Excerpt page 4
“She has the same markings?” said Präger.
Hoffner turned. The KD was off the phone and was busy writing on a pad as he spoke. “Yes,” Hoffner answered. “Identical.”
A nod.
“You’ve heard the rumor, of course,” said Hoffner. “We’re due for another new chief, any day.” He moved toward the desk. “What does that make—four, five in the last month?”
Still preoccupied, Präger said, “And when were you planning on starting this rumor?”
Hoffner smiled quietly to himself. “As soon as all the bets were in.” He thought he saw the hint of a grin.
“So this makes five,” said Präger as he flipped through the papers.
“Yes.”
“And that makes your maniac rather special, doesn’t it?” Präger stacked the pages, then placed them in perfect alignment along the top right-hand corner of his desk.
“Yes.” Hoffner waited for Präger to look up. “This one looks to be his first. She might even have had a personal connection with our friend.”
“Personal?”
“He’s preserved her. My guess is at least six weeks. That makes her different.”
“Different is good. And how’s Fichte working out?”
“Fine. He’s with the body.”
“Yes, I know. Allowing someone else to take care of your evidence. How far we’ve come, Nikolai.”
“A brave new world, Herr Kriminaldirektor.”
Präger motioned to the chair by the desk. “I need you to finish this one up.”
Hoffner sat. “I don’t think he meant for us to find this woman,” he said, as if not having heard the request. “The others, yes. This one, no.” Hoffner pulled open his notebook and flipped to a dog-eared page. “Preliminary guess is that she was asphyxiated like the others, then—”
“How close are we, here?”
Hoffner looked up. That wasn’t a question one asked in cases like these. In cases like these, one had to let it play itself out, each one unique, like the men and women who committed the crimes: degree was never an issue, and Präger knew that. Hoffner did his best to let the question pass. “As I said, we might have someplace to go with this one—”
“I need this finished,” Präger cut in. He waited. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Nikolai?”
Hoffner remained silent. “No, Herr Kriminaldirektor, I do not.”
Präger began to chew on the inside of his cheek: it was the one lapse in composure he permitted himself. “Almost half a dozen mutilated women in just over a month and a half,” he said, his tone more direct. “I’m not sure how long we can keep this out of the press. The distractions of revolution are beginning to fade.”
“They’re also not going to be getting in the way of an investigation anymore. And,” Hoffner continued, “correct me if I’m wrong, Herr Kriminaldirektor, but we’ve always been very good at using the newspapers to our advantage.”
“As you said, Nikolai, a brave new world.”
For the first time today, Hoffner was genuinely confused. “You’re going to have to make that a little clearer, Herr Kriminaldirektor.”
Präger’s tone softened. “Once in a while, Nikolai, you need to consider the world outside of homicide. You need to consider the repercussions.”
Hoffner had no idea where Präger was going with this, when the KD suddenly stood, his gaze on the door. “Ah.” Präger moved out from behind his desk. “Herr Kriminal-Oberkommissar,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you quite so—promptly.”
Hoffner turned to see a tall, angular man in an expensive suit stepping into the office: a chief inspector with a thin coating of meticulously combed jet-black hair atop a narrow head. Hoffner stood. He had never seen the man before.
Präger made the introductions. “Kriminal-Oberkommissar Gustav Braun, this is—”
“Kriminal-Kommissar Nikolai Hoffner,” said the man, a strangely inviting smile on his lips. “Yes, I know your work well, Inspector. A most impressive résumé.”
With a slight hesitation, Hoffner nodded his acknowledgment. “I wish I could say the same of you, Chief Inspector.” Hoffner then added, “I mean, that I know your work well. I don’t.”
Still coldly affable, Braun said, “No, no, of course not. We tend to keep ourselves to ourselves, upstairs.”
And there it was, thought Hoffner. “Upstairs.” Of course.