While she was still pondering how to double-check her father’s assertion, the phone on her desk rang. She started. A glance at her watch showed that she had spent more than two hours on the computer. None of her colleagues were anywhere to be seen. She saw on the display that the call came from the switchboard, which meant the caller did not have her direct line. She picked up the receiver.
“Good morning. I’d like to talk with someone who is investigating the Birkner murder.” The man’s voice sounded faint, as if he were dead tired and hoarse, as if he had talked a lot lately—or had cried. “My name’s Lukas Birkner. I’m the brother of the dead man.”
Lina briefly introduced herself, and then asked, “What can I do for you?”
Lukas Birkner asked whether they knew yet who was responsible for his brother’s death. When Lina said no, he wanted to know if she could at least tell him exactly how Philip had died.
“By a blow to the head,” Lina explained after hesitating briefly. “We’ve already told this to your parents.”
The man at the other end was silent and Lina guessed that the question wasn’t the real reason for his call. And indeed, a short time later he said, “I don’t know how to say this . . . I don’t trust Philip’s girlfriend.”
Lina did not reply.
“Or rather, I don’t know what I should think. I can’t imagine her going into the forest and beating him to death—she wouldn’t dirty her hands—but has she told you about the life insurance?”
Lina sat up straight and grabbed a pad and a pen.
“There’s life insurance?” she asked.
“Yes, mutual risk insurance. If something happens to one party, the other gets the benefits.” He paused. “So the boy’s taken care of, you know.”
“And how do you know about this?”
“I sold them the policy. I’m an insurance agent,” he added. “When the child was on the way, I talked with Philip about it. ‘Man,’ I told him, ‘what if something happens to you; think about it.’ I mean, you never know. What I recommended to them was whole-life insurance. You know, one that kicks in in old age, but Katja was against it. They just opted for the risk insurance. It’s cheaper, especially for young people.”
Lina frowned. She would never have thought someone like Katja Ansmann would even buy life insurance and then would be stingy with the monthly payments. Wasn’t her family rich and clever enough to have sufficient funds even in times of crisis? Didn’t people like that know enough tricks and loopholes to feather their nests?
“How high is the coverage?” she asked.
“Three million euro.”
Lina swallowed and then wondered whether the sum sounded as enormous to Katja as it did to her.
“You know, I’d almost forgotten the insurance. At least, it wasn’t the first thing I thought of when I heard about my brother. But this morning Katja called my parents. I was there and answered the phone. First she wanted to know what kind of funeral we, especially my parents, had in mind. But then she asked me about the insurance, what documents she had to submit to get the money, and how long that might take.” The man inhaled deeply, and Lina thought he was suppressing tears. “My brother isn’t below the ground yet, and she’s already asking for the money.”
Lina heard him blow his nose. There were voices in the background, either the television or maybe the Birkner parents, talking quietly.
“Thing is, she really hadn’t wanted the insurance! Philip persuaded her; he told me so, later on. It was all his doing. I hardly knew Katja then, before the child was born.” He was silent for a moment. “Not that I know her much better now. All I know is that she has tons of money, from her parents, you know. And now she can’t wait to get this money.” The indignation in the brother’s voice was obvious now. “Nasty business, really bad.”
They were silent for a moment. Then Lina asked, “And you consider this suspicious?”
“You bet I do. You should grill this lady a bit. She’s a cold bitch, I can tell you that.”
“I thought you hardly knew Katja Ansmann.”
“Well, I don’t, but my brother has told me a thing or two. Did you know, for instance, that the two haven’t slept together once since Leon was born?”
No, Lina hadn’t known that, but she wasn’t overly surprised—if it was really true. “Your brother told you that?”
“Yes. We’re . . . We’ve always been close. We’re only eleven months apart, you know. I saw the whole thing . . . How he fell in love, how thrilled he was when Katja was pregnant. But you should see how she treats the boy: to the daycare early in the morning and then to the babysitter. She often got rid of him even on weekends, or left Philip alone with him. He had to cancel get-togethers all the time because he’d have to stay home with the little one.”
“Do you know whether they ever fought?”
