By this time, I hope, you've listened to Disk 2 of Brother Grimm by Craig Russel.
There are 14 Tracks on Disc 2.
Each of you should transcribe (put down) one Track.
You are to do it in alphabetical (English alphabet) order, i.e. the one, whose surname starts with the letter "A" transcribes Track one, etc.
The last two people who fail to do the task in time (07.05) should transcribe Tracks 13 and 14.
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Track 7. Transcribed by Abasheva S.
ReplyDeleteThe Yensen Buchhandlung was situated in the elegant covered arcades on the Austed. The brightly lit bookstore exuded Northern European cool and would have looked just as much at home in Copenhagen, Oslo or Stockholm as it did in Hamburg. Otto has been a close friend of Fabel since university. They chatted idly for a few minutes before Fabel explained the purpose of his visit. “I am after this new book, a novel, a krimi I suppose. I can’t remember the title or the author, but it is based on the idea of one of the Grimm brothers being a murderer”. Otto smiled knowingly. “Die Märchen Straße. Gerhard Weiss.” Fabel snapped his fingers: “That’s the one!” “Why on earth would you want to buy a historical murder thriller? Isn’t Hamburg serving you up enough of the real thing?” “If only it weren’t, Otto. Is it any good, this book I mean?” “Well, it’s provocative, that’s for sure. And Weiss knows stuff about folklore, philology and the work of the brothers Grimm, but his style is pretentious and over-blown. Truth is, it really is just a common of garden thriller with literary pretension, that’s my opinion, anyway”. “Have you read anything of his before, Otto?” “Not really, I flicked through a couple. Yes, that’s quite similar stuff published before, yes, quite a following, a weird following of that. But he seems to have broken into a mainstream with this”. “What do you mean – ‘weird’ following?” “His previous books were fantasy novels, he called them ‘Der Wahl-Welten Chronik’ – ‘The Choose-Worlds Chronicles’. They were based on the same sort of premises as this one is, but set in a totally fictitious world”. “Science fiction?” “Not exactly, - said Otto – the world Weiss created was almost the same as this, but the countries had different names, different histories etc. More like a parallel world, I suppose. Anyway, he invited fans to buy a place in his books. If they sent them a few thousand euros, he would write them into the story”. “How would anyone pay for that?” “This is all to do with Weiss’s odd bull theories. He explained that to me, his theories I mean. Oh, God! Yeah, I don’t know, it’s a mixture of superstition and Quantum Physics, I guess. Or, more accurately, a superstition dressed up in Quantum Physics…” “Otto!” – Fabel smiled impatiently. “O’k! Think of it in this way: some physicists believe that there is an infinite number of dimensions in the universe, right? And that consequently there is an infinite number of possibilities, an infinite of variations on the reality”. “Yes, I suppose so”. “Well, - Otto continued. – the scientific proposition has always been an artistic belief for many writers. There can be a superstitious bunch. I know that several well-known authors avoid basing characters on people they know quite simply because they fear that their imaginings for the characters may become reflected in reality. You kill a child in a book, and a child dies in reality, that kind of thing. Or, scarier still, you write a novel about horrific crimes and somewhere in another dimension your fiction becomes fact. Added to the metaphysical mumbo-jumbo that he layers in his proposition that our concept of history turns shaped more by literary or, increasingly, screen portrayals of characters rather than by the historical record and historical or archeological research…” “So, – said Fabel, - despite all his denials, Weiss is implying simply by writing this fiction about him, that Jacob Grimm is guilty of these crimes in some other invented dimension, or that Grimm will be charged guilty by future generations, who will choose to believe Weiss’s fiction rather than documented fact?” “Exactly! Anyway, yeah, anything that I could get you?” “As a matter of fact you can. Do you have any fairy-tales?”
Track 13
ReplyDeleteTracking down Olsen had not been difficult. He didn’t have much of a record, but what he did have suggested someone who’s quickly resolved problems with his fists, he had three recorded convictions for resold as well as having been caution on a trading offence. He had ___ parts that came from a stolen motorcycle.
Fabel decided to take both Veiner and Anna with him when he went to question Olsen. And asked for a uniformed shoots polizai unit to join them. They hadn’t enough evidence to arrest him, but Fabel had managed to get a warrant to see his motorcycle for forensic examination. Fabel pulled up at the overgrown curb next to the two meter high fence that ringed Olsen’s workshop. As they waited for the shoots unit to arrive, Fabel surveyed the workshop in yard. The skeletons of four of five motorcycles lay tangled and rusting and a vast rottweiler dog lay on the side of the yard, occasionally raising its massive head to cast an indolence glance around its domain. Fabel couldn’t see if the dog was tethered or not. “Veiner, get on to the Vilhermsburg Polizai Revea” – Fabel said still scanning Olsen’s premises. “See if they can provide a dog handler, who would like to look on Olsen’s pet. A green and white police van pulled up behind them. It was as if Olsen’s guard dog was trained to respond to police vehicles. Because as soon as the van arrived, it lapped to its feet and started to bellow deep loud barks at his direction. A large man dressed in over all immerged from the workshop, wiping his hands on a cloth. He was massively built with huge shoulders into which the neckless head seemed to have been rammed. He was the human equivalent of the rottweiler that guarded his yard. The man stared hard at the dog and muttered something then looked at the direction of the police vehicles before turning and going back into the workshop. “Forget the dog left, Anna; - said Fabel, - we’d better go to check our chum now”.
As they approached the gate, it became clear the dog wasn’t tethered. It bounded towards the approaching group of policemen with the speed. Fabel noted with relief that the gate was closed and padlocked. The rottweiler barked viciously, white teeth flashing. Olsen appeared again in the door of the workshop. “What do you want?” “We have a warrant, Herr Olsen, - said Fabel, holding up the document so that Olsen could see, - and would like to ask you a few questions, would you please call off your dog”. Olsen made a dismissive gesture that he meant to turn back into the doorway. Fabel nodded to Veiner, who drew his pistol, slapped back the carriage and took aim at the rottweiler’s head. Olsen called out: “Head off!” And the dog obediently turned on his heel and returned where it had been lying, but remained on its feet, alert. Anna cast a glance at Fabel. “Head off”. Fabel nodded to Veiner who responded by rehostering his gun.
Olsen came up to the gate with the bunch of keys and unlocked the padlock. He opened the gate and stood silently to one si
Olga Mishina
ReplyDeleteTrack 14
It took just over half an hour for Fabel and Anna to drive out to Bookster Hooter. The contrast with the Schiller house was as stuck as it could be. The Grimm family lived in a rented apartment in a block of six. The Groon’s and the Grimm’s apartment itself were clean and well-kept. But when Fabel and Venna joined Her and frau Groon and Hanna’s eighteen year old sister Lina it was as the apartment capacity have been exceeded. It was not just the apartment that contrasted with Fabel last interview. Unlike Vera Schiller the sense of loss here was raw and immediate. All three answered the detective’s question with a leaden politeness. It was clear that the Groons were eager to help. But it was also clear that the interview was not going to heal much. It became obvious to Fabel that Hanna had kept in touch with her family but that the contact had been limited. Fabel had felt awkward, almost guilty as he explained the circumstances of Hanna’s death. That she has been having an affair with her boss and that he had been the other victim.
- What about her other boyfriends, was there anyone special?
As soon as Fabel asked the question, he sensed tension between the three.
- No one special, -Her Groon’s answer with a little too quicking coming. – Hanna had a pick, she was not into getting serious with anyone.
- And what about Her Schiller? Did Hanna ever mentioned her relation with him?
It was frau Grimm who answered.
- Her Fabel, I want you to know that we did not bring our daughter up to… get involved with married man.
- So, Hanna wouldn’t have discussed it with you. She wouldn’t have dead, - said Her Groon.
Fabel could tell that even in her death Hanna had inquired her father even in her death. Hanna had inquired her father’s dark roth. He wanted just how dark that roth had been when Hanna was a child and how much it had to do with her minimizing contact with her family.
As they were leaving Venna and Fabel had expressed the condolences for a second time. Lina said to her parents that she would see the policemen out. Instead of saying “goodbye” at the door Lina had led them in silence down the co-middle stairs of the apartment building. She stopped in an entrance way when she spoke, her voice was low, almost conspiratorial.
- Mutty and pappy don’t know but Hanna had been with someone. Not her boss. Someone before that.
- Did he had a motorcycle? – Fabel asked.
Lina looked slightly taken aback.
- Yes. As he did as a matter of fact. You know about him?
- What is his name, Lina?
- Olson, Peter Olson. He lives in Wilhemsbourgh. He’s a motorcycle mechanic. I think he has his own business.
Lina’s pale blue eyes clouded.
