After paying the driver and collecting their suitcases, they walked to the front door. A man was waiting for them there with a smile on his wrinkled face. He couldn’t have been more than an inch or two taller than 5′ and very slim in his tailored suit. He glanced at his pocket watch, and Ben had the oddest sensation of witnessing a scene from the past.
“Mr. Shepherd! Very punctual!” the small man said softly with a smile.
“Herr Schmitt?” Ben asked. The man gave him a quick nod. “This is Trish Campbell.”
She received a quick little bow drawing a smile from her.
“A formality, I must ask to see identification before presenting you with the keys to your property.”
Ben pulled out his passport which the building manager reviewed and handed back. He gave a set of keys to Ben.
He glanced at the keys and used the largest one to open the grand front door. They stepped inside, and Trish nodded appreciatively. The modest exterior hid the very luxuriously appointed interior of gleaming marble, highly polished brass, antique furniture, and oil paintings, all lit by spectacular crystal chandeliers. Ben wasn’t surprised that Rainor had chosen a unit in such a high-end building, but he knew the man’s decorating tastes were far colder than this.
After a brief stop at the manager’s office to store their baggage securely, they moved to an old cage style elevator. Their guide demonstrated how it worked and took them up to the top floor.
Ben glanced at Trish with a puzzled expression. “He must have been one hell of an investment manager to be able to afford a place like this and the condo in Sydney.”
Trish just nodded as they walked up to the door to Rainor’s unit.
Ben went to use the key on the lock then he froze. The lock had been drilled out. He looked to the building manager who frowned and looked closer at the lock.
The older man tried the door, and it swung inwards. The interior of the apartment was a disaster zone. Every piece of furniture was broken, every cushion was ripped open, their stuffing scattered all over the floor.
“Can’t say I care for how he decorated the place,” Trish said with raised eyebrows.
“I don’t see any smoke, but it definitely smells like something burned in there. Maybe we should call the fire department… and the police,” Ben muttered and saw the building manager was already dialing. He saw the remains of the sofa, and sure enough, it had been far more modern than the decor of the rest of the building. White leather, steel, glass, and all with a modern motif. Looking around at what he could see from the doorway, it looked like there’d been paintings on the walls, but now all that remained were slightly darker squares of paint and picture hooks.
The firemen arrived within ten minutes and confirmed the absence of active fires, but there was fire damage in the master bedroom.
They waited in the hallway for the police to arrive and this took close to thirty minutes.
“So good of you to join us Detective Freder,” Schmitt said with a cold tone. The detective’s unpleasant expression in return indicated a possible history between them.
Ben shared a look with Trish. He wasn’t sure if their knowing each other was a good sign or not.
The detective was almost as tall as Ben, but he was as slim as Schmitt. Slim to the point of looking like a corpse. Pale with a grayish tint to his skin, he wasn’t the healthiest looking specimen. Sunken eyes and cheeks, he cast a disapproving glare at the group standing in the hall.
“Schmitt.”
Ben swore the detective spit the word out. Definitely some bad blood between the two men. Then those pale blue eyes were locked on him, and Ben saw recognition flare.
“Why am I not surprised to find the infamous Ben Shepherd outside the apartment of Rainor Hahn?” Freder sighed.
“Infamous?” Ben asked with a scowl.
“What moldy crypt did you crawl out of?” Trish growled.
The detective’s eyes flicked to Trish and away, dismissing her.
“What happened here?” Freder asked Schmitt.
“What does it look like, detective?” the building manager snapped. When the man said nothing Schmitt continued. “Mr. Shepherd came to Berlin to take possession of his property, the apartment, and its contents. We arrived to discover the lock broken and we smelled smoke. I called the fire department and foolishly, the police as well.”
The detective turned to look at Ben. “How did this property come into your possession? What was your relationship with Rainor Hahn?”
Ben scowled at the unpleasant man.
“I had no relationship with the man. I spent a few unpleasant minutes in his company on a boat in Sydney Harbor, Australia. After he accidentally fell into the harbor and died, I… came to the aid of his widow. She signed over all of his possessions to me in her will. I didn’t discover that fact until after she was killed.”
