that way. She stood and took a moment to think through all she had to do. Then she cast an eye around the kitchen, just to make sure.