Florin grimaced. ‘Well, there’ll be no shortage of candidates there.’
‘But, you know, sometimes it goes beyond the normal level.’
Suddenly Bechner rushed in without knocking, ignoring Beatrice and addressing Florin. ‘Do you have a minute to speak about the statements from the Papenberg relatives?’
‘No. Later.’
He waited until Bechner had pulled the door shut behind him, clearly affronted. ‘Do you think he’s doing this because of us? Torturing and killing people just to get material for his puzzles, to make life difficult for us?’
‘No, I don’t think that’s his motive. But humiliating us and boosting his own ego is clearly important to him. Why else would he write letters like this to us?’
Beatrice clicked on the print icon. With a whirring sound, two copies of the latest cache note peeled out of the printer. Then she opened the next data file from the attachment in Drasche’s email.
Once again, the puzzle was composed in Nora Papenberg’s handwriting. Erratic at first, almost illegible, but halfway through it looked as though the writer had got a hold of herself.
Even after the first read-through, Beatrice could tell it was going to be exceptionally difficult this time.
Stage Four
You’re looking for a key figure. His quota is over 2,000. He never concedes defeat – or so he claims – he has a loud voice and he refuses to tolerate any contradiction. His eyes may be green or blue, but you’ll have to find that out for yourself. He makes a living by selling things which, as he himself says, no one needs. He’s good at it, too. He has two sons, one of whom is called Felix. Find the man’s place of birth and translate it into numbers, just like you did last time. Multiply the value of the first and last letters together, then times the result by 22. Add 193 and add the resulting sum to the northern coordinates from Stage Three. Multiply the tenfold value of the penultimate letter with its sevenfold value and subtract the ninefold value of the same letter from the result. Subtract the resulting sum from the eastern coordinates of Stage Three. We’ll see each other there.
‘Good God! Someone who sells things no one needs – great. And to top it all off, every other kid in this city is called Felix.’ She was just about to reach for the printed copies when the phone rang.
‘Wenninger,’ Florin answered. ‘Really? Where?’ His lips mouthed the word ‘car’ at Beatrice. ‘I understand. Okay, thanks.’ He hung up.
‘They’ve found Beil’s car, on a forest track near Hallwang. There’s a lot of blood in it, but no sign of Beil himself. Drasche and Ebner are already on their way.’ Florin’s expression was unreadable, but Beatrice suspected he was thinking the same thing she was. The Owner had made it clear he wouldn’t stop at two victims.
‘Do you know what I think?’ she asked softly.
‘Hmm?’
‘If Beil had admitted on Sunday that he knew Nora Papenberg, if he had explained to us how he knew her, then he wouldn’t be missing now.’
‘There are too many “if”s there for my liking.’
Yes, thought Beatrice, unfortunately there were. But if she disregarded her suspicions and ignored her instincts, then the case just gaped in front of her like a black hole. A hiding place for which there were no coordinates.
‘When I read the last message through again,’ said Florin, ‘it sounds to me as though Stage Four is close to the final destination. For the first time, we’re searching for someone who the Owner admits is important – not a singer, not a loser, but a key figure.’
‘True.’ Assuming there was any kind of concept behind the puzzles.
There was no way around it; they wouldn’t get any further without Kossar’s help.
‘It’s fine with me, but have you asked the children whether they’d like to?’
‘Of course, Mama. They always love seeing you, you know that.’
They would hurtle around her mother’s restaurant like eager young pups, serving the odd salad here and there just like Beatrice had as a child. There was no reason to feel guilty.
Jakob was beaming with excitement; he had packed his apron and was rummaging around in the drawer for a wooden spoon, which he was adamant he wanted to take with him. There was excitement in Mina’s expression too, but something else besides. Beatrice sat down next to her on the bed. ‘Everything okay, sweetie?’
‘Sure. I don’t mind that you’re offloading us on Oma.’
‘That I’m – what?’
‘Offloading us. I like going to Oma’s – there’s always lots of people there, and they’re all nice to us.’
It wasn’t hard to work out where the new word had come from. Beatrice took a deep breath and tried to keep smiling. No hostile comments around the children; that was the agreement, and she would keep her word even if Achim clearly couldn’t. ‘Offloading you is something completely different,’ she explained. ‘I’m taking you to Oma’s because I have to work late for the next few days and I want you to be looked after.’
Mina shrugged. ‘Like I said, it’s okay.’
Beatrice tucked away everything they might possibly need in their bags and tried to suppress the thought that all she ever seemed to do was pack her children’s things. Her mobile rang, making her worry that her mother had already changed her mind, but then she read Florin’s name on the display.
‘We’re making progress – the results of the DNA analysis are back. The body parts really do belong to Herbert Liebscher. I’m going to visit his ex-wife this evening – Stefan might come with me…’
‘If you can wait half an hour, I’ll come. I’ll hurry – I’m just taking the kids to my mother’s first.’
‘Good.’ His voice sounded flat. ‘Then I’ll have a brief break and walk around the block. Or have a bite to eat. See you in a bit.’
One last quick glance at the clock. Did they have everything?
‘Mina, Jakob, put your shoes on please. We’re going!’
Getting the children away from the apartment felt like the right thing to do. The air in Mooserhof was filled with the aroma of home-cooked food and, most importantly, was free from any thoughts of dismembered corpses.
They met at the car pool pick-up station. ‘I spoke to Liebscher’s ex-wife on the phone. We’re driving to her place first, then his apartment – we’ve got a search warrant from the Department of Public Prosecutions,’ explained Florin as he held the car door open for Beatrice. ‘Stefan managed to get hold of the spare key Liebscher kept at the school.’
‘Is Stefan not coming?’
‘He’s slept the least out of all of us these last few days. He’s about to drop, even though he won’t admit it. I sent him home.’
The woman who opened the door of the terraced house to them was pale and, although the evening was one of the warmest of the year so far, wrapped up in a cardigan.
‘Romana Liebscher,’ she introduced herself. ‘Please come in.’ Beatrice and Florin followed her into a small living room with pale yellow walls; a little run down, but neat and tidy. In front of the corner sofa was a coffee table from IKEA. They sat down.
‘I have no idea what to say… I didn’t even know that Herbert was missing. And now he’s—’ She exhaled noisily. ‘What happened?’
‘We’re not entirely sure yet, but we’re doing everything we can to find out.’ No one could give vague answers with as much conviction as Florin, thought Beatrice.
‘How often had you been in contact recently?’ Beatrice asked, in an attempt to delay questions which would inevitably lead to vacuum-packed body parts.