Freder stared back at Ben with a weary expression. “Why have you come now? The death of the widow happened months ago! We all saw it on the television.”
Ben was becoming seriously pissed off at this asshole’s attitude. “I had business in Berlin, so I decided to drop by.”
“Business?”
“Yes.” That’s all Ben was willing to give him.
“So you arrive just in time to find the apartment ransacked.”
Ben paused at the odd wording. “Just in time? What the hell does that mean?” He looked in the door at the destruction then back to the suspicion in the detective’s eyes. “You think I had something to do with this?” He gestured toward the door. “Why on earth would I do that?”
“Covering up the possession of stolen art?” Freder suggested, and Ben looked to the empty walls.
“Rainor had stolen art? Well, that sheds some light on… things,” Ben finished, fixing a glare on the detective. He wasn’t about to disclose anything to this asshole. “I had no knowledge of the contents of his apartment, and I had nothing to do with whatever happened inside it.”
Freder sniffed disdainfully and made his way into the apartment.
Ben looked at the building manager. “Are we expected to stay here or can we go check into our hotel?”
“Stay!” Freder called out from the apartment.
Trish frowned. “This prick has a pickle up his ass, doesn’t he?” she said loudly enough for the detective to hear.
“How do you know him?” Ben asked Schmitt.
The smaller man sighed. “A thoroughly unpleasant man. He’s been after Mr. Hahn since shortly after he moved into the building. He’s made a nuisance of himself with all of the tenants. Several of them lodged complaints against him, and his senior officers finally managed to get him to leave us alone.”
“He was probably right about Rainor. That man was evil,” Ben growled.
Schmitt glanced into the apartment then to Ben. “I thought you said you didn’t know him,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t, but I learned a lot about him from his wife after I brought her home. What he did to that woman… I wish I’d had a chance to get my hands on him before he died by such a stupid accident.”
Freder was suddenly in the doorway. “You are not the only one who feels that way about the late Mr. Hahn.”
Ben examined the detective’s expression and saw a tremendous amount of pent-up frustration. He nodded to him slightly.
“Do you know what he kept in his wall safe?” the man pressed.
Ben’s eyebrows went up. “How could I know that? I just finished saying I didn’t know the man. I wasn’t even aware the apartment had a wall safe. We haven’t entered the unit yet.”
The detective fixed a scornful eye on him then gestured for him to enter.
Ben shared another look with Trish then walked into the apartment with her following. Ignoring the destruction as they moved through the unit, he saw the layout was very nice. As an older building, there was less open flow between the kitchen, dining room and living room but each separate room was generous in size. They saw it had two bedrooms, the smaller one used as an office. There was considerable destruction in that room.
Once they were in the master bedroom, they saw the source of the burnt smell. He made his way closer and stood next to the bed to get a better look. The wall around the wall safe was severely scorched. Its door was on the floor under the opening.
Ben looked back towards the detective and was startled to see one painting had been left behind. It remained hanging on the bedroom wall opposite the bed. It was a small portrait of a clown’s face, in full makeup. It stared back at them with a sad expression.
“Rainor dealt with stolen art? Could that be a Red Skelton original?” Ben asked the detective. The man turned to look back at the painting with a thoughtful expression.
“Why the fuck would anyone want a clown staring at you while you sleep… or while you had sex! That’s fucking creepy!” Trish said with a shudder.
Ben snorted in amusement then nodded in agreement. He found its sad stare to be slightly unnerving.
Giving his head a shake, Ben glanced around the destroyed room. “If there was anything of Gretchen’s in the apartment it’s either been destroyed or taken by whoever did this. I don’t think there’s any reason for us to remain.” He looked to the property manager. “There doesn’t appear to be any significant damage to the structure of the apartment, aside from the safe and scorch marks on the surrounding wall. I intend to sell. Would I be able to have you arrange the repairs and disposal of the contents?”
The man nodded and smiled at him. “You don’t wish to keep anything?” He glanced to the painting of the clown.
Ben grinned. “That’s right. It can all go.” The man nodded to him again.
“We’re done here,” Ben announced as he looked to the detective. The man looked like he was going to argue but turned his face away with a scowl.