wife looked at him spelled trouble and he looked down without saying more.
14
Dead Woods
“Philip used to have his own company, you know. But it went
bust; not that it was his fault,” Frau Birkner said to Max. “One of his employees made a mistake and Philip had to suffer for it.”
Remembering the large, comfortable apartment, Lina thought
that the punishment was quite lenient. Herr Birkner said nothing and continued to look at a spot on the carpet. He was slightly overweight and was sweating in the warm room.
Max leaned forward and said, “We’ll leave you alone now. Before
we go, could you give us the address of your second son?”
“What do you want with Lukas? He has nothing to do with Philip’s
death!” The mother’s shrill voice cut into Lina’s ears.
“There’re just some routine questions, I can assure you. I know you
want us to find your son’s murderer. Every hint we get can help us.”
“Well, in that case you should investigate that girlfriend of his!
That ice-cold bitch! I’m sure she’s involved. That’s a . . .”
“Gisela . . . ,” Philip’s father said sharply.
“Frau Birkner, it’s best not to utter such accusations lightly,” Max said, delivering his slight reproach in a soft voice. “I understand that you’re agitated, but to accuse your son’s girlfriend of having been
involved with his death . . . You’d have to have good reasons.”
“This . . . this stuck-up princess.”
“Leave Katja alone already, Gisela,” Herr Birkner said, tension in
his voice.
“She doesn’t even let us see our grandson regularly,” Frau Birkner
continued as if she hadn’t heard her husband. “She claims that Leon is bored at our place and that we spoil him too much. Not true. She just thinks we aren’t good enough for her and Leon. She comes from good
stock—her parents live in Blankenese, and they come loaded with
mountains of presents every birthday and Christmas. Of course we
can’t compete with that.” She straightened up even more on the edge
of the sofa. “Ha! Guess who’s spoiling the little guy!”
15
Maria C. Poets
“Gisela . . .” Herr Birkner put a hand on his wife’s arm, but she
brusquely shook him off.
“And Katja, that bitch . . . You should’ve seen how she treated me!
As if I were her maid!” Frau Birkner said indignantly, wiping tears from her eyes, tears of anger and of sorrow. “Once, they were here for coffee and I had to wait on her hand and foot. No way would she help in the kitchen or clearing the table. Fat chance. She’s too elegant for that.”
“Lately Philip visits us by himself,” Herr Birkner said. “Sometimes
he brings Leon, but not often.” He looked up for a moment. “In the
beginning, we sometimes visited them, but that was even worse . . . We had to be happy to settle for a cup of coffee. We were never welcome there.”
“Not even when your son was at home?” Lina asked.
The Birkners looked at each other.
“Well, he . . .” began the man.
“This woman has him completely under her thumb. He does what-
ever she wants. He never would have moved into such a showy apart-
ment on his own. But Katja insisted on it and Philip did her bidding.”
Frau Birkner’s face had turned red and she was breathing heavily now, as if she wanted to emphasize her words. But then her color changed
from one second to the next when she remembered that her son was
dead. She collapsed and started to cry quietly. Her husband helplessly patted her back.
Max and Lina looked at each other.
“Can we call anyone to come and stay with you?” asked Berg.
Herr Birkner shook his head. “Not necessary. We’ll call Lukas right
away and he’ll be here at once. He’s a good boy, just like Philip.”
16
Chapter 3
On the way to the car, Max’s phone rang. It was Reiner Hartmann.
“This might interest you. We found a receipt from the Waldschänke
in the dead man’s wallet. That’s a bar very close to the crime scene. It’s from last night.”
“Thanks,” said Max and clicked the car doors open. “Did you
already check his phone?” Those things were invaluable if you wanted to find out what someone was doing, what someone was interested in.
Max could hear the rustling of papers.
“Of the last five calls he made, two were to a Tanja Fischer. They
last talked at six o’clock last night.” Max jotted down the number. “I’ll send you the detailed list later.”
“Thank you,” said Max. “Anything else?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, did you find anything else? Any other clues? Fiber samples,