Brother Grimm Read online

  ‘God,’ he said at last, ‘I hate celebrity murders.’

  ‘How about a celebrity murdered by a serial killer you’re tracking?’ Brauner handed Fabel a clear evidence bag. It contained a tiny slip of yellow paper.

  ‘Oh God, no,’ said Fabel. ‘Tell me it isn’t.’

  ‘’Fraid so.’ Brauner rose to his feet. ‘It was protruding slightly from her hands. That’s why I suggested to the first team out here that they should call you in. This is your guy again, Jan.’

  Fabel examined the paper through the plastic. Same paper. Same tiny, obsessively neat writing in red ink. This time it had only one word on it: Dornröschen.

  ‘Briar Rose?’ Maria had moved in closer to examine the note.

  ‘A tale by the Brothers Grimm. Better known these days as “Sleeping Beauty”, because of its Hollywood make-over.’

  ‘Look at this …’ Brauner indicated the dead woman’s hand, where she held the rose. A thorn had been pushed deep into the fleshy part of the thumb. ‘No blood. This was done deliberately, post-mortem.’

  ‘It was how Briar Rose, or Sleeping Beauty, was put to sleep. She pricked her thumb.’

  ‘I thought it was supposed to be on a spindle, not a rose,’ said Maria.

  Fabel stood up again. Laura von Klosterstadt lay still, although Fabel half expected her to give a contented sleepy sigh and roll on to her side. ‘He’s mixing metaphors – or condensing story elements, however you want to put it. Sleeping Beauty did prick her thumb on a spindle, on her fifteenth birthday, but as she slept she and her castle became surrounded by briar roses – a beautiful but impenetrable defence. I suppose the Planetarium is meant to represent the castle.’ He turned back to Brauner. ‘Can you hazard a guess at a cause of death?’

  ‘Not at this stage. There’s very little to indicate violence, other than some slight bruising on the neck, but it’s not enough to suggest strangulation. Möller will be able to tell you when he does the post-mortem.’

  Fabel pointed vaguely at the fan of golden hair. ‘What do you make of this with the hair? Cutting a section out of it. I can’t see any connection to the Sleeping Beauty story.’

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ said Brauner. ‘Maybe a trophy. She certainly has beautiful hair, maybe it’s something he sees as characterising her.’

  ‘No … no, I don’t think so. Why start taking trophies now? He took nothing from the other three bodies.’

  ‘Nothing that we know about,’ said Brauner. ‘But maybe this thing with the hair is something else. Some kind of message.’

  The sky had brightened slightly as Fabel and Maria stepped out of the tent and the red brickwork of the Planetarium looked rain-washed and sharp in the cold light.

  ‘This bastard’s getting cocky, Maria. There’s a message here all right.’ Fabel waved his hand in the direction of a wall of trees, but his gesture suggested that he was looking beyond them. ‘You can just about see this spot from the Polizeipräsidium. We’re exactly due south of it. In fact, the top of the Planetarium is clearly visible from the upper floors of the Präsidium. He’s flaunting himself in front of us – literally.’

  Maria folded her arms across her body, tilting her head slightly. ‘Well, our prime suspect to date is Olsen, and we got very close to him. Maybe there’s a message in his choice of location. We got close to him, so he’s getting close to us. As you say, practically in view of police headquarters.’

  ‘Could be. Or it could be the choice of location has something to do with its history.’

  ‘The Stadtpark’s history?’

  Fabel shook his head. ‘Not specifically. But this place, Winterhude. This is ancient ground, Maria. This goes way back to before Hamburg grew around it. There was a Stone Age settlement here. I suspect any deeper meaning is secondary to him doing this so close to the Präsidium, but there’s maybe something in the history of the place.’ When Fabel had been at university he had spent much of his summers here, in the Stadtpark, with a pile of books at his side. No one knew for sure where the name ‘Winterhude’ had come from, but ‘Hude’ was an old Plattdeutsch word that meant ‘protected place’. He had always found a strange comfort in being on ground that had been continuously occupied for six thousand years. It was as if it connected him to the history he was studying.

  ‘Or,’ said Maria, ‘it could simply be that it fitted with the kind of location he needed to play out his fantasy.’