- Hanna liked her men to spend money on her. But I got an impression Peter was a temporary thing. Money was Hanna’s thing. Oily hands weren’t.
- Did you ever meet him?
Lina shook her head.
- But she talked me about him on the phone. Friday nights when mutty and puppy go out she would phone then and tell me all kinds of things.
- Did she mention Marcus Schiller at all? – asked Venna, - or his wife, Vera Schiller?
There was a sound in a stair well like a door opening. And Lina cast an anxious look upwards.
-No, no, I can’t say she did not directly. Hanna told me she had found someone new. But she wouldn’t tell me anymore than that. But I did know she was worried about Peter finding out.
Lina was about to hit back towards the stair when she checked herself.
- I think Peter was violent. I think that’s why she was worried about him finding out.
Transcribed by Kate Zabalueva.
ReplyDeleteTrack 3, disk 3.
Fabel gazed at the building, which thrust upwards from the trees that flaunted and loomed over the vast open area of grass that lay before it. It had originally been constructed as nothing more than a water tower. But essentially the building was now the planetarium, and Vinter Hoodest’s most famous landmark. Two hundred meters away a temporary fence of metal pose, linked with police tape, fends out. On one side a line of policemen, on the other a growing crowd. It looks like the words have already got out, who the victim is. Maria Clay joined Fabel on the steps: “There is no doubt she loved press and TV a year before lawn”. Fabel moved down to the grassed area, a large white forensic tent had been assembled to protect the locos. Holgerd Brown was bent over the body and stood up when Fabel and Maria entered. A young woman laying naked on the grass, her legs together and her hands folded over her breast, her hair were as striking gold and had been brushed out and fend around her head like a sunburst. Fable noticed that a small section of the radiating hair had been deliberately cut away, leaving a gap. Even in death the beauty of the woman’s face and perfectly formed body were extraordinary. Her eyes were closed, a red rose laid between her folded hands on her breast. And she looked for all the world as if she were asleep. “You need know introduction”, - said Holgerd Brown squatting down again by the body. Fabel gave a small bit of laugh; he had struggled to establish the identity of the first victim. There would be no such a struggle with this victim. Almost anyone in Hamburg could recognize her. As soon as he had seen her face, Fabel knew he was looking at Laura Fon Klongeshtat. The supermodel who had been seen on billboards and magazines all over Germany. Fable knew Laura came from an aristocratic family, but the prominence of the fon Klongeshtat did not come from the families tied nobility but from its very contemporary commercial and political clout. This, Fabel knew, was going to get messy. Already there was a media storm, brewing outside the scene of crime tent, and Fabel’s raid out could even now send stop bras heading full speed towards him. “God, - he said at last, - I hate celebrity murders”. “How about a celebrity murdered by a serial killer you are tracking?” Brown handed Fabel a clear evidence bag, it contained a tiny slip of yellow paper. “Oh, God! No, - said Fabel, - tell me it isn’t”. Brown rose to his feet: “It was protruding slightly from her hands. That’s why I suggested the first team should firstly call you. This is your guy again, yeah?” Fabel examined it through the plastic: “Same paper, same tiny obsessively neat writing”. This time it had only one word on it:”Duona Worshen”. Maria had moved closer to examine the note: “It is on Brothers Grimm’s “Sleeping beauty”, can you guess the cause of death? Note that at this stage there is very little to indicate violence, other than some pruning on the neck. But that is not enough to suggest strangulation. Murder will be able to tell you when he does the postmortem”. Fabel pointed virgly at the fan of golden hair: “What you’ve made of this, with the hair, cutting a section out of it. I can’t see any connection with the sleepy beauty’s story”. “Your guess is as good as mine, - said Brown, - may be a trophy, may be some kind of a message.” The sky had brightened slightly, Fabel and Maria stepped out of the tent, and the red brickwork of the planetarium looked rain-washed and sharp. “He is getting cocky, Maria. It is a message here, alright”. Fabel waved his hands in the direction of the wall of trees, but his gesture suggested he was looking beyond them. “You can just see this spot from the Polizei presidium, exactly south of it. In fact, the top of the planetarium is clearly visible from the upper floors of the Presidium. He is flaunting himself in front of us. Literally!”
Disk 2, track 8
ReplyDeleteThe conference room of the Mord Kommission would have had the look of a library reading room had it not been for the scene of crime photographs that were taped to the incident board. The cherry wood table was completely covered with books. Three copies of Gerhard Weiss' s thriller, a cory of Grimm’s Household and Fairy Tales, a volume of Hans Christian Andersen and one of Charles Perrault. “Ok, - Fabel said in a dicisive tone. - Let’s get started”. He turned to Venna. “What have you got so far?” Venna ran through the details they had to date. The first victim had been discovered by a woman from Blankanasa out for an early morning walk on the beach with her dog. In the second case the police had been tipped off by an anonimous telephone call. It had come from a phone booth at a service station on the B73 autoban. Fabel thought back to the motorcycle tyre marks on the track leading out of the Nature park. But why would this man hide the cars to buy time and then call to tell the police where to find the bodies. Venna also explained that Brauna had got back to them about the two sets of boot prints. One is that harm had pointed out that on a fond of egg didn’t match those found on the car park.
- The odd thing is, - said Venna, - that although they were different boots, the size was the same. Huge. Size 50.
- Maybe he changeed boots for some reason, - said Anna.
- We focus on the motorcyclist who used the forester’s service path, - said Fabel. - He was waching and waiting for them to arrive. That’s our premeditation. Our link between the murders is this small note pressed into the victim’s hands.
Venna read the contents of the notes out loud.
- What we have to ascertain, - said Susanna, - is whether this latest reference we use of the hansel of engratel story is just some kind of sick one of joke because he abandonned his victims in the woods or wheather he really is making some kind of link to fairy tales.
- But there is no fairy tale link in the first note, - said Fabel.
- Unless we are simply missing the reference, - said Susanna.
- I’ve got it!
Anna Wolf had been flicking through one of the books on the table. She slapped her hand down on the opened pages.
- What? - said Fabel. - The Hansel and Gratel connection.
- No, no, eh, sorry chef. I mean the first girl. I, I think I may have the fairy tale link. A young girl found on a beach, right? Beside water?
Fabel nodded impationately. Anna held up the books for the others could see.
- The Little Mermaid, Hans Christian Andersen.
Fabel’s tone sounded unconvinsed although there was a chorus of approval from around the table. He looked at the picture again. It was an icon. The legs folded, mermaid’s tale like, underneath the body, and she sat on the rock. Yet the girl on the beach hadn’t sat on or rested against a rock and there was the note, the false identity, the statement “I have been underground”. At last he said:
- I don’t know, Anna, it’s a possibility, but so much does not fit. Can we keep looking? Each member of the team took a volume and flicked through it. Suddenly Susanna looked up.
- You are wrong, Frau Kriminale Kommissaren, - she said to Anna. - Our killer is using the brothers Grimm as his literary reference, not Andersen, not Perrault. Our dead girl isn’t meant to be the Little Mermaid. She’s meant to be a Changeling.
Fabel felt an electric tingle on his skin.
- Go on.
- There’s a story here recorded by the Grimms called The Changeling and another called The Two Underground Women.
The current across Fabel’s skin was turned up a notch.
- According to the notes that accompany these tales there was a whole system of belief about how children specifically unbaptised children were adopted by the underground people who would leave changelings in their stead. But listen to this. These underground people would often use water as their medium of transport and many of these tales relate to changelings being left on the shores of the Elba and the Saala rivers.
- And Blankanasa is on the shore of the Elba, - said Fabel. - What’s more we have a direct mention in the note left in the girl’s hand of underground people as well as the girl been left there with the identity of another missing girl, a changeling.
Then had he had a breath.
- My God, that’s all we need. A literary psychokiller. Do you think he is intense to stage a killing based on each of Grimms’ fairy-tales?
- We’d better pray that he doesn’t”, - said Susanna. - According to the contents page of this version, the Grimms gathered more than 200 stories.
Jenya Shakirova
ReplyDeleteTrack 15
Hanna was closing the gap on Olsen. He obviously hadn’t checked in his reefer mirror. He would expect them to give chase on a car, and there would be no matter of him in speed or maneuverability. The gap closed.
Don’t check, - she thought, - don’t check yet.
