The Valkyrie Song

7

Fabel parked outside the Psychiatric Centre of the University Clinic Hamburg-Eppendorf and, with a nod to the security man on the desk, headed up the stairs to the first floor. He knocked on the door displaying the nameplate: ‘Dr Eckhardt: Forensic Psychology’.

‘Hello, stranger…’ The woman behind the desk was in her late thirties with dense, dark hair gathered up in a French plait. She spoke in a soft Bavarian accent. Fabel smiled.

‘Hi… I hope I didn’t wake you when I came in last night.’

‘You know me,’ said Susanne. ‘When I’m out, I’m out. When did you get in?’

‘About four. I had a lie-in this morning, though.’ He yawned loudly.

‘It didn’t do you much good. You won’t be working late tonight, will you?’

‘Not if I can help it,’ said Fabel. ‘Anyway, I can’t stop. You were on my way. I called in to give you this…’ He dropped a heavy buff file on Susanne’s desk. ‘I couldn’t email it all.’

‘This to do with the Angel case?’

‘The Angel Copycat case, if my instincts are right. Could you have a look through it? I’ll raise the appropriate paperwork to cover your time.’

Fabel made for the door, but checked himself, frowning. ‘Do you want to know something strange? About last night, I mean.’

‘What?’

‘Sylvie Achtenhagen — you know, the TV presenter and reporter, the one on HanSat — well, she was following me. I had a silver-and-blue pull her over. She started to offer me help on this case. Nonsense, I know, but the strange thing is…’ He stopped mid-sentence, laughed and shook his head. ‘No, I must have been too tired.’

‘No, go on.’

‘Well, she was really trying to persuade me to help her get the scoop on the Angel case. I could have sworn she was offering to have sex with me…’

‘You’re kidding!’

‘No — she said I should come to her place so we could discuss it in comfort.’

‘She must be really desperate for a story.’ Susanne arched an eyebrow.

‘Thanks for that. But yes, I rather think she is. God knows she did more harm than good with the original Angel case. It’s almost as if she has to find out who the killer is.’

Susanne leaned back in her chair, rattling a pencil between perfect porcelain-white teeth. ‘As I remember, Sylvie Achtenhagen is a rather attractive woman.’

‘Her charms are completely wasted on me, then,’ said Fabel. ‘Can’t stand the woman.’

‘On your way where?’ asked Susanne.

‘What?’ Fabel frowned.

‘You said I was on your way.’

‘Oh, I’ve got to pick up this Danish cop from the airport.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Shit, I’d better go. Have a look at that when you get a chance and I’ll talk to you later.’