  Fabel was about to answer Maria when he saw a large Mercedes 4x4 drive over the grass and stop beside the police cordon. Two men got out. Fabel recognised them instantly.

  ‘Shit …’ Fabel got no satisfaction to see how accurate his ‘top brass’ radar had been. ‘That’s all we need.’

  The two men from the 4x4 made their way across to Fabel and Maria. The first man was in his mid-fifties. The hair, cropped close to the scalp, was almost all white, as was the beard, except for the odd hints of a butter-blond past. He was dressed in a pale grey suit which, as always, he managed to wear as if it were a SchuPo uniform.

  ‘Good morning, Herr Kriminaldirektor,’ Fabel said to his boss, Horst van Heiden. The second man was shorter and plumper, with a scrubbed, pink complextion; Fabel, recognising the Interior Minister of the Hamburg senate, gave a brief nod. ‘Herr Innensenator Ganz …’

  ‘Good morning, Kriminalhauptkommissar Fabel.’ Van Heiden indicated the tent with a nod of his head. ‘Is it true?’

  ‘Is what true, Herr Kriminaldirektor?’ Fabel knew exactly what van Heiden was asking, but he was damned if he was going to willingly divulge case information in front of Ganz. Fabel had had dealings with Ganz before: he was a career politician and, as the minister responsible for crime and security within Hamburg, he seemed to hold the police personally responsible for any high-profile case that raised public fears or caused the city-state government embarrassment.

  Van Heiden’s face, never genial at the best of times, clouded. ‘Is it true, Herr Kriminalhauptkommissar, that the body discovered this morning is that of Laura von Klosterstadt, the society model?’

  ‘There has been no positive identification made as yet, Herr Kriminaldirektor.’ Fabel looked at Ganz pointedly. ‘And I certainly do not want anything being announced publicly before we do.’

  Ganz’s already florid complexion turned a deeper red. ‘I am here as much in a personal capacity as a professional one, Herr Fabel. I am a family friend of long standing. In fact, I attended Laura’s birthday party only this Saturday. I have known Peter von Klosterstadt for many years. If this is, indeed, his daughter, I would like to break the news to the family personally.’ He thought for a moment. There was something akin to unease in his expression. ‘I could positively identify the body, if you wish.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Herr Innensenator, this is still a protected crime scene. I’m sure you understand. Anyway, your presence in there may be seen as … well, inappropriate.’

  ‘Fabel …’ Van Heiden’s tone was more beseeching than threatening.

  Fabel sighed. ‘Yes, the body would appear to be that of Laura von Klosterstadt. We have no exact time or cause of death, but it’s certainly foul play.’ He paused. ‘In fact, we are practically certain that she has fallen victim to a serial killer who has taken at least three lives, perhaps four, previously.’

  Van Heiden’s expression darkened even further. Ganz shook his head disbelievingly. ‘How could this happen? How could this happen to Laura?’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand your point, Herr Ganz. Do you mean how could this happen to someone with such a public profile? Rather than to some anonymous shopgirl?’

  ‘That is quite enough!’ Fabel had succeeded in igniting van Heiden’s notoriously short fuse. Ganz held up a hand and stopped the Kriminaldirektor.

  ‘It’s okay, Horst.’ There was no animosity in the plump, florid face. ‘It’s not that, Herr Fabel. It’s not that at all. I am – I was – Laura’s godfather. I’ve known her since she was a little girl.’

  ‘I’m sorry,
Herr Ganz. I was out of line. You say you saw her on Saturday?’

  ‘Yes. Her birthday party. Her thirty-first. In her villa at Blankenese.’

  ‘Were there many people there?’

  ‘Oh yes. I’d say over a hundred guests. Maybe a hundred and fifty.’

  ‘Did anything particular happen? Any incidents?’

  Ganz gave a small laugh. ‘It was a society event, Herr Fabel. Such gatherings are carefully engineered and arranged. Everyone there has an agenda, from being seen with the right people to doing deals. So no, there weren’t any incidents.’

  ‘Did she have a partner? A boyfriend?’

  ‘No. No boyfriend. No partner. Or rather, none of any significance that I can remember. Despite all her beauty and her wealth, poor Laura was a very lonely person. I would say the person closest to her was Heinz. Heinz Schnauber. Her agent.’