But it was. The most imperceptible movement of his red helmeted head and all his bike searched forward. He couldn’t pull away from Hanna’s flatter BMW, but he could maintain the gap until one of them made a mistake. It was like playing chicken, but while travelling in the same direction. Her focus was locked on Olsen’s red motorcycle head. This total concentration meant she could not move a hand from the striven column of the bike. She couldn’t reach for her gown, she couldn’t fall in opposition. She suddenly has realized that she had lost her bearings. The flat countryside around her in the direction there taken meant there was somewhere the neve hither. He odd rural tailed that it somehow remained invisible to developers. Another band and another straight stretched before them. Alison’s bike surged as a accelerated to its maximum speed again. Hanna felt a chest tightened when she realized that the open road was about to give way to built up area. A sound indicating there were an approaching steel horn flash by and the traffic started to thicken. Olsen and Hanna weaved between cars and tracks, many of which had a brake hard with a blast of angry horns. The town began to take a more solid form, as they thrust in from the outskirts towards the centre. Hanna became aware of the police that were somewhere behind her. She didn’t know whether it was back up or simply the stint horn police to responding to two motorcycle was racing through the area, which of that was, she was glad to have some other police around when she finally cornered Olsen.
Other head, she saw him break suddenly and turn. The bike almost sliding the round from under him as he disappeared the upper side street. Hanna missed the turn and had to look prawn to the main street in carrying even more furious hum blast through other drivers. As she entered the side street she saw Olsen accident the far end and she opened the thruteloud fall. She just about laded the end of the street when a green and quite pectoral car at slides flashing turned into the street from the far end. It was clearly trying to block an exit, she backend wildly to get out of the way. Instead the police cars screeched to a holt and the doors flew open. The policemen rushed on other side their pistols drowned and aimed at Hanna. She braked hard until on the bike browned side on to the car. It sled from under her, she smashed into the asphalt feeling her fire burn as the darning was ripped from her leg. Hanna roamed several times before she came to arrest against the parked car. The bike sled sharing spark as its metal grounded on the roam service. Until it slammed in front of the police car. The second patrail car was pulled up behind Hanna and the stone shoo pose walked over to her, postering the weapons as steel laying on the road with one hand nesting the skin fly. She held up her bronze oval criminal polizai shield. They have started to her feet and one of them started to say something about not knowing she was a police officer and pursuit of a suspect. Hanna stared hard at the empty street where Olsen had disappeared. The Hanna BMW motorbike jammed under the front of the police car. The unquite restrained voice, she asked could radio the direction has suspect to taken and see if they could get a helicopter to search for Olsen. They have taken a deep breath, she screamed harsh and shrilled on a shoo pose:” Fuck you, idiots!”
He saw a large Mercedes 4x4 drive over the grass and stop beside the police cordon. Two men got out. Fabel recognized them instantly. “Shit!” – Fabel got no satisfaction to see how accurate his top brass ?raider? 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, his boss – Ost van Heiden. The second man was shorter and plumper with a scrubbed pink complexion. Fabel, recognizing the Interior Minister of the Hamburg Senate, gave a brief nod: “Herr Inner Senator Genz”. “Good morning, Herr Kriminal Haupt Komissar Fabel”. Van Heiden indicated the tent with a nod of his head: “Is it true?” “Is what true, Herr Kriminal Direktor?” – Fabel knew exactly what van Heiden was asking, but he was damned if he was going to willingly divulge case information in front of Genz. Fabel had had dealings with Genz 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 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 Kriminal Direktor, - Fabel looked at Genz pointedly, - and I certainly do not want anything being announced publicly before we do”. Genz’s already florid complexion turned a deeper red. “I am here as much in a personal capacity as in 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’ve 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 am sorry, Herr Inner Senator, this is still a protected crime scene, I am 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 a 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. Genz shook his head disbelievingly. “How could this happen to Laura?” “I am not sure I understand your point, Herr Genz. Do you mean how could this happen to someone with such a public profile? Rather than some anonymous shop-girl?” “That is quite enough”. Fabel had succeeded in igniting van Heiden’s notoriously short views. Genz held up a hand and stopped Kriminal Direktor. “It’s okay, Ost” – there was no animosity in the plump florid face. “It’s not that, Herr Fabel. It’s not that at all. I am… I… I was Laura’s godfather. I’ve known her since she was a little girl”. “I am sorry, Herr Genz. I was out of line. You say you saw her on Saturday?” “Yes, her birthday party. Her 31st. In her villa in Blankeneiser”. “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?” Genz 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 could remember. Despite all her beauty and her wealth poor Laura was a very lonely person. I would say the person closest to her was Heins Schnabel, her agent”. “Were they involved?” Genz laughed briefly. “Eh, no, nothing like that. Heins is the member of the ?Schwulistkuhl? brigade”. “Gay?” “Very. But a devoted friend to Laura. He’s going to be devastated to hear about this”.
ReplyDeleteDown by the police cordon a television crew had arrived and Fabel could see that several press photographers had long zoom lenses focused on them. “I think we are beginning to attract a little too much attention. Herr Genz, I would like to talk to you some more about Fraulein von Klosterstadt, but somewhere less public. In the meantime I would have appreciated if you would speak to the family and if I may make a suggestion, Herr Kriminal Direktor, 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.
Fabel looked up at the vast edifice of the planetarium’s tower: there was a message here, and he wasn’t getting it.
It was track 4, disc 3 transcribed by Sophie Abasheva,
ReplyDeletesorry
Track 9, disk 3
ReplyDelete- I’m sorry, mutty, I can’t stay as long tonight. I’ve got so many preparations to make. I’m a busy-busy boy this day, just let me tell you.
He notched his chair even closer to the bed, glancing around conspiratorially before whispering into her ear:
- I did another one. I made another story come to life. She was so sad, this one. I saw it into her beautiful-beautiful face when she let me into that great big empty villa of hers. A princess in an ivory tao. I did her a great favour, mutty. I really didn’t want this one to suffer. Now, of course, I have to prepare for you coming home. I’ve been busy with that too.
There were sounds outside the room. Clock’s old footsteps as a duty nurse headed down the hall. He sat back into his chair and listened to them fade.
- The police came to see me, mutty. They’re very-very stupid people, you know. They think they have only answers, but they haven’t nothing. They have no idea who they’re dealing with at all. They’ll never catch me.
He gave a small laugh.
- At least they won’t catch me and then you and I’ll have a half fun together. What frightens you more, mother? A fact that you’re going to die? Or the fact that you won’t die quickly enough?
Jenya Shakirova
ReplyDeleteTrack 12, disk 3
Given Fendwich a sensitivity to further police investigation, Anna gained aside to phone ahead. Fendwich was less then happy, but agreed to meet them at a café in X plats.
- What is it you want from me, commissar Involve, - Fendwich’s told was a really a protest.
- I want to find Paola, Her Fendwich. Paola is either alive, as it has been subjected to godnas turmened for the last 3 years or, we both know this is more likely, she is lying dead somewhere. I didn’t know what the basis of your relationship was, but I do believe that in the bottom you truly carried about Paola. I just need to find her. And what I want from you, Her Fendwich is anything you can give me the import me in the right direction.
Fendwich stared at his cappuccino, gazing down at the froth. When he looked up he said:
- Do you have any idea what it is like to be under police investigation for a crime like this? No, then you don’t. Your colleague here clad nearly destroyed my career, nearly destroyed me, - he looked at both police officers, - I am no pedophile, I have no sexual interest in young girls or young boys, no physical interest, it is their minds that I care about. And Paola’s mind was a diamond, a crystallized fair, piercingly sharp and penetrating intellect in the rough, it needed refining and polishing but it was outstanding.
- If that is so, - said Anna, - then I don’t understand why you was the only one to have seen that, no other teachers of Paola saw nothing higher than an average if that student, even her parents seem to thank you a bark in up the roam tray.
- All right, no one else saw it, that is because they won’t looking. Paola was often seen as lazy and dreamy, rather than slow, exactly what happens when a gifted child is trapped in an educational environment, domestic environment for that matter that isn’t intellectually challenging enough. The other thing is that Paola’s giftedness was manifesting itself in my subject, she had a naturally air and talent for the German language. When she wrote…eh, when she wrote it was like singing. Anyway, as well as there was who didn’t see it with those who didn’t want to see it.
- Her parents? - said Frank Herman.
- Exactly. But Paola’s dead now. Like you say, you know it, I know it.
- Why do you know it? What makes you so certainly if she was as intellectually sty fold as you say? She didn’t just run away, - asked Herman.
- Because she didn’t write to me. What to anyone else she would not of taking such a major step without putting something down on paper to market, she would it written to me.
The three left the café simultaneously. Both Herman and Anna shook Fendwich’s hand and stepped back towards the X plats. Fendwich has walked to the café of the school where he now worked, laying the opposite direction. Yet he seemed to hesitate at the café doorway. Anna and Herman have only gone out few meters when they heard Fendwich call out.