“Philip didn’t mention that, but he isn’t . . . Oh, damn it. He wasn’t the arguing type. He’d rather give in and did so more often than was good for him.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, who do you think wore the trousers in the relationship? He did what Katja wanted, period! The apartment in Rothenbaum, for example . . . Don’t think for a moment that was something Philip needed to have. Katja insisted on it. Money was no problem; she got it from her parents.”
“Do you know whether they thought about splitting up?”
Lukas Birkner was quiet for a while. Finally he said, “I think Philip considered it, especially lately. But I guess he didn’t want to leave Leon.” He sighed. “Katja often left him alone with the boy in the evening. Philip was afraid that without him, his son would only be around governesses, nannies, and babysitters.”
“And Frau Ansmann? Did she want to continue the relationship?”
Birkner hesitated. “What reason should she have for a separation? You don’t just leave a man like Philip.” Lina frowned. All right, she understood that one shouldn’t talk badly about the dead, but such gushing praise—it was a bit too much. “You can ask anyone you want. I swear, nobody’s going to say a bad word about him.” He sobbed and then cried quietly. Finally he sniffled and said, “I’m sorry. But I miss him so much.”
Lina said nothing and the man on the other end was silent, as well. “Herr Birkner, do you know by chance whether your brother had a girlfriend? I mean, other than Katja Ansmann?”
“No.” The answer came fast, like a shot. Of course, a perfect man doesn’t cheat—impossible. But then Birkner said, “Even though . . .The last time we got together, I noticed he was flirting aggressively with the woman behind the bar. He’d never done that before.”
“Where was that?”
“In the Blue Motion, I believe. About six weeks ago.”
“Do you remember what the woman looked like?”
“Young, slender, with long blond hair, rather tall. I think she was almost as tall as Philip. Heavy makeup, miniskirt, tight top . . . Almost slutty. Absolutely not Philip’s type.” So it hadn’t been the unknown woman from the Waldschänke. It might fit the description of Tanja Fischer—or not.
“So you can imagine that your brother might have had an affair?” Lina asked.
“Not an affair,” said Birkner. “I could imagine that he met another woman, started something—but it would have been something serious. He thought too much of himself to have affairs.”
Obviously—the golden boy. How could she have forgotten?
“One more question, Herr Birkner. What do you know about the bankruptcy of your brother’s company?”
“Not much. Sorry. He didn’t talk much about it. I only know that one of his employees messed up an important project and that was the end of it. It seems that industrial espionage was somehow involved, too. The idiot who made the mistake was a pain in the neck for a while, called Philip all the time, and blamed him for his being unemployed. Can you imagine?” Lukas Birkner snorted derisively. “But over time that calmed down.”
“Do you know any of your brother’s friends? I mean, you’re almost the same age. Maybe you had the same circle of friends.”
“In the past, Philip had tons of acquaintances and friends, in school and later in college. You know, he was popular; everyone liked him.” Lina rolled her eyes. “But the last two years, since the child arrived, Philip hardly had time anymore. I was practically the only one who could lure him away every now and then. The rest of the time he just sat around at home or went on elegant dates with his Katja: opera, theater, concerts—for that he always had time. But just to go for a beer with his brother?” Birkner paused as he seemed to notice that he was scratching at the golden image of his brother. “Not that I blame him,” he added hastily. “That’s what Katja wanted, and he always did what she wanted. He loved her.”
About an hour later, Lina was in front of the Art Nouveau building in Rothenbaum. She doubted that Katja Ansmann was home since it was hot and everybody seemed to be outside, somewhere in a shady spot or near the water. Driving on one of the bridges crossing the Alster in Winterhude, she had seen the crowds on the grass along the river.
She rang the bell and a moment later heard “Yes?”
“Lina Svenson, Major Crimes, Hamburg. I’d like to talk with Frau Ansmann.”
She heard whispering followed by a loud click when the receiver of the intercom was put down, and then the buzzer.
Today Katja Ansmann did not wear a robe, but a short, wavy skirt and a light-colored blouse. Despite the summer clothes, and even though she was wearing sandals, Katja Ansmann appeared to be dressed formally. Properly. Was it because she wore her hair up? Was it the perfect makeup or the stern expression, which made her mouth no more than a thin line?
