rating system, Christoph had scored ten out of ten in the category of “going out.”
They were still laughing when they left the zoo reception hall and made their way back to the car, walking hand in hand. Pia knew that she couldn’t be happier than she was at that moment.
* * *
Bodenstein gave a start when Cosima appeared in the doorway to his workroom.
“Hi,” he said. “So, how did your discussion go?”
Cosima came closer and bent down. “Extremely constructive.” She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, I don’t personally intend to go climbing through the jungle. But I did manage to land Wilfried Dechent as expedition leader.”
“I’ve been asking myself whether you planned to take Sophia along or whether I had to apply for a leave of absence,” he said, concealing his relief. “What time is it anyway?”
“Twelve-thirty.” She leaned forward and looked at the screen of his laptop. “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for information on the man who was shot.”
“And?” she asked. “Did you find anything?”
“Not a lot.” Oliver gave her a brief rundown of what he’d found out about Goldberg. He liked talking to Cosima. She had a sharp mind and enough distance from his cases to help him make the leaps when he could no longer see the forest for the trees during prolonged investigations. When he told her about the result of the autopsy, her eyes opened wide in astonishment.”
“I don’t believe it,” she said emphatically. “That could never, ever be true.”
“I saw it with my own eyes,” he replied. “And Kirchhoff has never been wrong. At first sight, there was nothing to indicate that Goldberg might have had a sinister past. But in over sixty years, he could have hushed up a lot of things. His appointment book told me nothing, a few first names and abbreviations, that’s it. But under today’s date, there was a name and a number.”
He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Vera and the number eighty-five. Sounds like some sort of password. My Hotmail password, for instance, is Cosi—”
“Vera eight-five?” Cosima interrupted him and straightened up. “This morning, something dawned on me when you mentioned Goldberg’s name.” She tapped the side of her nose and frowned.
“Oh yeah? What was it?”
“Vera. Vera Kaltensee. Today she celebrated her eighty-fifth birthday at Quentin and Marie-Louise’s place. Rosalie told me about it. Even my mother was invited.”
Oliver felt his fatigue abruptly vanish. Vera 85. Vera Kaltensee, eighty-fifth birthday. So that was the explanation for the cryptic note in the dead man’s diary. Naturally, he knew who Vera Kaltensee was. She had received numerous honors and awards for her philanthropic efforts, but also for her magnanimous social and cultural involvement. But what did this woman of irreproachable reputation have to do with a former SS officer? If connected to this man, her name would lend even greater shock value to the case, which was something that Bodenstein would have preferred to avoid.
“Kirchhoff must have made a mistake,” Cosima said straight out. “Vera would never in her life be friends with a former Nazi, especially since she lost everything because of the Nazis: her family, her homeland, the castle in East Prussia…”
“Maybe she didn’t know,” Oliver responded. “Goldberg had built up the perfect cover story. If someone hadn’t shot him, and if he hadn’t landed on Kirchhoff’s autopsy table, he would have taken his secret to the grave.”
Cosima was chewing pensively on her lower lip. “My God, this is really awful!”
“Above all, it’s really awful for my career, as Nierhoff let me know today in no uncertain terms,” said Oliver with a hint of sarcasm.
“What do you mean?”
He repeated what Nierhoff had said in his office.
Cosima raised her eyebrows in astonishment. “I had no idea that he wanted to leave Hofheim.”
“He does, and
They were still laughing when they left the zoo reception hall and made their way back to the car, walking hand in hand. Pia knew that she couldn’t be happier than she was at that moment.
* * *
Bodenstein gave a start when Cosima appeared in the doorway to his workroom.
“Hi,” he said. “So, how did your discussion go?”
Cosima came closer and bent down. “Extremely constructive.” She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, I don’t personally intend to go climbing through the jungle. But I did manage to land Wilfried Dechent as expedition leader.”
“I’ve been asking myself whether you planned to take Sophia along or whether I had to apply for a leave of absence,” he said, concealing his relief. “What time is it anyway?”
“Twelve-thirty.” She leaned forward and looked at the screen of his laptop. “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for information on the man who was shot.”
“And?” she asked. “Did you find anything?”
“Not a lot.” Oliver gave her a brief rundown of what he’d found out about Goldberg. He liked talking to Cosima. She had a sharp mind and enough distance from his cases to help him make the leaps when he could no longer see the forest for the trees during prolonged investigations. When he told her about the result of the autopsy, her eyes opened wide in astonishment.”
“I don’t believe it,” she said emphatically. “That could never, ever be true.”
“I saw it with my own eyes,” he replied. “And Kirchhoff has never been wrong. At first sight, there was nothing to indicate that Goldberg might have had a sinister past. But in over sixty years, he could have hushed up a lot of things. His appointment book told me nothing, a few first names and abbreviations, that’s it. But under today’s date, there was a name and a number.”
He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Vera and the number eighty-five. Sounds like some sort of password. My Hotmail password, for instance, is Cosi—”
“Vera eight-five?” Cosima interrupted him and straightened up. “This morning, something dawned on me when you mentioned Goldberg’s name.” She tapped the side of her nose and frowned.
“Oh yeah? What was it?”
“Vera. Vera Kaltensee. Today she celebrated her eighty-fifth birthday at Quentin and Marie-Louise’s place. Rosalie told me about it. Even my mother was invited.”
Oliver felt his fatigue abruptly vanish. Vera 85. Vera Kaltensee, eighty-fifth birthday. So that was the explanation for the cryptic note in the dead man’s diary. Naturally, he knew who Vera Kaltensee was. She had received numerous honors and awards for her philanthropic efforts, but also for her magnanimous social and cultural involvement. But what did this woman of irreproachable reputation have to do with a former SS officer? If connected to this man, her name would lend even greater shock value to the case, which was something that Bodenstein would have preferred to avoid.
“Kirchhoff must have made a mistake,” Cosima said straight out. “Vera would never in her life be friends with a former Nazi, especially since she lost everything because of the Nazis: her family, her homeland, the castle in East Prussia…”
“Maybe she didn’t know,” Oliver responded. “Goldberg had built up the perfect cover story. If someone hadn’t shot him, and if he hadn’t landed on Kirchhoff’s autopsy table, he would have taken his secret to the grave.”
Cosima was chewing pensively on her lower lip. “My God, this is really awful!”
“Above all, it’s really awful for my career, as Nierhoff let me know today in no uncertain terms,” said Oliver with a hint of sarcasm.
“What do you mean?”
He repeated what Nierhoff had said in his office.
Cosima raised her eyebrows in astonishment. “I had no idea that he wanted to leave Hofheim.”
“He does, and