- Criminal commissar involve, there was something about Fendwich’s body language. He told Anna he needed to handle this alone. She handed Herman her car keys. She minded. Herman shraged towads the car. Fendwich met Anna half way.
- Commissar involve, can I tell you something? Something off the record.
- Oh, sorry, I don’t know if I can promise…, - Fendwich cutter off, - as if you didn’t want to nexus for not confiding what ever it was, he had to confide.
- There was something. Shortly before Paola disappeared I gave her a gift – a book. I didn’t say anything at the time because I knew that detective. Clad, and twist its meaning.
- What was it? – asked Anna, - which book did you give Paola as a gift?
- I want her to understand the foundations in the German literary traditions. I gave her a copy of children’s in household tales. By the brothers Grim.
Byskina Veronica
ReplyDeleteTrack 6 (Disk 3)
Fabel had arranged to meet Maria at Laura Von Klöstistadt’s villa in Blankenesier. He was surprised to see the innensenator Hugo H(G)anz waiting for him in the hall. Next to them was a lean young man who could only have been 27 or 28. But he wore an overly conservative suit as if to lend himself the authority his age denied. He had the same fine features and pale blond hair as the dead woman. But that did not look quite right on a man.
- Herr Fabel, this is Huber Von Klöstistadt, - H(G)anz made the introduction. – Laura’s brother.
- I’m very sorry for your loss, Herr Von Klöstistadt, - said Fabel, shaking hands with him.
Von Klöstistadt’s hand was cool and his grip – perfunctory. He nodded a curtate acknowledgement of Fabel’s condolences.
- I (only ?) forward in your investigation, Herr criminal hobt-commissar.
H(G)anz spoke before Fabel had a chance to answer:
- The prime suspect has taken flight, Huber. The psychotic called Olson, but it is only a matter of time before Herr Fabel and his team track him down and arrest him.
Fabel was silent for a moment. It was clear that criminal director Fanheiden was keeping H(G)anz fully informed of every detail of the investigation. And in turn the innensenator was passing on the information as he saw fit to whom ever he saw fit. Fabel decided there and then to limit his reporting of progress to Fanheiden.
- We’re keeping a number of lines of inquiry open, - Fabel gave H(G)anz a meaningful look. – Do you live here, Herr Von Klöstistadt?
- No, God, no! The Ice Palace? This was Laura’s place for solitude. I have an apartment on the Auster. I’m just here to help in anyway I can.
- What about your parents? Have they been informed?
- They’re on their back way from New York, - said Huber. Fabel nodded.
- If you don’t mind I’d like to have a look around. Huber smiled a chilly polite smile and indicated one of the rooms of the hall.
- I will be in the office with Herr H(G)anz. I have some Laura’s papers to sort out.
- If you don’t mind, Herr Von Klöstistadt, - Maria said. – We’d like you not to disturb anything for the moment. We need to check everything first.
- Of course, - the temperature of Huber’s smile dropped a few degrees further.
H(G)anz rested in avuncular hand on his elbow:
- We’ll wait at my house, Huber.
Fabel and Maria made their way through the villa moving from room to room like couple of prospective homebuyers. Laura Von Klöstistadt clearly had an excellent taste in furniture and furnishings. A restrained taste. Too restrained. It was as if she had deliberately sort to combine opulence with spartanism. One room in particular bothered Fabel. A large airy room that was flooded with light from a south-facing window. It was the type of room most people would make into a main living space. But the only furniture was a sideboard cabinet on which sat a CD system along one wall and a single high-backed armchair that sat throne-like in the center of the room facing the window. Despite its emptiness Fabel could tell that this was a room that was used. There was a sense of desolation, of loneliness about the room, and he knew that Laura Von Klöstistadt had been a very troubled person.
Fabel and Maria worked through to the back of the house. Double-paneled doors opened up on a long pool room. The windows at the far end of the pool filled the wall. All Fabel could see was sky. It was like looking at a moving painting of clouds.
- Wow… - Fabel heard Maria say at his side. – This must have cost a fortune.
The urgent ring of Fabel’s cell phone amplified an echoing in the tiled pool room gave both police officers a start.
- Hello, chef. Are you still at the Von Klöstistadt’s house? – Anna asked.
- Yes, Maria and I are both here. Why?
- Is there by any chance a swimming pool there?
- As a matter of fact we’re standing by the pool at the moment.
- I’d preserve the locos, if I were you, chef. I get Herr Browner and his team over right away.
Fabel looked into the silky water. He knew the answer before he asked the question.
- What have you find out, Anna?
- Mela has just confirmed Laura Von Klöstistadt’s cause of death. Drowning. The water in her lungs and airway was chlorinated from a swimming pool.
Fabel lay listening to Susana's even deep breathing. More and more he found her presence comforting and that the dream did not seem to come so often when she was beside him. But tonight his mind raised. This case was growing, spreading like a dark, malignancy, was squeezing into the fuse spaces Fabel had left for a private life. His relationship with Susana was good, but it wasn't taken the definite form that it should by this stage, and he knew – he wasn't giving it the attention it needed. He was surprised by the sharp pang of panic in his chest and the thought of maybe loosing her. He got up and sat for a moment at the edge of the bed. It seemed that everywhere he turned there was so much that clammed for his attention, at least he had filled the gap in his team but even that was causing problems. Anna was showing Herr Herman the ropes, but from Anna's solemn response to the news of Herman recruitments Fabel knew that he was going to have a serious talk with her. So much of that case seemed out of Fabel's control, Olsen seemed to have vanished from the face of the Earth, he had evaded arrest for every week now. The first three killings had sparked the usual media interest, particularly, the double murder in a Nature Park. But Laura von Closchtestat murder had exploded in a number one Hamburg media story. Then, inevitably, the water security Fabel had attempted to rap around the case had been compromised. He suspected that his fears about Heiden passing on so much information to Hans had been justified. Not that Hanz would have wanted to fend the flames of publicity but he was proving injudicious in his choice of confidence. The truth was that the leak could have come from anyone of a hundred possible sources. Whatever the source a few days before Fabel had switched on television news to see it announced that the Polizai Hamburg were hunting the fairy-tale murderer. The next day he had seen Herr Hartweis being interviewed for Hamburg journal. And now he was announcing to the public that Polizai of Hamburg has already sort his advice on these latest murders.
ReplyDeleteFabel rose and stepped out of the bedroom and into the lounge. The picture windows of his apartment framed a glittering nightscape of Ousten Lake in the lights of Ulenhost . He always drew calm from this view. He thought of Laura von Clonschtenstat swimming towards her view. There had to be someone else there in the water with her. The of tops had revealed that she'd been drawn in that pool and immediate premortal browsing on her neck suggested that she had been held down. Muller, the pathologist, had suggested that it was a single hand. But Muller had said that the span of the hand had been huge. Big hands. Like Olsen's. But like Herr Waises, too...Who was it, Laura? Who was in the pool with you? Fabel stared out over the view before him and posed questions in his head to a dead woman. Her family had been unable to answer them. He had visited Laura's parents on the Vastas state in the Altas Land. It had been an unsettling experience. Laura's brother was there and he introduced Fabel to his parents. Peter von Closchteshtat and his wife Margarita. Peter looked frained around the edges, combination of jet lage and grief showing in his eyes and dullness of his reactions. Margarita von Clonschtenstat, however, had been chillingly composed. Her lack of emotions had reminded Fabel of his first impression of Uber. Laura had clearly inherited her beauty from her mother, but in Margarita's case it was harsh, uncompromising and cruel beauty. Fabel had disliked he from the moment he saw her.
Sorry, that was track #10 from disk 3, transcribed by Ann Oleynikova
ReplyDeleteTranscribed by Marina Pykhteeva
ReplyDeleteTrack 11. disk 3
Hank Herrmann had made an effort to keep something resembling a composition going. But after so many monosyllabic responses he’d given up and watched the urban landscapes slide by as Anna drove them up to Nordistadt. When they parked outside the Ilas’ family home, Anna turned to Herrmann and put together her 1st full sentence since leaving the Presidium.
- This is my interview, ok? You are here to watch and learn, is that clear?
Anna Wolf had called Frau Ilas before making the trip up. She didn’t want them to think they’d found Paula’s body or that there had been any other significant development in the case. It was just that Anna wanted to go over a few details together with them. She introduced Hank Herrmann and got straight to the point. The point was: Heinrich Feinrich, Paula Ilas’ German teacher.
- Listen, I know this is an uncomfortable question to answer, but did you ever suspect that Herr Feinrich’s interest in Paula was…eh…inappropriate?
Herr and Frau Ilas exchanged a look that Anna couldn’t read. Then, Herr Ilas shook his ash-blonde head:
- No. No, we didn’t. Herr Feindrich seemed to be the only teacher Paula had time for.