She scrutinized Lina. The three-quarter slacks, the simple T-shirt, the light cotton shoes, and the knapsack. “Are you alone?” Katja asked.
Lina nodded. “I have a few additional questions.”
Katja Ansmann raised an eyebrow, something Lina hated, especially when, as was the case here, the gesture implied contempt.
She could hear Leon chatter in his room, and there was another voice, a woman’s voice. Had Frau Ansmann called the babysitter to have some time for herself?
Katja Ansmann stepped reluctantly aside to let Lina in and led her to the living room. A cardigan was hanging on one of the chairs, a stuffed lion was resting comfortably in a corner of the sofa, and two coffee cups stood on the table next to a glass with apple juice that showed signs of a child’s mouth. So maybe not the babysitter?
Lina sat down. “Frau Ansmann, our investigation has raised a couple of questions.” She took out her writing pad and pretended to be looking at her notes.
“As we now know for sure, Herr Birkner did attend a concert in the Waldschänke. Can you tell me whether it was planned from the start that he’d go there by himself?”
Katja Ansmann sat very straight, her bare knees next to each other and her hands on her lap. “Yes, as I already told you, I attended a lecture at the Chamber of Commerce. Work comes first for me.” A tight smile.
“Oh yes, that lecture. What was the topic?”
“Sonja Richter, a prominent personnel manager, lectured on corporate culture and social media,” Katja Ansmann said without the slightest hesitation.
“How long did the talk last?”
“About an hour and a half. Afterward I went to a nearby bar, Tell’s, with a client I met at the lecture.”
Lina studied the woman across from her.
What arrogance power gives you
, she thought:
the steady gaze, a slight smile, proper posture signaling a self-confidence that nothing can shake.
She seemed very relaxed for a woman whose partner had just been killed. “You’re lying,” Lina said after a brief pause.
Katja Ansmann’s cheeks got some color, but it was not clear whether it was because she was embarrassed about having been caught or indignant about such brash confrontation.
“The lecture was canceled on short notice.” Lina shrugged. “Too bad.” She suppressed a grin and leaned back. “So, where were you, really?”
Outwardly, Katja Ansmann showed almost no reaction. Her shoulders did not droop, and her facial expression showed no sign of guilt. This woman was in complete control of her emotions. She turned to the window and was silent. Lina had to pull herself together, but she knew that pushing wouldn’t bring her anywhere right now. Finally the woman said, “I was with my girlfriend.”
At first, Lina was disappointed. That was it? What a lame explanation. On the other hand, what had she expected? A confession that she shadowed and killed her partner? The admission that she loved someone else? Then the lightbulb lit up.
“By that you mean . . . a woman with whom you have a relationship?”
Katja Ansmann nodded silently.
Lina scrutinized her. It was the first time she noticed a touch of vulnerability. But why? Was it such a big deal to be a lesbian? We have gay mayors and a gay foreign minister. Who cares if two women . . . But that’s how she thought. Maybe Katja Ansmann saw it differently, and that was the only thing that counted when trying to explain her motives. “I’ll need the name and address of the woman,” she said.
Katja Ansmann paused. Then she looked toward the door and shouted,“ Could you please come here, Evelyn?” Steps sounded in the hallway and then a slender woman appeared, older than Katja Ansmann, but as perfectly groomed as the management consultant. She wore wide-legged trousers and a tight top that oozed elegance and quality. Lina thought she knew the face from somewhere but wasn’t sure. Leon trotted along, holding her hand.
“This is Evelyn Riemann.” Frau Ansmann sighed. “Councilor of State in the Ministry of Economic Affairs and Innovation. Please keep this confidential.”
Lina nodded slowly, not because she wanted to assure Frau Ansmann of her discretion, but because she now realized why Philip Birkner’s partner had kept the affair secret. In Hamburg, a councilor of state had no one above her other than the senator. But senators were quickly exchanged, while councilors often stayed in office for years and might have had even more possibilities to influence matters than senators, their formal superiors. Evelyn Riemann’s high position obviously made the affair a delicate matter, but was it sensitive enough to warrant lying to the police?
Lina let it slide for the moment and asked the official how one could reach her, very discreetly, of course. Evelyn Riemann gave her the number of her cell phone.