Broken Glass Page 10

  ‘Congratulations, Nik,’ his boss said. ‘You’ve really done it this time.’ Cynicism oozed from each word.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Do you not listen to the news? Watch TV? Go on fucking line?’

  ‘I had a lot to do,’ explained Nik. ‘I only watch the TV for sport. The radio just plays shit and I only use my mobile for making calls.’

  ‘Then let me show you the 9 a.m. local news, shall I.’ Naumann reached for the remote from his desk. A blurry recording of a pavement came up on the screen. Cars were parked along the street. It was night time but you could see a few details thanks to the street lamps.

  ‘In recent years, the crime rate in Munich has gone down consistently and the number of successful prosecutions has increased,’ explained a female news reporter. ‘Various events have recently proved challenging for the authorities. For example, the numerous football games with potentially violent fans from across Europe, or the mass demonstrations surrounding the G7 Summit. But Munich, with over a million inhabitants, still managed to keep its place as Germany’s safest city. And there is no doubt that’s all down to our police force. But unfortunately, not even this public service is immune to corrupt employees.’

  Nik moved closer to the TV. He recognised the street corner. It wasn’t far from his flat. ‘The following shocking images were sent to us this morning. According to experts, the recording is authentic. The video has not been manipulated and everything happened exactly as you are about to see.’

  The film started. A short young man appeared, walking backwards out of a small side street. He held his hands above his head. His face was only visible from the side. He looked scared and appeared to be saying something.

  ‘Oh, shit.’ Nik knew what happened next. A second later, Nik came into the picture.

  The film made it very clear how angry Nik had been about his stolen wallet. He watched with a sinking stomach as the film showed him go over to the man, punch him and twist his arm behind him, before pushing his face into the ground and pressing his knee into his back. Finally, Nik stuck his hand into the man’s trouser pocket and pulled out some money. The video ended with the man lying on the ground, crying.

  ‘Muggings are an everyday occurrence in the city,’ continued the reporter, ‘but we have never heard of one that was executed by a CID officer.’ A photo of Nik appeared on the screen. He was scrunching his eyes together in an unflattering manner and was clenching his fists. There was no doubt the man in the photo was angry and violent. ‘The attacker in the video is an agent from the Munich CID. Inspector Nik P. has already attracted attention for violence and disobedience and was subsequently disciplined. He lives near the street where the crime was committed and a number of sources from the neighbourhood have revealed that Nik P. has often demanded protection money from numerous individuals.’

  ‘That’s a lie!’ Nik shouted.

  ‘None of the people affected were willing to speak in front of the camera out of fear of reprisal.’ The video played again from the beginning. ‘And this was also the reason nobody reported the attack to the police. Were it not for the neighbour who managed to record the incident, nobody would have known about it. The video has been sent to the relevant CID department in Munich along with a request that a statement be made.’

  The video stopped just as Nik had pushed the man to the ground.

  ‘We promise to cover this story until Nik P. no longer poses a threat to the citizens of Munich. And we request that the chief of police remove the man from the police force.’

  Naumann turned off the television and threw the remote on the floor. ‘Do you have any idea what’s been going on here for the last hour?’ he asked. ‘We’ve only just finished dealing with the mass shooting in the shopping centre and now you come along with this? You thick piece of shit! Always dragging us down into the dirt with you. So now the chief of police, the mayor and even the Minister of the fucking Interior have got my number on speed dial. And not because they want me at the VIP tent at the Oktoberfest!’

  ‘It didn’t happen like that,’ Nik attempted to explain.

  ‘Oh, so that isn’t you?’ Naumann pointed to the black TV screen.

  ‘Yes, but . . .’

  ‘Then why did you hit a defenceless guy and steal his money?’

  ‘Because a minute earlier, he’d trapped me in the alley and mugged me! It’s my money I’m taking back.’

  ‘And is there a video of this mugging?’

  ‘All this was deliberate.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘I mean, I was framed!’ screamed Nik. ‘Am I seriously the only person here who can see that?’