- Unfortunately, - said Frau Ilas. – He came to see us, it must have been about 6 months before Paula went missing. I thought it was strange: a teacher coming to the house and all…but he was very… I don’t what you’d call it…very definite that Paula was very bright especially in German and that we should come up to the school for a meeting with the principle. But none of other Paula’s teachers seemed to think she was anything special. And we didn’t want to set her sights too high only to be disappointed later.
Anna and Herrmann sat in her VW outside the Ilas’ house. Anna gripped the steering wheel and set on moving focused on windscreen.
- Do I sense we just we just hit some kind of dead end? – Anna asked. Anna gazed at him blankly for a moment before turning the key in the ignition decisively.
- Not yet. We have a deter to make first.
Yana
ReplyDeleteTrack 14, disk 3
Fable had asked Anna to wait behind. They sat along the table.
- Listen, Anna, - said Fable, - you are an exceptional police officer, in my opinion, a real asset to the team. But there are, well, issues we need to address.
- Such as…?
- Such as your aggressiveness, you need to work more as a team member, not as an individual.
Anna’s expression hardened.
- Although you recruited each of us, because we were individualities, because we were different.
- I did, Anna, but your individual talents are only viewed to me in combination with those of the others team members
- I think Anna with this is going. Like Herman?
- He’s bright, Anna, and he’s came. He’s a good policeman and I think that you two will work well together. But only if you let him and give one more chance.
Anna didn’t answer for a moment. Then she held Fable in her usual defined gaze.
- Is it just me or is it a help of coincidence that he looks so like Paul Linderman? I was beginning to wonder, if we had our own changeling?
Anna’s joke annoyed Fable.
- I don’t recruit officers on the sentimental grounds, Komissarin Wolf.
He paused, gave a small laugh. He knew, what she meant. Herman had the same lean, lanky, sandy-head look, as Paul Linderman.
- He does a bit, doesn’t he? But he’s not Paul. And I recruited him, because we zone married some potential. He has a steep plan of care to deal and I want you to help, not hint him. And I have to say, you could learn some things from him along the way.
She turned her frank gaze on Fable.
- Why not Klatt? – she asked bluntly.
And when Fable looked confused for a moment she added:
- Ours convinced you gonna asked Klatt to join our team. I think the idea had, probably, crossed his mind, too. Why did you decide on Herr Herman instead?
Fable smiled.
- Klatt is a good policeman, but he hasn’t got what it has to be a Mord officer commission. He’s got too focused on Fendrisch. I don’t know, maybe, if Fendrisch is our guy, but Klatt is too closed off to alternatives.
- God shift, does it be harsh?
- Like you said, he’s a good policeman. But you asked me, why I put Herman, not Klatt? It was more to do with what’ s right about Herman, than what’s wrong with Klatt. We all runners in a race, Anna, everyone ever seen the Mord commission. It begins as soon as someone fires the starting gun by leaving another human being dead. Herr Herman is faster of the blocks. It’s simple and as complicated as that. And I need you to work with him as well as you can.
Anna looked at Fable intently for a moment as of considering his words, then she nodded:
- OK, chef.
Teppe Eduard
ReplyDeleteTrack 13, disk 3 (part 1)
In a media city like Hamburg Fabel always had to be careful about discussing cases in public. But there were two places that he liked to use as unofficial venues for team meetings. There was a Schnellimbiss snack stand down the …, run by an ex-cop friend of Fabel’s and … And there was the café that sat across from the Winter … fair house. Tucked in behind the bridge the café had an outdoor area for sitting that stretched along the side of Alster Stick waterway. It was both handy for the presidium and far enough from it to offer the change of scene. The waiter came and took their orders for coffee. Fabel waited until he withdrew before addressing his team: ‘We are not getting this right. I know you’re putting all your energy into this inquiry but we seem to be generating more heat than light. We have three possible suspects: Fendrich, the teacher, the …, who is a long shot and then there’s our prime suspect Olsen. When you take them individually none seems to fit entirely…’ Fabel paused as the waiter brought the coffees over to the table. ‘What we may be overlooking, - continued Fabel. – is that we may be dealing with two killers working in tandem. That would make sense of Hank’s theory about the second set of footprints at the Natur Park .... Maybe, we were wrong to dismiss those as unrelated. But…’ Maria Clay gave a small knowing smile. ‘But I just don’t see this is a team. We’ve been there before in the previous case and this just doesn’t feel the same. This is a single hand. So let’s take Olsen first. What have we got?’ ‘He seems solid for the Natur Park killings, - said Maria. – He has a motive for killing Grun and Schiller, sexual jealousy, but, as you say, how does it square with the other apparently random murders?’ Fabel took a … espresso. ‘It just doesn’t fit with the picture we’re building of Olsen: he is all rage. I, guys, see his poetry in his violence. Olsen stays at the top of the list but a no more we’re gonna have to nail him. In the meantime, what about Fendrich, Anna?’ ‘He is not that guy, I’m sure of it. If he had sexual motives, which he denies, I don’t believe he did anything about them. I’ve checked and rechecked his background – no record. No previous suspicions, no concerns about his conduct as a teacher. He appears not to have any kind of a steady relationship for the last three years. When he split up with his long-term girlfriend, Runa Dorf - I spoke to Runa, she is a music teacher in another school - according to her, their relationship was a very lukewarm one at the best of times, and they broke up after Paula disappeared.’ ‘Is there a connection?’ – asked Fabel. ‘Well, yes, there is, but it would tend to exculpate rather than to discriminate Fendrich. Runa said that Fendrich became obsessed with helping the Ilas to find Paula. Then, when Clatt from the … Police got Fendrich’s back, he got angry and depressed.’ ‘Violent?’ ‘No, distant. As Runa put it, their relationship faded away rather than broke up.’ ‘It could be that Fendrich’s behaviour after Paula’s disappearance was a cover?’ – Hank Hermann said. There was an eagerness in his voice. ‘Lots of murderers disguise their post-commission feelings of guilt and fear detection is grief or concern.’ Fabel had seen it many times before himself. And on more than one occasion he’d been convinced by the crocodile tears of a cold-blooded killer. ‘Then there is a grim analogy that killer is using. – Hermann continued. – We know that the Paula-look-alike, found on the beach, Marti Smidt, was from a so-called underclass. And the killer stretched this to be analogies with the underground people. It could be that Fendrich saw her as being trapped in the stifling confidence of the parents’ low expectations of her.
Track 13, disk 3 (part 2)
ReplyDeleteCould he have felt that by killing her he was liberating her?’ Fabel looked at Hermann and smiled. ‘You’ve been reading Vice’s book, too, haven’t you?’ Hermann’s face reddened slightly, as if he’d been caught cheating on a term paper. ‘Yes, Herr Älteste Kriminal ??? Kommissar. I thought it would be good background.’ ‘It is. And call me Schef, it’s time. What do you think, Anna?’ ‘It could be, I suppose, although he’s been very supported to the … family he couldn’t disguise his content for their low expectations and aspirations.’ ‘But my gut instinct is that he is not our man. Although the thing with the Grimm fairytales bothers me, even if he freely volunteered the information.’ ‘Okay, but we keep Fendrich on the suspect. That leaves us with Vice, the author.’ ‘Well, Schef, - said Maria. – He’s very much your baby. Why include him as a suspect?’ ‘Well, first and foremost, there are disturbing parallels between these killings and Vice’s … Strasse. Both are Grimm-themed, both involve a serial killer bringing fairytales to life. Vice is reaping media attention and increased book sales because of this very connection.’ Anna gave a small laugh: ‘He can’t be suggesting that these killings are some kind of twisted launch-event for his book.’ ‘Not specifically. But maybe Vice is capable of living out his theories. He is a disturbing person to be around and he is big, really big and powerful. The *something German and completely incomprehensible* suggested she was restrained by someone with a huge hands …’ ‘That could be Olsen’, - said Anna. ‘Or, for that matter, Fendrich.’ ‘Fabel turned to Maria: ‘What did you get on Vice, Maria?’ ‘No criminal convictions, he’s 47, married twice, divorced twice, no children, he was born in Keel, *German place name*. His mother was foreign, Italian of aristocratic origins, and his father owned a shipping-related company in Keel. He was educated in an expensive private Internat in Hamburg, as well as in England, and Italy. University Hamburg, first novel published shortly after graduation without much success. His first … novel came out in 81 and was a massive success. That’s about it. Oh, there was a brother, a younger brother but he died about ten years ago.’ Fabel looked startled. ‘A brother? Died? How?’ ‘Suicide, apparently. Some kind of mental illness.’ ‘Tell me, Maria, he wouldn’t have been a sculptor by any chance?’ Maria looked surprised: ‘As a matter of fact, he was. How do you know?’ ‘I think I may have seen some of his works.’ – said Fabel. The snarling face of a wolf, carved out of ebony flashed into his mind. ‘Kommissar Hermann is right. I think we should all consider Vice’s book required reading. I make sure you each get a copy by the end of the day.’
