The Valkyrie Song

10

‘What have you got?’ asked Fabel. Anna had been waiting for him at the reception of the Eppendorf mortuary.

‘Well, from the look of it, a middle-aged man and a heart attack,’ said Anna as she led him into the mortuary’s body store.

Fabel stopped in the hall. ‘A heart attack? So what’s that got to do with us?’

‘Not what,’ said Anna. ‘Who. The victim was found dead in his hotel bedroom this morning. On the face of it, the cause of death doesn’t seem suspicious: all the signs are that it was a heart attack but he’ll be given the full treatment, of course. But the victim is a Jens Jespersen, a Danish national.’

‘Shit,’ said Fabel. ‘The Danish police officer. I was supposed to be meeting with him.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Half an hour ago.’

‘Well, you better not keep him waiting any longer,’ said Anna, with a grin.

A mortuary attendant wheeled a trolley into the centre of the morgue and removed the covering sheet. The man on the trolley was tall; his short-cropped hair was blond and looked a sickly yellow against the grey pallor of his skin. His lips had a bluish tinge. The Danish passport Anna handed Fabel told him that Jens Jespersen was fifty-four years old, but the man on the trolley had the physique of a much younger man and Fabel guessed he was looking at someone who had been serious about keeping fit.

‘He doesn’t look like the usual heart-attack candidate,’ said Anna as if she’d been reading his mind. Fabel took the plastic bag containing the rest of Jespersen’s smaller personal belongings. The watch was a heavy-duty military type. Jespersen’s Danish National Police ID card identified him as a Chefpolitiinspektor, which Fabel guessed would be somewhere equivalent to his own rank. There was a notebook with general reminder notes scribbled in it, including the Hamburg Police Presidium number, but Fabel could see that this was a personal notebook, not one used for police work. On one page of the notebook was the name OLAF, written in block capitals and double underlined. He slipped the notebook back into the plastic evidence holder.

‘Is this it?’ He held up the bag and its contents.

‘That’s it,’ said Anna. ‘Oh, except he didn’t like to sleep alone.’ Anna arced an eyebrow and tossed a second evidence bag to Fabel. This one held a souvenir teddy-bear toy, dressed in nautical gear with a Prinz Heinrich peaked cap. Fabel took the bag from Anna and stared absently at the stuffed teddy.

‘Doesn’t it strike you that something’s missing?’

‘He doesn’t have Moin! Moin! embroidered on his little jumper?’ Anna smirked. ‘I know what you mean. Something is missing. Jespersen was here to talk to you about something, yet there’s no sign of his official notebook, no notes of any kind, no paperwork, except for his travel documents. And take a look at this…’

She tossed Fabel Jespersen’s cellphone. Fabel had to reach quickly to catch it and he scowled at Anna. Flipping the phone open, he searched through its memory.

‘Nothing.’

‘No recorded incoming or outgoing calls,’ said Anna. ‘No stored numbers. No registered service. My guess is someone’s switched SIM cards on him thinking that no one would think to examine his phone.’

‘Damn it,’ said Fabel. ‘Has forensics looked at any of this?’

‘No. The emergency-service doctor who came out to the hotel treated it as a heart attack. Obviously, as a sudden death, the body was sent up here and Moller and his team will have a look at it. I’ve suggested to Moller that he has a good look at it.’

‘What did he say?’

‘You know Moller. Top pathologist but world-leading asshole. He told me not to tell him his job, but you know he’ll give this one the full works. I’ve also told the hotel to seal off the room and alerted Holger Brauner that we may need his forensics boys over there, but I wanted to wait till you saw this. I didn’t want to overstep my authority…’

Fabel fired a warning look at Anna. She stared back, her face empty of expression. It was a trick she had.

‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘the scene has been trodden on by God knows how many by now. I don’t know, Chef, this could be innocent enough and there’s no evidence of it being anything other than natural causes…’

‘No, Anna — you were right. Something stinks here.’

‘If this isn’t kosher,’ said Anna, ‘then we’ve got trouble. If this is a deliberate killing then it’s been a professional job. A very professional job.’