Enigma

  * * *

  Love walked over to the end of the bed.

  He looked down at Heinrich’s face. His eyes were closed. His wrist was bandaged where Love had shot the pistol from out of his hand. His two legs were heavily encased in plaster of Paris and were slightly elevated. A wire apparatus covered his pelvis.

  Stuart walked over to a chair sitting off to one side of the bed next to which was a small table. He removed his scarf, laid it on the back of the chair, pushed his hand into his jeans back pocket and retrieved his leather notepad and Montblanc. He reached into the front pockets of his jeans he removed his gloves. He reached over with his right arm and with infinite care from his shirt pocket Stuart removed his Marantz PMD660. He winced slightly as he touched a button on the portable recorder, spoke into it, laid it down on the table. He was full of Disprin and mandarin organic oil but still the pain was intense enough to break through even that combined barrier of relief.

  ‘Heinrich,’ Love said. No answer. Not even a flicker of an eyelid. He glanced back at Stuart who pulled out the chair, sat down, and waited. ‘Heinrich,’ Love said again. ‘It’s Detective Love and Detective Le Fanu. We need to talk to you.’

  Suddenly, the door opened and Doctor Cooper walked in. Her eyes flickered to Stuart then Love. She turned her attention to Heinrich. Walking over to his bed, she lifted his wrist, the un-bandaged one, took his pulse, turned to Love. ‘I’ll give you five minutes if he awakens within the next two,’ she said. ‘I can’t have you bothering my patient.’

  Love stared at Doctor Cooper. He glanced back at Stuart, and said, ‘Excuse me, mate.’

  He stepped over to where she was standing, grabbed her by the waist, whipped her round to face him, yanked her towards him, their bodies touching, he stared down at her, and said, ‘Now listen here, you don’t tell me when and for how long I can talk to my prisoner.’

  ‘How dare you! Who do you…’

  ‘Listen to me, lady, I’m only going to say this once. I dare to because I’m doing my job and although he may be your patient he is my prisoner,’ he said. ‘He’s a killer, lady, a psychotic killer, and I’m tired of pussyfooting around you or anybody else who is thinking of getting in the way of me and my partner doing our job.’

  She gazed up at him not saying a word.

  ‘Stuart and I are going to interview this individual if we have to wake him up by emptying a bucket of cold water in his face in order to do so.’ He released her and she staggered back. ‘You got it?’

  She continued to stare at Love, didn’t say a word, stepped past him and quietly left the room.

  Stuart let a low whistle. ‘Oh, boy! Either that did the trick or two minutes from now we are going to get a visit from someone from very high-up.’

  Love shook his head. ‘Bring it on,’ he said. ‘I’m sick of this bullshit, mate, this ends now.’ He took a step closer to Heinrich, tapped his good arm, and said in a loud voice. ‘Heinrich Pfeiffer, kindly open your eyes, we’d like to talk to you.’

  ‘Throw a bucket of cold water in my face, would you?’

  Stuart slowly rose from his chair as Love continued to glare down at Heinrich.

  ‘Now that’s not a very nice thing to do.’ Heinrich opened his eyes and grinned.

  Love smiled in return. ‘You might fool the doctors, Heinrich, but I knew you were faking.’

  ‘Oh, ein wenig klever heute, ja?’

  Love turned to Stuart, a frown creasing his forehead. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said, aren’t you the clever one.’

  Love turned back to Heinrich. ‘Kindly keep it in English, Heinrich.’

  ‘Ich glaube du bist gar nicht so klug wie du aussiehst,’ he said, and laughed.

  Love looked at Stuart. ‘Well?’

  ‘He reckons you’re not that smart after all.’

  Love hesitated, shook his head. ‘Ugly language German. I speak English…’

  ‘That’s debatable,’ Stuart interrupted.

  ‘Wanker! And I speak some Spanish but never got on with German.’

  ‘No problem at all,’ Stuart said, and smiled. ‘I took German and French A Level at school.’

  ‘What!’ Love grinned. ‘No Latin?’ Love was well aware of the British school system.

  ‘Well, I didn’t like to say, I did take Latin but in GCSE only.’

  ‘I thought you wanted to talk to me,’ Heinrich said.

