Disturbed by unfamiliar sounds and a deep concern for his future, Jefferson Tayte was woken from a troubled night’s sleep in his holding cell at Munich’s police headquarters by a key rattling in the lock to his cell door. Having eventually fallen into a deep slumber through sheer exhaustion, he had trouble peeling his eyes open again. When he did he watched the door to his cell open and a uniformed officer he hadn’t seen before called in, ‘Get dressed. Ten minutes.’ As Tayte stirred further from sleep and the reality of his situation caught up with him, he had the feeling that today was going to be a bad day.
Exactly ten minutes later, Tayte was escorted from the holding cell to a room that had an altogether more pleasant feel to it than any he had so far been in since he’d been arrested the night before. He thought it must be a witness statement room. It was bright from the light at the window, the furnishings were soft not hard, and he saw posters and pamphlets here and there, none of which he could read, but it was clear from the images on them that they were about crime prevention. Detective Eckstein was already in the room as Tayte was brought in. On the table Eckstein was standing beside, Tayte saw his personal effects: his briefcase, wallet, phone, and watch. The sight of these items confused him for a minute.
‘You’re being released,’ Eckstein said, clarifying the situation.
And just like that, Tayte felt the weight of his predicament lift from his shoulders. He drew a deep breath as he took in what Eckstein had just said. Then he smiled at the man, and he almost laughed to himself as he tried to contain his delight. He collected his things from the desk.
‘Thank you,’ he said, feeling a strong urge to get as far away from the police station as he could before someone changed their mind, although he was curious to know why he was being released. ‘Did you find out who killed that man? Do you know who he was?’
‘We’re hoping that Tobias Kaufmann—the man you told us about last night—will soon be able to help us identify the body. We’re no closer to finding out who killed him, but we’ve learned enough to know it wasn’t you. Everything you told us checked out. The taxi driver confirmed what time he dropped you off, and we’ve confirmed that someone called the telephone you were found holding when our officers turned up and arrested you. More importantly, the telephone handset wasn’t the murder weapon.’
‘It wasn’t?’
‘No, the wounds on the victim were caused by something with a sharper edge—a brick or a rock perhaps. And the telephone handset was too light and flimsy to have caused such damage. It would have broken long before the man’s skull. Then there’s the time of death. Rigor mortis had already begun, which tells us straight away that the victim had been dead for at least two hours. Your friend, Ms Summer, was able to verify that you were with her earlier in the evening. Whoever set you up, Mr Tayte, either knew very little about the changes the human body goes through after death, or they were just sending you a message—another threat perhaps. Maybe you should take this one more seriously. I don’t want to have to investigate your murder, too.’
It was a sobering thought, and one Tayte planned to give some very serious consideration. ‘The name I gave you last night,’ he said. ‘Max Fleischer.’
‘Yes, we know who Max Fleischer is,’ Eckstein said. ‘He’ll be brought in for questioning as soon as we can locate him. Do you plan on staying in Munich long? We may have further questions for you.’
Tayte had no idea how long he was going to stay in Munich in light of what had happened. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Do I have to stay?’
‘No, and in all honesty I’d advise you to go home on the next available flight. Your investigation is obviously upsetting the kind of people you don’t want to upset. You should leave that to us. Whatever you decide to do, I have your contact details.’
‘Well, just let me know if there’s anything you need from me.’
‘Thank you. I will.’
‘So that’s it?’ Tayte said. ‘I can go now?’
‘More or less. I just need you to sign some release papers and you can be on your way.’
That sounded good to Tayte. He couldn’t wait to see Jean again, to tell her he was a free man, and to learn what she’d discovered about Trudi Scheffler that she thought was important. As Tayte picked up his briefcase and followed Eckstein out of the room, he began to wonder what that something was, and how it might influence the decision he had to make about whether or not to remain in Munich.