Private Berlin (Private 5)
“We’ll do it by phone,” Mattie said. “We—uh, Burkhart and I—felt like we needed to get back to Berlin ASAP.”
“That makes you a fugitive!”
Mattie had had enough. “Only if we don’t catch the bastard who killed Chris and Ilse Frei and Artur Jaeger and who knows how many others!”
That silenced Private Berlin’s managing investigator for several moments before she said in a hoarse, barely controlled voice, “What did you find?”
Mattie gave Katharina a wrap-up of their trips to Ilse Frei’s home and the Paradise FKK, including the vague description she’d gotten of the Mask man.
“Did you show them pictures of Hermann Krüger or Maxim Pavel?” she demanded.
“Both,” Mattie said. “They said they couldn’t be sure in either case because the only reason they know it’s one guy coming back is the fact that he always shows up with a new mask.”
“So, what, he’s an art collector like Krüger?” Katharina asked.
“They didn’t know, but one of the women said he knew everything about the mask he wore while they had sex. It’s called a Chokwe tribal mask. She says it was leather and ebony and ivory and depicts a monster.”
“My money’s on Krüger,” Katharina said. “High Commissar Dietrich thinks it’s him as well. He called here looking for you about an hour ago. Berlin Kripo found a gun in the trunk of one of Krüger’s cars this morning. Ballistics tests show it’s the same .40 caliber that killed Agnes. They’re preparing an arrest warrant, but I’ll call Rudy Krüger, see if his stepfather collected masks.”
“Good idea,” Mattie replied, then asked Katharina to tell Dr. Gabriel that Ilona Frei had been in and out of mental facilities and was a methadone addict. She also told Katharina about their suspicions regarding the son of the man named Falk who’d run the slaughterhouse.
After Katharina promised to start running those leads down, Mattie called her aunt Cäcilia to warn her that it was going to be another late night. Mattie felt a few moments of guilt at not spending time with Niklas. But she told herself that it was justified. Niklas wanted to know who killed Chris as much as she did.
Mattie hung up just as the pilot came on over the intercom to tell them they were in thei
r initial approach to Berlin and to turn off all electronic devices.
She looked over at Burkhart, who turned off his iPad.
“Any luck?” she asked.
Burkhart nodded as he slid it into a neoprene sleeve. “There’s a professor at Potsdam I found, an expert on masks and primitive art. He’s roughly the right age. And there are several galleries in the city that specialize in primitive art. I’m thinking that if our boy is a serious collector, they just might know him.”
CHAPTER 83
THEY LANDED DURING a sunset that made the skies over Berlin look bruised.
At least to Mattie, who immediately began making calls on her cell phone while Burkhart went to retrieve the car.
The line of Franz Hellermann, the art professor at Potsdam University, went directly to a voice mail prompt. She hesitated and then decided not to leave him a message. It would be better to talk with him face-to-face in the morning.
She called two of the art galleries Burkhart had found and got recordings that listed their addresses and hours of operation. She looked at the third number and address and realized that the I. M. Ehrlichmann Gallery was just south of Savignyplatz on Schlüterstrasse, not far from where Agnes Krüger had died.
“Let’s swing by this place on the way to the office,” she told Burkhart.
They were outside the I. M. Ehrlichmann Gallery in less than ten minutes, only to find a man lowering metal-grate security gates on the establishment.
“Hello,” Mattie called.
“I’m closed,” he said and turned, revealing a trim, academic-looking man with black-framed glasses, close-cropped salt and pepper hair, and a tweed jacket and tie.
He blinked at Mattie, and then glanced up at Burkhart. “You’re a big fellow.”
Burkhart nodded. He showed the man his badge, identified himself, and said, “This is Mattie Engel. We work for Private Berlin.”
“Isaac Ehrlichmann,” the man said agreeably. “But my gallery is closed.”
“We were hoping you could help us,” Mattie said.