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 con-
sider 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?”
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Maria C. Poets
“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.”
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“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 seri-
ous. 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