  Love guessed that would work. He guessed Heinrich didn’t like to be ignored. He glanced at Stuart who smiled and nodded before sitting back down again. ‘What’s the point, Heinrich, if you’re just going to play games,’ Love said.

  ‘Ask me something.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why what? Why ask me something, why I did it, why I chose those women?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Love said. ‘All of the above.’ At that moment the door opened. Without turning round Love barked one word. ‘Out!’ The door quickly closed and the person retreated without a word. He continued to stare down at Heinrich. ‘Let’s start with why you did it.’

  Heinrich smiled. ‘These women, they think they are good mothers but they are pathetic, all of them.’

  ‘What makes them pathetic?’ Love said.

  Heinrich turned his head to look at the ceiling. ‘They think they can tell the child what to do, do this, do that, when he should be free to do as he pleases.’

  ‘That’s their job, Heinrich,’ Love said. ‘That’s what responsible parents do.’

  Stuart paused from writing, looked up briefly, and said, ‘Like your parents, Heinrich.’

  A faint stain spread over Heinrich’s face. ‘My father is a bastard and my mother is a bitch,’ he said. ‘Ich habe nur einen richtigen Vater.’

  Stuart started to translate but was interrupted by Love. ‘It’s all right, mate, I actually got that,’ he said. ‘And who might that be, Heinrich?’

  Heinrich smiled. ‘Who do you think?’

  ‘Tell me anyway.’

  ‘Adolf Hitler, of course.’

  Stuart looked up from where he was making notes. Love took a step back. ‘Okay, and tell me, what did Monica and Carol do that you believe was so heinous?’

  ‘They were both in my shop with their children, shopping, buying some things, the child, he asked for a toy, the other boy asked for some more chocolate, but the women refused.’ Hate filled his voice. ‘They were firm, strict, they were controlling. The child should be free to have what he wants.’

  Love glanced at Stuart. ‘And that was it?’

  ‘Isn’t that enough!’

  Love said nothing. The only sound to be heard was Stuart writing on his pad. The interview was being recorded by his state-of-the-art piece of equipment but still he liked to make notes, as a backup procedure.

  ‘Why the crosses?’ Stuart said.

  Heinrich said nothing but simply stared up at the ceiling. Finally, he said in a quiet voice, ‘They were my kisses. Es war aus Liebe. I was leaving my mark, an artist, like Picasso.’

  Love looked at Stuart. ‘He said he did it for love.’

  ‘Really? Funny way of showing it,’ Love said. He turned away from the bed, took a couple of steps, ran his hand through his hair, and stared out the window.

  A view vastly different to the one back at his office. He narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the mass of parked vehicles, people coming and going, a woman searching through her handbag, for her car keys? A moment later, she pulled out a bunch and smiled in triumph, put the key in the door, pulled it open, jumped in and seconds later drove away.

  It looked like the wind had picked up.

  The younger trees were bending and swaying first one way then the other like they were listening to a song no one else could hear.

  Like Heinrich.

  What tune did he dance to that no one else could hear?

  ‘You used your bike,’ Love said, quietly, without turning round. ‘You chatted with Monica and Carol and got to know them both well enough to lear
n of their individual schedules. Carol, when she was at the hospital with Stephen and afterwards when she was visiting patients,’ he paused, ‘and Monica, you met her when she and Timmy were visiting a friend.’

  He turned round and looked at Heinrich. ‘Right?’

  Heinrich smiled. ‘Please go on, Detective Love, I am so fond of fairy tales.’

  ‘You searched, you found your locations picked a day went ahead on your bike, quick, anonymous.’ He started to walk back towards the bed. ‘You waited. They each arrived on the chosen day, you approached them, threatened them with your grandfather’s gun, got them to go where you wanted them to go, do what you wanted them to do.’

  By now he was standing close to Heinrich. He leant towards him, his face inches away. He spoke quietly. Stuart glanced over. He hoped the recorder would pick it up, yeah, course it would, this little piece of technology might be expensive but it was quality.

  ‘You marked them, with your kisses, you shot them, your work was done. You got on your bike and resumed normal life like nothing had occurred.’ Love continued to stare at Heinrich. ‘Isn’t that what happened?’

