The Colonel's Wife Read online

  Much easier when you were a committed bachelor and didn’t have a wife and two young children.

  Now Vogel had to be extremely careful about what he said and did around Stadler. The kid was slowly softening. Not in his ideals or beliefs, but in the way he handled himself. He had finally begun to realize that the law was not absolute. It was bendable. Just because someone broke the letter of the law, didn’t mean they had to be reported. People were people. They made mistakes.

  And besides, they were Kripo, Kriminalpolizei, Criminal Police. Specifically, they were homicide detectives. They weren’t supposed to be cracking down on people committing a traffic infraction or stealing a loaf of bread. Leave that to the uniformed officers, the Orpo. The Kripo were there to investigate the worst of what humanity was capable of. And despite the war, the depraved still lurked in the shadows, committing their ghastly deeds.

  It kept him busy, though it was something he would gladly give up if it meant no more murder.

  Though the likelihood of that was nil.

  Something slipped under the front door and he jumped to his feet, putting his cup down and rushing toward the entrance. He ignored the piece of paper and instead yanked open the door to see a figure at the far end of the hall, entering the stairwell. He couldn’t make out his face in the dark, the lights in the common areas removed due to the war effort.

  But he was pretty certain it was one of his neighbors from downstairs, Carl Vetter.

  He obviously didn’t want you to know it was him.

  He stepped back inside and closed the door. He picked up the folded piece of paper and read it, frowning.

  There’s a body in the alleyway between the baker and post office on Strausberger Street.

  He tilted his head back, imagining exactly where that was, then checked his watch. He groaned. It never ended.

  “Another neighbor complaining about somebody again?”

  He grunted. “I wish. I’m pretty sure it was Carl from downstairs. He says there’s a body near Strausberger Street.”

  His wife regarded him. “What does that have to do with you?”

  “Umm, I’m a homicide detective?”

  “Exactly. Homicide. This could be someone killed in the bombing for all you know.”

  He wagged a finger at her as he picked up the receiver on the home phone, usually reserved for official duties. “You’re forgetting who the messenger is.”

  “Carl. So?”

  “So, he works with the Reichsluftschutzbund, the Air Raid Protection League. If the body were related to the air raid, then it would be his job to deal with it.”

  She leaned back in her chair, her argument defeated. “Then he thinks it’s murder.”

  “Hey, Otto, it’s me. I just got a tip that there’s a body at Strausberger Street, between the bakery and the post office. I’m leaving now. Meet you there?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Vogel shook his head as he hung up. “I think that kid just clicked his heels in bed.”

  Sofia snickered. “He is rather eager, isn’t he?”

  “Too much. I never felt old until I met him.”

  “Old? You’re nowhere near forty!”

  He held his arms out and she rose to embrace him. “I’m closer to it than you are. What are you, twenty-three, twenty-four?”

  She laughed, swatting him on the chest. “You wish!”

  He grinned then leaned over and gave her a peck. “You’re more beautiful every day.”

  She squeezed his chin. “And you’re more handsome every day too.” She winked. “Especially in the dark.”

  He swatted her behind then let her go and headed for the door. He donned his trench coat and hat, then shoved his sidearm in its holster. “Don’t wait up, and don’t worry if you don’t see me until tomorrow night. If this is a homicide, I’ll be busy. I’ll try to call in the morning to let you know either way.”

  She straightened his collar then popped up on her toes to give him a quick kiss. “Be careful.”

  “I always am.”

  He stepped into the hall then blew her a kiss through the sliver of doorway visible, then headed for the stairwell, his footsteps echoing through the hall. He drew a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, the lids burning from fatigue. He was exhausted and needed sleep.

  Desperately.

  Let’s just hope this is a nice, easy case.

  18 |

  Konrad Residence Berlin, Nazi Germany

  “It’s done.”

  Renata rose from her chair and held out her hands, taking Konrad’s in hers. “You look horrible.”

  He sighed, dropping into his chair, his wife returning to hers. “You would too if you’d just been dealing with the dead.”

  Renata poured him some tea and he took the cup. “Well? Did you find, umm, him?”

  Konrad frowned then took a sip. “Yes, I found him.”

  She sighed. “Then that’s at least one less thing to have to worry about.” She paused. “Two, I guess. Have you told the general yet?”

  He shook his head. “No, we have to let the system find him.” He sniffed. “Ugh, I smell like death.”

  She turned up her nose slightly. “I didn’t want to say anything.” She pointed at his uniform. “I’ll have it cleaned for you. Unless you want it burned?”

  He chuckled. “Is it that bad?”

  “It grows worse with every moment I’m in the room with it.” She pointed at his chest. “And there’s, umm, something on it.”

  He cringed at the sight and set his tea down. “I’ll take care of it.” He rose then paused. “Joachim?”

  Gloom clouded her face. “Still no word. I’m really worried.”

  “As am I. I hope they find him soon. As long as Griese is still missing, those troops are out there looking for him and our son.”

  “I just don’t know where he’d go. It’s been so long. He must be tired and cold. And he probably hasn’t eaten since lunch.”