  ‘And why would someone want to frame you, Pohl?’ asked Naumann. ‘You’re not famous. You’re not particularly powerful and you’re not even working any big cases.’

  Nik bit his tongue. He desperately wanted to tell Naumann everything but he knew that he’d probably be chucked in jail if he told him any of the details. Plus, he had no idea who he could trust at the CID anyway.

  ‘Maybe it’s not just about me. Maybe they’re just using me to discredit the entire police force.’

  ‘Oh! Well, they’ve found the perfect scapegoat then, haven’t they?’ remarked Naumann. ‘And not only is that video on every channel possible, we’ve also probably got an internal breach of data on our hands because details of your caution were given out.’

  ‘There was another person there. A woman. She was about twenty-five. Had long dark hair and wore a short skirt and black boots. Give me a day and I’ll find her.’

  Naumann waved Nik over to the window. A mass of people had congregated around the main entrance. There were two camera teams, numerous photographers and a bunch of reporters waving their phones around in the air expectantly.

  ‘There’s an equally large mob waiting outside your flat as well,’ said Naumann. ‘And we’ve already had three enquiries from political groups who want to hold a demo against police brutality tomorrow.’

  ‘And what about the fact the journalist could identify me from a blurry video in just a couple of hours? Does nobody find that a bit odd?’

  ‘It happened right in your neighbourhood, Nik,’ explained Naumann. ‘Somebody would have recognised you and known that you work for the CID. Someone published your address on some Facebook page and it was already out before the deletion centre could get rid of it.’

  ‘I’ll testify today and say that the supposed victim attacked me first and that I was taking back the money he’d stolen from me.’

  ‘It wouldn’t make any difference,’ responded Naumann. ‘Look at it from a neutral perspective. On this video, you grab a defenceless man, you throw him to the ground and then you take money from his pocket. Along with the warning and the witness statement claiming you’re involved in blackmail, there’s a pretty damning case against you that no testimony on earth could help. The public are expecting a verdict.’

  ‘All that stuff about protection money is bullshit. And supposed witnesses . . . who aren’t willing to go on camera? You surely can’t believe that?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what I believe. I need to put out this fire and keep the damage to a minimum.’

  ‘And here was me thinking your colleagues’ well-being was so important to you,’ said Nik. ‘At least that’s what you so touchingly said at the last Christmas party.’

  ‘And how am I supposed to protect you?’ He pointed to the TV again. ‘The evidence against you is indisputable and you don’t have a single thing to prove otherwise.’

  Nik shook his head. It was pointless trying to discuss this with Naumann. His only interest was in saving himself. His boss sighed loudly and straightened himself up. Nik knew what was coming.

  ‘Inspector Pohl, in light of compelling evidence, you are hereby suspended from any work-related duties until further notice. I advise you to urgently seek legal assistance for the forthcoming disciplinary proceedings.’ Naumann stretched out his hand. ‘Pl
ease give me your service weapon and service ID.’

  Chapter 6

  The open bottle of vodka on the table was tempting. It promised Nik a warm, comforting escape. Maybe also a long, dreamless sleep. With that amount of alcohol in his blood, he wouldn’t be able to walk in a straight line . . . and that would mean he couldn’t walk to Ettstraße and destroy the chief of police’s office. So many benefits. But Nik knew, despite the raging anger coursing through his entire body, he would never come back from a low like that, and neither Viola’s disappearance nor Kathrin’s murder would be explained. He shook his head and thought back to the night with Cüpper. How she’d aimed her gun at him and hit her own head against the cupboard.

