the Alster, or jogged there, but never in that district. She did not say it and she did not shake her head, but Lina could guess her thoughts, at least the most important one, the predominant one: it’s impossible that Philip is dead. The woman’s eyes were closed and she cradled the child, who had fallen asleep and whose face was shining in the light of the morning sun. It was quiet in the apartment but one could hear water running somewhere in the house
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Maria C. Poets
and a door slammed in the stairwell. The room smelled of a child and sleep, of stale water in a vase, and the hint of perfume.
“How was he . . . I mean, why . . . Who . . .” she said before coming to the realization that neither Lina nor Max had answers for her.
“Is there someone you could call? Or should we call for a chaplain?”
“I . . . No, no. That’s not necessary. I’ll manage.” She said nothing else. Her voice was remote, as if she were lost in thought.
“Frau Ansmann, unfortunately we have to ask you a few questions,”
Max said gently. He had a pleasant voice that had a relaxing effect on most people. “Do you know where your partner was last night?”
The woman nodded. “At a concert.”
“Where?”
“I forget the name, something terribly old-fashioned, even though
they say it’s quite nice . . . Somewhere in . . .” She stopped. “In Niendorf.”
Max kept a straight face. “Did he go there alone?”
“Yes.”
“And you stayed home because of the child?”
“No. I attended a lecture at the Chamber of Commerce. I’m an
executive consultant and I met some of my clients there. Friedericke Moosig, a girl from the neighborhood, was watching Leon.”
“When did you come home?”
“Around twelve thirty.”
“Why didn’t you spend the evening together? Did you have a
fight?” Max looked closely at Katja Ansmann.
“No. We often do things separately. We are . . . We were . . . interested in different things.”
“What was Herr Birkner’s occupation?”
“He’s . . . He was a software developer.” She gave them the name
of the company he worked for and their address in town. Lina wrote
it down.
“Are his parents still alive?” Max asked.
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Dead Woods
The woman nodded before getting up to retrieve her phone from
the other room. Lina and Max looked at each other. She knew his work address by heart, but had to look up the information about her partner’s parents. Lina glanced around the large, luxuriously empty room.
Designer furniture, a high-end sound system from B&O, polished parquet flooring. There was a big window and next to it a double-leaf door to the balcony. An old chestnut tree outside added a green hue to the room.
Katja Ansmann returned. The little boy on her arm had woken up
and was whining. “Leon is hungry.” Rocking him gently, she talked to him quietly to calm him down. Half-asleep, his thumb in his mouth,
the little boy watched the two visitors. Katja Ansmann gave them the address of Philip Birkner’s parents. Then she leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes for a moment.
“Frau Ansmann, do you know if Philip Birkner had any enemies?”
Max asked.
“Enemies? Philip?” She opened her eyes again and looked confused
for a moment. Then she actually laughed. “Philip is on the best of
terms with everyone. He looks good and loves to laugh. He manages to win over complete strangers within minutes. No, I can’t imagine that anyone wishes him any harm. Even though . . .” She scrunched her
eyebrows. “Frank Jensen, a former employee of Philip’s.” Lina thought that the woman blushed. “Until two years ago, Philip had his own
software firm. He had to declare bankruptcy because of a grave mistake by Frank Jensen.”
Max tilted his head. “And why should Herr Jensen be upset with
your partner? It makes more sense the other way around.”
Before she could answer, Lina got up quickly and said, “If you
don’t mind, I’ll briefly look at the apartment.”
Katja Ansmann looked confused, with a touch of distrust and
alertness.
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Maria C. Poets
“Why . . . I mean, he’s dead, isn’t he? He didn’t commit any crime,
he’s . . . He was . . .”
“Frau Ansmann,” Max said with the voice he always used to calm
people, “I assure you that we have no suspicion at all against Herr
Birkner, but we have to explore all possibilities to find the person who killed him. Maybe there are important clues in this apartment.”
Katja Ansmann gave a shrug, pressed the child closer, and motioned
to Lina as if she were dismissing a maid.
Lina