  ‘Were they involved?’

  Ganz laughed briefly. ‘No. Nothing like that. Heinz is a member of the Schwul ist Cool brigade.’

  ‘Gay?’

  ‘Very. But a devoted friend to Laura. He’s going to be devastated to hear about this.’

  Down by the police cordon, a television crew had arrived and Fabel could see that several press photographers had focused long zoom lenses on them, like snipers waiting for the clearest shot. ‘I think we’re beginning to attract a little too much attention. Herr Ganz, I would like to talk to you some more about Fräulein von Klosterstadt, but somewhere less public. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you would speak to the family. And if I may make a suggestion, Herr Kriminaldirektor, I think, it would be a very good idea if you were present.’

  Van Heiden nodded. Fabel watched the two men make their way back to the Mercedes 4x4. He noticed that the usually press-friendly Ganz waved away the reporters with the same irritated conviction as did van Heiden. The last occasion Fabel and Ganz had crossed paths, the friction had been considerable. Last time, the serial murderer that Fabel had been hunting had been seen by Ganz as a generator of embarrassing headlines; this time, death had come too close to home for Ganz to worry about bad press.

  Fabel looked up at the vast edifice of the Planetarium’s tower. There was a message here. And he wasn’t getting it.

  30.

  10.10 a.m., Monday, 29 March: Polizeipräsidium, Hamburg

  Fabel looked around the conference table and was very aware of Werner’s and Anna’s absence. Only Maria and himself remained of the core team and he had seconded two Kommissars, Petra Maas and Hans Rödger, from Kriminalhauptkommissarin Ute Walraf’s sexual-crime Sonder Kommission, which was based on the same floor of the Präsidium. Fabel knew both detectives well, and valued their support, but they weren’t his regular Mordkommission team and he felt exposed. Olsen, if it was Olsen who was committing these murders, was getting bolder and more prolific, despite having come close to capture. Fabel and his team would have to move as fast and as efficiently as possible to prevent him killing again.

  Also seated around the table were Susanne and Klatt, the Norderstedt Kommissar. Fabel had just asked Maria to start briefing the team on the latest killing when there was a knock at the conference room door and a tall, sandy-haired, uniformed SchuPo officer hovered awkwardly on the threshold.

  ‘Ah … Kommissar Hermann.’ Fabel indicated a free seat with a sweep of his hand. ‘Thanks for coming along. I thought you’d like to sit in on this briefing.’

  Hermann beamed as he sat down at the table, placing his green and white peaked cap on the table before taking out a notebook and laying it on the cherrywood surface.

  ‘Kommissar Hermann,’ explained Fabel to the others, ‘was the officer who identified the double murder in Naturpark Harburger Berge as a possible serial killing, and who did so well in preserving the locus for forensics.’

  Hermann nodded his thanks. Fabel asked Maria to continue. She summarised what they knew, and didn’t know, to date about the latest killing, as well as going over the previous three murders.

  When Maria had finished, Fabel took over. ‘What we have is a violent and unpredictable suspect on the loose. Peter Olsen. Twenty-nine. He has a record for violence and was involved with Hanna Grünn, whom we found along with Markus Schiller in the Naturpark Harburger Berge. So there is a link and a possible motive. But we still have to establish what connection, if any, he had with the other victims. We also believe that he may be what is known as Karotype XYY … a genetic disorder that may predispose him to violent rage. Frau Doktor Eckhardt?’

  ‘We are all born with a chromosome mix,’ Susanne explained. ‘Men are XY, women are XX. Sometimes, however, there are variations on this mix. This can lead to Down’s Syndrome, Turner Syndrome or intersex conditions such as hermaphroditism, or we can end up with an extra male or female chromosome. In men, this is called XYY or ‘supermale’ syndrome. Such men can be extremely tall, exceptionally muscular, and are often highly aggressive with difficult-to-control tempers. Sometimes they develop severe acne and have skeleto-muscular problems. Current research suggests that they are within the normal IQ range, if slightly below the average. They can, however, have educational problems because they are developmentally immature. Kriminalhauptkommissar Fabel has described Olsen as having an almost adolescent taste in music and decor.’ Susanne paused and leaned back in her chair. ‘For the sake of clinical balance, I have to point out that there’s a lot of discussion about just how much XYY contributes to criminality. The debate all started with a spree killer in the United States – Chicago, I think – called Richard Speck. He killed eight nurses in the 1960s and then appealed for leniency on account of his XYY genotype. It came out later that he’d been misdiagnosed and it threw the whole XYY argument into discredit for a while. And there are many XYY men who control their condition well. I knew a highly respected psychologist who was XYY. He had strategies for dealing with the difficulties it presented, particularly with his temper.’