  ‘Fucking crazy,’ he mumbled. He finally stood up and kicked the bottle violently. Vodka ran down the wall and under the couch. There were shards of glass everywhere. But Nik didn’t care. He left everything as it was and made his way to his bedroom. A boxing bag hung down from the ceiling beside his bed. The ceilings in his flat hadn’t been fitted with plasterboard, so although the soundproofing was awful, they could hold a good deal of weight. He hit the tough leather with his bare hands, imagining himself punching Naumann, then Danilo, and then finally Jon, who’d got him into this nightmare to begin with. His punches became more precise. He began to sweat and his knuckles ripped. But he kept hitting the bag, imagining it was the little shit who’d tricked him in the alley, and then Tilo, his supposed friend. And last of all, Dr Cüpper. The one who got away. The chain squeaked under the strain and the bag jolted back and forth. Blood sprang off the leather and splattered on to his bed. He cried out in rage, throwing hit after hit until finally he fell panting to his knees. He didn’t move. He just focused on the pain from the raw, wet wounds on the backs of his hands. It felt good.

  He waited until his heart had stopped racing and stood up. He took off his sodden clothes and got into the shower, letting the cold water stream over him, washing away any last doubts.

  Ten minutes later, he was on his way to Forstenried to visit Laura Kabus. Laura had been a friend of Kathrin’s and her name was mentioned in Kathrin’s file. While Viola’s letter had been addressed to her parents, Kathrin’s had been sent to Laura. Maybe visiting her would throw some new light on the case, just like Nik’s visit to Viola’s parents had done.

  But Nik was suspended. He’d be limited in what he could do. He only had a fake badge, no ID, and his only service weapon had been confiscated. And even if he had had a second gun, he wouldn’t have been able to take it out with him anyway.

  Despite the snow, Nik managed to reach Munich’s south-western borough of Forstenried without hitting any traffic. When he arrived, he noticed the red roof of the Heilig Kreuz Church lying hidden under a blanket of snow. He wasn’t a religious man but a large part of him wished the church’s crucifix really could perform miracles; God knew, he needed one if he was to solve this case.

  Laura lived one street over from the church in an old block of flats which looked on to a sports field surrounded by large trees. It was nothing like Nik’s neighbourhood. Rather than the booming bass from tuned-up BMWs, the air was filled with children’s voices as they sledged under the glow of street lights. They didn’t seem in the slightest bit bothered by the cold or the onset of darkness.

  Nik rang a backlit buzzer with the name L. Kabus on it. He hoped Kathrin’s friend hadn’t seen the local news today or it was going to be a very short conversation.

  ‘Yes?’ answered a clear and bright female voice.

  ‘Good evening, Frau Kabus,’ Nik began. ‘My name’s Inspector Pohl. I’d like to speak to you about Kathrin Glosemeier.’ His suspension would be made public at the press conference at 6 p.m., so he still had some time before every Munich resident would know he was no longer a police officer. For a moment, nothing happened. The intercom crackled and the door remained closed. Nik was about to ring once more, when the door buzzed. Somewhat relieved, he pushed the door and went upstairs. A woman with long dark hair was waiting for him at the door to her flat. She was wearing black jogging bottoms, a baggy jumper and thick woollen socks. Looking at the thin scarf around her neck and cup of tea in her hand, Nik wondered if the heating had broken down. She asked him to come inside.

  Laura’s flat was really more of a nest. There was carpet on the floor and countless cushions and blankets on the couch. Dreamcatchers and crystals hung from the ceiling. The heating was turned up full and her wallpaper was covered in nature images. A waterfall, a forest and a small stream. All of this, together with numerous plants, made the room feel more like a tropical rainforest, and it was worlds away from the dark, crisp winter Nik had left at the front door.

  Laura said nothing and gestured to a chair. Nik sank into it while she sat down and crossed her legs on the couch opposite him. She was staring at the steam escaping softly from her tea cup before dissolving in the air. There was sadness behind the stare, like she was still suffering from the loss. There were no signs of guilt.

  ‘As you probably know, your friend’s case has been closed but we still need to make some enquiries to find out if there have been any changes,’ Nik said confidently. ‘New investigators have been put on the case to try to gain some new perspective and that’s why I’m here.’

  ‘OK. How can I help?’ she asked.

  ‘You and Frau Glosemeier were good friends, right?’ asked Nik.

  ‘Best friends.’

  ‘Why did Frau Glosemeier send her farewell letter to you?’