  He patted her on her shoulder. “He’s your son. He’s strong. He can take care of himself. Rest assured, I will find him, even if I have to pound on every door in this city personally.”

  19 |

  Strausberger Straße Berlin, Nazi Germany

  Kriminalinspektor Wolfgang Vogel shone his flashlight over the pile of garbage covering the naked body found exactly where Vetter’s note had said it would be. The streets were empty of civilians, the SS swarming the area for some reason, and despite the fact he was SS on the organizational chart, he didn’t bother asking what they were up to.

  They might be looking for this poor bastard.

  If they were, then they’d take possession of the body and he’d be left with no hope of solving the case. Though there wasn’t much of a case, if his initial impression was correct. A naked body, found tossed in an alleyway, covered over, after an air raid. He’d seen it before, and he’d see it again. This poor soul probably tried to stop looters from robbing his home, or that of his neighbors, and paid the ultimate price for being a good Samaritan.

  I hate thieves.

  As far as he was concerned, people who stole should be shot, not imprisoned. They took from those who worked hard, as if they were entitled to it. When caught, the claims that they stole to survive were sometimes believable, yet were still no excuse. There were charities that could help, and Germany was a much different place now. If one was truly desperate, then join the Army and fight for one’s country. Steady pay, food, clothing, shelter. What more could one want? Yes, one could die in battle, but the same was true on the streets, and perhaps as likely.

  Especially once they started shooting looters.

  They hadn’t really started yet, though with the problem growing with each air raid, those that would leech off society were surging in number and emboldened with each success. The citizens wouldn’t put up with it much longer, and the Party would deal with it as it made them look bad—the Fatherland was supposed to be left untouched.

  Reichsmarschall Hermann Gör
ing had promised no Allied bombers would reach the Fatherland.

  Well, you got that wrong, Meyer.

  “What have we got?”

  Vogel turned to see his partner, Otto Stadler, approaching, his own flashlight lighting his way. “Dead body. I haven’t started yet.” He put his flashlight away and bent down, Stadler’s light casting a dull glow for him to work by. He gently removed the scrap cardboard and wood covering the body, confirming the victim was indeed naked. “Looks young. Mid to late teens, perhaps early twenties. Hard to tell in this light.”

  “Baby-faced.”

  Vogel agreed. It was a good way to describe the man—boy. He examined him for wounds, finding his body covered in dozens of tiny bite marks. “He’s been here long enough for the rats to start making a meal out of him.”

  “Disgusting. When we’re done with the British and the Russians, we should focus the Wehrmacht’s efforts on those vermin.”

  Vogel chuckled. “Good idea. Why don’t you send a memo to Himmler? It might become the next great cause.”

  “Sometimes I can’t tell if your jokes are meant to belittle me or the regime.”

  Vogel rolled his eyes, out of sight of his partner. This was the problem with Stadler. He always had to be so careful with what he said around him. “I assure you, it was entirely at your expense.”

  Stadler grunted. “I still think it’s a good idea.”

  “I don’t see anything that would kill him on the front of his body, but there’s a pool of blood here. I’m going to flip him.” He gently lifted the left side of the body, making sure there was no wound where he was about to gain leverage, then finding nothing beyond the filth of the ground, pushed him over onto his stomach.

  Revealing a gunshot wound to the center of the back.

  “Well, that would do it.”

  Stadler knelt beside him, shining the light on the wound. “Looks close range.”

  Vogel nodded. He took out his own flashlight and leaned in, his eyes mere centimeters from the body. “There’s some material in the wound. We’ll have the guys in the lab look at it. Maybe they can identify what he was wearing.”

  “What good will that do? He was wearing a shirt and coat. Everyone has a shirt and coat.”

  Vogel rose. “You have so much to learn. What kind of material was it? What color? What if it was a uniform he was wearing? What if it was a leather jacket and we find one discarded around here with a hole in the back? There’s so much we could learn by getting those fibers under a microscope.”

  Stadler chewed his lip. “I suppose.”

  Vogel gestured toward the street with his chin. “Call it in. I want the body in the morgue so the coroner’s medical examiner can take a look at him.”

  “Right away.” Stadler turned when Vogel reached out and grabbed his arm. “And get some uniformed officers down here. I want this area searched just in case his clothes were tossed somewhere. Maybe a wallet with some ID. And we’re going to have to canvas all the residences around here. Somebody might have heard something.”

  “During an air raid? Everyone was in the shelters.”

  Vogel shook his head, disappointed. “You think in such black and white terms. Just because the law says they have to seek shelter, doesn’t mean they do. Everyone knows by now the Allies can’t reach this section of the city. I’m willing to bet half these people just stayed home, waiting for the bombs to get close enough to worry about.”

  “You think so many of our good citizens would disobey the law like that? You think so little of your country?”

  “Son, if everyone obeyed the law like you think they should, then this man wouldn’t be dead, and we wouldn’t have jobs. People break laws. That’s why we have police. Even in Adolf Hitler’s Germany.”

  Stadler bristled, unhappy with the lecture. His shoulders relaxed. “I suppose you’re right. It disgusts me, but I suppose you’re right.”

