Dead Woods - maria c. poets Page 0,26

a career supposedly didn’t

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interest him. He couldn’t be tempted. Well, I agree that Daniel is a total nerd. He gets his thrills from beautiful code, gets as excited about it as other people get when they look at a beautiful painting.” Jensen shrugged. “That would leave Philip himself.”

“But what would have been Herr Birkner’s motive?” Lina wanted

to know.

Jensen looked at her. “Have you ever been in his apartment? Best

location, huge rooms, designer furniture—everything top-notch. He

bought it with Frau Ansmann shortly after the Wesseling & Kröger project was secured.” Laughing bitterly again, he added, “He charged them an enormous fee, but not that enormous.”

“So you suspect that he took money from a competitor of his own

client to build in a security gap after the system was installed?” Lina asked.

“Why not?” Jensen said, raising his shoulders. “Maybe he relied

on the insurance to pay for everything. Who knows, maybe he did the

scam together with his girlfriend.” He sighed. “To be honest, I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Max frowned. “You know Frau Ansmann?”

“Sure. Philip brought her firm in as consultants, especially for personnel questions, about a year before the bankruptcy. We all had to

participate in a staff training session. The topic was ‘How to Handle Important Clients.’” Jensen shrugged. “I cannot imagine what attracted Philip to her. All right, she looks great, probably has a lot of dough, but I always thought she was an iceberg. And I also felt that she was a few sizes too large for him. You know, the way she talks and dresses . . . She definitely has style.”

Lina doodled on her notepad.

“I bet that she was the one who got him the new job.” He snorted.

“I, on the other hand, got nowhere. Who wants to hire someone who

writes programs that make patent theft easy as pie? My wife went back to work full-time so we could pay the bills. But it wasn’t enough. And 65

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yes, I also tried to open my own business.” His laugh grew more and

more bitter. “I even got an order, once: managing the member list for the Poppenbüttel Knitting Club. A member forum, too; just enough

money for one tank of gas.”

It was again silent in the small room. Lina noticed only now how

stuffy it was. She got up and tilted the window open. Light rain was falling. She studied Frank Jensen while walking back to her seat. He was more alert than this morning, more awake and more angry. If his

version of the story was true, he had every reason to be angry.

“Herr Jensen, where were you Thursday night?” she asked as she

sat down.

Jensen shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. In a few bars. I strolled

around town. I can’t remember where I was exactly.”

“Try to remember,” she pressed.

Jensen sighed. “The Almira, Azaley, the Tropicana—those are the

three where I am most often.” He closed his eyes. “But I haven’t been to Azaley for a while because the music is too loud and the beer is too expensive. So, most likely it must have been the Tropicana and the

Almira.”

“What other bars do you visit?”

Jensen did not know the names, but he described the locations as

best he could and Lina took thorough notes.

“Do you remember whether you talked with anyone? At your

house you mentioned a Dieter or Dirk.”

Jensen frowned. “He’s someone I often see in the Tropicana; it’s

possible he was there on Thursday.” He closed his eyes. “Yes, I think we had a drink together and talked.”

“When did you come home?”

“No idea. At one point Dirk, or Dieter, disappeared. I sat at the

bar a little longer, chewed the fat with the guy next to me . . . No idea whether I’ve seen him before. At some point, I left. I assume that I went straight home.”

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“When was that?”

Jensen shrugged. “How would I know?”

“Is there anyone who saw when you came home?” Max asked.

Jensen laughed mockingly. “You mean mice? Or some silverfish?

’Cause nobody lives there, other than me. My wife moved out with the kids five weeks ago. In case you didn’t notice that.”

“Well, that was quite obvious,” Max said, remaining calm. “I was

thinking of a neighbor, a taxi driver, someone who made the rounds

with his dog.”

Jensen shrugged. “No idea. To be honest, I can’t even remember

how I got home. Total blackout.”

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Chapter 7

Only a few people were in the cafeteria on a Saturday afternoon. Max got an herbal tea and Lina an espresso. The sandwiches in the display case looked as if they were close to retirement, so Lina grabbed a

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