  ‘She had a difficult relationship with her parents,’ Laura began. ‘Her father wanted her to go into the family business but she wasn’t interested in beer. New media, apps, start-ups. Those were her life.’

  ‘I see. Now, let’s go back to the day you last saw Frau Glosemeier. Did anything appear strange at all?’

  ‘No.’ She put down her cup. ‘I’ve asked myself that question hundreds of times, but I can’t think of anything. We saw a film at the cinema, then we went for Italian food and then, around eleven o’clock, we both went home. It was a nice evening. Like loads before. I sent Kathrin a couple of texts over the next few days but she never read them. I was worried that she might have relapsed, but she seemed so well and happy that night that I didn’t believe she would have. I know the signs. Then just when I thought I should go and see her, I got the letter.’ She stood up and went over to a small box made of polished wood and took out a piece of paper in a clear poly pocket. Nik had seen a copy of the letter in Kathrin’s files.

  ‘Relapsed?’ Nik’s eyebrows rose. He hadn’t expected that.

  ‘Yes, Kathrin had had some problems with drink and drugs, but she’d got treatment and it really seemed to have helped and she was back on track.’

  He nodded. Balthasar hadn’t mentioned any drugs in Kathrin’s body, but maybe any traces would have disappeared. He’d need to ask him later. ‘Did it seem like an unusual way for Frau Glosemeier to say goodbye?’

  ‘Unusual?’ she laughed. It was a cold, mocking laugh without a streak of humour. ‘It was absurd. Kathrin would never do something like that. And even if she had planned on taking her own life, she would have said goodbye to me personally. I told the police that already. But they didn’t care. For them the case was closed.’ She threw Nik an accusing look.

  ‘Do you know the name “Viola Rohe”?’

  ‘No, who’s that?’

  ‘Just another case,’ said Nik dismissively. ‘Were you and Frau Glosemeier ever in The Palace nightclub?’

  ‘I’ve heard of it, but we were too old for that kind of place,’ explained Laura. ‘We were never really into clubbing. We hung around in bars where the volume was a bit more bearable.’

  ‘Did Frau Glosemeier get in touch at all after the letter?’

  Laura shook her head. ‘It was the last sign of life I had from her.’

  ‘Kathrin was found at a popular climbing area,’ Nik continued.

  Laura closed her eyes. ‘Kathrin was a keen mountain biker. But climbing? Wit
h no gear? On that kind of crag? Not in a million years. She’d never been climbing in her life.’ She picked up her tea again and took a sip. ‘I told the police that too,’ she added, quietly dismayed.

  Nik took out his notebook. Laura had just confirmed exactly what he’d been thinking. A heap of discrepancies that even a constable just out of training would have noticed. But apparently in this case they’d been completely overlooked by an entire team of investigators. It was the confirmation he needed that none of this had anything to do with incompetence. The motive for the cover-up might still be unclear but Nik had thought of a way he could get a bit closer to explaining it.

  ‘Would you mind if I took the letter with me?’ he asked the woman. Laura nodded and handed him the poly pocket. ‘Do you have any other letters from Frau Glosemeier?’

  ‘Just postcards.’

  ‘Could I borrow one? I promise to return it fully intact.’

  She shrugged and went back to the wooden box. She took out a postcard and handed it to Nik. It was from the Maldives. ‘It’s from 2015,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you very much,’ said Nik, putting everything in his pocket. He said goodbye to Frau Kabus and went back out into the cold. He’d barely got around the corner when he took out his phone to call Jon. It went straight to his voicemail. ‘I hope you’ve got a bit more dosh in the bank ’cause we’re gonna need another expert. I’ve got a new theory and it needs checking.’

  Kornelius Oberlander was being so quiet it made Nik nervous. The man sat reading the letter, neck bent right over with his face as close to it as possible. It was as if he had trouble reading the words, despite the glasses on the tip of his nose. A second pair also sat on his forehead. He’d follow each sentence with a gloved finger and when he got to the end, he’d shoot his head and hand back to the left to start the next line.