  Vogel pointed toward the street where his car was. “Call it in.”

  Stadler thrust his chest out and snapped his heels. “Yes, sir!”

  20 |

  Konrad Residence Berlin, Nazi Germany

  “What’s going on?”

  Maximilian’s face broke out into a smile at the voice of his friend. He rolled to the edge of the bed, pressing his ear against the wall. “Frida, is that you?”

  “Of course it is. You were expecting someone else?”

  He giggled. “No, I suppose not. You haven’t heard?”

  “No, what?”

  “Joachim is missing. I think he ran away.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  Maximilian wasn’t sure how much he should reveal to his secret friend, despite the fact she was the only person he trusted in the entire world. She never lied to him. She never got angry with him. She was his friend. His best friend.

  His only friend.

  His brother treated him horribly, his father didn’t have time for him, and his mother barely spoke to anyone for as long as he could remember. This house was so unhappy, it made him cry all the time.

  He hated it here.

  He hated his family.

  A pit formed in his stomach at the thought. He didn’t understand what was going on around him. He realized that. He was too young. Joachim understood, or at least understood better than him. But he was sixteen. He’d be leaving soon, then he’d be an officer.

  Maximilian drew a breath, eager to have the house to himself. And in two years he’d be twelve, almost a teenager.

  “Max? Are you there?”

  He pressed harder against the wall. “Yes. Sorry. Umm, I don’t know why, but I think he had a gun.”

  “A gun! Where’d he get that?”

  “I don’t know. I think my parents’ room, but I can’t be certain.”

  “That’s scary. Did you tell them what you saw?”

  His father’s words came back to him and his chest tightened as he realized he had broken his word. “Umm, I shouldn’t say.”

  “Come on, Max, it’s me. You know I can’t tell anyone.”

  Can’t.

  He sighed at the choice of words. He had told his brother about Frida when he had first heard her voice, and he had laughed at him, teasing him relentlessly about his imaginary friend. He had run crying to his mother, who had consoled him and told him that she too had an imaginary friend when she was his age.

  “They’re the best friends you can have when you’re feeling lonely. They’re always there when you need them, you can tell them anything and they’ll never tell on you, and when you no longer need them, they just go away, and no one’s feelings are hurt.”

  You can tell them anything.

  He smiled. It meant he had his mother’s blessing. “I told my father. He seemed, I don’t know, concerned? He told me to tell no one what I saw.”

  “But you told me. Thanks, Max, that means a lot.”

  He smiled. “Did you hear the air raid?”

  “Yes. It was so scary.”

  “I wasn’t scared.”

  “Yes you were!”

  He giggled. “You’re right, I guess I was. It’s too bad it happened tonight. My father had a bunch of officers here for dinner. It ruined the party.”

  “I’m glad they’re gone.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “I get scared when there are people in the house.”

  His eyes widened. “Why? I love it when there are people here. Otherwise it’s so boring.”

  The door to the room burst open and his father stood silhouetted by the hallway light. “Who are you talking to? Is Joachim in here?” He flipped the light switch and quickly searched the room as Maximilian pressed his back against the wall, his legs drawn up to his chest, gripping his blanket, his eyes wide with fear.

  “Who are you talking to!”

  “No-nobody.”

  “I heard you talking.”

  “I-I was talking to myself.” Tears erupted and his father glared at him, making it even worse. He squee
zed his eyes shut, burying his head under the blanket. “I’m sorry, Father, I won’t do it again.”

  The bed moved as his father sat on it, and he flinched as arms embraced him, holding him tight. “It’s all right. I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m just so worried about your brother.”

  Maximilian extricated himself from the blanket then wrapped his arms around his father’s neck. “Is he dead?”

  His father’s breath caught for a moment, and he knew that was exactly what his father was thinking. “No, I’m sure he’s fine. He’s just out there, scared. We’ll find him.” His father pushed him away gently, and wiped the tears from Maximilian’s cheeks. “Now, you get some sleep. It’s late, and I’m sure tomorrow will be busy.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  His father rose and turned out the light. “And no more talking to imaginary friends.”

  Maximilian’s eyes widened. “How’d you know?”

  “Your mother tells me everything.” His father smiled. “And I had one too when I was your age. What’s his name?”

  “It’s a she.”

  The smile faded slightly. “Very well, what’s her name?”

  “Frida.”

  “I see.”

  He closed the door without saying anything else, leaving Maximilian with the distinct impression he wasn’t happy about something.

  21 |

  Strausberger Straße Berlin, Nazi Germany

  “What the hell is this?”

  Vogel sighed. They had been waiting for hours for the coroner’s office to send a vehicle to pick up their victim, and they had so far managed to avoid any interaction with the SS rushing about. But with the vehicle finally arriving, they had become a spectacle, and from the arrogance in the voice, whoever was behind him was likely one of those they had successfully sidestepped until now.

  He would need to tread lightly.

  He turned, smiling at the young junior officer whom he barely outranked in the command structure, despite being almost twice his age. “A murder victim. Probably looters.” He waved at the SS still searching the area. “What are you looking for?”