  ‘And,’ added Fabel, ‘we can’t be certain that Olsen is XYY. As far as we know, he has never submitted to Karotype testing. But it should be pointed out that we know from experience that he can be extremely violent and has no qualms about injuring police officers. And, if he is our guy, he is capable of slashing a throat with a single blow.’

  Fabel noticed that Susanne had removed her glasses and was turning them thoughtfully in her hands. ‘Frau Doktor?’

  ‘Sorry. I was just thinking that that is the thing which doesn’t fit with me. If Olsen is XYY, then he’s a rager. The typical XYY in prison is there for wife-beating or other loss-of-control assaults. When he hit Kriminaloberkommissar Meyer, he struck him with unnecessary, excessive violence. My belief is that if he were the killer, then we would see the excess of a psychotic fury … repeated stabbing, including post-mortem wounds where he would continue to attack his victim even after he knew he or she was dead. A single throat-slash doesn’t seem to fit.’

  ‘But it doesn’t exclude him?’

  ‘No. Probably not.’

  Fabel flipped open the file in front of him. It wasn’t just Susanne’s reservations that were ringing an alarm bell somewhere deep in his mind. Olsen murdering Hanna Grünn and Markus Schiller would have been a crime of passion – of jealous rage. And that didn’t fit with the bizarre staging of the bodies. Then there was the girl found on Blankenese beach, and this latest murder. All had notes written by what seemed – at first sight – to be the same hand.

  It was as if Maria had been reading Fabel’s mind. ‘I’m not convinced about Olsen. I would have thought that he would be trying to keep a low profile at the moment, considering half of the Polizei Hamburg is out looking for him.’

  ‘I don’t know, Maria. He’s our prime suspect so far, but I can’t seem to get to grips with Olsen as a person. Or perhaps the problem is that I have. I keep on expecting to discover that there’s more to Olsen than meets the eye. Perhaps there isn’t. Maybe there’s less to him than meets the eye. We’ve placed him at the Naturpark murders, that’s for sure. He w
as lurking, waiting for them. We have his boot print and a match for his motorcycle tyre tread. He must be the killer there. It’s the other two murders I can’t fit him with. Nor the whole Grimm Brothers theme.’ He turned to Susanne. ‘Why would Olsen commit two murders with a motive, but also two without?’

  ‘There’s no such thing as a motiveless killing. Even the most random acts of violence are inspired by some desire or need. It could be that in Olsen’s mind there is no connection with the other two killings, other than the fact that he is on some kind of Grimm Brothers-inspired crusade, and he included Grünn and Schiller because it suited him to combine objectives. Or mix business with pleasure, as it were.’

  ‘“To kill two birds with one stone”,’ Fabel said, in English. The others stared blankly at him. ‘Never mind.’ He looked down at the file. At Olsen’s almost handsome face. ‘Maybe these other victims aren’t the random choices we first thought. Maybe Olsen is picking them for who they are or what they represent. This latest victim was a model famed for her beauty, and she was posed as Sleeping Beauty. The first girl was from a family at the lowest social level – the underground people who were supposed to leave their children in the place of those they abducted. A question that remains is: did Olsen abduct the original girl, Paula Ehlers, three years ago?’

  Klatt, the Norderstedt officer, answered. ‘I’m convinced he must have. The similarity in appearance between the two girls is unnerving. I’m positive that whoever abducted and killed Martha Schmidt abducted Paula Ehlers.’

  Fabel nodded. It was clear even to him, despite the fact that he had never seen either girl in life, that they were far too close in appearance for it to be a coincidence. ‘What about the other victims – Hänsel and Gretel? If Olsen chose to combine his sexual jealousy with his “killing theme”, then there must have been a conflict. He knew, only too well, that his chosen victims were not brother and sister.’