Disc 3. Track 16.
ReplyDeleteHeins Schnabel had been expecting him, but Fabel still kept his ID when Schnabel came to the door. He was in his mid fifties, not too tall and slim, without being slight. He showed Fabel into an elegant drawing room. Fabel never knew how to respond to gay men. He liked to think of himself as a sophisticated modern and rational man and he certainly had nothing against gays, but his Lutheran Friesian upbringing made him uncertain and awkward in their company. Whether Schnabel was gay or not, he clearly loved Laura in almost paternal love.
“She was my princess, - Schnabel explained – That was my name for her. My little broken princess. I can honestly say that she was the nearest thing to a daughter to me” “Why broken?” Schnabel smiled bitterly: “I am sure you come across all kinds of dysfunctional families, Herr Fabel, in your line of work, I mean. Junky parents, criminal kids, abuse – that kind of thing. But there’re families that are adept at keeping their dysfunctionality under wraps, their skeletons being truly locked up in the cupboards. Well, when you have as much and influence as the Von Klosterstadts, you can afford a lot of cupboards”. Schnabel sat on the sofa and invites Fabel to sit by indicating a large high-backed leather armchair.
“I wanted to ask you about the party, - said Fabel. – Fraulein Von Klosterstadt’s birthday, I mean. Did anything out of the ordinary happen, or were there any gatecrashers?” Schnabel laughed. “There are no gatecrashers at any of my functions, Herr Fabel. And no, as far as I am aware, nothing unusual or unpleasant happened. We had a bunch of Americans over. An exclusive yacht-ware company from New England. They were interested in signing Laura up as their ‘face’. They love her aristocratic European looks”. The sadness in Schnabel’s expression deepened. “Poor Laura… Every birthday she had as a child was engineered to fit with her mother’s social agenda. Then, as an adult, they were an excuses to promote her to potential clients. I felt rotten about that. I did everything I could to make those parties more than dressed-up promos, you know. I used to buy her little surprise presents for her birthday, get her a special cake, that kind of thing. I really did try to make that parties fun for her”. “I understand, Herr Schnabel”, - Fabel smiled. He allowed Schnabel a moment with his thoughts before asking his next question.
“You said that Von Klosterstadts had lots of skeletons in the cupboard. What kind of skeletons? Was there anything going on in Laura’s family?” “Guilt is a terrible, terrible thing, don’t you think?” “I suppose so”, - Fabel said. Schnabel wore a look that Fabel had seen so many times before in his career: that fidgety, indecisiveness of someone loitering on a threshold of disclosing a confidence. “There are people who do things that most of us would consider venial sins, trivial even, yet who are haunted by guilt for the rest of their lives”. Fabel leaned forward in his chair. “Was Laura haunted?” “By one of the many skeletons in Von Klosterstadts’ cupboards, yes. An abortion. Years ago. She was little more than a child herself, no one knows. It was clamped down on the security that would make the federal chancellery look like an open house. Margarita arranged everything and made sure that it remained a secret, but Laura told me, and she broke her little heart when she did. That more than anything is why I called her ‘my broken princess’. An hour long medical procedure and a life-long guilt. Do you know what makes me sad more than anything else, Herr Fabel? That when this monster murdered Laura, she probably felt she deserved it”.
disc 2, track 11
ReplyDeleteby Lebedeva Daria
Part 1
Fabel wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because he knew it was a long-standing family business and because he always associated bakeries with the traditional craft. And he was surprised to find that the Backschtuber Albetez was a large industrial unit situated close to A7 autobahn. "For ease of distribution," - Vera Schiller has explained as she conducted Fabel and Verner into her office. "We deliver it to Konditorein, cafes and restaurants thorough northern and central Germany. We have built excellent relationships with our costumers and often have seen stuff delivering important items personally. Of course, we have out own delivery department. We have three vans almost continuously on the road."
Her office was large but functional rather than flash. A very different environment from a classical elegance of Schiller’s villa.
"Is there anyone you can think of who would wish your husband harm, Frau Schiller?" She laughed and the immaculately lipsticked lips drew back from the perfect teeth and something that couldn’t be described as a smile: "Not specifically, Herr Fabel. Not anyone to whom I can put a name but in the abstract – yes. There must be a dozen of cackled husbands and boyfriends out there who would wish Markus harm."
"Did Hanna Grün have a boyfriend?" – asked Verner. Frau Schiller turned to him, a smile that wasn’t a smile, faded. "I’m not familiar with personal lives of my employees, Herr Mayer. I’ll take you down to the bakery floor. Herr Bidermayer will be able to furnish you more specific details about the girl who was killed."
Vera Schiller led the way down to the factory floor and took them to the very tall powerfully built man whom she introduced as Franz Bidermayer, the chief baker. She turned on her heel before Fabel had a chance to thank her. There was a moment of embarrassed silence before Bidermayer smiled amiably and said: "Please excuse Frau Schiller. I suspect she is finding this very difficult."
"She seems to be coping rather well," - said Fabel trying to keep any hint of sarcasm from his voice.
"It is her manner, Herr Fabel. She is a good employer and treats her stuff very well indeed and I cannot imagine that she’s taking her loss anything other than very badly. Herr and Frau Schiller were very affective even formidable partnership in business at any right."
"And personally?" – asked Verner. Again the chief baker smiled amiably, this time with the shrug. There was something about wrinkles around Bidermayer’s eyes that suggested that he smiled a great deal: "I really don’t know anything of that personal relationship but they were good-working team. Frau Schiller is a <...> business woman and knows all about commercial strategy and Herr Schiller was a very very good salesman. He had a very great way with the costumers."
disc 2, track 11
ReplyDeleteby Lebedeva Daria
Part 2
"I gather he had a great way with women as well," – added Fabel.
"There were rumors, I can’t deny that. But it’s not my place to speculate on such things and your guess is as good as mine. It is about how much Frau Schiller was aware of and how it affected their marriage. Excuse me."
As they had approached him Bidermayer had been decorating a cake. It was all in small intricate icing details between his massive fore-finger and thumb. And he now turned to lay it down carefully on the burnished stainless steel counter. Fabel noticed that obviously to meet hygiene regulations Bidermayer wore white latex gloves which were coated with the firing, dusting of flour. His hands looked too big and the fingers too clumsy for Fabel to imagine the chief baker carrying out any delicate cake decoration or fancy pastry work.
"In his relationship with Hanna Grün..." - asked Verner. "Were you aware of that?"
"No. But it doesn’t surprise me. I knew that Hanna was...how can I put this...a little indiscreet in her choice of boyfriends."
"Did she have any particular enemies here?" - Fabel indicated the production floor with the nod of his head.
"Who would hate her enough to murder her?" – Bidermayer laughed and shook his head. "No <...> give enough thought."
"What did you think of her?" – asked Fabel.
Bidermayer’s habitual smile was tarnished with sadness: "I was her supervisor. Her work was never really up to plan. I would have talk to her from time to time but I felt sorry for her."
"Why?"
"She was lost. I suppose that’s how to describe it. She hated working here, being here. I think she was ambitious but had no way of fulfilling her ambitions."
"What about other boyfriends?" – asked Verner.
"Yes, I think, there was one. I don’t know anything about him only that he used to pick her up sometimes on his motorbike. He looked <...>" Bidermayer paused. "Is it true that they were found together? Herr Schiller and Fräulein Grün, I mean."
Fable smiled: "Thank you for your time, Herr Bidermayer."
They were out in the car park before Fabel turned toVerner and said what they had both been thinking: "A motorbike! I think we’d better chase up for <...> for tracks we had found in Natüre Park."
Disc 3, track 8
ReplyDeleteby Lebedeva Daria
Part 1
Fabel changed tag. "Have you had any, well, odd correspondence recently, Herr Weiss? It could be that our killer or killers have sought to make contact with you."
Weiss laughed: "Odd correspondence?" He stood up and went across to a wooden <...> that sat against the only wall free of bookshelves. Weiss took a fat file from the <...> and flung it down to the desk before sitting back down. "That’s only the last 3 or 4 months. If you wouldn’t find anything of that that wasn’t odd I’d be very much surprised." He made a help-yourself gesture.
Fabel flipped through the folder. There were dozens of letters. Most seemed to relate to Weiss’s <...> fantasy novels. People with sad empty lives sow the solace of living out in alternate literary existence by having Weiss in cooperating them in one of his stories.