  Heinrich stared back. He opened his mouth and slowly, he started to laugh. It was, in essence, the laugh of a mad person. Love straightened up, looked at Stuart and walked from the room.

  Moments later, the door opened and Stuart stepped over to where Love was pacing outside in the corridor. ‘You all right, partner?’

  Love paused and glanced at Stuart. He smiled. ‘Yeah, I’m okay, mate.’

  ‘Shall I take over?’

  ‘No, we’re nearly done,’ he said. ‘Let’s wrap this one up and get the hell out of here.’ He nodded to the PC who’d been watching the exchange with interest. He nodded back.

  Stuart opened the door and together the two detectives went back inside.

  Heinrich had stopped laughing and was watching Love with a curious interest. His eyes followed him as he entered the room.

  ‘What, no more questions or should I say no more fairy tales?’

  Love turned to look at the man lying in the bed. ‘We’re about done here, Heinrich, then we’ll leave you alone. You’ll eventually be transferred to your new abode where you’ll no doubt get a whole lot more questions and fairy tales that will make this look like child’s play.’

  A cold glint came into Heinrich’s eyes. He turned to look at Stuart who was standing by the door. The recorder was still running. ‘Your bitch was next.’

  Stuart smiled. ‘No, Heinrich, you stood no chance,’ he said. ‘You never did.’

  ‘No matter,’ he said. ‘There are always others. You know, I had number three already planned but I broke it off at the last minute to rid the world of your wife instead. You should be honoured.’

  ‘Funny,’ Stuart said. ‘That’s not the word I’d use but I’m happy to hear we saved a life.’

  ‘What did you use, Heinrich? To make the crosses, what instrument did you use?’ Love slid his fingertips into both pockets of his jeans and waited. He was confident they’d got everything else right but still they had no idea as to what weapon Heinrich had used to make the crosses on Carol and Monica’s bodies. ‘Come on, Heinrich, you have us all stumped, don’t you want to enlighten we fools?’

  ‘It’s very simple,’ he said. ‘I have my grandfather to thank for that.’

  ‘How so?’ said Stuart.

  ‘I used his paratrooper’s knife,’ he said. ‘A WWII Luftwaffe Fallschirmjäger-Messer a beautiful knife with a gravity-propelled locking blade and a wooden handle.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be sharp enough, not a penknife,’ Stuart said. He gazed at the prostrate figure. ‘You had it professionally sharpened until it was as sharp as a scalpel.’

  ‘Clever man, perhaps you should be a detective.’ Heinrich had shut his eyes, a smile playing about his face. ‘It is so sharp it can cut in two a hair falling on its exposed blade.’ He snapped open his eyes.

  ‘Where is it?’ Love said. ‘Where did you leave it?’ The weapon hadn’t been found on Heinrich or in the van. ‘Where did you stash it, Heinrich?’

  Heinrich looked over at Stuart, and grinned. ‘You know, gaining access to those little old Minis is not so difficult especially when there are so many people coming and going enabling you to blend in with the crowd.’ His face turned blank. ‘And especially when they are left unlocked.’

  ‘It’s in my wife’s car?’

  ‘Why ask me? You have all the answers or so you think,’ Heinrich said.

  ‘Yes, we do, just about,’ he said. ‘You went to the farm shop just round the corner from my house, asked about me, they were completely obliging.’ Stuart flicked his head and his fringe feathered out across his forehead. ‘Exactly as I’d prepped them,’ he paused, ‘I made it easy for you.’

  ‘Easy? You did nothing to make my work easy! My work takes skill, it is pure perfection, now kindly leave me in peace both of you,’ he said in a rush. ‘I need to plan for my next assignment.’ He stared first at Stuart then Love with cold soulless eyes. No humanity in them, no spark, like the eye of a dead shark.

  Stuart walked over to the table, picked up his recorder, spoke softly into it, pressed a button and turned it off. He grabbed his pen, notepad, his scarf, took one last look at Heinrich lying in bed, and left.

  Love stared at Heinrich, hoping he would be locked away for a very long time, if not the rest of his life. He grasped the door handle, paused momentarily, closed the door firmly behind him.