"Do you reply to this?" "Not now. I just don’t have the time that’s why I started to charge <...> include people’s characters in my <...> novels." Fabel gave a small laugh: "So, how much would you charge me to have a part in one of your novels?"
"Herr Fabel, one of the main lessons of a fairytale is to be very careful what you wish for. Once you’re in my stories, I have total control of you – I and I alone decide your fate, whether you live or die." Weiss paused and the black eyes sparkled. The werewolf sculpture remained frozen in snow. A car passed by in the street outside. "But normally I charge 5000 euros for a half-page mention." – Weiss smiled.
Fable tapped the file on the desk: "May I take this away with me?" Weiss shrugged: "If you think that help."
"Thanks. I’m reading "The Märchenschtrasse" at the moment, by the way".
"Are enjoying it?"
"I find it get interesting – let’s put it that way." – said Fabel. "Until I find any possible connection to these murders to access its literary merits and I do think it’s possible that there is a connection."
"It would sad me greatly if that would so. But the main theme of all my work is that art imitates life and life imitates art. I cannot inspire someone to commit murder through my writing. They are already killers or potential killers. They would murder anyway whether they read my books or not. Ultimately, they inspire me just as they have always inspired writers." Weiss allowed his fingers to rest gently on the <...> volume of fairytales that sat on his desk.
"Like the Grimm brothers?"
Weiss smiled and again something sparkled darkly in the eyes. "The Grimm brothers were academics. They sought absolute knowledge – the origins of our language and our culture. But there is no absolute truth. There is no definitive past. It’s a tense, not a place. What the Grimm brothers discovered was the same world that they themselves lived in. The same world we inhabit now. They discovered that there is just the frames of reference that differed."
"What do you mean?"
Disc 3, track 8
ReplyDeleteby Lebedeva Daria
Part 2
Weiss rose again from his leather chair and beckoned to Fabel to follow him across to the wall covered with pictures. "They were all illustrations from 19 and early 20 century books. The fairy story has inspired more the literary interpretations." – explained Weiss. "Some of the finest artists lent their talents to illustrating the tales. This is my collection: Gustav Dohrey, Herman Vogel, Edmund Dulac, Ather Reckom. Each with a certainly different interpretation." Weiss drew Fabel’s attention to one illustration in particular. A woman was stepping into a stone-flagged room, a key tumbled from her grasp but she did so, a tree stump chopping blocks and the axe set on the front ground of the picture. The dead bodies of several women, all in night gowns, were hung around the walls as from the meat-hooks. "This poor woman here", Weiss tapped on the glass that protected the illustration, "has clearly stumbled upon <...> of the serial killer."
"Where is this illustration from?"
"It’s the work of Herman Vogel, late 1880s It is, Herr Fabel, an illustration for Charles Perrault’s "La Barbe Bleue" – "Blue Beard". A French tale of the monstrous nobleman who punishes the curiosity of women by killing and mutilating them in a locked room in his castle – it is a story, a fable. But that does not stop it from being a universal truth. The tale exists throughout Europe. The Grimm brothers recorded it as "Fitcher’s bird", Italians call it "Silver nose", the English Bluebeard is called Mr. Fox. My point is this: these cautionary tales for children, these ancient fables and legends...they all prove that the serial rapist or killer or child-abductor is not a modern phenomenon. A big bad wolf has nothing to do with wolves. The fact and the matter is that there is one beast that is more dangerous, more predatory than any other in the history of nature – us. The true origins of these fairytales must lay in actual abductions or murders. The fact is, Herr Fabel, everyone accepts that we frequently make fiction out of fact. What I say is that we also make fact out of fiction."
"So, when you write about Jacob Grimm being a child-murderer, do you believe that you act a fictive creation translating to some king of truth?"
"What is the truth?" Weiss’s knowing smile had a patronizing <...> as if Fabel could not possibly possess the intellectual resource to deal with the question. "The truth," replied Fabel, "is an absolute incontrovertible fact. Jacob Grimm was not a murderer. The person I’m seeking is a murderer – that is an incontrovertible fact, the truth! What I need to establish is how far, if at all, your book has inspired them."
Weiss made a submissive gesture with his hands, big powerful hands: "Ask your questions, Herr Fabel."
The interview lasted further 20 minutes. Weiss’s knowledge of myth and fable was encyclopedic and Fabel found himself taking notes as the author spoke. There was something about Weiss that Fabel did not like. There was a menace about him, not just in his size – he didn’t convey that sense of pent up violence that Olsen had. It was something in the cold black eyes, something almost inhuman.
When Fabel was back out on Einstmenstiuststrasse he flipped open his cell phone: "Maria, here’s Fabel, I want you to get me a full background on Gerard Weiss - everything you can find."
Disk 3, track 15.
ReplyDeleteMax was an artist. He cared very much about his art. He had studied it properly, investigating its origins, its history, its development. Max was very aware that he was privileged to work in the very finest medium, the most noble and the most ancient. His customer would be here soon, and Max felt a thrill of anticipation, this guy was a commissar. Max considered the work he had done on him to have been his masterpiece. But the customer had refused when Max had asked to take a photograph of it. Max hadn’t argued, this guy was huge, he would not argue with him, but his size was a bones for Max. It meant more skin surface. And that intern meant that this guy had provided the biggest canvas, Max had ever worked on. At ten p.m. sharp the studio bother went, Max unlocked and swung opened the door to reveal the dark towering shape of a huge man. He filled the doorway, looming above Max, before sleeping silently, past him and into the studio. “It’s really good to see you again, – said Max, - it was an honour to work on you! What can I do for you tonight?”
Disc 4, track 4
ReplyDeleteby Lebedeva Daria
The Schutz Polizei had already put up a white screen barrier 50 meters out from the murder scene. A body itself was protected by secondary <...> screens. The arc light illuminated trees loomed menacingly above the scene and beyond the trees the red brick water-tower thrust upwards into the night.
It was, Maria noted, an almost identical set-up to the last death-scene in the shadow of the <...>, also originally a water-tower. The killer was trying to tell them something.
Maria accursed the fact that she didn’t share Fabel’s ability to interpret the perverse vocabulary of the psychotic. The duty for a <...> team-leader wasn’t Brauner but a younger man she’d not met before. He introduced himself as Grüber.
It was centre of the protected scene - the man lay in a pale grey suit, white shirt and gold-coloured tie. His hands were folded across his chest and the large lock of blond hair had been placed between them just as the rose had been left between Laura Von Klőischtischtadt’s hands. Beneath the folded hands Maria could see a small bloom of dark red on the white shirt. The eyes were gone. The bruised lids sagged into sockets not fully covering them. Blood had crusted around where the eyes had been but not as much as Maria would have expected. "Shot?" – she asked Grüber indicating the blood stains under the hands. There were no other obvious wounds on the body to suggest a struggle or <...> night attack.
"I haven’t examined it yet." – Gruber said. He moved down to the body and knelt down beside it. "Could be a bullet or could be a single stab. But whatever removed the eyes it wasn’t sharp. My guess is that they were forced out by the killer’s thumbs. You’ve got a really "hands-on" killer here."
Anna Wolf came into the <...> with Henk Hermen. She winced as she looked at the Ylo’s face. Herman knelt down by the body: "I bet analysis will prove that this is the missing section of Laura Von Klőischtischtadt’s hair." He turned to Grüber: "Is it O.K. to move the hands? I guess we may find the note by the killer or of one of them."
"Let me do it." – said Grüber. "I can say that your killer is very "hands-on". Maybe the victim got his hands on the killer in return. We could have skin’s cells under the fingernails." He carefully eased up one hand and laid it slightly to one side, then removed the hair and put into the evidence bag. He lifted the second hand: a small slip of yellow note paper lay beneath it. "That’s it!" – said Herman. Grüber used tweezers to lift the slip and place it into clear plastic evidence bag. He handed it to Herman who turned it to the arc light and <...> it. Again the writing was small, tight and in the same red ink. Herman read it out loud: "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair."
"Great!" – said Maria. "So he’s chopped up number 4."
"Number 5," said Anna, "if you include Paula Yllas."
Grüber examined the shirt front, carefully easing, opening the button and looking at the wound below. He shook his head: "Weird. He wasn’t shot. Looks like a single stab wound. Why didn’t he defend himself?"
"And what’s the thing with the eyes?" – asked Henk Herman. "Looks like our guy is collecting trophies now."
"No," said Maria, looking at the water tap. "he’s not taken them as trophies. This," she indicated the corpse with a slight movement of her head," is meant to be the prince. In the "Rapunzel" fairytale the princess is locked away in a tower by her enchantress step-mother. When she finds out that Rapunzel and the prince are having secret twists the enchantress tricks the prince and as he falls from the tower his eyes are pierced by thorns. And he’s blinded."
Anna and Henk made impressed faces. Maria smiled a bitter smile: "Fabel is not the only one who’s been reading up these fairytales."
Disk 3, track 5 (Part 1)
ReplyDeleteFabel looked around the conference table. It was very aware of Venna’s and Anna’s absence. Only Maria and himself remained of the core team and he had seconded two commissars Patrim Maas and Hans Rudger from the Sexual Crime Sonder Kommission which was based on the same floor of the Präsidium. Fabel valued their support but they were not his regular Mord Kommission 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 efficiently as possible to prevent him killing again. Also sitted around the table was Susanna and Klatt the Nordisch Kommissar. Fabel has 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 uniform Super Offizier have had awkwardly and a fresh hold.
- Ah, komissar Hemen, - Fabel indicated a free seat for the sweep of his hand. - Thanks for coming along. I thought you’d like to sit in on this breefing.
Hemen nodded his thanks.
- Kommissar Hemen, - explained Fabel to the others, - was the officer who identified the double murder in Nature park Habugebege as a possible serial killing and who did so well in preserving the locus for forensics.
Fabel asked Maria to continue. She summarized what they knew and didn’t know. When she had finished, Fabel took over.
- What we have, is a violent and unpredictable suspect on the loose, Peter Olsen, 29. He has a record for violence and was involved with Hanna Grün whom we had along with Marker Schiller in the Nature Park. 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 he may be what is a known a carotype XYY, a genetic disoder that may predispose him to violent rage. If he is haaga, he is capable of slashing a throat with a single blow.
Fabel noticed that Susanna had removed her glasses and was turning them thoughtfully in her hands.
- Frau Doctor?
- I’m sorry, I was just thinking that this is the thing which doesn’t fit with me. If Olsen is XYY, then he is a rager. When he hit Herr Maya, he’s striking with unnecessary excessive violence. My belief is that if he were the killer, then we would see the excess of a psychotic theory repeated stabbing, including postmortem 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 Susanna’s reservations that were ringing an alarm bell somewhere deep in his mind. Olsen murdering Hanna Grün and Marker 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 Blankenesier 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 of Hamburg is outlooking for him.
- I don’t know, Maria. He’s our prime suspect so far. We’ve placed him at the Nature Park murders, that’s for sure. He was lurking, waiting for them. We have his boot print and a match for his motorcycle tyre-tread. He must be the killer there. As the other two murders I count fit him with these know the whole Grimm brothers theme.
He turned to Susanna.
Disk 3, track 5 (Part 2)
ReplyDelete- Why would Olsen commit two murders with a motive but also two without?
- There is 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 Grün 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.
- 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.
- He probably doesn’t feel he has to be too literal, - it was Patrim Maas, the Kommissarin Fabel had drafted into the team, who answered. - For example, this latest victim fitted with Sleeping beauty or Bria Rose because of her famed beauty but she was twicely age of the character in the fairy tale. This flexibility in most psychoticogenders. If Olsen is your fairy tale killer then he probably sees his victims’ suitability in general rather than specific terms.
- Or maybe he sees something specific in the two Nature Park victims that we don’t, – Susanna proposed.
Fabel paused staring down at the table surface but seeing again the Schiller’s Villa, their functional office, Vera Schiller’s coldness.
- Ok. So Hanna Grün was an employee in Marker Schiller’s business or more correctly in the business run by Marker Schiller for his wife Vera. She was the real power behind the concern having inherited it from her father. Is there anything we are missing here?
- Maybe the killer caused Vera Schiller allegorically as the wicked stepmother. With Hanna and Marker as the babes in the wood, - suggested Hans Rudger, the other officer from the sexual crimes soco.
- It’s not that I’m convincing, - said Hank Hemen, - but if it is true then the killer knew at least something about the victims’ backgrounds which brings us back to Olsen.
Fabel stared out of the window towards Winter Huder Stadtpark and the city beyond.
- The main thing that concerns me is that he’s getting bolder.
- But that means he might also be getting sloppier.
The voice came from the doorway. A young pretty woman with short black hair, too red lipstick and wearing a rather battered looking leather jacket made her way over to the table. She moved with an exaggerated ease but Fabel noticed her winks slightly as she sat down.
- You should be recuperating, - he said.
- I’m fine Chef, - said Anna Wolf and in response to Fabel’s raised eyebrow, - and fit enough to return to duty.
Fabel called Anna and Maria into his office after the meeting was over. Fabel was less than convinced Anna was fit for anything other than the lightest duties. He needed to strengthen his team.
- Anna, I need you to be partnered up with someone again. You too, Maria, at least until Venna gets out of hospital. As you can see, I’ve seconded Patrim Maas and Hans Rodger from the sexual crimes soco, they are good people. But we need a new permanent member of the team. I’ve been putting this off because… well, I think we only did time to come to terms with Paul’s death but is mainly been that I haven’t found anyone who I think how was what it takes to fit him with the team. Until now.
- Klatt?- asked Anna.
Fabel didn’t answer but stood up and made his way over to the office door, opened it and called across to the main section of the Mord Kommission.
- Could you come in now please?
A tall uniformed officer stepped into the office. Maria stood up and smiled, Anna remained sitted, an expression one of solemn resignation.
- Herr Kommisar Hemen, - said Fabel, - you’ve already met Kriminal Oberkommissarin Clay, and this is Kriminal Commissarin Wolf, with whom you’ll be working.
Nastya Checkletsova
ReplyDeleteDisc 2. Track 10.
“Blue eyes” now had a name. Mata. After the last debacle Anna Wolf had done nothing about the parents yet. She had her over secured photo of the girl have been missing since previous Tuesday. Mata Schmidt from Kassel, in Hessen. Fable stared at the photograph. Anna had handed him. It was a blow up of a photo booth image – there was no doubt. This time the photograph didn’t set alarm’s ringing in Fabel’s mind. Instead, it filled him with a profound sadness.
Anna Wolf stood next to Fabel. She was reporting missing on the Tuesday but it was probably taken before then. Fabel’s expression shaped a question. “The parents are both drug-users, - explained Anna, - Mata had a habit of disappearing for days on end and then turning up. They had some police didn’t get this last disappearance immediate priority. Both parents were already been reported twice for neglecting Mata. But I get the feeling that father had hardly ever their know”.
Fabel drew a deep breath and read through the papers fixed up from “Kassel”. “The parents were junkies in Petty Seas .. to support their habit. The mother has been known to resort the prostitution”. The German underclass, underground people. And from Kassel, the hometown of the Brothers Grimm. “You’d better get the parents or at least mother up to make the identification” – said Fabel. Anna nodded and left.
Fabel sat on of his desk, took out his sketch – pad, scored out the name – “Blue Eyes” – and replaced it with “Mata Schmidt”. On his way out he pinned the photograph onto the incident board in the conference room.
Ulrika Schmidt was a small woman who looked as if she were wealing in her forties, but Fabel knew from the information supply about the Kassel police that she was only in her mid-thirties. She had probably been pretty once, but she now wore the hard faced wittiness over her b…ful drug-user. Before coming to the mortuary in the institute Fiorest Medizin Fabel and Anna had sat with her in the Polizei Presidium and asked her about her daughter. Fabel remembered how he had prepared himself to delve into every corner of the life of this dead girl, stranger to him, whom he had known intimately. But he never did get to know the girl on the beach. Ulrika Schmidt’s answers had been vague, uncertain as if she’ve been describing an acquaintance, someone on the periphery of her awareness rather than her own flesh and blood, her daughter. Now they sat in the enter room in the State mortuary, waiting to be called to identify Mata’s body. When they were called folded back from the face on the trolley Ulrika Schmidt looked down in it without expression then nodded: “Yes, yes, that’s my Mata”. No tears, no sobbing, she stared empty near the face on the trolley, and her hand moved towards it, towards the cheek but checked herself and fell limply to her side. “Are you sure this is your daughter?” – there was an edge to Anna’s voice to Fabel who had a warning looking in her direction. “Yes, that’s Mata” - Ulrika Schmidt didn’t look up from the face of her daughter, - “She was a good girl, a really good girl” She looked after things to herself. Anna stared at Ulrika Schmidt’s profile hard. Schmidt was oblivious to Anna’s silent reproach. “We’ll be able to release her body to you soon, frau Schmidt”, - said Fabel. “I take it to you if you would like to make arrangements to her castle for her funeral". "What's the point? Dead is dead. She doesn't care. It doesn't matter to her now"